Deirdre climbed the spiral steps to the turret room, tired, discouraged and cold. All she wanted was a hot shower, a warm bed and Mack’s arms around her. “I’d like to go first in the shower.”

“You got it.” He took her coat from her and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. “I’m sorry about your coat.”

“If it doesn’t clean, I have more in my apartment in Dublin.”

“I really liked this one.”

She tilted her head, curious why he would like an item of her wardrobe so much. “Why?”

“You were wearing it the first time I saw you.” He ran his hand over a long dark stain on the fabric. “You were flawless—every button buttoned, every fold in place, your hair tucked beneath that scarf and your eyes hidden behind those damned mirrored glasses. I thought you made the perfect ice queen.” He snorted. “Boy, was I wrong.”

Her body heated at the way his gaze wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She found her bag and ducked her head to keep from looking into those startling blue eyes so much like hers and yet different.

Unearthing a filmy nightgown and panties, she hurried into the loo, wondering why she even bothered with clothes. There could only be one ending to this evening. The ending where she lay naked on a narrow bed beneath Mack as he climbed between her legs and thrust his thick, hard cock deep inside her.

Her heart thumping, Deirdre closed the door to the loo and leaned her forehead against it. A smart woman would show some restraint. A smart woman would know better than to get any more involved than she already was with the man when they would soon part ways to opposite ends of the earth.

She stripped out of her soiled clothing, twisted the handles on the faucet and tried to get the shower to come on. No matter what she flipped, twisted or pulled, the water didn’t divert to the showerhead.

Faced with defeat and not wanting to take a bath in the tub, she stuck her head out the door and caught Mack with his shirt off and his jeans unbuttoned. Her mouth watered like a dog staring at slab of meat.

The hard plains of his chest could have been forged in steel. The tight line of his jaw set in stone.

She gulped and almost shut the door when he glanced up and caught her staring.

“Need something?”

“I can’t—” Her voice squeaked and heat rose up her chest into her cheeks. “I can’t get the shower to come on.”

“Let me try.”

She grabbed a towel to wrap around her body before the big Yank wedged himself through the door. Barely covered, Deirdre backed as far as she could and almost tripped over the loo.

Mack entered the tight confines of the room, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Seems the only space available in this room is the tub.”

The longer he fiddled with the faucet, the hotter Deirdre became until she could stand it no longer. By the time water sprayed from the showerhead, she’d made up her mind.

“There you go.” He turned to leave.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke in her most sultry voice, the one she used for the perfume commercials. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she dropped the towel, stepped into the shower and lifted her face to the spray, letting the water run over her eyes and down her body, praying her invitation would be accepted. To up the ante, she cupped her breasts and leaned back to let the water hit them directly. If her ploy worked, Mack’s gaze would be on them. Her nipples puckered in anticipation of Mack’s hands gliding over them, tweaking the tips and then sucking them into his mouth.

Then the sound of the door closing made her heart drop into the pit of her belly. No…surely he hadn’t…he wouldn’t leave, would he? Afraid to open her eyes and discover the ugly truth, Deirdre squeezed them tighter to keep ready tears from falling. Mack hadn’t taken her up on her offer. He’d left without even touching her once.

“Feckin’ Yank. He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” she said, her voice wobbling on a sob.

“What feckin’ Yank are you talking about?” Hands wrapped around her middle and pulled her back against a naked, hard, male body.

The despair of a moment before rocketed into elation and the tears she’d held back overflowed. “Jazus, Mary and Joseph! Don’t scare me like that. You took nearly a year off me life.” Though her words sounded mad to her own ears, her hands smoothed across his, guiding them down to her sex as she leaned her head back on his shoulder, exposing her neck to him. “What took ya so long?”

“It was kind of hard shedding my jeans in the limited amount of space. I had to close the bathroom door to make room.”

“You’re a wicked man, Mack Magnus.” Wicked in the best possible sense of the word.

“Damn right, I am,” he agreed. “And I plan to do even wickeder things to your body.” He kissed the curve of her neck and raised one hand to cup a breast in his palm. “Starting here.”

“That’s more like it, Yank. Have yer wicked way with me, if you will.”

“I will.” He tweaked her nipple into a hard point and then moved to the other. All the while, the hand, threading its way through her narrow mound of curls, parted her folds and stroked the strip of flesh between.

Deirdre’s legs quivered, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. It didn’t take much for the marine to make her weak all over. Soon she was panting and calling out his name, thankful they were high in the tower, away from others so that she could be as loud as she wanted and embarrass or offend no one.

Mack slipped a finger into her channel and swirled it around, water mingling with her juices to make her slick and ready. One finger was joined by another and another until his thick fingers stretched her deliciously. When she could stand it no longer, she pushed his hand away and turned to face him. “Make love to me, Mack. Now.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He reached for a foil packet on the edge of the tub, ripped it open and rolled it down over his full, hard staff. Then he stooped to catch the backs of her thighs in his hands and lifted her.

Deirdre wrapped her legs around him as he backed her against the wall, pressing her against cool tiles.

Then he slid into her in one long, delicious thrust.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Deirdre raised herself up and then lowered herself as he thrust again. The man was so big he filled her full and more. Her muscles clenched, tightening around him as he slid back out, water running down between them cooling the friction but not dampening the heat.

Mack rocked his hips, driving deeper and deeper until Deirdre threw back her head and cried. “Jasuz! That feels so feckin’ good.”

He covered her mouth with his, kissing her, his tongue thrusting in rhythm with his cock. When he surfaced to breathe, he whispered, “I love it when you curse.”

“Why?” she asked, her breath catching as he rode her again, slamming deep inside her.

“It makes me hot,” he said, his breathing coming faster. “You sound less and less the ice queen, and more the earthy Irish woman I’m getting to know and lo—like so much.”

Mack closed his mouth over hers before she could ask him what he’d been about to say. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d almost blurted out the L word.

Deirdre would bet he hadn’t dared use that word with any woman besides his sister. And he loved her like a brother should.

Deirdre let his slip-up pass without comment, closing her eyes, a smile curling her lips as she dragged ragged breaths into her lungs.

The faster Mack went, the thicker his cock grew. Pumping in and out of her, the friction heated and his jaw tightened. He thrust one last time and held her hips in his hand, buried as deep as he could go, his balls rubbing against her ass.

Cool water pelted them from the showerhead, barely affecting the heat between their bodies. Several long moments later, his cock ceased throbbing and he slipped out of her, setting her on her feet in the tub. He stripped the condom off and dropped it in the waste basket.

They rinsed quickly and turned off the shower. Then with slow, gentle movements, Mack toweled Deirdre dry, caressing every inch of her body with the towel first, then his hand and finally his lips.

Deirdre returned the gesture, drying him, then exploring his body with her hands and mouth. She dropped to her knees in front of him, tongued the tip of his member. It quivered. Tonguing it again, she almost laughed at how it jerked. Then she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his cock.

Mack’s hands curled around the back of her head, urging her closer to take more, guiding her without forcing her.

She took all of him, until his cock bumped the back of her throat. As he pulled out, her teeth softly scraped his length, wanting him to stay there. He tasted musky and sexy as hell and she liked it. Deirdre closed her hands around his naked ass and she guided him in and out, faster and faster until he yanked free.

With her hands sliding up and down his length, he ejaculated into the tub. “God that felt good. But now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t need a turn,” she protested.

“You may not think you do, but trust me, you do.” He grabbed her hand and stepped out of the tub, leading her through the bathroom into the tiny bedroom. He lifted her and laid her in the middle of one of the beds. Starting at her ankles, he kissed a path up the inside of her calf, tongued the soft curve of her knee and crawled onto the bed between her legs.

She parted them, inviting him in, her tongue snaking out to dampen her very dry lips. Tingling began at her core and spread outward. If he got any closer to her special spot…

Mack tasted her skin, flicking, nipping and sucking at the insides of her thighs all the way up to where the cool castle air caressed her hot, damp pussy.

She reached between her legs and dipped a finger into her juices, swirling it around, then traced a line up to her clit.

“I love watching you play with yourself,” he said. “But I want to have what you’re having, and I want to be the one that makes you come.”

“Well, bloody hell, do it then.”

He pushed aside her hands and thrust his tongue into her pussy, fluttering the inner channel. He replaced his tongue with two of his fingers, then three, while he spread her folds wide and licked her clit in one long, wet stroke.

Her chest rose with a quickly indrawn breath. “Feck yes,” she whispered. “Again.”

He lapped at her clit again, sliding his tongue the length of the narrow strip in a long, sensuous glide.

She cupped his head in her hands and held him there. “Faster.”

His tongued her in short, hard flicks, touching, teasing and stroking her until she arched off the mattress, her fingers digging into his scalp, her head thrown back. “Jazus, I’m coming undone.” Her insides burst into flames, the heat radiating outward to the far reaches of her body. She stiffened, her breath caught and held, and she stayed that way for a full minute before she finally took a breath and rode another wave of her release.

Mack didn’t let up his assault until she collapsed against the sheets in a damp heap, her body limp. “Jeekers, Margaret and Mary, I’ve never been that close to heaven.”

Mack burst out laughing.

She stared up at him, her brow furrowed. “What are ya laughin’ about?”

“I’ve heard women say a lot of things, but never that I got them close heaven.”

“Feckin’ hell. It’s true. If that wasn’t heaven, I’d as soon go to hell for more of that.”

Mack scooted up behind her and pulled her into his arms. They barely fit on the twin bed. If either of them rolled over, one or both of them would fall off. “I’ll sleep on the other bed,” he offered.

Her arms clamped down on his around her middle. “The feck ya will. You’ll stay right where ya are.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She softened her demand with “Please.”

“That’s more like it.” He nuzzled her neck and relaxed behind her, his breathing growing more measured.

“You locked the door?” she asked.

“I did. Mrs. O’Leary locked the outer door to the castle behind us when we came back from town.”

The poor man had to be exhausted from the past two days, staying awake on the trip into Ireland and then through the night of the murder and now.

Before long, his arms grew slack and his chest moved in deeper, slower rhythm with his breathing. Mack had fallen asleep.

Deirdre lay awake for a while, reveling in the warmth and security of Mack’s arms, pushing thoughts of tomorrow from her mind. She didn’t want to think about what his brothers would report. If they hadn’t caught the killers, they could still be in danger. If they had, Mack’s duties as her bodyguard would be over. He’d have no reason to stay with her and she’d have no reason to stay in Ireland.

With her bare body spooned against his, she didn’t want to think past the next time they’d make love. And the way things were going, the night wouldn’t be over before that happened again.

Mack woke once in the middle of the night. A sound had disturbed him and immediately he became alert. For a long time he lay still, listening for a repeat of the noise, but it hadn’t come. Had it been a footstep on the circular staircase? Or wind finding the gaps in the stone edifices of the castle? He stayed awake, waiting.

The only sound was the soft mewling noises Deirdre made in her sleep. Perhaps she was having a bad dream where killers stalked her in the hallway of a hotel.

Mack pressed his lips to her temple and whispered reassuringly to her. “You’re okay. You’re with me. I’ll protect you.” After a moment or two, she nestled closer, a smile lifting the corners of her lips.

The longer he stared at her, the more his chest ached. Never had he wanted something or someone as badly as he wanted Deirdre. And not just for the incredible sex they shared. And not just for one, two or three nights. He could picture the lines deepening around her eyes and mouth and her pretty auburn hair streaked with gray. She’d be even more beautiful the older she grew.

He wanted to take her to Texas to the land he owned in the hill country north of San Antonio. The house he wanted to build would have wide porches all around with rocking chairs and a porch swing. They could sit on the swing, holding hands, watching the sun slip toward the horizon, turning the puffs of fluffy white clouds pink, orange and finally purple as the sky darkened and the stars lit the heavens.

Maybe they’d have a couple kids. A red-haired hellion like her mother and a precocious black-haired boy like him.

Fuck. He was screwed. In the short time he’d known Deirdre, he’d managed to fall in love with the beautiful model who had thousands of fans around the world swarming all over her when she went out in public. How could he compete with that kind of adoration? He was a jarhead, a marine, bound to serve his country. He could be deployed at a moment’s notice and she’d be left behind to hold down the fort. On the flip side of that coin, she could continue to work as a model for many more years and leave him behind to travel to exotic countries and pose with handsome men.

Who was he kidding? A life with Deirdre was not in the cards for him. He wouldn’t tie her down and she couldn’t tie him down. Not as long as he was in the corps. He still had eight more years before he could retire. More, if he wanted to stay. Staying past twenty had never been a question for him. Until he’d met the beautiful, red-haired Irish woman. Now he was questioning everything about his life.

Damn. And it did his body and mind no good lying awake when he could be sleeping and gathering his energy for when and if someone tried to get to Deirdre. For several more minutes he lay listening for anything. When nothing happened, and no reoccurrence of the sound that had awakened him surfaced, he slowly slipped back into sleep, Deirdre cradled in his arms.

Tomorrow was another day. He’d deal with his feelings and whatever danger came his way from killers or losing his heart to a beautiful woman. As sleep claimed Mack, a heavy weight of dread settled over him, that same feeling he’d gotten before things had gone south in a Taliban village raid on his last rotation to Afghanistan.