Sinead sighed.

  “You’re descended from the mighty Bridget. What would you have from a man who is your equal? A simpleton, perhaps? Ah…a doormat? Or do you prefer a man who will accept you and your strengths? A man who will challenge you as much as you challenge him?”

  Sinead thought back to Donal and indeed all the other relationships she’d had with the opposite sex. None of them inflamed her blood like Jack. “I understand that you would want this,” she said. “Truly I do.” If she were desperate to save her family from unwanted grief, maybe she’d believe the myths and grasp at them also. “My answer is no. I’m sorry. If you’ll excuse me…?”

  “Sinead.” Jack stood.

  “I won’t run.” When his eyebrows drew together, she added, “I’ll let you or one of your people drive me home. But this is over, and I’d like to leave. It was a pleasure, ma’am.” The smile she gave Catherine wasn’t much, but it was the best she could conjure. “I wish you good health.”

  She blinked back the sudden tears. What was it about this family, and him, specifically? No other man had ever made her cry, and with him, her emotions were always at the surface, as if he was cracking open the vault she’d kept around her heart.

  “I’ll be up in ten minutes, then. Be prepared to leave.”

  She nodded.

  Leaving might be one of the more difficult things she’d ever done. But it was essential that she save herself before it was too late.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Give her time,” his grandmother advised.

  “Keep her tied up is more like it.” Jack paced, working through his anger. “She needs a good hiding and to be locked in a dungeon somewhere. I’ll have Liam see to it. May take some excavating to be useful. But worth the effort.”

  “As I asked Sinead, what would you have, garmhac?” she asked, calling him grandson of the heart. “There’s a reason you’ve not married.”

  He remembered the emptiness of loss, and the sting of betrayal. For the first time in his life, he’d allow someone to get close. “Maeve’s cheating.”

  “She was unworthy of you.” She waved a hand. “No loyalty there, to you, to anyone. You knew it.”

  No doubt he had, even though he’d been loath to admit it. If he’d have been sure of her, he wouldn’t have hired the Fallon Group to confirm his suspicions.

  “You and Maeve would have divorced afore now. Think of that mess.”

  He winced, not because her directness was brutal, but because she was probably right.

  “And Sinead. Is she the type to cheat on you? Consider her loyalty to her clan.” She studied him with her wise eyes. “You read Celeste’s dossier.”

  His grandmother was correct on that point as well. The experience with Maeve taught him how much he valued loyalty. And there was no doubt the O’Malley woman fascinated him, perhaps in the same way Cormac had been attracted to Bridget. Sinead’s responses were passionate and uninhibited. He couldn’t think of much beyond shoving his cock inside her while she screamed his name.

  “The lass. She ties you in knots, doesn’t she?”

  “I apologize for my earlier display.” He shouldn’t have allowed Sinead to goad him in front of his grandmother.

  “If the truth was told, I enjoyed it. Reminded me of your grandfather.”

  He blinked.

  “’Tis not just O’Malley women who fight for what they want.”

  No doubt. His grandmother had done a spectacular job of managing the family’s lands once her husband passed. She’d a keen eye for historic preservation, for expanding the riches. And she’d begun a foundation that would issue grants for a hundred years to come. Because of her brilliance and ability to form alliances to get what she wanted, she’d been one of the very first women to become a Titan, and she’d sponsored Jack’s own membership.

  “Take care you don’t lose her. You might not find anything this satisfying again. That type of energy can change the world. She’d make an excellent partner. Her song is beautiful.”

  “You’ve listened?”

  “Naturally. Fusion. Is that what it’s called?”

  He wasn’t sure he’d use that word to describe it, but Celtic World Nations did blend numerous styles together.

  “My point is this. Sinead will breathe new life into the manor. Shake the cobwebs from it, as it were.”

  “It’s rather…” He looked around.

  “Familiar. Unchanging. And it’s high time it did. The home needs a new chatelaine. You’ve worked out a prenuptial agreement, I trust? With equitable terms all around?”

  Of course that would be very important to her. “More than fair to the O’Malley clan.”

  She took a sip of her tea that had to be cold by now. “You’ve presented it as a business arrangement to Sinead, I take it?”

  “Naturally. Sinead will see the benefit to her family.”

  “My dear boy, she’ll not sacrifice herself on the altar of marriage. The dossier said as much. Since she’s been here, I’ve seen her passion. She’s filled with life, isn’t she? She’ll want a man who brings out all the sides of her so she can flourish.”

  “I offered her a lot of money.”

  Catherine sighed. “She works hard, with the cottages and the band. Our Sinead is adept at figuring things out. Become friends with her. Show her who you really are. Make her fall in love.”

  Combatants, perhaps. Friends? Love? Of that, he wasn’t sure.

  Catherine placed her hand on his. “Go to her. And consider trying a wee bit of charm this time.”

  Maybe he’d offer her seven figures. That was much easier than all of his grandmother’s other suggestions.

  “If you’ll excuse me?” As he headed upstairs, the sound of running water met him. He walked toward the bathroom, noticing Sinead also left the door open. Even though she was planning to leave, she was following his orders?

  He braced his shoulder against the doorjamb and shamelessly watched her. Even though the glass was steamed over, she was a picture of loveliness.

  She poured shampoo into her palm, then lathered her hair.

  Her movements were graceful and erotic in their innocence.

  He could think of nothing but bending her over the bed, tying her hands behind her back, and taking her from behind.

  After she rinsed her hair, she looked over at him.

  To her credit, she didn’t change what she was doing. She soaped her body, then used the handheld showerhead to rinse.

  Steam billowed over the top of the door and clouded the edges of the mirror. It gave the small room an even greater air of intimacy.

  When she turned off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack. She slid open the glass door and stepped onto a mat.

  “Allow me,” he offered.

  She licked her lower lip but stood still.

  His grandmother was right about one thing. He did want a woman who challenged him. And one who alternately challenged and surrendered was irresistible.

  He towel dried her hair then gently wiped her face and neck.

  “Jack…”

  “I don’t want you to go, Sinead.”

  Her chest heaved. From emotion, he hoped? Did he have a chance?

  “Don’t do this, Quinn. Don’t. Allow me to leave.”

  “Give me twenty-four hours. You’re tired from the flight, as am I.”

  “I can’t.” She trembled. “It’s time for me to be back with my family, and I won’t stop trying until I do.”

  “There’s something I’d like you to see, a vision I’d like to share.”

  She grabbed the towel from him and wrapped her body in it, even as her hands shook. “Did your grandmother tell you that would actually work?”

  He gave a half shrug. “It’s not just her. She’s right, about a lot of things, isn’t she? You need a man your equal. I need a brave warrior woman as mine. Let’s have a bargain. Twenty-four hours. And then you make the decision. I will drive you home or charter a plane for your return to America. We’re tired from the flight. What’s the harm in going home rested after seeing my family’s lands?”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’ve drawings. Ideas to share. Even if you refuse to marry me, the concepts are good. Perhaps I’d be willing to invest. ’Twould be an olive branch at the least, wouldn’t it? A step for future generations to build on.”

  She exhaled shakily. “Are there no levels you won’t go to in order to have your way?”

  None. Not when the stakes were this high. “One day, Sinead. If I hadn’t come for you—” He ignored her indelicate snort. “Fetched you, you wouldn’t be home yet. Your tour was scheduled for another month.” Perhaps his grandmother was correct. He should never have presented it as a business proposal. But what other choice was there? That was what it was. Along with a fierce attraction, admittedly.

  “Twenty-four hours?”

  “Not a minute more.” He schooled his expression, as he’d done in meetings and boardrooms for his entire adult life.

  “No tying me up?”

  “Not unless you ask. You’re no longer here under duress. You’ll be free to leave if I’m…”

  “An odious oaf?”

  “Well, then. Pack your bag.”

  She frowned.

  “We haven’t far to go. And it will make it easier for you to leave when you’re ready.”

  “I’m not sure whether or not I believe you.”

  “One thing you can be certain of…” He fought to control his tone. Her assault on his integrity angered him in ways nothing else ever had. “I do not lie. You may not like what I say. My actions may infuriate you. But I am not a liar, Sinead. Remember that.”

  She took a small step back. “I apologize. You have numerous faults, as you say. But you’ve never been dishonest with me.”

  “Pack your bag.” He headed out the door, only to stop and turn back. “We’ll leave in twenty minutes.”

  Although Sinead had pissed him off right good, Jack was ridiculously relieved that she’d given him a twenty-four-hour reprieve. It wasn’t just because he had more time to soften her up. Truth be told, he didn’t want to let her go.

  He drove Sinead to the shore. She spent most of her time looking out the window, and she responded to things he said with short, noncommittal answers. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence that he was powerless to do anything about.

  Jack was an expert negotiator and had never had any trouble with women. Then again, this one broke all the rules. She perplexed him, and he had no idea what to do with her.

  After parking, they met up with Logan, the island’s caretaker and boat pilot.

  “The trip across Clew Bay will be a bit nippy today,” Logan said, offering a blanket. “Was hoping for more summerlike weather.”

  Jack accepted a wool one and wrapped it around her shoulders. Once they were seated, he draped one across her lap.

  “Your woman is beautiful, sir,” Logan told Jack.

  “Aye. She is.”

  Sinead blushed. But she didn’t argue that she was his woman.

  Jack offered her a glass of wine, but she shook her head. “I think I may want more coffee first.”

  “I’ll take care of that for you as soon as we reach the cottage,” Logan replied. “Strong?”

  “And then some,” she replied. She turned a cold stare in Jack’s direction. “It’s been a long few days. Several time zones and not nearly enough sleep.”

  To ward of the chill she sent in his direction, he tucked a blanket more tightly around himself.

  Once they docked, Jack helped her ashore. He held her waist longer than he needed to, but she wiggled out of his grasp and addressed Logan. “This is beautiful. Where are we?”

  Annoyed and verging on being pissed off, Jack raised a hand and answered her. “It’s my family’s island. Mostly uninhabited, save a few cottages. And more sheep than anyone can count. Logan here manages the whole thing for us.”

  Sinead wrapped her arms around her middle to ward off the sudden blast of wind that whipped through the trees and spat seawater at them.

  “I’ll get the bag, ma’am. You just go on inside.”

  Jack shrugged off his jacket and helped her into it, surprisingly, ridiculously delighted in how big it was on her. “It will be just us here. A little peace and some solitude.”

  She scowled, then, obviously choosing her battles, tipped back her chin—after all, she didn’t come from a line of warriors for nothing—and preceded him down the path toward the house, leaving Jack where he was standing.

  “The door is open,” he called out as he caught up with her.

  As expected, Logan had already been inside to ensure it was ready for their arrival. A fire blazed in the hearth, and the heater was running. Lights in all the rooms had been turned on, and curtains were pulled open. It looked like an inviting refuge from the weather.

  “This is…” Sinead stepped inside and turned around. “Wonderful.”

  He tried to envision it through her eyes. Huge rugs adorned the honeyed-hardwood floors. The ancient stone hearth was the focal point of the living room, and soaring windows let in the sunlight, such as it was. A settee and wing-back chair were set at angles near the fireplace. Leather-bound books adorned the wooden shelving, and the puzzle he’d been working on for most of a year was on a table in the corner.

  It wasn’t the height of luxury, but it was comfortable enough and somewhere he could be alone to think.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Not as much as I’d like, no. But every November I spend a couple of weeks here. Reviewing business results from my management team and planning strategy for the next fiscal year ahead of our annual retreat before the holidays. Allows me to clear my mind of clutter, see things that I might otherwise miss.” Thanks to technology provided by Bonds, Jack was still connected to the outside world, if he wanted to be.

  “The island suits you.”

  “Does it?”

  “It’s rugged, isn’t it? Like you. But there’s beauty enough.”

  There was a lushness to the verdant landscape, complete with soaring trees and wildflowers still abloom in dazzling splashes of color.

  They were near enough to see the mainland and the soaring mountain that was Croagh Patrick, the most famous peak in all of Ireland. ’Twas the place of legend and pilgrimage where thousands climbed each year, barefoot, in memory of Saint Patrick himself, who fasted for forty days and nights at the craggy, hostile summit some fifteen hundred years before.

  Now, a mist hung over it. Unless he missed his guess, ’twould soon be fogged in. “She’s part of your blood, isn’t she?”

  “Ireland?”

  “Aye. I miss her when I’m gone.”

  “It’s as if we belong to her, rather than the other way.”

  He nodded in full understanding. Anytime he was gone, there was a part of him still here, connected to the land.

  “I like your island.”

  “We even have running water. Civilization by any standards.” He’d give up all his worldly goods before he’d give up this slice of heaven. “Provisions have already been delivered so you don’t have to forage for food.”

  She rounded on him, her eyes wide, filled with something more akin to challenge than surprise. “Me?”

  “As you yourself have pointed out, I’m lord and master of all I survey. That would leave you to fill the role of servant, I’m afraid.”

  “I didn’t agree to spend a day waiting on you, Quinn.”

  “On the other hand, I live to serve you, sir,” Logan said, walking past them to carry their bags upstairs to the master bedroom.

  “There you are.” Jack shrugged. “I was teasing, minx. I would never expect that from you.”

  “Teasing?” She blinked. “You? Have you had something to drink? Jetlag, perhaps? Ah! It’s the lack of sleep, isn’t it? It’s made you slightly more daft than usual.”

  “Will there be anything else, sir?” Logan asked. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee for the lass.”

  “Thank you, Logan.”

  A few minutes later, the scent of the rich brew filled the air, and Logan bid them good day. “I’ll be back at teatime with your dinner.”

  Sinead walked into the kitchen, and Jack joined her.

  “This is what your life looks like,” Sinead said. “Servants. A manor.” She paused. “You move in a different world than I do. Ridiculously rich friends. You’re a Titan, for God’s sake.”

  “You may see that as a snapshot of my life, but it’s not my reality.” It didn’t explain that he was human. He loved and hurt, strived for goals and sometimes failed. He’d known loss. As a result, he kept most people at a distance, save a few friends. “I have a house nearby, and I don’t live at the manor. It’s nice.” He shrugged. “But it’s nothing grand. I also keep a flat in London and an apartment in New York. None of them have servants, though I grant that I do have housekeeping services that clean and stock food for me.” He added, “It could be yours as well.”

  “Don’t you see?” She shook her head. “That’s fine for some. But not for me.”

  Was his grandmother right? Maeve had loved the luxuries, and she’d desired them all, despite the fact that her family was plenty rich themselves.

  “It’s about music. Family and friends. A pint on the weekends.”

  “A relationship between us would make their lives easier.”

  She tapped a finger to the side of her head. “Are you listening? It’s not worth the cost to me. And the situation with Donal proved that my mother wouldn’t want that either. When he proposed—such as it was—she was the first to tell me my happiness was more important than money.”

  There was hurt in her words.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m sure you could tell me all the details. You read about it.”

  “Even if that information had been in your file, it would be meaningless. This affected you, and I want you to tell me about it.”

  The coffeemaker gave one last loud rumble, and she sought out a stout mug and filled it while Jack took a fresh pint of cream from the refrigerator. “The sugar’s in that bowl.” He pointed to a container on the counter.

 

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