Fire of My Heart (13 page)

“You are
not mad, Ellen. Come.” He led her over to the edge of the bed, and she sat
down, stunned. With a wave of his hand the hearth blazed into life, filling the
room with warmth instantly.

He lifted
her hands and kissed her fingertips. “Your hands are chilled to the bone.”

Chilled?
Here she’d always struggled to get the bloody fires lit, and he could do it
with a flick of his wrist. That explained it.

Holding her hands, Rowan sat
beside her. She was numb. In fact, she wasn’t even afraid any more.

“Ellen, I’m
sorry. This isn’t what I wanted for you, but you need to know my past.”

She
swallowed. It was all so surreal. Dreams couldn’t be differentiated from cold
hard truth anymore, and there was no point in fighting it. Maybe this is what
the gypsy had meant. She needed to be strong.

He brushed
her cheek with the back of a hand, and she closed her eyes, sighing. A tear trickled
down her cheek. God, he felt good.

“I have
done things,” he began as he let her go and stood, pacing slowly before her.
“In the past. Things you will not understand.”

His eyes
grew dark. The once brilliant emerald fire had gone cold now, become deep green
like Irish moss. “I’d told you that, when I was a boy, my mother had fallen
gravely ill. We’d tried everything we knew to help her. My father brought in
the best healers from all across the land and beyond, but nothing seemed to
help...”

Still
shaking, she sat solemnly, listening intently.

“...The
only measure that offered her any comfort was when I drew her a hot bath filled
with healing herbs, but it never lasted long. The pain would return.”

The bath. A
nervous smile itched at the corner of her mouth. It had been so kind of him, caring
for his mother like that. No wonder he knew just what to do when she’d been
injured. Such pain and anguish he must have suffered, a young boy forced to
watch his beloved mother waste away.

She ached
to hold him.

“One of the
healing women told us of an herb that may have saved her. It was very rare and…”
A rush of red color washed over his face. “…the plants lay beyond our borders.”

“Rowan. Where
were they?”

He turned
suddenly and faced her, his face like stone, eyes once again green and blazing with
fire.

“Here.”

The
intensity of the hatred in that word startled her so, she jumped. “Didn’t the
herbs help?”

What could
they have been? Heal-all? Wild garlic? Maybe even nightshade or digitalis, used
medicinally. There were so many powerful plants, and many, more noxious and
deadly than people knew so long ago. Perhaps they’d used the wrong one. Or the
improper dose?

“We were
never to know. When we sent a dispatch to Lord Donegal, he refused us. He wouldn’t
allow the herbs to be given, wouldn’t help her.”

Her mouth
dropped open, and her stomach fell away. It couldn’t be true. How could anyone deny
such a simple request? The woman’s life could have been saved. Her own research
had brought relief and hope to so many patients. She’d never turn someone away,
especially in a life or death situation.

“How
cruel.” She sighed, wiped away more tears that spilled from her brimming eyes,
leaned forward and clasped his hand. “How could anyone be so cold?”

Looking
down at her, he brushed his thumb over her hand. The hatred in his eyes
softened for a moment, but the sadness buried underneath seeped through. “Not
long after, my mother died. My father was so heartbroken and filled with rage,
he swore he would avenge her. I promised to do the same.”

“Why
wouldn’t Lord Donegal help her? It was such an urgent request.”

He shook
his head, released her hand. “My father told me Lord Donegal had wanted to
marry my mother. That he and my father had once been friends. But she’d chosen
my father over him, and it caused a terrible rift between them.”

She stood
as he walked over to the window. The sky seemed alive with storm and whipping wind,
which howled at the glass, rattling the old panes.

Her dreams,
the images, even the incredible notion that he was a ghost made an awful kind of
sense. Relief flooded her. She wasn’t going insane after all.

Wanting so
much to hold him, yet unsure of what to do next, she moved next to him. “So...so
you did kill him. Lord Donegal, I mean.” Searching his shadowed gaze, she found
her answer. Tears of regret stung at her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

His harsh
expression softened as he reached out to touch her face but paused, perhaps
worried she wouldn’t accept him. She clasped his hand and held it to her cheek.

A deep sigh
escaped him. “
Tine mo chroi
, don’t cry. I took revenge upon him and, by
the gods, it seems I am to be punished for righting my mother’s death.”

His
expression gone cold, he looked away to the storm outside. By the bleakness in
his eyes, torment ate away at his soul. It wasn’t fair he should be punished like
this.

A sudden
surge of hate and resentment toward her ancestor built. How could Lord Donegal have
been so unfeeling, heartless? Especially toward someone who’d once meant
something special to him.

Perhaps
Donegal’s jealousy of Rowan’s father had been so bitter that he’d wished his
mother dead. Clutching his hand, she held it against her heart. “I don’t know
if it means anything, Rowan, but I am so sorry for what my family has done.”

* *
* *

A tear
rolled down Ellen’s cheek, and a strange sensation burned within him. He
couldn’t bear to see her cry. Reaching out, he smudged the tear away with his
thumb. She looked so sorrowful, like she hurt along with him, knew his pain.

He had no
right to make her suffer for his fate.

Then without
a word, she stretched toward him and pressed a timid kiss on his lips. She knew
about him, what he was and had done. Why didn’t it frighten her, disgust
her...make her want to loathe and despise him?

Yet here
she was, holding his hand, kissing him, hurting for him. Something moved in his
chest below his breastbone.
Thump
-thump.

A
heartbeat.

He
staggered, became unsteady on his feet, but it was unmistakable.

Pulling her
against him, he accepted the invitation of her lips and wrapped his arm

possessively around her
waist.

There it
was again. Another beat, then another, increasing until they pounded in his
ears like the wild drumming of horses’ hooves on new spring earth. Blood, hot
and virile, coursed into every fiber of his being. A rush of burning, tingling
sensations reached from his toes to his head, almost making him dizzy.

Then
suddenly he could taste her mouth, moist and sweet like fresh dew on rose
petals, her tongue, honey-smooth and just as delicious. Enraptured by her
flavor, he could feast on her mouth alone, but her body offered a delectable
repast he could now thoroughly devour.

As she
reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, he grasped her t-shirt. The
thin material was no match for his powerful hands, and slipped down her frame
in several pieces, then folded onto the floor. Her body shuddered as he ran his
hands along her bare back, savoring every curve, every detail. Around her
waist, then cupping a breast--he cherished everything.

She pushed
his shirt up and over his head, threw it to the floor. The raw desire in her
eyes made him smile, and his body harden. She was a goddess sent to taunt him,
with an offer of a new, exquisite torture he would gladly endure.

He reached
down, clutched her buttocks and lifted her against him. She wrapped her legs around
his waist and he carried her to the bed. Laying her down, he crept beside her
and brushed a lock of hair from her face. Her hair always was so unruly.

“You’re not
afraid of me, Ellen, of what I am, or my misdeed. Why?”

She sat up,
and before he could blink, he was on his back, looking up at her straddling his
waist. Pushing down on his shoulders, she leaned forward, kissed him deeply.
Then, looking up at him through her lashes, she eased away, smiling. “You are
real to me. And though I can’t explain any of this, in my heart I know I’m not
crazy. Or, imagining you. Ghost, entity, spirit, whatever you may be, know
this, Rowan David O’Connell. I love you.”

As he
digested her profound statement, she brushed her lips across his, her hands sprawling
out over his chest. He spun with a thousand emotions all at once, every nerve
in his being alive and on fire.

A groan
escaped him with her every touch on his skin, shudders beset him as she kissed
from his chest to his stomach. This was almost more than he could bear. More
than just a manifestation of desire, heated blood pulsed in his rock hard
erection, which throbbed and strained against his breeches. He lusted, and so
strongly he was bursting with need like never before.

A low growl
rumbled from his throat as he rose up and grabbed her, rolled her onto her
back. Gasping, she lay there, her copper hair sprawled out on the pillows.

“You are so
beautiful.”

A sultry,
seductive smile beckoned him from her sweet, red lips. Firelight flickered
across her soft bare skin.

He bent
down and kissed her stomach, inhaling the erotic scent of pure woman. In a
passion induced haze, he laid his head upon her breast and closed his eyes.
Beneath his ear, her heart beat a frantic, glorious rhythm to match his. “
Tine
mo chroi
.”

* *
* *

“Morning,
Miss. Nothing to be alarmed about. Just conducting a sweep of the area.”
Inspector O’Leary eyed the property as his partner fetched something from their
car. “Been a lot of robberies of late.”

Standing in
the kitchen doorway in her robe, Ellen yawned. Damn. What time was it? “Do you
have any suspects?”

“We do.
Well, we did. Seemed to have made clean off, as it were. Trail has stopped
cold.”

“I see.”

“Old
Bernard from the pub mentioned the last he’d seen the suspects, they’d stormed
out of his establishment after you’d come in the other day.”

She met his
enquiry gaze. “You mean those three louts?”

“So you did
see them then?”

“Well, yes.
They didn’t seem very happy I was in there. Didn’t like tourists, I guess.”

“Hmm.
Bernard said the same. Have you seen them since?”

Her palms
began to sweat. “No.”

“Thought
they may have been targeting the old house here. I’ve always advised his
lordship against leaving his property unattended for long. It’s temptation for
blokes like those.”

“Yes. I
totally agree.”

“Here you
go, miss.” The sergeant handed her a card. “If you do hear or see anything of them,
give us call.”

“I will,
yes. Of course. Thank you for stopping by.”

“No
problem, miss. And be sure to lock the place up good and tight before bed.”

“Thank you
again, Inspector. If I see anything, I’ll be in touch.”

* *
* *

The crisp
crunch of heavy frost under foot broke the early morning silence as Ellen
walked along the back borders of the estate. Peering over a tall fence into the
lush green wood’s beyond, she smiled, and blushed as two warm strong arms
reached around her waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Good morning, sleepy
head. I was wondering when you’d be awake.”

She giggled
as Rowan nuzzled her neck, sending delicious shivers down her body.

“Good
morning,
tine mo chroi
. You’re up early.”

“I don’t
know why,” she said, clearing her throat, unable to keep the grin from her
face. “You were insatiable last night. I was kind of worried about you
afterward. You seemed to be in pain for a while.”

“You were
awake?”

She nodded
and laughed. “Yes. Makes a change, doesn’t it? I just held you for a while, watching
you until you seemed to fall asleep. Though, to be honest, I really didn’t know
what to expect next.”

Squeezing
her again, he sighed and kissed the top of her head.

“I wish I
knew,
mo chroi
. I wish I knew.”

Shivering,
she wrapped his arms around her tighter like a warm blanket. She stared back
into the forest beyond the fence. “Had a visit from the police just now.”

“Police?”

“The law?”

“What did
they want with you?”

“Nothing,
yet. They were looking for those men who tried to rob us the other night. Seems
they’d been up to a lot of trouble lately.”

“I’m not
surprised. Not only thieves, but cowards as well. They tried to harm you.”

“I know. Rowan, I know you
said they won’t be bothering us again, but what exactly did you mean by that?”

“Precisely
that. They won’t be back.”

“I see. At
least then, when the cops come again, I can honestly say that I don’t know
where they are.” She turned around and hugged him. “Are those the woods where
you disappeared?”

“Yes.” He
gently stroked her arms. “They used to be vast. So large, we would go hunting
in there for deer. Now, barely an acre or two is left.”

Looking
down at the icy ground, she took a deep breath and sighed.