Mulligan Stew (35 page)

She looked out at the sea, sparkling below the cliff. "On second thought, no curtains. None at all. And everything should be light, except the wood. Lace. I see lace. Irish lace, I think."

She felt Riley come up behind her, his warmth radiating through her and producing a shiver of anticipation. An image flashed through her mind unbidden. She saw herself standing before this very window with her dream lover at her back, his arms wrapped around her waist. She wore a thin white nightgown, and he wore... the usual.

"Oh, have mercy." She could almost feel his arms around her waist now, but when she glanced down, there were no masculine hands splayed intimately across her abdomen, just beneath her breasts.

She didn't want her dream lover's hands now.

She wanted Riley's.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and she dragged in a great breath of air and spun around. Riley stood so close she bumped against him, and she saw desire smoldering in his eyes again. Had he shared the thoughts she'd just experienced? Had he seen—and felt—as she had?

The thought took root and wouldn't budge, though she wasn't about to ask him if it was true. Not now.

"I'll need a kitchen," she whispered. "Maybe that room yonder, where Mr. Kelley's crew is working now."

"Let's go have a look."

Bridget walked alongside Riley, past the hearth and Aidan's portrait, past the staircase and that dangerous banister. She struggled against the urge to reach for his hand every step of the way. Despite that, it felt perfect to stroll across this massive room at his side.

Other images of being in her dream lover's arms flitted mercilessly across her mind as she passed through certain areas or pieces of furniture. A large window seat near the back of the room brought a particularly powerful jolt to her and she almost stumbled.

Her dream lover sat there, leaning against the window frame, with her astride him. They were both naked as he devoured her breasts. His erection brushed against her nakedness, seeking entrance.

Entrance she wanted more than anything to grant.

She tripped again and Riley reached out to grab her arm, steadying her. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his voice huskier than usual.

As she nodded and gazed into his eyes, she saw the truth she'd known yet had fought to deny.

Riley
was
her dream lover.

* * *

Several times as they drifted along behind the inspection team, Riley was assaulted by a powerful sense of déjà vu. Though he'd never ventured any farther into the castle than the main chamber, it all seemed familiar. He even recognized alcoves and carvings.

Was Brady's theory true? Was
he
Aidan? He glanced askance at Bridget. Or Bronagh...?

Jaysus
. Riley could no longer deny the possibility, though he'd certainly tried. As they passed by the window near the doorway to the room Bridget wanted to use as a kitchen, an image struck that nearly felled him on the spot. He saw himself there with a beautiful, naked woman. Her slender back was to him, and her hair tumbled about her shoulders in shining brown waves. She straddled him.

Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph
!

His breath came in short, rapid pants and he actually felt her moist heat sliding against him. Teasing. Promising. Her breasts filled his hands and he sampled them with gusto. She was sweet. So sweet...

"Riley?" Bridget asked, touching his arm.

He jerked, forcing himself to focus on her face. On the present. On reality.

"I..." He adjusted the hard hat and cleared his throat, trying to ignore his sudden and powerful erection.
Shite.
He'd been hard more in the past few weeks than he had in his entire life.

And the cause of most of his pain stood right before him, an expression of concern in her dewy green eyes. Her moist lips were slightly parted, and the urge to pull her against him and cover her mouth nearly made him do so before he drew his next breath.

Down, Mulligan. Easy.

"Let's go see this room." She walked away from him.

Riley stood frozen, admiring the way her soft, familiar brown hair swept her shoulders. She wore a blue knit shirt tucked into her jeans, and her shoulders tapered neatly to her tiny waist.

Just like his dream woman...

"Riley?" She stopped at the entrance to the other room and waited.

He shook himself and released his breath in a loud whoosh. With hurried steps, he passed the window seat and joined her beneath the archway.

Her expression as she gazed up at him stole his breath. She had a question in her eyes, and he sensed there was something she wanted to say or ask, but didn't.

"Interesting... window seat," she murmured, a strained quality to her voice.

He cleared his throat again. "Aye, you could say that."

Had she seen it? Felt it? Been there with him...?

Oh, Brady—find the answers, man.
His old teacher had planted the seeds to this madness, and Riley was suffering the consequences.

"Let's go on," he said, touching the small of her back to guide her into the other room.

He wanted to do so much more—to drag her hard against him, to taste every inch of her.

Stop that now.

The crew had opened the shutters covering the massive windows. The ceiling was lower in this room, but it all seemed solid and safe.

Mr. Kelley beamed as he joined them. "Isn't it amazing?" He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling and the massive columns. "I've never visited a site that's been vacant so long and is this well-preserved."

"Aye, it seems sound enough," Riley said, his heart slamming against his ribs.

"With electricity, cupboards, a stove here, a freezer and refrigerator there, it will be perfect," Bridget said, turning in a complete circle as she spoke. "My kitchen."

Mr. Keen asked. "The Irish Trust has grant monies available for certain types of renovation."

Bridget's eyes grew round. "Really?"

Riley kept his gob shut, though the part of him who'd bullied everybody about staying out of
Caisleán Dubh
wanted to surface again with a vengeance. He had to get his mind around this entire notion of allowing Bridget to actually open and use the place.

But was it his right to forbid it? Really? Somehow, the situation—the castle's future—seemed much bigger, much more important than either Riley or Bridget.

"What are your plans, Mrs. Mulligan?" Mr. Keen asked.

"At first, I want to open a restaurant," Bridget explained. "Later, if the entire castle is found habitable, I'd like to open a bed and breakfast."

Mr. Kelley nodded, and made more notes. "As long as a historic site is open to the public at least thirty days each year—"

"Oh, I'm thinking more like five or six days a week," Bridget said, laughing.

"Good. In that case, there might very well be a way to renovate
Caisleán Dubh
through a grant."

"A grant? Oh, did you hear him, Riley?" Bridget clasped her hands together, but released them just as quickly to grab Riley by the shoulders and jump up and down a wee bit. "A grant."

Riley was rotten. While she jumped up and down with excitement about her restaurant, all he could do was stare at her nice, round breasts. The knit shirt boasted a University of Tennessee logo, but the pattern couldn't hide her taut nipples from his roving eyes.

Aye, you're rotten to the core, Mulligan.

"I have some information with me," Mr. Kelley said, interrupting Riley's musings. "I'll leave it and the applications with you."

"Thank you." Bridget released Riley and hugged Mr. Kelley.

Jealousy exploded through Riley, but he clenched his fists to prevent his urge to physically drag Bridget away from the man. She was just showing her gratitude, after all.

Couldn't he do with a bit more of her gratitude himself?

They made their way back out to the main chamber and examined the other ground floor rooms. Mr. Kelley forbade them to accompany his crew up the stairs and into the tower. Amazingly, Bridget didn't argue with the man.

As they waited in the main chamber, Bridget went through more of her thoughts on renovation, and how the restaurant would look. Suddenly, she stopped and a look of tenderness filled her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"I was just remembering what Maggie told me." She bit her lower lip. "I've been so excited and carrying on, that I forgot what you must be going through."

"Maggie didn't." He dragged his fingers through his hair and squeezed his eyes closed, vowing not to kill his sister, no matter how much he wanted to do just that. Reopening his eyes, he said, "I'd rather not talk about it."

She shook her head. "Sometimes a body has to talk about it, Riley."

"Not about this. Not now."

"All right, if not now, then when?" Bridget folded her arms and struck a challenging pose with her head tilted and her eyes blazing. "When, Riley?"

He swallowed hard, knowing the mental vault sealing his memories had already crumbled away too much. "I... I can't, Bridget." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly remembering that dark day. His da's body stretched out right in the middle of this very room.

He couldn't draw a decent breath for several seconds, and the urge to run away clamored through him. "I just can't. Please, just don't."

She touched him again, and this time he
did
pull her against him. Hard. He kissed her mercilessly, tilting her head back and holding her with his fingers buried in her luxurious hair. Her hard hat fell to the marble floor, its sound echoing through the massive hall.

Their hearts thrummed together as one as their tongues parried and withdrew, each seeking to drive the other mad with the lust licking through them.

He dragged his mouth away from hers, his breathing ragged in the dust-laden air. "I want you, Bridget," he whispered. "I want you naked. Now."

Bridget gazed up at him, her lips swollen from his kiss, her eyes snapping green flames of raw need. "I know."

He cupped her breast, brushing her nipple with his thumb, and she pressed her hips more firmly against his throbbing erection. Mingled with her passion, he also saw fear in her eyes, and he dropped his hand to her waist. She was as confused by all this as he.

Besides, he needed answers to all the mysteries of
Caisleán Dubh
before he could satisfy himself that some supernatural force wasn't pushing them toward what they both seemed to want so desperately.

But it
would
happen. He knew that without question. He simply didn't know when.

A shudder rippled through him, and he whispered, "Soon, Bronagh."

Chapter 17

Whoa!
That was some kiss. Bridget stared up at Riley, still tingling all over from the kiss that could've performed a tonsillectomy. Awash with the afterglow and the desire for more, she started to reach for him again when he said that name.

"Soon, Bronagh."

Stunned, she pulled away and stared at him for several seconds while his internal battle played itself through in the depths of his eyes. For a few, fleeting moments, he had left her. Where had he gone?

And, more importantly, who in tarnation was Bronagh?

"You called me Bronagh again," she said, drawing strength from anywhere she could find it. She lifted her chin and waited for him to return to reality from wherever he'd gone. "Why did you call me Bronagh? Who was Bronagh?"

Riley frowned, drawing his brows together and shaking his head. He reached up to remove his hard hat, raking his fingers through his hair before replacing the helmet. "What?"

"Don't you know what you did?" Dear Lord, didn't he remember that humdinger of a smooch? She winced, hoping he hadn't kissed her without knowing why. Hoping he hadn't been kissing someone named Bronagh in his mind. "And what you said...?"

"I kissed you, and you kissed me back." He cleared his throat. "I definitely remember
that
." One corner of his mouth slanted upward.