Blazing Hot Irish Page 2

  Turning back toward the hedge wall, I notice an old cobblestone path moving east along the hedge. The stones are dark and covered in moss and leaves, clearly very old and well hidden in the trees.

  I push the leafy ferns aside and sure enough, the path continues. There are no signs anywhere telling me to stay on the walking path, but I feel like I’m breaking a rule and embarking on a treasure hunt.

  I can’t resist the thrill moving through my veins. I feel alive and interested in something for the first time in weeks. It seems like forever since I’ve actually breathed, and the air in the woods is lush and cool, and full of life. I let the excitement take me. I look over my shoulder to make sure nobody sees me, and then I step into the shadow of the woods.

  A hundred yards or so into my walk, the hedge takes a left turn and so does the path. I feel like a kid exploring with wonder and awe as I continue to follow it. The sense of stepping back in time returns and I go with it, pretending that I’m not Madeline Blaze, that there is no Peter, and my entire family isn’t reeling after I canceled my wedding with only two weeks to go. I can almost imagine it never happened, that the crushing humiliation belongs to someone else. Not me. It can’t be mine… I’m so far away…

  After another minute, the cobblestones fork. One path seems to continue along the hedge wall while the other turns toward the hedge itself. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize there’s an arch cut out of the hedge and a wooden door stands in its place. I test the latch. It’s unlocked. I pull the door open, letting it swing wide as I step through the arch.

  Inside the gate, the trees are gone and the sky is afternoon bright. The hedge is covered with clusters of tiny flowers in all shades of red and pink and white. I pluck a cluster and lift it to my nose to smell it when I stop and gape at the vision standing in front of me.

  I blink and look around, wondering if maybe there is a henge nearby—a circle of magic stones that I’ve actually fallen through and somehow landed a couple hundred years in the past.

  The man in front of me is shirtless. He’s wearing only a kilt and wool socks with blue ribbons peeking out of the folds at his knee. The laces of his shiny leather shoes wrap around his calves, and the tassels swing back and forth as he moves.

  He has dark hair and his sweaty body gleams in the daylight as he chops wood with an axe. Muscles ripple in his back and his arms. He has a tattoo wrapping around his hip and disappearing under his kilt. He growls each time he swings the axe. I can’t make out his words. The wood splits and he bends down and grabs another piece, setting it up for another round. He does it again. His rhythm so smooth and fluid, it’s like he’s in a trance.

  He’s so focused on what he’s doing I’m afraid to interrupt him. I don’t know what to do. I try to time myself so I can speak when he’s not swinging. I open my mouth to say hello when the gate slams shut behind me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GERARD

  A noise near the hedge interrupts me mid-swing. I turn toward the sound and nearly drop the axe, jumping back so I don’t accidentally kill the woman who has appeared out of nowhere.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You startled me!” I’m breathing heavy. I look around and the piles of wood strewn about tell me I’ve lost track of time and timber.

  She’s staring at me, her mouth hanging open. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  She’s American. I blink the sweat from my eyes, grab my shirt, and wipe my face and chest. “You shouldn’t sneak around people swinging axes, you know. What are you doing here?”

  She has dark blue eyes and dark brown hair cut chin length. She’s holding a bunch of flowers from the hedge in her hands. She points up toward the castle. “I saw these flowers growing from my window and it seemed so odd for March, I… I wanted to take a look.” She points at the gate behind her, hesitating. “I’m interrupting you. I should go…” She turns to leave.

  Something about her is so earnest, so real, I don’t want her to go anywhere. I step toward her and hurry to speak. “Are… Are you with the party then?”

  She turns back toward me and shakes her head. Her hair brushes forward and covers her cheek. She looks at me from behind the dark curtain of her hair and something in her eyes makes my heart race.

  “My friend is. Lacy. I’m kind of crashing in her room for a few days. Clear my head.”

  I nod, not knowing what else to say. I tip my chin at the flowers. “That’s quince.”

  “Quince?” She arches her brows, confused.

  “The flowers. They’re called quince. The hedge is flowering quince.” I realize I’m wringing my shirt into a ball.

  She looks down at her hands as if she’s forgotten she’s holding the flowers. “Oh. I picked them. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” She cringes. “I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”

  I take another step toward her and we’re face to face and I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I am sweating like a sinner in church. “Please. I’ve been terribly rude. I’m Gerry.” I offer her my hand.

  She takes it and looks up at me, the flat gray light of the sky lighting her face. “Madeline. Maddy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Madeline.” I take one look in her eyes and I know I’m in trouble.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MADELINE

  He’s still holding my hand. And I his. Our eyes are locked together and I feel like I am dreaming. If I am, I don’t think I want to wake up.

  His hands are rough and his voice is deep and he smells like wood and sweat and fresh air. I inhale his scent and let it fill my head. Then I shake some reality back into my mind.

  I am no position to deal with a man.

  Gerry points into the garden. “There’s a path this way that will get you back to the house. No sense walking through the woods again.”

  “Oh. All right,” I say, feeling unsure and unwelcome and like I want to just disappear. When he lets go of my hand, it’s like everything goes cold.

  He turns and steps away, his broad back to me. I take a moment to admire the wide shoulders and the narrow waist, and the bulging muscles and definition.

  “Come. I’ll show you the way.”

  I nod, dumbly. “Thank you.” I take a step toward him, trying to navigate the pile of cut timber and stumble on a loose piece of wood.

  “Careful!” He’s there in a flash, arms catching me, holding me close.

  I’m leaning awkwardly and I clutch his body in reflex at first. But when it’s clear he’s got me, my hands relax and I feel the warmth of his chest with one hand and the ridge of his spine with the other. His skin glistens.

  He lifts me up, cradling me, and turns around, placing me on my feet on the other side of the wood pile. I stand up as he straightens.

  My hands are still on his chest. His racing heartbeat thrums under my touch. “Thank y—”

  His eyes never leave mine. “Dear Lord save me,” he whispers. He leans down and hesitates a moment, his mouth inches from mine. His eyes are radiant blue, like the Colorado sky the morning after a snowstorm. He peers at me with such intensity it’s as if he can see my soul.

  I don’t know what comes over me.

  I lift my chin and touch my lips to his and then we’re kissing. The passion is immediate and full-on heat. His tongue moves with mine and we linger there, tasting each other, exploring each other with our mouths and our hands.

  I can’t stop touching him. His body is so strong and his skin is hot and so soft compared to the roughness of his strong hands. His lips move with mine and then down over my chin and to the tender skin of my neck. The stubble on his face tickles and raises gooseflesh all over my body, making me shiver.

  “God,” I whisper. He feels so good.

  He pulls away. “Are ye cold?”

  I’m panting when I look at him and shake my head. “I’m fine.”

  He touches his tongue to the corner of his mouth and I can’t resist. I move into him and follow his tongue with mine and then he kneels down and we’re in the grass
.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GERARD

  The back of her hair is damp and she smells of soap and flowers. I kneel down on the grass and she moves with me. She lies alongside me and moves her hand over my chest and down to my waist.

  I slip a hand under her sweater and let it glide along the warm smoothness of her back. I can feel her muscles moving as she writhes up against me and it arouses me that she’s fit and toned. I move my hand along the back of her bra and fail to find the clasp.

  She lifts her sweater over her head and tosses it aside and my hands move between her breasts to undo her bra. Her breasts are small and firm, and I take one into my mouth, flicking at her nipple.

  She moans and her hands are at my waist, feeling around, scrabbling for a way in, trying to undo my kilt. Then it’s as if she realizes I’m wearing a skirt and she slides her hands down. My cock is hard and ready. She moves her hands over the fabric and wraps her hand around my erection.

  I’m kissing her neck when I realize she’s stopped moving.

  She lifts her hands off me and sits up, her face a jumble of confusion.

  “What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…” She clasps her bra and grabs her sweater, pushing her arms through her sleeves and pulling it over her head. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to this.”

  “Agreed? To what?” Ice runs through me as her words filter from my ears to my brain. She agreed to this? Is this a setup? By whom? For what purpose? Then it dawns on me and I bark a laugh. Of course…

  She’s flustered and blushing and really laying it on thick. “I shouldn’t be here. Forgive me, Gerry. I am so sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s no problem.” I help her to her feet. “No harm done. Nothing wrong with a roll in the grass, eh?”

  She looks at me as if I’ve slapped her. There’s steel in her eyes. “This isn’t me. I don’t just roll in the grass.”

  I put my hands up in surrender and lead her to the walking path that will bring her back to the main house. “Sorry. No offense meant.” I open the gate and step aside. As she steps through, I can’t help myself. “Tell Allen nice try. But my eyes are open.”

  She looks at me as if trying to feign ignorance, but I see it all with perfect clarity. I watch her go and try to ignore the little squeeze in my chest. Even if this was a setup… there’s something special about this girl.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MADELINE

  Who the hell is Allen? I’m back in the hotel room and pacing the floor, trying to unpack what just happened. Gerry is hotter than hell and lord knows I would love nothing better than to be fucked senseless by a hot random gardener while hiding out in Ireland, but nothing good could possibly come from this.

  I am not here for a fling. I am here to reclaim myself, get centered, and put my life back on the rails. I can’t afford to get tangled up with someone new. Besides, I have been wrong every time I’ve picked a man. I thought I had broken my streak of losers when I found Peter two years ago, but turns out he was a next-level douche; a professional—he let me think I found him, when he targeted me and was playing the long game.

  Thank God I found out about Peter in time. But discovering his duplicity doesn’t erase my previous years of bad choices. I can’t trust myself to choose wisely. And right now, I can’t trust myself to choose anything at all.

  I move to the bedroom and stare at myself in the mirror. “What in the world was that, Maddie? Are you so desperate that you’re willing to throw yourself at the first hot man you meet?”

  To be fair, he wasn’t just the first hot man I met, he’s probably the hottest man I’ve ever met… and what am I desperate for? It’s not sex; for all of Peter’s double-dealing, things were fine in the bedroom. “So what is it? What happened out there that made this draw you in?”

  I search my face for answers and find nothing. Then I realize I’ve got my sweater on backward and inside out. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even think about my sweater. I retrace my path back to the room and realize I’ve passed no fewer than a dozen people on my way back here. “Oh, you’re a prize, Madeline Blaze. Classy dame.”

  I run my hands through my hair and try to shake off this frustration. I need to restart, reboot this trip. I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

  I’m just getting out of the shower when my phone buzzes with a text from Lacy.

  On my way. ETA 30.

  Dinner and drinks with my bestie is the perfect way to reset and start my trip over. I can erase my afternoon in the garden. There is no hot Irishman named Gerry who chops wood in a kilt. It never happened. I tap my reply to Lacy and toss the phone on the bed.

  Perfect. See you soon!

  CHAPTER TEN

  GERARD

  I watch Madeline walk away. In all my years, I’ve never had an experience quite like that; our connection was so real, the chemistry so instant.

  I’m surprised at myself, allowing an absolute stranger to catch me in her web. Am I that much of a hound? I should know better than to fall so recklessly.

  The little cluster of quince blooms Madeline had plucked sits on the ground by the wood pile. I pick it up and bring them to my nose, letting their sweet scent bring Madeline back to my mind.

  Her skin was so soft and she smelled like summer. How in the world had Allen managed this, the sly bastard? How did he find her?

  Thinking of Allen snaps me back to reality. I can’t dwell on this. Connection or no, I got the message loud and clear.

  I pull on my shirt, which is crumpled and in need of a good cleaning, and head through the garden gate to my car. I open the driver’s door, grab my phone, and dial Allen.

  His secretary picks up. “Good morning, Mr. Cosgrave. One moment.”

  “Thank you, Niamh.” I’ve been so busy sulking and feeling sorry for myself that I haven’t noticed that it really is time to move on from the Viper. I don’t need a new relationship, but the message is banging on my head like a drum. I’m done wearing this ball and chain around my heart. I am done living in reaction to whatever my ex decides to send my way. I am done.

  Allen’s voice fills my ear. “Have you decided already? That was fast.”

  “Offer her five million,” I say. Feeling the certainty of my decision bolster me up a notch already.

  “Five? You sure?”

  “Tell her if she agrees and signs, we walk away and never contact each other again.”

  “And if she refuses?” Allen asks.

  “If she fights for more or refuses, tell her that I will leak the pictures myself, and then I will file charges against her for blackmail. Remind her that I have the emails and the texts to prove it. She’s been holding all of this over me for a year. I no longer care if the world sees my cock or knows I’ve been swindled.”

  Allen laughs. “You sure you’d make good on that? Your mother would have a canary if those photos hit the internet.”

  Hopefully it won’t come to that, but I am not sure anymore that I care. “I’m done being threatened, Allen.”

  “Good for you, man. And if she calls your bluff?”

  “Tell her not only will I release the pictures, but I will make it my personal mission to reach out to her new boyfriend and any man she sets her sights on. I am sure all her future men will be of a certain financial class, and they’d love to know about her schemes—in all their sordid detail.”

  Allen whistles through the phone. “Whatever’s brought the fight back to you, keep it up.”

  I smile and shake my head. “Speaking of which, good choice on the bait you dangled. How did you find her so quick?”

  Allen pauses for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh please, she’s the opposite of that viper in every way. You couldn’t have chosen better.”

  He laughs. “I have done nothing, and you’re deeply disturbed to be this paranoid. Perhaps you need to eat something, get your blood sugar up?”

&
nbsp; I ignore his deflection. It doesn’t really matter. “Whatever you say, Wise One. Point taken. I read you loud and clear. Make the offer.”

  “Her solicitor will have it before close of business today.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MADELINE

  On the walk to the village, Lacy catches me up on all the festivities going on around the Blackthorn tour kickoff. It’s an overwhelming itinerary of events. They’ve had media lunches, tea parties, dance parties, intimate acoustic mini concerts, dinners, and sightseeing tours. She’s been here three days and from the sound of it, couldn’t have had a moment of sleep.

  Mackey’s Public House sits on the edge of the village at the base of the small mountain I’d seen from the hotel room. Everything about it feels airy, charming, and warm. The long wooden bar is full of people and there’s an air of neighborly friendship about the place as friends laugh and talk across the room.

  After the brisk walk from the castle, Lacy and I shake off the chill and grab one of the open tables in the center of the room. After a moment, the bartender comes out from behind the bar and hands us menus.

  “Welcome to Mackey’s. Can I get you a drink?”

  I smile. “I’ll have a pint of Guinness, please.”

  Lacy orders a white wine spritzer and laughs at herself. “I can’t help it. They were serving them at the party this afternoon and I’m hooked!”

  I inspect her face and there isn’t a dark circle to be seen. She looks happy and excited, and maybe even a little… satisfied?