4
Riley
In her dreams,a dark-haired man with eyes so blue they were almost black held her, and when he whispered something she couldn’t understand, she felt so…comforted. Safe. What was it?
“Acushla,” she said as she forced her eyes open and sat up. She rarely dreamed—or rarely remembered her dreams. But the handsome man with the deep voice and the delicious accent had been in her head all night long.
As she turned on the water for the shower, her fingers fluttered over her neck. “What the hell?” A quick check in the mirror revealed nothing. No marks. No scars. But when she touched her skin, a littlezingof electricity ran through her body. Like she was waking up.
She must have slept wrong. Done something to one of the nerves in her neck. As she let the water run over her shoulder-length black locks, she started to relax. Letting her mind wander back to the tour of Bonney Castle, she tried to remember the end of the story the tour guide had told about the skeletons.
Cells. Captives. And then…a pair of inky black eyes. A dark room. Cool hands on her back. The scent of blood. And something amazing. Rich. Male. Leather and tobacco and spice. Floating.
Riley yelped as the water turned cold. “Dammit.” How long had she been standing under the spray? Quickly, she rinsed the last of the soap from her body, turned off the shower, and wrapped herself in a towel.
She couldn’t get warm. Not after she’d dried her hair. Not after she’d dressed in a thick red sweater and jeans, not after she’d guzzled down three cups of coffee with her full Irish breakfast.
When she pushed through the front doors of the hotel an hour later, she wavered on her feet for a moment, a bout of dizziness overtaking her. “Please. Just another few days. I’m doing everything right,” she muttered to herself. Grabbing onto the stair rail, she tried to steady herself. “I can do this. I’m going to see the National Library and make some memories.”
“Lass? Are ya’ all right?” A large man—easily two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle—took her elbow and helped her to a bench a few feet away. “Ya’ look a bit knackered.” His thick accent wasn’t Irish. Scottish, maybe? Riley looked up into his hazel eyes and found herself almost disappointed they weren’t midnight blue.
“Y-yes. Just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” She tried to shake off his hold, but he gave her arm a light squeeze, then reached up and tucked a thick curl behind her ear. His knuckles grazed the sensitive spot on her neck, and Riley shuddered.
“I could call someone for ya’? My name’s Ewan. I’m with the Guarda. Do ya’ need a doctor?”
“N-no. Uh…Officer?” She glanced him up and down. The uniform should have been a clue, but she’d been too preoccupied with the dizziness to notice.
He smiled. “Just Ewan, lass. Y’er too pretty to be so formal.” His cheeks flushed pink, and he backed up a few inches. “Apologies. I dinna want to come across as a creeper, Just…ya’ worried me there for a spell.”
“This happens to me…sometimes,” she said softly. “Nothing serious.”
Just heavy metal poisoning that’s going to kill me in a few weeks.
“Very well, lass.” He dug into his vest and handed her a thick, white card. “If ya’ need anything while y’er here, ya’ call, yeah? The emergency line’s on there.”
Now it was Riley’s turn to blush. For a moment, she’d thought the officer was going to ask her out. But when she glanced at the card, there were two phone numbers under his name. “What’s the other number…Ewan?”
“That’s me mobile. Ya’ can call that any time.” He offered her a shy smile, and Riley almost melted into the bench as he stood up and tugged down his vest. “Well, I best be gettin’ back to patrol.”
As he walked away, he cast a long glance over his shoulder, and Riley pushed to her feet. “Ewan?” she called out.
“Aye, lass?” He stopped and turned, his smile widening.
“I’m Riley.”
He bowed, doffing his cap. “A pleasure, Riley. Don’t lose that number, now.”
Riley tucked the little card into her pocket and waved before setting out for the library. Maybe tonight…she’d give the cute officer a call. She couldn’t start a relationship—with anyone. But would a night of fun while on vacation be such a bad thing?
* * *
The library was beautiful and,above all, peaceful. She wandered among the stacks for hours, running her fingers over the spines, finally pulling out a book on the history of Dublin and finding a chair in a corner to read up on Bonney Castle. The scent of the old books calmed her and reminded her of her time in medical school. Back before she’d discovered how severe her condition was.
A local coffee shop provided her with a delicious latte, and she paged through her guidebook, trying to decide where to go next. The oldest bar in Dublin—dating back to 1198—was a bit of a walk, but though she was still chilled, Riley didn’t want to waste a moment in a taxi or bus when she could be outside in the fresh air.
With hot chamomile tea in a takeaway cup, she wandered through narrow alleys, charming side streets, and over Ha’penny Bridge. All along the sides of the bridge, lovers had attached padlocks to the white metal fencing. Some had obviously been there for decades…others, for perhaps only a few months.
Tears burned in Riley’s eyes. She’d done so much with her short life. Graduated from medical school. Secured a coveted research fellowship at the University of San Francisco, published several papers that her mentors believed would lead to sweeping changes in the field of hematology.
