Page 16

CHAPTER 16

T adhg slammed his hands against the bars of his cell, frustrated he’d missed the opportunity to tell Fionola what had happened to him. Knowing her as he did, he had no doubt she’d called Patrick O’Malley to help find him and wound up in a world of trouble because of it.

“This fucking place!”

A breeze swept the room, and Tadhg drew back into the shadows. The habit of hiding from Loman O’Connor had never left him, but it had come in handy until he was caught this week. All those months, he’d begun to believe he was paranoid, as his family seemed to suspect. Yet he’d been right. Someone was stalking and abducting all the unwilling victims of this godforsaken prison and returning them to their original jail cells.

And he knew exactly who that someone was.

“You’re not to speak to the woman again, or it’ll go worse for ya,” the hooded figure growled.

“Fuck off, why don’t ya!” Tadhg snapped.

The material dropped down, exposing the man’s head and strong facial features. His eyes were glowing with fury. “I’ll not say it again.”

A shiver chased along Tadhg’s spine, but he held his chin high as he moved forward. He wrapped a hand around one of the metal bars and shook it.

“Why not supercharge it like Loman? Steal our magic to fuel yours?”

“I’m no thief.”

“No. Just a fucking liar and kidnapper, aye?”

The man’s scowl held confusion, and he shook his head slowly. “There’s an order to things. A rightful place. This is where we belong.”

He caught the man’s slip. “We?”

“Just keep your gob shut. No more noise out of you, boy.”

“I’m no boy, and when I get out of here?—”

“You’re not getting out unless I let you out.”

“I swear—” Tadhg’s next words were cut off with a strangled cry, and as he struggled to draw a breath, his captor shook his fist. The invisible hand on his neck squeezed and caused Tadhg to reach out beseechingly.

It took strong magic to choke another without laying a finger on them, and the man in front of him held an impressive amount. Tadhg’s standard allotment was a pittance in comparison.

As dark spots danced in his periphery, he grew dizzy and fell into the wall, sliding down to land on his hip with a painful thud. The impact would leave a bruise, but it was the least of his worries. His most pressing need was air.

He was seconds from death when the man’s fist opened, releasing Tadhg to gulp in oxygen through coughing fits.

“Remember what I told you. Don’t talk to the woman.”

Speaking was painful, but he refused to be cowered. “If you hurt her?—”

“Hush your whist,” the man said, albeit a little gentler and with a grim expression. “I’m not after hurting your sister, or anyone, for that matter.”

Yeah, and hadn’t he just about crushed Tadhg’s windpipe? The man was cracked in the head, and Tadhg needed to remember to tread carefully until such a time he could gain the upper hand.

“How much longer are you planning to keep us here?” he asked in a neutral tone.

The man’s mouth thinned into a flat, white line. Frustration simmered in his eyes, and his head rocked back and forth in a negative motion as if Tadhg’s question was too much for him.

“You’re not a bad man,” he told his captor, lying through his teeth. Anyone who would abduct and re-imprison another lunatic’s previous victims was just as evil in his book. “I know you’re not. I’ve seen?—”

“Stop. Talking!”

“Don’t hurt my sister. Please. ”

The man pulled up the hood, hiding his close-cropped graying hair, and drew the front low to keep his face in shadow. “Behave, Tadhg Bohannon. If I have to come back, I’ll not be happy with ya.”

“I’m trembling in me boots,” Tadhg sneered. And he really was, but he’d be buggered if he’d admit it.

A grin flashed on the other man’s face, and it was almost friendly in nature. “You’re a lot like her, to be sure.”

Patrick awoke with a start, disoriented and bordering on panicked. The instant he sensed Fi, curled against him like the snuggle bug she was, the tension left his body. Only with her did he feel normal. Feel as if he were able to sleep nightmare-free for as long as he liked and without waking as if his body was a thousand years old. With her, the future might not be a scary place to exist, after all. But she wouldn’t stay. He knew this with a certainty unmatched by any optimism he could muster.

He scrubbed his free hand over his face and winced when he encountered the stubble. A shave was paramount. If she ever took it into her head to kiss him again, the scratching of her lovely skin would be a goddamned tragedy. Likely she wouldn’t, though, and that was a crying shame.

The hope he felt around her was a double-edged sword. His desire for her bordered desperation, but his sense of self-preservation called him a fool at every turn. Instinctively, he understood that if he fell for Fionola fully and she left him after a night of true intimacy, she’d destroy him in a way Rose’s defection never could.

Fi murmured something in her sleep and wiggled closer, wedging herself under his arm and resting her silky-soft cheek on his bare chest. She locked him in place with her shapely leg over his. Goddess, what he wouldn’t give to have free rein to run his hands along her smooth skin. To touch her hot core, that he felt even now through the material of his pant leg. To taste her everywhere, leaving no spot unexplored.

His hard-on was past the point of painful, and as much as he wanted to adjust his dick to a more comfortable position, he didn’t want to be caught seemingly fondling himself if she woke up. Patrick almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his situation. He was mad for a woman who was years younger and in love with another man, but who was also trapped with him for the foreseeable future. What he was beginning to feel for her was a thousand times more powerful than what he’d felt for Rose all those years ago. Or maybe it was the same, but his wife’s betrayal had tainted his memories.

A sudden clawing need to break free bubbled up inside him. If he didn’t, he might do something truly asinine like lay his heart at Fi’s feet for her to trample all over as she ran to Noah or Tadhg or any number of people not him.

Patrick released a slow breath.

Aye, he was unlovable. He should’ve understood the message the first time his wife had told him. With his index finger, he jabbed his forehead three times.

“Remember that, remember that, remember that,” he silently chanted. “Quit being a feckin’ eejit, Patrick!”

Rather than disturb Fi, he teleported from the bed to the corner of the room. Backing into the shadows where their excuse for a bathroom existed, he washed his face and scrubbed his teeth, using the toothbrush and paste their captor had seen fit to leave them.

They’d been left to rot, but their teeth sure as hell wouldn’t. When their dried-out husks were found, Patrick imagined their chompers would be blinding white in their ghastly, open-mouthed grins so at odds with their grotesque corpses.

He snorted at his absurd gallows humor. Over the years, he’d become a pro at turning his unlucky circumstances into laughable situations. Although he doubted anyone else would appreciate his dark wit.

In the mirror, he glanced at the bed.

Fionola might.

During their mundane conversations, she’d laughed and returned his snark word for word. Her stories were filled with the same dark humor as his.

Giving into his overwhelming need, Patrick turned and rested his butt against the sink. He crossed his ankles and arms, then proceeded to watch her sleep. What did it say about him that he could make a pastime of observing her? Was he a voyeur at heart, or just a sucker for love?

Her strawberry-blonde hair was a mass of tangles, spread over her shoulders and pouring down her back. She’d shifted after he left and was now on her stomach, curled into a pillow, hugging it as she had him. One leg remained hiked up, as it had been when she’d pinned him to the mattress, and the sheet rode low on her hips. Hips he’d pay to see naked. Hell, unteachable fool that he was, he’d give his very soul for one night with her.

It took him a solid ten seconds to register that she was watching him as he was her, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest the instant he noted the bold light of intent in her eyes. Only, he didn’t know what that intent meant. Once, he’d have believed it was desire. But his ability to discern a woman’s thoughts had never been on point.

His stomach clenched in anticipation as she shifted into a sitting position and swung the bedsheet back. On bare feet, she padded to him, and her eyes dropped to view his chest, making him acutely aware he’d never put his shirt on after washing up. Then her gaze lowered to the outline of his thickening penis.

Probably he should apologize for his morning wood, but she was old enough to understand a man’s reaction wasn’t always voluntary when he saw a beautiful woman in dishabille.

“Good morning.” Her voice, unused from hours of sleep, was husky and inviting.

“Good mornin’, love.”

Her mouth kicked up in the corners as if she was pleased by his endearment.

No one was more surprised than him when she reached out and ran a hand down the center of his bare chest, trailing her fingers through the hair leading to the waistband of his pants.

Hooking a finger in the top, she lazily lifted her lids and met his unblinking gaze. His only hope was that he didn’t appear as desperate as he felt. Inside, he was a bundle of raw nerves, wondering if he still had it in him to please a woman like her. He also knew that despite the fact he’d be broken and battered when she sauntered her lovely arse back to Noah, he’d take whatever she offered and be appreciative of it.

“You’ve had this for quite some time, Patrick O’Malley. Should we take care of it?”

“That depends what you mean, love. If it’s chopping the bleedin' thing off, I’ll have to deny ya.”

She laughed as she shifted closer and nuzzled his nipple. After swiping her tongue across it, she closed her mouth over the tight bud and suckled. Pleasure shot straight to his groin, and his cock turned as hard as Connemara marble. As if she knew exactly what result she’d caused, Fi ran her hand under his waistband and along the length of him.

“I’m not after chopping anything off, Patrick. I admire the feel of it too much.”

He groaned. “Are ya sure you’re wanting to start something here, love? It’s not as if we have privacy.”

She lifted her head, bringing a halt to the exploration of her mouth on his chest. With a frown, she glanced toward the cell door. “If we can’t hear anyone else, can they possibly hear us?”

“I’ve never known this place to be soundproof before you got here, so I can’t answer you with any honesty.”

“You’ve magic. Can you cloak us for a short while?”

Patrick visually followed the motion of his fingers as he brushed a lock of hair from her flushed face. “Do you believe this is a grand plan, Fionola? Mind you, it’s not no I’m saying, but would you feel as amorous on the outside?”

Her fingers tightened around him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head his pleasure was so great.

“I believe it’s a grand ride we’ll be having. But if you’re not interested…” As she began to withdraw, he clasped her wrist, holding her in place.

“Now don’t be hasty, woman! If you say it’s a grand ride, then I’m as interested as can be.”

She laughingly led him to the bed.