“You’ll have to forgive me,” he began explaining. “I tried
to get you under shelter as quickly as I could, but by the time I mounted my
horse with you in my arms, the rain poured from the sky. I would’ve taken you
to your hotel had I known where you were staying, but I didn’t even know your
name. Is there someone you want to contact? Someone you’re vacationing with to
let them know you’re all right? It’s very late, almost midnight. I’m sure
they’re worried sick.”
His considerate words stole hers right out of her mouth. If
she had any residual fear of him, it had readily diminished. To know he had
picked her up in his arms and whisked her away on his horse, just so she
wouldn’t get wet, astounded her. Could he really be her knight in shining
armor?
“Um…I’m staying at the Man of Aran Cottage. But I’m not with
anyone,” Lorraine clarified as she tried to stand up.
A little wobbly on her feet, he came rushing to her aid,
bracing her elbows in the palms of his sturdy hands. “You came to Ireland by
yourself?”
She blinked rapidly, her normal motor skills slow to react,
and eventually made a delayed effort to step away from him.
“Here now,” he coaxed, putting his arm behind her back for
support. “You need to sit.”
Lorraine looked up at him, his chiseled face only inches
from hers, his large, brawny body hovering far too close, too quickly. She
teetered clumsily backward.
Before she could let out a gasp, he caught her and pulled
her upright into his arms, her face smacking the warm blunt plane of his chest.
“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” he asked, looking down the bridge of his
nose. “’Cause at the rate you’re going, you’ll be spending the rest of your
Ireland holiday in the hospital.”
Lorraine flinched at the approach of his hand, but he
stopped short. “Your head…you passed out. Remember?”
She touched where he was pointing and winced. “Oh…I fell out
of my bed.”
“I think you’re mistaken,” he corrected. “You were standing
on the cliff near Dún Aonghasa when you went down and I’m pretty sure I didn’t see
a bed.”
“No, I mean this bump is from a few days ago when I fell out
of my bed at home.”
His face drew back in surprise. “A grown woman falls out of
her bed? Some dream you must have had.”
Lorraine froze, his tone sounding as if he knew something
about her dreams. As if he were hinting he’d had the same. She studied him,
peering into his beautiful blue eyes for a clue. After a few moments of
silence, he cocked his head, trying to read her just the same.
“Do you always make a habit of falling out of your bed?”
Though his jest made her smile with embarrassment, it
confirmed she had hit her head harder than she thought. This man might have
resembled the brazen warrior in her dreams, but she had to start realizing it
was purely coincidence. Nothing more.
Backing slowly out of his embrace, she began making excuses.
“I’m merely jet-lagged, I think. This vacation was a spur of the moment kind of
thing. And…”
“Don’t worry yourself,” he said, giving her some space. “I’m
just glad you’re all right. Now, take off your wet clothes and then you can
have my—”
She reacted as if his words seared through her like one of
the red hot brands Patrick uses on his horses.
“I most certainly will not!”
“You cannot get warm in sodden clothing,” he proclaimed.
“I will do no such thing!”
“Listen, princess,” he retorted, beginning to take off his
belt and boots. “You, above all, should know this rain will be holding us here
for many hours, if not days. I am not going to sit in wet, uncomfortable clothes when I have
perfectly dry blankets at my disposal. And I suggest you follow my lead.”
She hadn’t long to contemplate his candid advice before he had
completely disrobed. “Oh, my goodness!” She gasped, turning her head away from his
nakedness.
“You might as well get used to it, my lady. Soon you will be
seeing me this way every night.”
“I will not!” she argued over her shoulder.
“Will you close your eyes to me even on our wedding night?”
“You are a stupid heathen of a man! How can you possibly
think that I will want to marry you?”
“Marry you?”
Lorraine’s eyes flashed open at the sound of the man’s
sharp, deep voice resonating behind her. She half expected to look over her
shoulder and see him completely naked in front of her. But when she peeked
around, he was standing there, fully clothed, hands on his hips, a look of
bewilderment on his face.
“Don’t you think I should at least know your name before you
propose to me?”
Lorraine brought both hands to her head. What the hell was
that? One minute she was talking about being jet-lagged in this man’s living
room and the next she was standing in a cave—from what she could
gather—watching the same man remove his wet warrior clothing while demanding
she do the same on account of rain. It all seemed like a dream, yet she clearly
was not sleeping.
“Is it still raining?” she asked curiously.
The blond stranger narrowed his eyes. “It is…which is why
your clothes are wet and why I suggested you remove them and get into dry
ones.” He quickly pointed behind him. “In the bathroom, down the hall, of
course.”
Relief washed over her. “I’m sorry…I’m…um,” she stuttered,
words failing her.
“Are you sure you’re all right? There’s a doctor who lives
up the road from here. At this hour I know he’s taken to his bed, but I think
this would be considered an emergency. Clearly, you’re suffering from some mild
head trauma.”
“No,” she said at once. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine.
Really.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Look, I just need a moment to gather my wits if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” He reached for a pile of clothes from his coffee
table and handed them to her. “I know they probably won’t fit you, but they’re
dry, and I found a pair of pants with a drawn string so that might help. The
bathroom’s two doors down on the left”
“Right. Thanks.” As her cheeks flushed with heat, she
accepted the clothes.
But he didn’t let go of them, cocking his head in scrutiny.
“So, why am I a heathen again?”
A nervous laugh fell from her mouth. “I don’t know where
that came from. It was an outburst. It’s obvious you’ve been nothing but kind
and gentlemanly. I’m sorry if I came off as rude.” His eyes played over her,
toying with her already scrambling mind. She’d never seen such brilliant color
in a man’s eyes before, and it was hard not to drown in them.
Finally, he let go of the clothes and reached for her
backpack sitting on his couch. “Trust me, you didn’t come off as rude,” he
allotted, handing over her things. “However, I think you’ve given me too much
credit with that ‘kind and gentlemanly’ nonsense. You might not think that come
morning.”
Lorraine’s eyes widened.
“Joke, love,” he amended. “You know, for an American woman
you sure are a bit uptight. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”
