The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

move on there, or away, what then?”
    It would kill him. Even the thought of it stabbed his heart. “It won’t affect the business side.”
    “Maybe we should have a separate contract saying so.” She meant it sarcastically, even cruelly, and was stunned when he only nodded.
    “All right.”
    “Well, then. Well.” She let out a shaky breath, and walked over to look down at Ardmore once again. So that was how things were done in his world. Contracts and agreements and sensible negotiations. Fine. She could handle that, would handle that.
    But just let him try to walk away from her down the road. Let him try, and he’d find his legs across the room from the rest of him. He knew nothing of wrath.
    “All right, Magee. Draw up your papers, ring your solicitors, strike up the band, whatever needs doing.” She didn’t turn back, but whirled. And her smile glittered, hard and gorgeous. “I’ll sign my name. You’ll get your voice, you’ll get the whole flaming package. God help you.”
    God help us both, she added silently.
    Relief came to him in a wave. He had her, and was on his way to keeping her. “You won’t regret it.”
    “I don’t intend to.” Her eyes were sharp enough to cut glass when he took her hands again, leaned toward her. “No, you don’t. I don’t seal business arrangements with kisses.”
    “Point taken.” Solemnly he shook her hand. “Business concluded?”
    “For the moment.” So now he wanted a woman, a lover. Fine, then, she’d give him his money’s worth there as well.
    Deliberately, she ran her hands up, from hips to ribs, over chest, onto shoulders, sliding her body into his. Provocative, taunting, she nipped, retreated, nipped until she tasted frustrated desire, until she saw the flash of it heat his eyes to smoke.
    Then, only then, she tipped her head back and let him take.
    They feasted on each other, with none of the tender patience of the night. This was passion and passion only, with its greed and fire and demands. While her soul wept from the loss, she rejoiced.
    He wanted her, would want her, again and again. This she would see to. As long as she held this power, she held him. And with it, witchlike, she would bind him.
    “Touch me.” She tore her mouth from his to use her teeth in little cat bites on his neck. “Put your hands on me.”
    He hadn’t meant to. The time and the place were all wrong. But heat was pumping out of her, into him, burning off control, scorching sense. His hands, rough and possessive, filled themselves with her.
    But when he was on the point of losing all reason, of dragging her down to the wild grass, she pulled back. The wind caught her hair and swirled it as if in water,the sun shot into her eyes and sparkled there. For an instant, her beauty was cruel.
    “Later,” she said, and lifted a hand, lover-like, to stroke his cheek. “You can have me. As later I’ll have you.”
    Fury spurted into his throat, but he didn’t know if it was for himself or for her. “That’s a dangerous game, Darcy.”
    “And what fun are they if they’re not? You’ll have what you want from me, on both counts. Be content that here you’ve had my word on the first, and a fine taste of the second.”
    He was just raw enough to risk asking, “What do you want from me?”
    Her lashes lowered, a shield against grief. “Didn’t you bring me up here because you’d figured that out for yourself already?”
    “I guess I did,” he murmured.
    “Well, then.” She was smiling again when she held out a hand. “We’d best go back, as the morning’s wasting. And I never did finish my tea.” Cheerfully, she gave his hand a little squeeze as they walked. Let’s just see if you can keep up with me, you blind, thickheaded bastard. “And will you be willing to share your bagels with me?”
    He ordered himself to match her mood. “I could probably be persuaded to share.”
    Neither of them looked back as they walked away, or saw the air ripple and shred.
    •    •    •

“Fools,” Carrick muttered, scowling from his perch atop the stone well. “Stubborn, bone-brained fools. And just my luck to be stuck with them. One step away from happiness, and they spring back as if it were bared fangs.”
    He leaped off his seat, landing an inch above the ground. In the next instant he was sitting, cross-legged, by Maude’s grave. “I’m telling you, old friend, I’ve just no clear understanding of mortals. Maybe they are just in heat, and I’m