The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

blood. He plunged into her, his pace all the more frenzied when she came and called out his name. Then she was rising and falling with him, driving even as she was driven. His vision hazed so that her face, her eyes, her tumbled hair were behind a soft mist.
    Then even that vanished as the animal inside him leaped out and swallowed them both.
     
    She lay sprawled over him, exhausted, aching, smiling. He lay beneath, stunned and speechless.
    Their opposing reactions had the same root.
    He’d taken her on the pub floor. He hadn’t been able to help himself; he’d had no control whatsoever. No finesse, no patience. It hadn’t been making love but mating, just as recklessly primitive as that.
    His own behavior shocked him.
    Jude’s thoughts ran along the same lines. But his behavior, and her own, thrilled her.
    When he heard her long, windy sigh, he winced and decided he had to do whatever he could to make her comfortable.
    “I’ll take you upstairs.”
    “Mmmm.” She certainly hoped so, so they could do it all over again.
    “Maybe you’d like a hot bath and a cup before I see you home.”
    “Hmmm.” She sighed again, then pursed her lips. “You want to take a bath?” The idea was intriguing.
    “I thought it might make you feel a bit better.”
    “I don’t think it’s possible to feel any better, not on this plane of existence.”
    He shifted, and since she was limp as a noodle, found it fairly easy to turn her around so she was cradled in his arms. When she only smiled and dropped her head on his shoulder, he shook his head.
    “What’s come over you, Jude Frances Murray? Wearing underwear designed to drive me crazy, then letting me have my way with you on the floor?”
    “I have more.”
    “More what?”
    “More underwear,” she replied. “I bought bags of it.”
    It was his turn to drop his head weakly on her shoulder. “Sweet Jesus. I’ll be waked in a week.”
    “I started with the black because Darcy said it was foolproof.”
    He only choked at that.
    Pleased with his reaction, she snuggled closer. “You were putty in my hands. I liked it.”
    “She’s gone shameless on me.”
    “I have, so I’ll tell you I want you to carry me upstairs. I love when you do that because it makes me feel all female and fluttery. Then take me to your bed.”
    “If I must, I must.” He glanced around, noting the scatter of clothes. He would come back for them, he told himself. Later.
     
    And when he did, quite some time later, he fingered the bits of lace as he carried them back upstairs. She was fullof surprises, was Jude Frances, he thought. Just as much surprising to herself, if he was any judge.
    The shy rose was blooming.
    Now she was sleeping, cozy as you please, in his bed. She looked right there, he decided as he sat down on the edge to watch her sleep. Just as she’d looked right serving drinks in his pub, or working in her garden, or walking the hills with the O’Tooles’ dog beside her.
    She had, indeed, clicked neatly into his life. And why, he wondered, shouldn’t she stay a part of it? Why should she go back to Chicago when she was happy here, and he was happy with her?
    It was time he had a wife, wasn’t it? And started a family. He’d found no one who made the prospect of that a sunny one until Jude.
    He’d been waiting for something, hadn’t he? And here she had walked right into his pub one rainy night. Destiny took no more than that.
    She might think otherwise, but he’d talk her around it.
    It didn’t mean she had to give up her work, though he’d have to puzzle on exactly how she could do what most satisfied her. She was a practical woman, after all, and would want her options spelled out.
    She had strong feelings for him, he thought as he toyed with her hair. As he had for her. She had roots here, as did he. And anyone with eyes could see that now she’d found those roots she was blooming.
    There was a logic to it all that he was sure would appeal to her. Maybe it made him a little jumpy in the gut, but that was natural enough when a man contemplated such a big change in his life, along with the responsibility, the permanence of a wife and children.
    So if his palms were a bit sweaty, it was nothing to beconcerned about. He’d work it out in his head for her, then they’d move on from there.
    Satisfied, he slipped into bed beside her, drew her against his side where he liked her best, and let his mind drift into sleep.
    While he slept, Jude dreamed of Carrick,