Wild Irish Roots (The Mystic Cove Series) Read online

  "God, don't nibble your lips. You're driving me crazy," Sean breathed and knelt back between her legs.

  Margaret gasped as he ran his hands up along her sides before reaching behind her to unclip her bra. Suddenly feeling very wanton, Margaret slipped the bra from her shoulders and tossed it away from her. Sliding her legs up, she whipped her underwear off and tossed them aside. Sean's tongue nearly fell out of his mouth at her movements and she found herself laughing helplessly again.

  Oh, how she wanted this. Love, and laughter, and normalcy. Lying back, she held her arms up to Sean, beckoning him closer.

  Sean needed no invitation. Bracing himself over her, he kissed his way down her breasts, paying careful attention to spots where she let out helpless moans. Margaret shivered as he traced his lips over her stomach before finding the sweet spot in the V between her legs. Shocked, she leaned back against the sand and stared up at the stars that were peeking through the darkening sky. Her body felt liquid and loose, and Sean's mouth on her was a dream. Her guards down, Margaret could no longer define where her feelings stopped and Sean's started. A wave of love and lust seemed to envelop them and in a matter of moments, Margaret felt herself shuddering against Sean's mouth as he pushed her over the edge.

  Rearing up, Sean braced himself over her.

  "Margaret, I need you, I can't even think, I want you so badly," Sean whispered, and kissed her deeply. Pulling back, he met her eyes.

  "Yes, Sean, now," Margaret commanded.

  Sean groaned against her mouth and kissing her softly, he murmured words of love as he took her across the threshold into womanhood. Margaret jerked against him at the intrusion, but soon fell into the sweep of lust that moved through her. Unable to think, only to feel, she wrapped her arms around Sean as he brought her to completion, finding his own shortly thereafter.

  Sean buried his face in her neck and Margaret held him there, never wanting him to leave her. He felt so right, as though he was a part of her. Margaret was so glad that she had waited for this. It couldn't have been more perfect and tears pricked her eyes at the beauty of the gift that she had just been given. Unable to stop herself, she trembled against Sean and he drew back to look in her eyes.

  "Hey, why are you crying? Did I hurt you?" Sean said, worry in his eyes.

  "No, God, no. It was perfect. It's just all of this was so great. So right. Thank you," Margaret said against his lips.

  "You and me, sweet Maggie, you and me," Sean whispered.

  Maggie closed her eyes and brought her forehead to Sean's. A light seemed to pulse through her eyelids and she blinked her eyes open, thinking it was the flame of the tiki torch. She gasped as a glowing blue light fell over them.

  "What?" Sean said, looking down at her. And then seeing the same light as her, hurriedly sat back on his knees.

  "What the...?" Sean said and turned to look at the water.

  A brilliant blue light shot from the depths of the water, illuminating the cliff walls that hugged the cove and stretching out into the night sky. Margaret's mouth fell open as she stared at the water. She'd never seen or heard of this before.

  "What the hell, Margaret?" Sean said furiously, looking back at her. Margaret realized that he thought she knew what was happening.

  "I...I don't know. I don't know. Oh, God, what's happening?" Margaret shouted and leapt up, looking for her clothes in the sand. Leaving her underwear, she pulled her dress over her head and watched as Sean tugged his pants on. Grabbing his shoes, he left the hamper behind and Margaret had to race to keep up with him. Terrified of the water, of the light, of what was happening, Margaret ran for her life.

  They panted up the path, not saying a word. As they neared the top, Margaret began to grow cold inside. She could feel Sean's anger, his confusion, and his hurt. She could tell that he thought that she knew about what was happening in the cove. Hanging her head in shame, she walked the last few steps to the top where he stood, looking down at the glowing water. The further they had gotten from it, the more the light had dimmed.

  "You think this is funny?" Sean hissed, his chest heaving with his struggle to breathe.

  Margaret shook her head and reached out to him but he stepped back, evading her hand. "That little circle thing you did at the bottom. That's what witches do, right? This is all part of that, isn't it? I thought it was crazy rumors. But it's not. It's all true. You lied to me."

  "No, Sean, please. I didn't lie. I told you that I’d heard weird stuff about the cove. I'm just as scared as you. I have no idea what this is," Margaret pleaded for Sean to understand. He stood back and ran his hands through his dark hair, his face looking murderous in the pale light of the moon.

  "I can't. I just can't deal with this. It's too messed up. I'm sorry...I have to go," Sean said and turned and ran from her.

  Margaret stared after him in shock, her heart cracking open and shattering inside of her. The man who had just professed to love her and wanted to start a new life with her had just run...run from her. Margaret collapsed to her knees as a keening sound reached her ears. Realizing that it came from her, she covered her mouth as sobs racked her body. Turning to look at the cove in accusation, Margaret wanted to scream.

  The light was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Moments, minutes, hours later...Margaret pulled herself up and trudged towards her house. She'd grabbed her purse when she'd run for the trail but cared little about the rest of her clothing that lay on the beach. The gravel stung her feet with each step and knowing the way home by heart, Margaret crossed into the softer grass and cut across the hill where her house shone its light warmly into the night.

  Margaret tried to contain her sobs but there was little she could do. Her heart was left behind in the cove.

  Weakly, she pushed the door to the cottage open, not bothering to clean herself up or to put on a happy face for her mother. There was no way that Fiona wouldn't know what had just happened.

  "Margaret!" Fiona exclaimed and jumped up from her rocking chair in the alcove where she was writing in her book.

  That damn book, Margaret thought. She raised a hand to stop Fiona in her tracks.

  "Don't," Margaret said.

  "But...are you okay? Oh, honey, let me help you," Fiona whispered.

  Margaret vehemently shook her head though a part of her wanted to run to Fiona and curl up with her head in Fiona's lap.

  "This is your fault. Yours. Grace's. And every other freak like me," Margaret shouted, her wrath pouring over Fiona. Fiona recoiled as if Margaret had slapped her and Margaret stormed past her, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her.

  She looked blindly around at the piles of clothes, remnants of her happy dreams earlier in the day. Laughing bitterly at herself, Margaret kicked at a pile of clothes before going into the bathroom. Pulling the shower curtain open, she pulled the handle down and stepped directly into the cold stream, dress and all. As the cold water washed over her, Margaret swallowed her sobs, struggling to build her walls back up. Over and over, she tried to contain her hurt, but sobs continued to break through her resolve. Leaning against the wall, she allowed the spray to cover her.

  Pulling her soggy dress over her head, Margaret grabbed the soap and suddenly wanting to wash the pain away, she scrubbed her skin vigorously. Her hand stopped as she touched between her legs and felt a sensitivity there that she had never felt before. Remembering the perfectness of that moment, Margaret sobbed even harder. Her dreams had been ripped from her in a matter of moments.

  Shutting off the water, Margaret wrapped her hair in a towel before stuffing her arms into her bathrobe. She trudged into her bedroom and stopped at the plate of scones and hot tea that stood by her bed. A note sat propped against the teapot.

  This, too, shall pass.

  Suddenly furious, Margaret reached down and ripped the card up.

  Turning off the light, Margaret crawled into bed, and stared blankly at the rafters above her.

  One day, she'd get out of here. O
ne day soon, she thought before exhaustion claimed her with a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following days passed in a blur of gray. Margaret all but refused to talk to Fiona, restricting their conversations to the briefest of words. Several times she caught Fiona looking at her worriedly.

  Margaret found herself closing up, more than ever. Her usually sunny demeanor with her customers was replaced with sullen, brief sentences. Even Sarah began to look at her with worry in her eyes.

  "Is everything okay, Margaret?" Sarah finally asked one day.

  "Fine," Margaret said and brushed past Sarah to fill the tray of salt shakers.

  "Well, it just seems like you are upset," Sarah ventured and Margaret turned to meet her eyes.

  "I said that I am fine," Margaret said stonily and Sarah shrugged her shoulders and left her alone.

  Alone. That was all she wanted, to be alone. She didn't need Fiona's prying questions or her customers' questioning glances. Margaret knew that she was a wreck. But, so what if she didn't always want to put a happy face on? For once in her life, Margaret settled in for a good long sulk.

  Her entire life had shifted in a matter of days, Margaret shouted in her head. She wished that she could confide in someone. Anyone. But what would she say? Oh, hey, my mom can heal with her hands and I lost my virginity by an enchanted water that lit up...scaring the crap out of myself and what I thought was my future husband. It's cool though, no biggie, Margaret thought.

  What she needed was to get out, Margaret thought.

  Her mind strayed to the letter that she had placed in the mail two days ago. It was addressed to her older cousin who lived in Boston. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to start over there.

  "I'm leaving. Do you need help?" Sarah asked timidly and Margaret waved her away. She didn't want help, only privacy.

  Craning her neck, she waited until she saw Sarah walk past the front window. Walking into the back room, Margaret plopped into the chair by the desk and reached for the phone. She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket and dialed the number on it.

  "Shannon Airport, how may I direct your call?"

  "Um, I'd like to see how much a flight to Boston is. Oh, and what the schedule is," Margaret said meekly.

  "That's reservations. Hold, please," the tinny voice echoed back at her.

  Margaret held the phone impatiently, her pencil poised on the paper.

  "Reservations."

  "Yes, how much is the flight to Boston from Shannon?"

  "Round-trip or one way?"

  "One way," Margaret whispered.

  "What was that? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you," the voice at the other end said.

  "I'm sorry. One way, please." Margaret spoke briskly.

  "We have an eleven a.m. flight that leaves every other day from Shannon to Boston. Flight will be 360 pounds."

  Margaret gulped. That was almost the exact amount that she had saved for moving to Dublin.

  "Ah, thank you. Can I buy a ticket the day of or do I need to reserve now?" Margaret asked, unsure of how it worked.

  "You can buy a ticket day of, love. These flights are rarely full."

  "Thank you," Margaret said softly and placed the phone back in the receiver.

  She stared blindly at the paper, clutched in her trembling hand. Could she do this? Pick up and leave for Boston? A part of her cried yes. And...a very sad part of her that she tried to tamp down wanted to stay here. Every time the door opened at the café she looked up, hope flinging its way through her for a brief millisecond.

  Sean hadn't called. He hadn't stopped by the café or her house. She'd even gone to the pub, hoping to run into him. Instead, the happy voices only caused her more heartache and she had quickly retreated to her car.

  Which is where she was spending most of her time. Camped out in her car on the side of the road, reading books on real estate that she had checked out from the little library. It was the only thing that she could process right now. Everything else hurt too much. Margaret even found herself avoiding driving past the harbor, scared that she would see Sean flirting with another girl.

  As Margaret stared at the piece of paper in her hand, she promised herself that if her cousin got back to her and Sean hadn't come to see her by then, she would leave. Her pride wouldn't allow her to wait for a man to come around any longer than that. On a nod, she shoved the paper in her pocket and pulled her real-estate book from her bag, flipping it open to the chapter that she had last been reading. In a matter of moments, Margaret was engrossed in the chapters and making notes on a small pad of paper. Her future hung suspended around her. Waiting.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Three and a half weeks later, Margaret dragged herself from her bed. She felt like she was tired all the time lately. And weepy, Margaret thought. Oh-so-weepy. Nothing had panned out as she had expected. No word from her cousin and no word from Sean. She'd only glimpsed him once and had ducked behind the corner of a building so that he didn't see her.

  She was barely eating and Margaret knew that Fiona was desperately worried about her. She expected an intervention from her some day soon.

  Pulling on a long sleeve shirt over her t-shirt and pajama pants, Margaret wandered into the kitchen and stopped short. Fiona sat at the table, a pot of tea with two cups in front of her and a paper bag on the table.

  "Sit," Fiona ordered.

  Groaning, Margaret sat. There was no use arguing with that tone. Or with the fact that this was a long time coming. Margaret assumed this was going to be her intervention. Buck up and move on, my child, Margaret mimicked her mom in her head.

  "I'm worried about you," Fiona said softly.

  Margaret shrugged, even though her mother's soft words brought an unexpected sheen of tears to her eyes.

  "It's fine," Margaret said grumpily and poured herself a cup of tea.

  "It's hard for me to sit here and watch you starve yourself. It isn't good for you. Or..."Fiona cut herself off. Margaret tilted her head and looked at her mother for the first time in weeks. Really looked at her. Fiona wasn't just worried, Margaret thought. She was scared.

  "Or...what?" Margaret asked. Knowing Fiona's ability to sense illness, Margaret's heart seized up.

  "Am I sick? Like really sick? Not just heartsick?" Margaret demanded, slapping her cup on the table.

  Fiona blew out a breath and Margaret watched as Fiona raised her eyes to the ceiling and said a small prayer. Scared now, she waited for her mother to speak.

  "Ah, so this is a delicate matter. When was the last time you had your menses?" Fiona asked softly.

  "My menses...you mean my period? I just..." Margaret trailed off as the realization hit her. She'd had her period about a week or so before that night with Sean. And they hadn’t used protection. She counted back the days and literally felt the blood drain from her face as she realized that she was late. Her mouth gaped open as she met Fiona's eyes.

  Fiona smiled gently at her, "It only takes once, honey."

  "No, no, no," Margaret pushed back from the table as panic raced through her. Sweat beaded across her back and she punched her fist into her other hand repeatedly.

  Fiona just watched her for a moment before sighing and opening the bag. She pushed a white and black box across the table at Margaret as Margaret looked at her in horror.

  "What is that?"

  "It's a home pregnancy test. They are said to be fairly accurate," Fiona said.

  "No. No, this can not be happening," Margaret said, backing away from the box.

  "Why don't you just see first before you jump to any conclusions?" Fiona asked.

  Margaret turned and glared at her. "But you know, don't you? You can see it?" Margaret couldn't bring herself to call it a baby. A baby! Her head swam at the thought.

  Fiona nodded. "Aye, I can. But you'll never believe me unless you see for yourself. So, go on, test," Fiona gestured to the box.

  Margaret stared at it, her future in Boston dwindling awa
y from her at a disastrous speed.

  "Fine," Margaret said and grabbed the box, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Her hand shook as she moved into the bathroom and put the box on the counter. Opening the box, she read the instructions, the paper shaking in front of her face. On an oath, she sat to perform the test.

  Minutes ticked by as she waited. Pacing the room, Margaret felt panic swell up in her, threatening to close off her airway. The door cracked open and she whirled to see Fiona standing there.

  "I haven't checked yet," Margaret said angrily.

  Fiona nodded and gestured for her to do so.

  Her back ramrod straight, Margaret marched to the bathroom and looked at the test.

  Positive.

  Her heart dropped to her stomach and she slipped into a ball on the floor. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she pressed her face to her pajama pants and let the tears flood her. She jerked slightly as her mother's arms came around her.

  "Shh, it'll be okay. This is probably just the hormones. We'll take care of it. You'll be fine."

  "Having a baby out of wedlock is not exactly accepted in this country, you know," Margaret gasped against her legs. God, if she thought would be shunned for her gift, she could only imagine for her pregnancy.

  Pregnancy. She was pregnant.

  "You'll have to tell him, of course," Fiona said matter-of-factly. Margaret whirled on her in horror.

  "I will do no such thing! He left me," Margaret said.

  "Aye, and now you've a babe to think of. He'll know one way or the other," Fiona said and stood. She held her hands down to her daughter and Margaret allowed her to pull her up.

  "Let me get you some medicine for your stomach. I don't want you to upset the babe with your histrionics," Fiona said and left the room.