Page 57 of Beer & Broomsticks
“I… well… I thought… but sometimes a woman fakes it.” A blush colored his cheeks, and he’d never looked more boyish and adorable.
“Oh, Ruairí. Yeah, and I doubt any woman has ever faked it with you.” She caressed his cheek. “Never change.”
A frown marred his brow. “I thought you hated me the way I was.”
“When did I say that?” She dropped her hand and scowled.
“Well, not in so many words, ya didn’t, but it was implied.”
“Never once have I asked you to change who you are. Sure, and I don’t like what you consider little white lies, and I’ll rip your beating heart out with my bare hands if you lie to me again, but never have I asked you to change who you are here.” She patted his chest. “I like you just the way you are.”
He laid back on the pillows and grinned. “This feels like a Bridget Jones moment.”
With a laugh and a quick peck on his lips, she said, “You’re a right tool. And I’m going to ride you mercilessly about the chick flicks you watch.”
Taking her hand in his, he kissed her fingertips. “I don’t care. For you, I’ll take a ribbin’. What didn’t happen, then?”
“This.” She wiggled her fingers. “The return of my magic.”
He rolled on his side and propped his head on one hand. “It’s because you refuse to open your heart to me,mo ghrá.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What was Isis sayin’ to you today? Something about you needin’ to open your heart for it to happen?”
Gobsmacked, her mouth fell open at the simplicity of the solution. “That’s it, then. I thought it was a simple shagging. Opening the gate, so to speak.”
Ruairí began to laugh. Deep, booming guffaws that irritated her to no end.
“Sure, and what are you laughing at?”
“Your face!” he crowed.
“Get out.”
“Bridg—” He couldn’t quite muffle his continuous chuckle.
“No. This is no laughin’ matter. I’ve need of the magic to defeat Loman.”
Her comment sobered him. “Then I hope you never get your magic, because you’ll not be goin’ up against my uncle. I don’t want you within a mile of that fecker.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Ruairí O’Connor, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”
“You’ve a death wish, woman! If you think for one bleedin’ moment that any of us will let you confront him, you’ve lost your feckin’ mind, ya have!”
He’d worked himself up to a full steam, and Bridget decided to let him have his say. She intended to do what she intended to do, and he’d not stop her, but if he felt better venting, she’d let him.
“He’s dangerous, and he eats little girls like you for breakfast,” Ruairí said. In his frustration, he began jerking on his clothes, glaring at her all the while. “Of all the foolish, most asinine—”
She sat up and let the sheet drop to her waist, resting back on her hands.
He trailed off as his fiery-hot gaze locked on her bare breasts.
Bridget almost laughed at how easy he was to distract, glad to see nothing had changed in seventeen years and the technique she employed to shut him up still worked.
Trailing one fingertip between the valley of her breasts, she gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Sure, and what was it you were sayin’?”
“You’re an evil woman.” Reluctant admiration replaced his dark scowl. “And maybe youarea match for Loman.”
