Her Irish Rogue

Her eyes flew open and she cried out in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you up to your room,” Will said, starting for the stairs. “You’re nearly asleep and I’m not sure you can make it under your own power.”

With a sigh, she settled into his grasp. “I think the service in this hotel is really wonderful,” Claire said, resting her head against his shoulder. “I’m going to recommend it to all my friends.”

Will took her to a room on the opposite end of the hall, kicking open the door with his foot. He’d placed a small space heater in the corner and had lit a fire in the fireplace and when they walked inside, the room was cozy. He hoped she wouldn’t notice and that she’d repeat her invitation for him to stay and keep her warm.

He set her down next to the bed, her arms still wrapped around his neck. And when she turned her face up to his, he did what he’d wanted to do all evening. Will covered her mouth with his, savoring the taste of her. She responded without hesitation, her tongue meeting his, silently offering more than just a kiss.

The attraction between them was undeniable and intense, yet Will wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. With any other woman, he wouldn’t have hesitated to crawl into her bed and make love to her all night long. But Claire O’Connor was a guest! And then there was Sorcha’s little love spell. If that had anything to do with this attraction, then Will wasn’t about to let it affect his judgment.

Still, he couldn’t resist enjoying just a few more moments with her. His hands skimmed over her body, slipping beneath the silk shirt to touch bare skin. She leaned closer, inviting further exploration, and there didn’t seem to be anything standing in his way.

Will slowly worked at the buttons of her shirt, opening them one by one and bending to kiss each inch of exposed skin. When he reached the soft tops of her breasts, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into the space between his legs.

His lips found her belly, so smooth and warm, and he spanned her waist with his hands as he kissed her there. Claire ran her fingers through his hair, guiding his head until he reached the lacy fabric of her bra. Will nuzzled at the soft flesh, then reached up to tug the lace down to reveal her nipple.

Claire tipped her head back the instant his lips teased at the hard peak and a heartbeat later, they tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. All good sense seemed to vanish and Will focused on pleasure, the wonderful act of exploring her body with his lips and his fingers, inhaling her scent and listening to the tiny sounds that escaped from her throat with each tantalizing caress.

He twisted his fingers around hers and gently drew her arms above her head, gazing down into her face. “Are you sure you want this?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but merely smiled. “Yes.”

“Look at me,” he said.

Claire opened her eyes and he stared down at her. “Would you like to go to sleep?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

Will rolled to his side, then stood next to the bed. If he was going to spend his pent-up passion on Claire O’Connor, then it was going to be a night both of them remembered, a night that went on far longer than the next hour or two. He reached down and drew the covers back.

“You’re going to thank me for this tomorrow morning,” he muttered as he took off her shoes. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a good roll in the sack, but I can control my impulses. Not that it isn’t killing me to walk out of this room.” Will carefully rebuttoned her shirt. “I sure won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

He pulled the bedcovers up over her and tucked them under her chin, then bent down and brushed a kiss onto her lips. “We’ll take this up another time,” he said.

“Another time,” she whispered, a tiny smile curling her lips.

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, then made his way through the quiet hallway to the stairs. On his way through the parlor, he grabbed the wineglasses and empty bottle before heading back to the kitchen.

Though it was late, he wasn’t tired. In truth, he was so wound up, he wondered if he’d sleep at all. Or if he’d spend the entire night thinking about the beautiful woman in room three, knowing she was just upstairs, knowing that if he really wanted to, he could walk into her room and crawl into her bed. He’d been invited.

“Was she wild for you?”

Will spun around to see Sorcha standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a long white robe with a jeweled belt cinched at the waist and a wreath of holly leaves on her head. “Jaysus, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was curious,” she said, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “I wanted to see if my spell worked.”

“No,” he lied. “Did you really expect that it would?”

She frowned, staring into his face as if she could read his mind. “Why don’t you believe in my powers, Will? They’re real, you know.”

“Sorcha, it’s late and I need to get some sleep. Go home.”

“I can’t. I have to go out to the stone circle and do an incantation. Maggie Foley wants grandchildren and she’s paying me for a weekly fertility ritual on behalf of her three daughters.”

“But you’d rather come here and bother me?”

“If you don’t believe in the magic, it won’t work.” She reached into her bag and withdrew an old bottle, stopped with a cork. “Here, you might as well have this. You need all the help you can find.”

“What is it?”

“Water from the Druid spring. Use it. If you don’t have a woman soon, I think you’re going to go right round the bend. It’s not good for a man to have all that unreleased sexual energy. It’s not healthy.”

“I blame that on you and every other person who lives on Trall. You were the eedjits who put my name up for that bachelor story. Thought it might bring more publicity to Trall. Well, it didn’t. But it ruined my social life.”

“The water could change all that,” Sorcha said.

“There is no Druid spring,” Will countered. “You probably drew this water right from the tap at your flat.” He pulled out the stopper and dumped the water into the sink, then handed her the empty bottle.

She shrugged. “All right. Suit yourself.” Sorcha turned for the door.

“Are you going to remove the spell?” Will called.

She slowly faced him again, a satisfied grin curling her lips. “You do believe, you just can’t admit it. My work here is done. The rest is up to you.”

With that, she spun around, her robes billowing out as she left the room. Will chuckled to himself. So maybe there was something to Sorcha’s spell. He’d give Claire tonight to sleep off her jet lag and the wine they’d drunk. But tomorrow, he’d get down to the bottom of this crazy attraction between them. And then he’d know for sure if Sorcha’s Druid powers had any effect on him at all.

CLAIRE SLOWLY came awake, opening her eyes to the soft sunlight in the room. At first, she wasn’t sure where she was. She closed her eyes again, certain she was dreaming, but then realized she wasn’t asleep. Pushing up on her elbow, she looked around the unfamiliar room. It wasn’t her bedroom—but then, she was in Ireland, wasn’t she? But this wasn’t the room she’d been put in, either. Her luggage wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Slowly, the events of the previous night came back to her.

“Oh, no,” she murmured. Was this his room? Had they spent the night together in his bed? Wincing, she sat up and peeked under the covers. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was still dressed, though her blouse wasn’t buttoned right. “I didn’t do anything stupid.” Claire frowned. “Why didn’t I do anything stupid?”

A soft knock sounded on the door and Claire crawled out of bed. She smoothed the wrinkles in her shirt and ran a hand through her hair before she opened the door. Will stood on the other side with a tray. “I made you some coffee,” he said. “I thought you might need it.”

Claire rubbed her temple, suddenly aware of the ache there. “What time is it?”

“Noon,” he said. “Which is about six a.m. Chicago time. I can bring the coffee back later, if you like. Your bags are out here in the hall.”

Claire stepped away from the door and motioned him inside. She sat down on the edge of the bed and he placed the tray on a small table and set it in front of her. Then he poured her a mug of coffee. “There’s milk and sugar,” he said, pointing to the tray.

“Black is fine.” She took a sip, watching him over the rim of the mug. “What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Parts of it are a little hazy. I didn’t have that much to drink. Just a few glasses of wine.”

He walked out the door and returned with her luggage, setting the bags at the foot of the bed. “I think you were more tired than drunk,” Will said. “You got sleepy and I brought you up here and—”

“And?”