Mulligan Stew (38 page)

"Do you miss Mr. and Mrs. Larabee?" she asked, remembering the frantic letter she'd mailed Mr. Larabee just a couple of weeks ago. It seemed like a lifetime. So much had changed during that short time.

"Yep." Jacob zipped his backpack closed and sat on his bed beside Bridget. "Maybe they'll come visit sometime."

"I reckon." Bridget smiled to herself, remembering. "I miss them, too, but..."

"What, Momma?"

She gave him a thoughtful look. "I think this feels like home now."

His smile glowed, and a second later he was in her arms. "Oh, boy," he said as he pulled away, the bud of his new tooth glowing against his gums right in front. "We're gonna stay forever."

She laughed and pulled him into another hug. "Yes, I reckon we are."

"Then General Lee can come live with us here?"

Bridget gasped and coughed, then cleared her throat. "Er, I think Ireland has laws that would make him stay in quarantine," she said diplomatically. "Besides, he's awfully old, and I'll bet the Larabees are spoiling him rotten."

Jacob nodded thoughtfully. "I'll bet he's sleeping on that red couch in their fancy living room."

Bridget had to laugh again at that.

"You about ready, boyo?" Maggie called from the base of the attic stairs.

"Yep." Jacob slung his backpack over his shoulder and said, "Time to go."

Bridget had herself one fine son. She hugged him again, then followed him down the steps, where Fiona and Maggie waited in the parlor. Riley and Brady had stopped talking.

"Let me help with the bags, Mum," Riley said, rising.

Brady pulled the books and papers they'd been reading into a neat pile right in front of him.

You'd think they were plotting to overthrow the government or something.

Though curious, Bridget wouldn't pry. Instead, she walked out to the car with her new family and made certain her son's seatbelt was properly fastened, and that she had one more hug before he left. Maggie sat behind the wheel, and Bridget knew she was a good driver, despite her youth.

"Y'all have a good trip." Bridget walked around to Fiona's open window on the passenger side and gave her mother-in-law a peck on the cheek. "I'll go next time."

Fiona gave her a bright smile and patted her hand. "Maybe."

Bridget studied the older woman's expression, wondering again if she knew about the attraction between her son and daughter-in-law.

"You promise me to have fun while we're gone, lass." She patted Bridget's hand. "And forget about everythin' except followin' your heart. Just listen to that, and all will be as it should."

Bridget stood staring after the car as they drove down the narrow lane. Jacob waved until they were too far away for her to see. She glanced to her side, where Riley stood watching the car, too.

"Well, then," he said, turning toward the cottage again. "I'd better get back to Brady."

"Yes." She stared at him as he climbed the steps and disappeared into the front door.

And forget about everythin' except followin' your heart. Just listen to that, and all will be as it should,
Fiona had said.

But what had she
meant
?

And why hadn't her mother-in-law mentioned the impropriety of Bridget remaining here with Riley? Alone?

A powerful tremor raced through Bridget. It didn't matter. She and Riley weren't teen-agers, though no adolescent's hormones could rival hers these days. Or theirs, now that she thought about it.

Once Brady left, she and Riley would be alone.

Completely alone. Her gaze drifted to the tower and the sea beyond.

Except for
Caisleán Dubh
.

* * *

Riley only performed the minimal chores—milking and tending the stock—and spent most of his day poring over Brady's research. The man was definitely onto something. The alleged spell cast by the
cailleach
had been recorded by the priest after Bronagh had plunged to her death from the tower.

Suppressing a shudder, Riley glanced out the window toward the tower now. The thought of the young woman climbing there to throw herself to the rocky shore below made his belly lurch.

Again, he returned to last night's disturbing dream. Now he knew for certain that his dreams were of Aidan Mulligan and his beautiful Bronagh. Insane though that sounded, there was no sense denying it. Bronagh was the woman who'd haunted Riley's dreams for years, and who'd come to life for him in these recent weeks.

Through Bridget.

He didn't have the proof yet, but his instincts insisted it was true. Hadn't his dreams returned with a vengeance after the first moment he'd seen Bridget?

She was a beautiful and appealing woman. Perhaps that was the only reason she'd triggered the dreams. However, Riley didn't believe it was that simple. Not at all.

Brady was looking for one more missing bit of information—the part with the girl's full name. After that, Riley might be able to piece together more of this conundrum. The records of Bronagh's death would help. Unfortunately, she had been buried in an unmarked grave, as peasants often were back then. Furthermore, suicide was a cardinal sin even now, so Bronagh wouldn't have been buried on hallowed ground. Still, there would be
something
somewhere.

And wasn't Brady just the man to find it?

He had to smile at that. His old teacher's enthusiasm was contagious. The man thrived on the research. If Brady could uncover the missing pieces, Riley would be forever in the old man's debt.

He picked up the page with the spell written upon it again. The words were faded but legible.

A darksome curse on them that walke these halls

May they finde only death and miserie.

No joying be withstood within these walls—

Much daunted by sore sad despaire they be!

Until that cruell, disdayned destinie

Beguile them torne asunder with her power,

Rejoin the accurst for all eternity

with her so fierce bewronged within this tower

And ende this spelle, forever, in that blessed hour!

How was Riley to right a wrong committed centuries ago? Yet, he had to try. No, he had to succeed. Brady had admitted there were volumes he hadn't read yet in Riley's stack. Perhaps Riley would find the missing bits later. Just now, he needed a break.

His head ached from reading the faded scrawls for hours without a break. He stored the notes Brady had left with him on his desk in the corner of the parlor. No one in the family ever disturbed his desk, for he was the only one who knew how to order supplies and feed for the farm. The notes and diaries would be safe here.

His stomach growled and he remembered he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Riley glanced at the clock on the wall, shocked to discover the afternoon had passed to early evening without his notice. He'd missed lunch entirely.

Sniffing the air, he smiled. Bridget was cooking. Ah, and what man could resist anything that woman could cook?

What man could resist
her
?

Oh, and wasn't he tired of resisting? He rubbed the back of his aching neck and walked into the kitchen. The aromas wafting toward him were more than a bit of heaven.

The woman stirring something at the stove looked even better than the food smelled. Riley's appetite forgotten, he watched her for some time. Her hair was pulled up with a large clip in the back, probably to keep it away from the food. He liked her hair down, but seeing her long, slender neck exposed ignited his blood.

He ached to kiss the back of her neck, the slope of her shoulder. He wanted to slip up behind her and wrap his hands about her waist. He wanted to pull her back against him, to feel her softness against his hardness.

His breath stuttered in his throat and he had to blink several times to bring himself under control. Even that didn't help, though at least he could see straight now. Still, his blood sang with a primal hunger to make her his.

Aye, his.

Not Culley's widow. Not Jacob's mum.

Of course, she would always be all of those things, and Jacob couldn't want for a better mum. And to think Riley had once thought her devious. Shame slithered through him, dampening his desire only slightly.

"Something smells better than a pint after Lent," he said quietly.

She gasped and whirled around to stare at him. She stammered for a few seconds, then said, "I hope you like it."

Just you. Not y'all.

He rather liked it that way. Alone here with Bridget. "Have you fixed anything yet that I haven't liked?" he asked with a smile.

She smiled back and that soft look he'd noticed yesterday entered her eyes again. It tugged at something deep inside him and gave him pause. What he felt for Bridget was more than simple lust.

Though the lust he'd been feeling was anything but simple.

He rubbed the kink in the back of his neck again. "I spent too much time with my head bent over Brady's research."

Bridget put a lid on the pot and set her spoon aside. She adjusted the flame, and walked toward him. "Why is that?"

"Why is what?" he asked, so mesmerized by her nearness he'd forgotten his own words. He breathed in the scent of her and wanted more. So much more.

"Why were you going over Brady's notes?" she asked, clasping her hands in front of her.

Riley turned his head and a pain speared through his neck into the base of his skull. "Ow."

"Here." She pulled a chair out at the table. "Sit. Granny used to get a stiff neck from playing too much Bingo."

"What?" Riley didn't dare shake his head again. "Aye, I'll sit, but I don't understand what my stiff neck has to do with Bingo."

"Never mind." She wiped her hands on her apron and pointed to the chair. "Sit."

"Aye." Riley obeyed, anticipation zinging through him. She would touch him now, and knowing that made him ache inside—but not only his neck.

Her hands were cool against the stiff cords in the back of his neck. She massaged gently with her thumbs, then with the heels of both hands, working her way slowly down to the base and across his shoulders. He rotated his head to one side, groaning with pleasure as she found a particularly tender spot and worked the knots away.

"Your hands are magic," he whispered, the image of Bronagh cupping Aidan in her hands flashing unbidden to his mind. His breathing grew labored as Bridget continued to work her magic, relieved she couldn't see how pronounced his physical response really was.

Jaysus, but he wanted her.

The thought of Bronagh and Aidan had augmented his desire for Bridget, but he was convinced now that he would burn for her even without the dreams. Her hands stilled after a few minutes, though they remained on his shoulders.

He reached up and captured one hand in his and brought it to his lips. Tenderly, he planted a kiss in her palm and felt her shiver behind him.

"Riley..." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Hmm?" He kept his lips pressed to her palm and her other hand gripped his shoulder tighter.

"What... what are you doing to me?"

He half-turned and rose, keeping her hand in his. He brought his other hand to her cheek, caressing it with the backs of his fingers. "Why did you stay here?" he asked, realizing he hadn't paid much attention to that until now.

She looked down quickly, then lifted her chin and met his gaze. "To talk to you... about this."

"This?"

She nodded. "You're driving me crazy."

He had to chuckle at that. "And what do you think you've been doing to me?"

"Driving you crazy?" she asked, her smile tremulous.

"Aye." He slipped his arms around her waist very gently, and pressed his lips to hers. That wasn't nearly enough, and less than a breath later he brought her flush against him. Their kiss deepened, the softness of her mouth reminding him of another part of her body he wanted desperately to explore.

Reeling himself in with more strength than he'd believed he possessed, he released a long, shaky breath. "Bridget," he said, keeping his tone light, "you've set me on fire, lass."

"What are we going to do about that?" she repeated. "I... I..."

He swallowed hard and cupped her chin in his hand. "I'm listening."
And keeping my hands off you will be the death of me yet.

"I want to... to make love with you," she said, her eyes wide and filled with a sincerity that stole his breath. "And... and..."

He could barely breathe. "And what?"

"You won't think I'm being silly?"

"Nothing about what I'm feeling right now could be called 'silly,' Bridget." He gave her a crooked grin. "I'd call it very serious indeed."

She blushed and returned his smile. After a moment, her expression grew solemn and she drew a deep breath. "Riley, I've been having dreams," she blurted.