Page 42 of Irish Rebel
“That I am, but I’ve had a bit of practice.”
“I’ll bet. But let’s not bring up all your conquests just now. I’d hate to be obliged to punch you when I’m feeling so friendly.”
“I wouldn’t say they were conquests precisely. But we’ll let that be.”
“Wise choice.”
“Let me close the windows. You’re cold.”
She angled her head as he rose. “There’s nurturing in that bruised body of yours, Donnelly.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’d say it comes from the horses.” She pursed her lips, considered while hethunkeda window down and scowled. “You look after them, worry about them, make plans for them, see to their needs and their comfort—oh and their training, of course. Then if you don’t watch yourself you start to do it with people, too.”
“I don’t nurture people.” He found the idea mildly insulting. “People can look after themselves. I don’t even like people very much.” He stalked over and shut the other window. “Present company excepted, as you’re sitting naked in my bed and it would be rude to say otherwise.”
“You didn’t phrase that quite right. You don’t like very many people. Do you have a robe?”
“No.” He wasn’t sure if it was the truth in what she said, or her understanding of him that irked him.
“Figures.” She spied one of his work shirts tossed over a chair, and though it smelled of horses, slipped it on. “I’d say that tea’s probably strong enough to hammer nails by now. Do you still want it?”
She looked... interesting in his shirt. Interesting enough that his blood began to churn again. “What are my options?”
“On my schedule, we have a cup of tea, a little conversation, then you get to seduce me back into bed and make love to me again before I go home.”
“That’s not bad, but I think it bears improving.”
“Oh, and how’s that?”
“We cut out the tea and conversation.”
She ran her tongue over her top lip—his taste was still there—as he walked toward her. “That would take us straight to you seducing me? Correct?”
“That’s my plan.”
“I can be flexible.”
His grin flashed. “I’d like to test that out.”
They never got around to the tea.
And when she left him, he stood at the door and watched her run along the path. Love-struck idiot, he told himself. You can’t keep her. You’ve never kept anything in your life that you couldn’t fit in the bag you toss over your shoulder.
It was a bad turn of luck, that was all, that he would slip up and fall in love. It was bound to hurt like blazes before it was done. He’d get over it, of course. Over her and over this slippery feeling inside his heart. He wasn’t so far gone as to believe this sort of madness lasted.
So best to enjoy it, he decided, and turned away when Keeley disappeared in the dark.
When he climbed into bed, her scent was on his pillow. For the first time in a week he slept deep and slept well.
Chapter Eight
She missed him. It was the oddest thing to find herself thinking about Brian off and on during the day, and thinking of a dozen things she wanted to tell him, or show him when he got back from Saratoga.
She wasn’t the only one.
During his next lesson Willy asked if Mr. Donnelly was coming so he could show off the fresh gap in his teeth. The man, Keeley mused, made an impression and made it fast.
