Chapter 11
Clare could so easily get lost in the arms of this man, Griffin Gallagher. His heart was open wide and oh, so vulnerable. Not to mention the ardent kisses, full of emotion, both tender and passionate.
She’d never been kissed with such focus and attention. It wasas if nothing existed but her lips and mouth, and he was dying to taste and explore every bit of her.
He was a powerfully built man, oozing with sexuality. His body heat blanketed her, and his hard chest against her breasts made her nipples tingle with excitement. He held her firmly, possessively, and at the same time, protective. His hands guided her body in a fervent dance, a twistingmovement of deep passion like two giant cobras spiraled around each other. Their mouths locked together in a breathless embrace, tasting, dipping, and devouring.
Every patch of Clare’s fair skin glowed with incredible heat. Her knees weakened, and she was melty and hot, barely able to stand.
As if sensing her weakness, Griffin lifted her onto the lower part of the battlement. Hebent her backward and nibbled and sucked on her neck, right below the jawline.
Clare was faintly aware that she was hovering over the top of the castle tower, but the sensations coursing through her bloodstream were so exciting, she didn’t care. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let herself lean back farther, reveling at the heady feeling of hanging in thin air in the arms of astrong and protective lover.
Griffin Gallagher played the part well. Dark hair and eyes, a five o’clock shadow at noontime, and large strong hands. And the heat. He had so much heat, he burned her everywhere they touched.
His hands branded her back, and a hot poker jutted from his crotch, right up against her sensitive nest of sweet pleasure. In her imagination, he’d already rippedher white gauzy dress to shreds. The mouth that was sucking on her neck would be over her breasts, licking and circling her nipples, and one hand would be slipping off her panties.
Her flesh would be glistening wet, begging to be breached. He’d caress her mound with his finger, teasing her into a frenzy of desire.
And then…
Holy goddess of fire. Unable to hold back his fiercepassion and need for her, he’d unsheathe his thick and throbbing weapon.
“Take me,” she cried, transporting herself into a dream that seemed so real.
She was no longer outside on the top of the tower, sitting on a rough rock wall, but inside a dark and fragrant bedchamber. Satiny sheets caressed her back, sending shivers of delight from her head to her toes. Faint music, the tinklingof bells, and the smooth tone of a flute filled the octagonal-shaped room. The scent of perfume, cedarwood mixed with lavender, stirred the very essence of her soul.
Her eternal lover, a man with the wings of an eagle, covered her with kisses. His mouth awakened every begging sensual zone on her greedy body. And the way he touched her, running his fingers over every inch of her body, caressing,probing, and massaging, opened her up in a way that she’d never allowed.
“I’m yours, all yours,” she whispered, spreading herself on the bed, ready to receive his entire love.
“Brigid, yes, Brigid, my love, Brigid.”
Clare bolted upright. A whoosh of air left her lungs. She wasn’t Brigid, and everything Griffin did wasn’t for her.
She opened her eyes, and she was sittingin a notch of the battlements on the top of a castle.
Alone.
She closed her legs and lowered her skirt. Looking over her shoulder, she spied how high up she was. It was a miracle she hadn’t fallen to her death.
At least no one had seen her acting out.
Had she fallen asleep or succumbed to an untimely flight of her imagination?
Or was something truly strange withthis castle? Did it cause illusion, or was it a part of the Otherworld?
Was Griffin a ghost?
He’d spoken about living a thousand years, then dying and living again.
How real was he, actually?
Hugging herself, she jumped off the wall and looked around for any sign of life. The view was expansive and breathtaking. To the north was the wild Irish sea where invaders fromthe north breached the shores. The headlands where she’d met Griffin jutted below, craggy and rugged cliffs battered by fists of frothing waves.
The surrounding country was barren and rocky, covered with patches of heather, thistle, and grass. Legend said Ireland had been densely forested before the British denuded vast acres of trees to support their shipbuilding.
Clare tried topicture how the valleys would have appeared to the Tuatha Dé Danann invaders. What would Brigid have seen when she stepped ashore?
