Their first stop had been the formal parlor, decorated with a lovely mix of antiques salvaged from the original lodge, and comfortable pieces put together by a local decorator.
This room, however, seemed perfectly suited to her host. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were stocked with leather-bound books. A stone fireplace soared to a second-story gallery that ringed two walls, showing more bookshelves. A massive desk was positioned in front of French doors that opened to a brick-paved patio and the gardens beyond.
“I’m afraid this is where Ross and I spend most of our time.” With his hand beneath Aidan’s elbow, Cullen led her across the floor.
“It’s a lovely room.”
Ross moved to a side table and poured coffee liqueur into two small glasses. As he handed her one, she thanked him before nodding toward the patio. “Though I think I’d be more tempted to work out there, to the sound of birds and the scent of all those roses.”
“Not at all conducive to work. I doubt we’d get much done out there.” Cullen smiled as Ross handed him a similar glass.
Aidan moved about the room, running a finger along the smooth wood of his desk, pausing to study a framed pen-and-i nk drawing of the town of Glinkilly that hung on the wall.
The signature of the artist caught her eye. “You did this, Cullen?”
He nodded.
“It’s excellent.”
He couldn’t hide his pleasure. “In my misspent youth, I toyed with the idea of being an artist. Then I was persuaded to put aside foolish dreams and get to the business of making money.”
She turned. “What do you do when you’re not working?”
He glanced at Ross. “Now, there’s a question that hasn’t been put to me before. In the years you’ve known me, can you think of anything I’ve done except work?”
Ross shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”
The two men shared a laugh.
“What is it you do?”
“I study spreadsheets, cost analyses, profit-and-l oss reports. I buy and sell companies, make money for the investors, sit on the boards of several corporations.”
Aidan merely stared at him. “It sounds… complicated. Do you enjoy your work?”
He took a moment to sip his after-dinner drink. “In that misspent youth I spoke of, I was a laborer. And had the aching muscles to prove it. It took me some time to uncover this other talent, but I’ve more than made up for my lapse. So the answer to your question is yes. I enjoy my work very much.”
“I’m sure the people of Glinkilly are glad, too, since they’ve been the beneficiaries.”
“There is that. It gives me pleasure to improve their lives, especially when I see how hard they’re willing to work to continue to grow and prosper. Long after I’m gone their children and grandchildren will keep the legacy going.”
“And legacy matters to you.”
He met her look. “It does, yes.”
He saw her stifle a yawn and was immediately contrite. “I’ve been having such a grand time showing you my home, I forgot how exhausting travel can be. Please, my dear, go up to your bed now, and we’ll have another visit in the morning.”
Aidan set aside her glass. “You’re right. I really need to sleep now. I’m afraid the flight and time change are defeating me.”
He walked over to close her hand between both of his. “I hope you sleep well and late into the day. Whatever time you wake, we’ll share one of Kathleen’s fine big breakfasts.”
“Thank you, Cullen.” She glanced past him to where Ross stood, silent and watching. “Good night, Ross.”
“Ross will walk you to your suite.”
“There’s no need.”
Cullen ignored her protest. “I insist.”
After saying good night to their host, Ross followed Aidan from the room and up the stairs.
Because he remained one step behind her, she couldn’t see his face. But the prickly feeling along her spine had her achingly aware of those steely eyes watching her.
At the top of the stairs, Aidan stood back while Ross opened the door to her suite of rooms.
She shot him a weary smile. “Good night, Ross.”
“I’d like a word with you.” Seeing that she was about to protest, he stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. “Just a word. No more.”
She sighed. “What’s wrong? Didn’t I follow your instructions carefully enough? Did I say too much? Too little? Did I keep frail old Cullen up past his bedtime? Or did you decide that I wasn’t grateful enough for this fine opportunity to glimpse the good life?”
A half smile touched his lips as he leaned back against the closed door, arms folded across his chest, regarding her. “Ah. There’s that fine Irish temper again.”
“I’m tired. I’ve had a long day, and a longer week. Say what you came here to say and let me get to bed.”
“I want to thank you.”
The unexpected words had her eyes rounding in surprise. “For what?”
“For using that charm on the old man. I haven’t seen him this animated in years.”
“You thought I was pretending? That I was heeding your advice?”
“Weren’t you?”
Her tone lowered with feeling. “I didn’t need to pretend to be charmed. I was honestly responding to Cullen’s warmth and goodness.”
“You liked him.”
She nodded. “How could I not?”
“What’s more, he likes you. I can tell that you’re all he’d hoped you would be.”
“Not all, I’m afraid.” Her chin came up. “He’s hoping for a blood relative, a granddaughter, and that’s something I can never be.”
“You don’t know…”
She held up a hand. “It’s late, I’m tired, and this can go nowhere.”
As she started away, he clamped a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “I just wanted to say…”
A look of astonishment crossed her face before it turned to anger. “Take your hand off me. Don’t you ever put a hand on me without permission.”
He lifted both hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry. Reflex.”
“So is a slap across the face, which is what you’ll get if you ever dare to do that again.” She took a step backward. “Good night, Ross.”
A dangerous smile teased his lips and crinkled his eyes, which only fueled her temper.
Before she could say a word, his hand shot out. The smile remained as he touched a finger to her cheek. Just a touch, but she felt the heat of it all the way to her toes.
“You have very soft skin, Aidan O’Mara.”
She was about to make a sharp reply when he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his.
She had every intention of slapping his arrogant face. But all her good intentions fled the moment their mouths mated. She was mesmerized by the feel of his lips on hers. By the hunger in his kiss that spoke to a like hunger in her. By the hands, strong and sure, that moved up and down her spine, pressing her to the length of him, testing, measuring. By the slow heat that built and built until she could feel it pulsing through her veins like liquid lava.
When at last he lifted his head, she stood very still, trying to get her bearings. Her head was spinning, and she would have sworn the floor had actually tilted.
He looked equally stunned, and kept his hands firmly on her shoulders, as though anchoring himself while a storm raged within him. After some moments, he took a step back.
His deep, rich voice, with just the faint trace of brogue, washed over her. “Good night, Aidan. Sleep well.”
She watched in silence as he opened the door, stepped from the room and closed the door without so much as a backward glance.
She listened to the sound of his footsteps along the hall.
Only when his footsteps faded did she move, on trembling legs, to the bedroom.
She undressed and turned off the lights before walking to the windows. Dropping to the window seat, she stared down at the gardens, silvered with dew in the moonlight.
She drew up her knees as she sat, deep in thought. What had she gotten herself into? Nothing here was familiar. And yet nothing felt strange.