Page 49 of Wine & Warlocks

Maybe it was the freedom to be themselves without pretense. Or perhaps it was the lurking threat, but there was a wild playfulness to their antics. An unspoken agreement to lock the world outside and deal with their problems tomorrow. And as they approached Ronan’s room, he stopped her with a hand on her arm and tilted her chin to meet his steady gaze.

“Hi. I’m Ronan Fucking O’Connor, and I’m mad about you, I am,” he said as if being introduced to her for the first time.

She grinned, immediately understanding his intent to start fresh and leave all their previous woes behind them. “It’s my pleasure to be meeting ya, Ronan Fucking O’Connor. Are you interested in sharing a drink with me, then?”

“Here, and I thought you’d never ask.” With a chuckle and lightness in his heart, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.

Once inside, he strode to the cupboard, removed a bottle of Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades Rose, and then held it up. “I’ve been saving this. For you. For us.”

“For the day I would forgive you?” she asked softly, gentle understanding in her eyes.

“Do you? Completely?”

For the one long, heart-pounding moment she didn’t reply, all of Ronan’s fears came to the forefront, paralyzing him and numbing his mind. Only when she nodded and shot him a come-hither look did he breathe normally again.

“It took ya a feckin’ lifetime to decide,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

Dubheasa laughedat Ronan’s long-suffering expression.

With capable hands, he uncorked the bottle and poured them both a glass. Just before giving her the champagne flute, he frowned and glanced around.

“What’s wrong?” She didn’t sense any disturbance around them, but she didn’t have his capabilities.

“There’s no romance to this place. It’s a bit cold if I’m to be honest.”

Her brows shot up, and she almost warned him to never speak that way in front of Bridget, but he was smart and had a healthy sense of self-preservation.

After passing off both drinks, he crossed to the bed, shooting a cursory look at the walls and ceiling. With an absent nod, he closed his eyes and waved his hands in a wide arch. Sheer white, billowy curtains appeared, adorning the corners of the four-poster bed. Pale, cream-colored pillar candles of every size sat haphazardly atop every available surface. The glow they cast caused the shadows to dance in the farthest reaches of the room.

With a nod of satisfaction, he returned to Dubheasa and, with a shite-eating grin, took one of the flutes from her hand.

“Sure, and I worry we’ll need the fire brigade should we knock one of those grand candles into the curtains,” she said, tongue in cheek.

The happy expression dropped from his face and was replaced with a worried frown.

Laughing, she tapped his glass with hers. “Relax, Ronan. It’s after teasing you, I am.”

“Look, and I’ll not lie. Your feckin’ sister scares the bejeezus out of me.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

Dubheasa sipped her drink, and her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “This is delicious!”

The Armand de Brignac Rosé was a gorgeous salmon-hued wine. Hints of blackcurrant and other red berries tickled her palate. Elegant and refreshing, it was the perfect compliment to their upcoming evening.

“I’ve only had it once, but the flavor stuck with me, and I knew you’d appreciate the taste.”

His thoughtfulness pleased her. Ronan was the type of man who would always strive to make their time together stellar. His brand of charm seemed effortless, yet Dubheasa suspected he wouldn’t leave a single thing to chance when it came to seduction.

Her mind drifted to making love, and an appreciative shiver skated along her spine. It was easy to see how one memorable night had become the thing she obsessed about so frequently. How other encounters failed to measure up to their one passionate experience.

“What are you doing to me?”

After removing the glass from her hand and setting both drinks on the closest surface, he cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, love?”

“You’ve got me twisted up inside, Ronan. All I can think about is your lips on mine. Your bare chest pressed against my—”

Swooping in, he captured her mouth, and the taste of the rosé was enhanced by the rich flavor that was uniquely his. She inhaled the clean scent of his freshly washed skin. The faintest hint of laundry soap tickled her senses, and she mentally smiled at the idea of Ronan washing his clothes. Of a certainty, he’d conjure what he needed and hire out the service.

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