The Last Bride in Ballymuir (30 page)

“
Darlin’?”

“
It’s nothing,” she said,
sprinkling frantic kisses over his forehead, down his neck, and on
his chin. “Just barked the skin on my back a bit, I think. Help me
with this blasted thing,” she added, tugging at the hem of her
fisherman’s jumper. “Hurry!”

Blood roaring in his ears,
panting like he’d just
run the length of
the Slieve Mish Mountains, he tried
his
best and rammed his other elbow into the window for the
effort.

“
Hell and dammit! Why
couldn’t you drive one of those tourist caravans with a bloody bed
in it?”

Kylie collapsed against him and began to
giggle. Since his face was more or less nestled between her
breasts, he put aside any slight to his male pride. Truth be told,
he wasn’t above a cheap thrill.

“
Maybe you’d like to show me
the barn,” she suggested. “Breege had a thought or two in that
direction the other day.”

“
B-Breege?” he stammered,
not quite able to absorb
the
idea.

She leaned back and smiled
down at him. “For us, of course. Did you think she’d be luring a
man out
here, while she’s encased in
plaster from ankle to hip?”

He could feel his answering grin stretch from
ear to ear. “She’s a game enough old bird.”

“
Well, for tonight the
barn’s ours.” She slid off his
lap. Michael
stifled a hiss of discomfort as she nudged close to places that
felt hard enough to shatter. “We’d best make good use of
it.”

She was out of the car and
around to his side
before he had time to
blink. She opened the door and
gave him a
sweeping bow. He joined her, and took one kiss in the soft rain to
tide himself over. Then he led her the few feet to the spot that
he’d chosen to stake his future—such as it was.

Inside, the light was dim,
so he switched on the
overhead bulb. It
cast a glowing, golden circle. Kylie
stepped into the light. Smiling, she ran her fingers through
her hair, pulled out the clip, then tucked it in her skirt pocket.
She shook her head, and silky brown tendrils tumbled about her
shoulders. His heart drummed faster at the sight.

She plucked at her woolen sweater and
wrinkled her nose. “I smell like a wet sheep.”

She tugged the garment over her head.
Standing there in her white blouse and blue skirt, a convent girl
combination that he’d seen her wear time and again, she shouldn’t
have looked as tempting as a selkie, that mystical seal turned
perfect woman, come to land to steal his heart. But she did.

He wanted to take her down onto the damp
earth and have her there, where he could watch every expression
that crossed her face while he loved her with all the ferocity
heating his soul. Instead, he took the sweater from her and set it
on a low bench outside the stall that usually held Breege’s milk
cow.

He needed to buy time to get hold of himself.
He switched on the radio that sat on a dusty wooden shelf, then
fiddled with its dial until he found music. Michael grimaced. All
the talent God could bless an island with, and only “done my heart
wrong” wailing semi-American ballads coming over the air.

He stayed to the fringes of the golden circle
holding Kylie, closed his eyes, and inhaled the mingled scents of
feed, hay, and dampness.

“
I’ve got some money,
y’know,” he said over the twang and moan of the music.

A little line appeared between Kylie’s brows.
She tilted her head. “Money? Are you offering to pay me for a
tumble in the hay... or wherever?” she added as she glanced into
the shadowed corners.

“
Jesus, no!”

She crossed her arms under her full breasts.
Riveted by the sight, for an instant he forgot what he was trying
to tell her.

“
So I’m not worth a coin or
two, then?”

He was immeasurably thankful
for her teasing
smile. “Don’t trip me up.
I’m doing a fine enough job
of that all on
my own.”

He moved closer, so that the
light played on him now, too. “I meant what I said in the car. I’ve
been
thinking ahead. I’ve got some money
that Vi says our
grandmum left to me. I
consider it a loan from Vi, but
one I’ll be
taking to pay for what all I ordered from the tool supply catalog
yesterday. A table saw, a lathe, a router with some really grand
woodworking bits...”

He trailed off as Kylie’s eyes began to glaze
over.

“
Well,” he finished, “I just
want you to know that—”

“
I know all I need to,” she
gently cut in. “I wouldn’t have told you I loved you if I
didn’t.”

She paused, and he knew what she waited for.
What she deserved. But he couldn’t give her those words; he wasn’t
even certain he knew how to love. Shamed, he dropped his gaze to
the tips of his shoes. He heard the rustle of old silage beneath
her feet as she moved closer.

In an act that immediately drew his
attention, she took his hand and settled it over the top buttons of
her oh-so-bloody-proper blouse. Hurt still lingered in her eyes
like a ghost, making pale-blue irises almost silver.

“
I’m glad that you’re
thinking forward,” she said. “But maybe we should take it one day
at a time.”

He nodded. His hand still
rested on that fragile
spot where her heart
beat so very close to the surface.
He
didn’t want to hurt her, to promise things he didn’t know how to
deliver.

“
Kylie—”

“
Unbutton it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“
My blouse, of course,” she
said with teasing patience.

He knew what she was doing, bringing them
safe to the other side of a rough moment. He didn’t deserve her,
but damned if he’d let that stop him.

His fingers shook as he
unbuttoned the blouse down to her skirt, then tugged it out and
finished the
job. She slipped the cuff
buttons free and slid the cot
ton from her
shoulders.

The radio began to play a dark and mournful
dirge, and he grunted with amusement at the mix of irony and
suitability.

“
Strip,” she
ordered.

“
Me?”

Her mouth curved into the true, Kylie-bright
smile that was becoming his anchor in life. “I wasn’t talking to
Martin.”

“
Martin?”

She laughed and pointed to the peacock who’d
just strutted in. The bird appeared cross and wet and ready to
chase them from what he apparently considered his shelter.

He narrowed his gaze. “Stay where you are,
you arrogant wee bastard.”

The peacock looked at him with utter
contempt, then with a shake of lax tail feathers, paraded to the
grain bin.

“
Strip,” Kylie repeated,
“then come keep me warm.”

He left his jacket and his shirt on the
ground, and pulled her into his arms, feeling hot enough to toast
them both to a crisp. He kissed her once, twice, then followed the
line of her scrap of a bra with his mouth.

Her fingers drifted though his hair as she
cradled his face to her breasts. He wondered whether she thought he
might walk away if she didn’t hold him. Michael smiled against her
soft skin, which was faintly scented of flowers and goodness.

He told her how beautiful
she was, how the taste of her drove him to want more. He gave her
all the
words of praise he could think of,
except for the ones he knew she wanted most. The ones he couldn’t
give.

He slipped the skirt from
her, and set it on top of his jacket. Kneeling, he let his
fingertips voyage up her slender calves, find the sensitive spots
behind her knees, then trace the line of her white panties. She
braced her hands on his shoulders and slipped off her shoes. He
helped her out of her stockings,
leaving
the panties in place. As he worked his fingers
beneath their elastic and cupped her bottom, he watched her
face. Her beautiful mouth curved into an oval just wide enough to
free a sigh of pleasure.

He brought his mouth to the silken skin of
her stomach and kissed her, his hands still worshiping her, flexing
and moving in time to an internal rhythm his body demanded be
satisfied.

Kylie again settled her palms on his
shoulders, her fingers kneading muscles tense with excitement. “I
wonder what it would be like to make love in the hay.”

He looked up at her, then around the barn.
All the hay that hadn’t left with the cow was one small, unbaled
pile to the left of the bench that held Kylie’s sweater. He stood,
clasped her hand in his, and brought her there.

Michael bent and tested the meager stack with
one hand. “It’s a bit scratchy, and there’s not much here.”

She nudged the hay with her foot. “Maybe it’s
enough,” she said with such yearning in her voice that he had to
smile.

“
We’ll make do, love,” he
promised.

What he lacked in practical experience,
Michael figured he more than made up for with determination.
Embracing her face between his hands, he kissed her. As they
kissed, he walked her backward until she was practically knee-deep
in the sweet-smelling hay.

“
Let me look at you,” he
said.

Kylie knew there was no need for false
modesty, or shyness, either. She opened the distance between them,
moving until she almost leaned against the wood-slatted wall behind
her. Reaching back, she unhooked her brassiere, then let it drop
into the hay.

Michael’s groan of pleasure wrapped around
her, warming her blood, making her shiver.

“
Is there more you’d like to
see?”

He nodded.

She looped her thumbs into the waistband of
her panties, and took those off, too.

Dried, grassy stalks tickled at her calves as
she straightened. Perhaps he’d been right about the hay. It wasn’t
quite the lovers’ cushion she’d imagined. Maybe if they—

Her thought was interrupted by her lover’s
voice. “I’m thinking I might need a closer view.” Then his mouth
was on hers, and his hands running possessively over all she’d
bared for him.

Kylie’s eyes slipped shut.
She moved into a dark
realm of taste and
touch and scent, a place where sight no longer mattered. The sweet
pull of Michael’s mouth at her nipples, the firm brush of his
knuckles at the vee
of her legs, the hot
urgency in his voice as he told her to
open
to him, to give him her all... that was her reality.

His kisses traveled down her
body. She heard the
rustling of the hay at
her feet as he moved lower. She
reached out
and wound her fingers into his thick hair, holding his head close,
not wanting to lose that magical contact of mouth against
skin.

He settled his hands on the
insides of her legs, just
above her knees.
“A little wider, love,” he urged.

Because she could refuse him nothing, Kylie
did as he asked. His fingers parted her. Warm, humid places felt
the kiss of cool air. She shuddered.

“
Beautiful,” he whispered.
“So beautiful.”

Then the cool kiss gave way
to the hot, wet slide of
tongue.

Kylie’s fingers tightened against his scalp.
“Michael,” she gasped, half in protest over an embarrassment she
didn’t want to feel, half in shock at the fire that shot through
her.

“
Let me,” he
asked.

And so she did.

Fire consumed any last bits of hesitancy.
Soon, Kylie was sure her legs would hold her no more. She begged
him to stop, please, before they both tumbled. He answered by
sliding one finger deep inside her. She flew then, hard and fast,
to a release she wouldn’t have dreamt possible. But she didn’t
tumble, for Michael was there to hold her.

Kylie’s heart eventually
slowed. The sound of someone chatting on the radio drew her out of
her own private reality. She realized that she sat cradled in
Michael’s lap. He rested against the stall’s outer
wall, his arms wrapped around her. Twining her
arms
about his neck, she sat upright and
kissed him—with wonderment, with gratitude, but most all, with
love.

He smiled. “Liked that, did you?”

She smiled back. “At the risk of sounding a
total tart, yes.” She paused and brushed another kiss against his
lips. She’d thought herself too tired for more passion, but as the
feel of him—the hard pounding of his heart, his clean, male
scent—steeped its way through her sated senses, she knew she wasn’t
done. Not by a far cry.

Kylie shifted so that she straddled him,
kneeling in hay that had become sadly flattened. “But grand as it
was, I’m thinking we’re not quite done,” she said, pausing between
words for more kisses.

The hay pile was out of the question for any
serious lovemaking. She drew herself to her feet, then glanced
around their shelter from the world. There was little in the way of
creature comforts, though Martin seemed to be pleased enough,
busily pecking at whatever ill-tempered peacocks snacked on.

Kylie, on the other hand, wanted a bit more
for Michael and herself. Then the beginnings of an idea settled on
her.

“
Follow me,” she
said.

Michael rose, and she led
him to the broad bench
that
sat several steps away. She wasn’t quite certain
how to go about what she was envisioning.