Page 12

CHAPTER 12

F or the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, Patrick and Fionola conjured items, only to have them explode the moment the object was completely formed. Their bodies were covered in food and drink, and it had become a game of sorts to coat the other in the messiest goo imaginable. By the time they were done, their cell looked like a war zone.

Patrick approached Fi, intent on removing the cherry pie filling from the tip of her nose, when the glob dripped onto her breast. In his mind, he envisioned her sans clothing with the rich ruby-red juice trickling along her creamy skin to a pert, dusty-rose nipple, and he’d never imagined such an alluring mess in his life.

“Do you think if we magically clean the room, the walls might explode and release us?” she teased, distracting him from his fantasy.

Thankfully!

“Aye. They’ll be picking up our body parts all the way across the channel.”

She laughed up at him, and he wanted to kiss her so badly his heart ached from the longing. When her gaze dropped to his mouth, he had the stray hope that perhaps she felt their connection to the extent he did.

Swiping a finger along her cheek, he removed a glob of chocolate syrup, sniffed it, and then tasted it with a soft moan of appreciation. “It was a grand idea you had to conjure Belgian chocolate, love, but it’s a bloody shame to be wasting it.”

She stepped closer and repeated the gesture, grinning widely around her finger as the flavor profile struck her taste buds. Her sparkling eyes spoke to his soul, calling him to action. Bending his head, he waited a few heartbeats for her approval, and once he’d received it, he covered her mouth with his. The deliciousness of chocolate and cherries combined tempted him to delve deeper, and he swept his tongue along hers, groaning when the subtle notes of the food burst to life and satiated his senses.

Her hands traveled up his chest, explored the breadth of his shoulders, then made the journey along his neck. As her fingers dug into his hair, Patrick sighed his pleasure and went back for a second taste. His arms banded around her, and his palms itched to cup her breasts, but he gave her the lead. Whatever Fi wanted, he’d abide by. He only hoped it was a satisfying shag.

Meeting his hungry gaze, she took one of his hands in hers and placed it on her breast. “Touch me,” she urged.

“It would be my greatest pleasure, love.” Trailing his fingertips over the slope of her breast, he skimmed along the shape of her, then lifted the hem of her shirt for contact with her silky smooth skin.

She sucked in a breath as he ran his flat palm along her stomach and along her upper back to unclasp her bra. When she was free of constraint, Patrick cupped her bared breast and sighed his happiness as he brushed a thumb across her erect nipple.

“You’re beautifully built, Fionola. It’s like you were handcrafted just for me.”

She shivered and pressed into him, dropping her hands to his trouser fastening. Making short work of the button and zipper, she slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. Patrick was sure he’d died and gone to heaven when she caressed the length of him and ran her thumb over the head of his penis, spreading the pre-cum over his hot flesh. He closed his eyes and gasped as she began a rhythmic stroking.

How long had it been since he’d felt a woman’s touch? When was the last time he’d been pleasured with a hand that wasn’t his own? He couldn’t recall, and tears burned the backs of his lids. Refusing to wallow in the lonely memories, he opened his eyes and met her desirous gaze.

“If you only knew how feckin’ good that felt, you’d probably stop to save me the shame of coming early.”

She grinned. “Is it shameful to get off when it feels so good? It’ll let you last longer when it’s your turn to give me pleasure.”

“Feck if you aren’t the most understanding and wisest woman I’ve met.”

With a laugh, she kissed him. And Patrick experienced a familiarity with her that he’d never had with another. A coming home of sorts. He lost himself completely in the moment.

“Hello?”

They both froze at the call echoing down the corridor.

“Hello? Is there somebody there?”

Fionola retracted her hand so fast his cock flopped out of his pants, causing him to wince when the sensitive skin scraped the zipper’s teeth.

“Have a care, love,” he warned.

“Oh! Beg your pardon, I?—”

“Hello?”

She frowned and tilted her head before rushing toward the sound.

“ Tadhg? Tadhg, is that you?”

When she pressed against the wall closest to the bars, Patrick’s heart tripped.

“Careful!” he shouted, hurrying to put himself to rights and prevent her from touching the bars.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Fi contorted to see down the hallway.

“Fi? Fi! Are ya here to rescue me, then?”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and relief swamped her.

Her brother was alive!

“Tadhg, which end of the hall are you? Your voice is echoing, and I can’t tell.”

“I’m farthest from the exit,” he hollered back. “Did you only just get here, sister? Are ya alone?”

“No, I’m here with Patrick O’Malley. He?—”

She heard her brother’s vicious swear right before a high-pitched ringing consumed her mind. The sound reverberated, drowning out anything else Tadhg might’ve said. Clamping her hands over her ears, she cried out.

Patrick’s arms encircled her, and he drew her back against his chest. The instant they touched, the noise dissolved into a faint buzz.

“Fi! Can ya hear me, love? Are you all right?” he demanded.

She shoved away from him without responding to his question. The important thing was her brother.

“Tadhg?”

The silence caused her heart to seize.

“Tadhg? Answer me!”

Nothing.

Fi turned stricken eyes to Patrick. “What happened? Why isn’t he answering?”

“Who?”

“Tadhg. You had to hear him, yeah?”

When Patrick hesitated, then slowly shook his head, Fi’s jaw dropped. Shock caused her face to go numb.

“How is that possible?” She hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud until he touched her cheek.

“What is it, love? What did you hear?”

“My brother. He was calling to me, Patrick. He’s here, just down the hall!” Frantic, she searched his expression for some sign she wasn’t losing her mind. “Are you telling me you heard nothing?”

“I’m sorry, love.”

She fell to the floor, stunned and unable to process what had just happened. “He was there! I heard him.”

“No.” Any telling emotion was smoothed from his face, but a wild, panicked look entered his eyes, and the irises were darker than mere moments before. “I only heard you calling for your brother.”

She recognized the reaction. One didn’t get to her age without encountering falsehoods and the tools who tossed them out like candy at a parade.

“You’re lying,” she accused. Building steam, she surged to her feet and gripped the front of his shirt, scattering buttons in every direction when he stepped backward as if to avoid her wrath. “You heard him.”

His mouth set in a stubborn line. “I didn’t.”

“You know more than you’re saying, Patrick O’Malley, and if you want to live to see another sunrise, you’d best be telling me what it is you know.”

His humor flared, but he immediately tempered it in the face of her building rage. She supposed a man who’d been married understood the way of it when a woman was about to hand him his arse.

“I heard someone call out,” he finally admitted. “But no more after you said your brother’s name. I’d a ringing in my ears, and when it stopped, you were holding your head.”

“But you did hear him call out first, yeah?”

“I heard something, aye.”

Simmering inside, Fi walked to the cell opening. The desire to rattle the metal bars was overwhelming, but the resulting injury would be too severe and not worth the agony inflicted upon herself. Especially when she’d rather inflict harm on Patrick O’Malley!

Why had he lied? It didn’t sit well with her after he’d promised he wouldn’t. But he’d hidden the truth for a reason, and she intended to find out what it was.

“Fi?” Patrick walked up behind her.

“Yeah?”

“Can I give you my truth?”

The deep timbre of his voice, combined with his tentativeness, caressed her ears and washed away her fury. With a tired sigh, she faced him. “Speak.”

His lips twitched, as if her response amused him, but he wore his sincerity like a cloak.

“When we kissed, I was lost in the moment. Many a time I’ve questioned if an experience is real.” Lifting his shaking hands, he examined them before running trembling fingers through his hair. “Likely it comes from being caged alone as long as I’ve been, but my mind likes to play tricks on me.”

“But you promised you’d not lie, and you did.”

“Aye, I lied.”

His remorse caused her to ask, “Why not just tell me what you heard and trust in me not to think less of you if it wasn’t real?”

“Because sometimes I think I’m still Loman’s prisoner, and you’re a figment of my imagination, too,” he said hoarsely. “That I’m standing here, conversing with an empty room, trying to hang on to the last of my sanity.”

“Oh, Patrick.” Tenderness swamped her, and she reached for him. When he hesitated to return her hug, Fi squeezed her eyes shut and held on, taking comfort when he relaxed into her embrace and offering whatever solace she could.

“I’m sorry I held back, love. I had to work through what my senses were telling me before I acknowledged that reality.”

She drew back and cupped his face, applying a light pressure with her nails.

“Feel that?” When he nodded, she did, too. “It’s real. I’m real. If you ever question it, I’ll help ground you.”

Tears shimmered in his incredible eyes, making the jeweled tone brighter before he rapidly blinked them away. He covered her hands, shifting one to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

Fi understood what it was to be overcome with emotion, to be unable to speak for fear of regurgitating all her feelings all over the person with her. There had been many instances where she’d barely contained herself. Patrick didn’t need to tell her what was in his heart when she could clearly see it for herself.

“We should probably clean this mess up.” She knelt next to the food and began piling the dishes, hoping to allow him time to gather himself. It’s what she’d need if the situation were reversed.

Squatting next to her, Patrick stilled her hands. “I’ve got this.”

With a wave, it was gone. Their meal, the plates, the silverware, and the napkins. All of it! Even the buttons she’d scattered about the room were back on his shirt as if they’d never been ripped off.

Fi froze in place with her heart thundering in her chest.

He’d used magic without it backfiring! Effortlessly!