Cillian

I know Delaney’s hiding something, I just haven’t figured out what it is yet. But I know it has something to do with that damn list of hers.

My purpose for taking her to Sligo for the day isn’t completely selfless. When I was in Dublin, I met up with a few of the band members of O’Mulligans. The lead singer owns the Crow’s Head Pub in Strandhill. I promised I’d stop by and listen to their sound. They’ve been looking for a new lead guitarist and back-up singer.

It might be something I’m interested in once I figure out how to get out of my contract with Wild Irish. I’ve got a lawyer working on it, but right now his only suggestion is to stick with the fucking tour schedule we have planned, then bow out afterwards.

Not going to happen. I can’t stand being in the same town as my brother, and I’m sure as hell not going to be subjected to six months in a tour bus with him. But the tour starts in three months, and if I don’t figure something out soon, it’s either going to be that hell, or I’ll be facing a hefty lawsuit.

I haven’t figured out which is worse.

“I’m ready.” Delaney comes into the living room wearing a pair of slip-on shoes and a cute pink sundress. She looks gorgeous, but she doesn’t look like she’s about to hike an hour up a mountain.

“That’s what ye’re wearing?” I raise my eyebrows.

She looks down, then back up. “I was planning on it. Why?”

“Did ye not bring a pair of hiking boots?”

“No.” She frowns.

I wonder if the woman did any research at all before she decided to come here.

“Ye do know Knocknarea is a mountain?”

“Yes.”

“And ye have to hike up it to get to Maeve’s Tomb?”

“Hike?” Her mouth forms a cute little O, and she blinks at me. “You mean walk? Up the mountain?”

“That’s the general idea.”

“I thought there’d be some sort of lift...like a gondola.”

“Nothing that fancy.” I chuckle and stand. “We’ll stop in Sligo on the way and buy ye a better pair of shoes.”

She pouts, but at least she doesn’t argue.

I grab a backpack and gather what we’ll need for the day, then pack it into my car. I’ve turned off my phone and I want to get out of here before I get any surprise visitors.

“You’re sure I should leave?” Delaney asks when she gets in the passenger side. “What if the mechanic calls back about the car?”

I still haven’t told her the truth. And I don’t want to. Not today. Today, I just want to enjoy the day. Sure, it might be an asshole move, but why burden her with something she can’t change? The problem will still be there tomorrow.

“I’ve got my phone if he calls. It’ll probably be a couple of days before he can look at it. I’ve got some time off and ye’ve got some things to cross off that list of yers.”

She’s quiet as I start driving, and I can practically hear her brain working overtime, formulating the question she wants to ask.

I glance over at her. “What?”

She shrugs. “I’m just wondering why you’re doing all this for me.”

Hell, if I know. At first, it was guilt, a feeling of responsibility for driving her off the road. But I know it’s more than that now. More than just wanting to get out of town. More than about just wanting to spend more time with her.

“Consider it Irish hospitality.” I turn on the music, not wanting to think about what other reason it could be.

* * *

“I look ridiculous,” Delaney says when she gets out of the car, and looks down at the brown boots I bought her.

I chuckle.

She looks sexy. The sundress whips in the wind, giving me a glimpse of her legs. Her dark hair has been pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head, exposing her neck, and the sensitive spot under her ear that makes her moan every time I kiss it.

I walk around the car and place an arm over her shoulder, then point up. “When we get to the top, ye’re going to be glad ye’re not wearing those silly little shoes of yers.”

She follows the direction of my hand, and I see her swallow hard. “We really have to walk up to the top?”

“Well, I’m not carrying ye.” I take her hand and start towards the path, stopping to pick up two medium-sized stones. “Here.”

“What’s this for?” She holds the rock in her hand, frowning.

“Ye really don’t know much about this place, do ye?” When she doesn’t answer, I say, “It’s a custom to bring a stone from the bottom of the hill and place it at the foot of Maeve’s tomb. It’s thought to be good luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck.”

“Well, ye seem to be having a bit of bad luck, so it couldn’t hurt.”

She rolls her eyes. “True.”

“Here.” I take the stone from her hand and place it in the backpack filled with water bottles and a few snacks.

We start the journey to the top in silence. She’s lost in her thoughts, and I don’t intrude.

About halfway up, she lets out a small squeal when a flash of white bolts from the bushes closest to her.

Her reaction startles me, but it’s pure fear that has adrenaline racing through my veins when I see her lose her footing.

“Jaysus, Delaney.” I grab her by the waist before she tumbles down the steep drop on the other side of her.

Pulling her to my chest, I hold her tight until I’m certain my heart has started working again.

“What the hell was that?” Her hands are on my chest, her breathing coming out in small gasps.

“It was just a sheep.”

“A sheep?” Her fingers ball in my shirt. “Are there more of them?”

I chuckle, and kiss her forehead. “Yeah, but they won’t hurt ye.”

She peeks around my shoulder cautiously. “Are there any other wild animals up here that I should know about?”

“Ye might see a fox or a badger, but they won’t hurt ye, either.”

She gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“Ye travelled across the ocean to see this place. Don’t tell me a little lamb is going to scare ye off.”

She sighs and nods. “You’re right.”

“Let’s go. It’s still a good thirty minutes to the top.”

She groans, but takes my hand and starts to climb again. “How many times have you been here?”

“A couple times. Once for a school trip.”

“And the other time?”

“My mom brought me.” It’s one of the last good memories I have of her.

“You haven’t mentioned her before.”

“There’s not much to mention. She left when I was young. Haven’t seen her since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” I grumble, a wave of bitterness hitting me like it always does when I think about the woman.

A fog rolls down the hill, and the sun disappears behind the clouds. A breeze whips around us, dropping the temperature.

“This doesn’t seem safe. Someone needs to write to the…to whoever owns the mountain and tell them to put in a gondola. Or at least a proper path,” she says, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“I figure ye don’t do a lot of hiking in Chicago.”

“No.” She glances over her shoulder at me.

“Watch yer step–”

My warning comes a second too late. Her foot catches on a root, and she stumbles before I can catch her.

“Ye okay?” I help her stand. I’m starting to think the woman has some serious bad luck hanging over her head.

“Yes,” she says, jaw clenched, but when she takes another step, I see her wince.

“Ye’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Let me take a look.”

“I’m–”

“Fine. I know. Now sit and let me see.”

She sits down on the path and I crouch in front of her, helping her remove her boot.

I cup her foot in my hands, inspecting it, and watching her expression as I roll and massage her ankle. “There’s no swelling.”

“I told you–” She hisses in a breath when I push slightly on her toes. “Well, it hurts when you do that.”

“Ye’re not going to be able to climb the rest of the way.”

She shakes her head, a look of stubborn defiance thinning her lips. She grabs her boot, wincing when she starts to put it back on.

“Like you said, I came across the ocean to see it. I’m not going back down now when we’re almost at the top.”

She looks up, then back at me, and I can see what she’s thinking.

“I’m not carrying ye up the hill.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Standing, she turns and starts to hobble up the path, but I can see the pain in her every movement.

“God, ye’re an odd one,” I mutter.

“I’m not.” She glares at me over her shoulder, but when she does, she misses her step again and stumbles forward. I catch her before she falls this time.

“Ye are.” I press her close, running my hands down her waist and cupping her ass. “And I’m starting to think ye’re a disaster waiting to happen.” I lower my lips to her jaw, kissing a trail down her neck and breathing in her sweet scent. “But ye’re also incredibly sexy.”

The sound that leaves her throat is raspy and wanton, and goes straight to my balls. There’s no one else on the trail, and I have a mind to take her right here.

Her fingers are in my hair, her body melting into mine, and I have no doubt that if I ran my fingers up her thigh and underneath her panties that she’d be wet for me.

When my mouth captures hers, she trembles, her lips parting for my tongue. I kiss her hard, the need for her building inside me until I’m unaware of anything but her taste, her scent, her touch.

“Oh my,” a woman’s voice says, followed by a man’s cough.

My head jerks up, finding our audience, a family with two adolescent boys.

Delaney buries her face in my chest, and I give them a small awkward smile as they pass.

“Are they gone?” she asks.

“Yeah.” A smile tugs at my lips. She makes me smile, makes me want to linger in her warmth.

I can feel her shaking against my chest, and for a horrified second I think she’s crying, until a small laugh, followed by another, bubbles up from her throat.

“Ye think it’s funny?”

“Did you see the look on the woman’s face?” She’s still laughing, eyes watering with it.

I chuckle. “Yeah, but the boys seemed to enjoy the show.”

She wipes under her eyes. “This is exactly what Maeve would have wanted.”

“Who’s Maeve?”

Her mood changes instantly, her expression clouding over. And I see it again, the heaviness she carries around with her. A burden so heavy it looks ready to crush her small shoulders. She draws back, hands falling to her sides.

“We should keep going,” she says, turning away from me.

I want to pull her back against me. The need to know more about her just as strong as the need to touch her. But I let her walk away, because I have no business demanding she open up to me. Not when it’s clear she doesn’t want to.

I don’t know who Maeve is, but it’s not lost on me that we’re visiting the cairn of an ancient queen of the same name.

Something stirs in my chest as I watch Delaney limp the rest of the way up the steep path. There’s a strength to her, a stubbornness that pushes her forward, but it’s becoming obvious that every item on that damn list of hers is more of a chore than the adventure it should be.

Which means only one thing – the list isn’t hers.

So why is she so set on completing it?