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  “Maggie, are you even listening?” Her mum only called her Maggie when she was in trouble. Michael used it whether she was in trouble or not, and it sounded much better coming from his lips. As much as she had tried to push the memory of his cousin Katy’s party aside, since he had brought it up a few days ago it refused to leave. When he’d dropped her home she’d told him she loved the way he called her Maggie because it sounded so sexy. She refused to let the rest of the memory enter her mind while she lay naked in bed. Michael had been her knight in shining armor a long time ago, but now she had Sam. Taming Michael Monaghan would be some mean feat, but there was no room in her life for Michael no matter how much he tugged at her libido or her heartstrings.

  Sam wandered back across the room and climbed under the blankets. He planted a warm kiss on her neck and cupped her left breast. She fought back a moan and closed her eyes. She begged off the call by telling her mother someone was at the door, and then tossed the phone aside before wrapping her hand around Sam’s growing erection.

  Chapter 14

  Meg wiggled in her seat. While she was grateful the flight to Dublin was short, it meant the plane was tiny and they had even less room. Added to that, the wings looked very flimsy. How could they hold up a whole plane and all the people? She shouldn’t have done so much shopping. So what if she froze to death because she only had clothes designed for the Australian climate. The extra weight might prove to be too much. Was that another plane in the distance? Had they seen them? Perhaps she should alert the pilot. She wished she had never looked out the window.

  Michael whispered, “If you’re wanting to sit in my lap you only need to ask.”

  She moved away from him and into her own seat, tossing her head in an effort to appear nonchalant “I don’t. I was just looking.”

  “Nothing wrong with looking.” Michael chuckled. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and ignored him. Sam had been booked to sit in the middle and she had the aisle, but she felt it wise to sit between them, although, Michael had been very well behaved all day. He’d even helped her and Sam search the racks in Debenhams for a warm coat and some sweaters. In her haste to rescue Maud she’d forgotten about it being winter in the northern hemisphere. The whole day of shopping and sightseeing had been surprisingly pleasant. He’d resisted the urge to needle Sam and they’d been almost friendly. After asking for her forgiveness a few days ago perhaps Michael had realized she wasn’t going to sleep with him, ever, and really was going to back off. She risked a glance at him, and he rewarded her with a positively shit-eating grin. Then again, maybe he was biding his time.

  The image of the first time she met Michael was burned into her brain. She been in her early teens, and he’d been naked, erect and intent on banging her older sister whose bed was only feet away from Meg’s. The whole episode had been like a train wreck. She didn’t want to watch but couldn’t drag her eyes away. To give him his due, he hadn’t laid a finger on her and had been horrified to discover she was in the room.

  When sunlight came he had almost been caught by their mother and had to escape clothes in hand out the window. Not that his mad dash down the front drive in the buff had saved him. Their mother had found out and Michael Monaghan had been moved to the top of her hit list. He’d been forbidden fruit ever since. Not the kind of man her mother approved of and not one she would want Meg to dally with. Was that why she had asked him to seduce her when she was seventeen and now didn’t fight him off as hard as she could? Did she find him watching her having sex with Sam so appalling because on some deep level it turned her on to be teasing a bad boy? Or perhaps she really did hate him.

  Sam snored softly and she sighed. The poor man had been up half the night. The smile that followed that thought was quickly extinguished when the seatbelt sign lit up. The plane jolted as the undercarriage lowered. Meg shut her eyes and squeezed the armrests. She breathed long and slow in an effort to control her racing heart and wished to God she hadn’t watched all those disaster movies and TV shows. Flying was safer than crossing the road. Another jolt and her eyes flew open. She lurched toward the window to see if they were spiraling out of control. Visions of them plummeting to their deaths danced through her head.

  Michael wrapped an arm around her, holding her steady. “Maggie. Maggie. Look at me.” She lifted her head and stared into his dark eyes. “It’s only a wee bit of turbulence on the way down. You’re safe.”

  “We’re safe. We’re safe.” If she repeated the mantra it might be true. The plane hit the runway and bounced. She buried her face in Michael’s chest as the engine roared and the plane pulled left. She anticipated the crash, smoke choking them as they scrambled for the exit, bodies trampled underfoot and people screaming. She put her hands over her ears.

  “Meg.” A hand tugged at her arm, and she let herself be pulled back into her seat and out of Michael’s embrace. Sam glared at Michael, and then pushed Meg’s hair back from her face. “Come here, baby. You should have woken me up. We’ve landed. It’s all over.”

  “For now.” She swallowed and let out a long breath. “We have to do it again when we go home.”

  “Not until we find Maud. Just don’t think about it until it happens.”

  Meg nodded her agreement. Sam was right. They had work to do, and fretting about the return trip was pointless. Although she planned to make the old lady suffer for the angst she’d endured to rescue her from herself. Why couldn’t she move into the old people’s home and finally hang up her G-string and vibrator? Meg hoped to God her mother behaved better when she got to eighty. Rumor had it the females in Meg’s family suffered hornyitus. Meg’s mother could turn into a sex fiend at any minute. The thought of her mother and sex disturbed her almost as much as the image of the plane lying crumpled and burning at the end of the runway had.

  Sam stood and retrieved the bags from the overhead locker, and the three of them shuffled down the plane and out into the airport terminal. Customs and Immigration allowed them through with little fanfare, and the group came to a halt in the arrivals’ lounge.

  As far as Meg knew they hadn’t planned ahead. Michael had bought tickets for all three of them, but what they were going to do once they got to Dublin was a mystery. Her parents had paid off her credit card debts before she left, but her meager credit limit wouldn’t last forever, and Ireland was a big place.

  They could hardly go knocking on doors and ask if people had seen Maud and Declan. Meg wasn’t even sure what Declan looked like. Maud had whisked him off to the stock room at Male Review to replenish the booze before Meg got a good look at him. Turns out he had plans to fill something other than the shelves. Meg shuddered at the thought of Maud and some unknown man screwing like wild dogs while she stood a few feet away serving drinks to women hell-bent on having a good time, naked men and all.

  Why did Maud have to fill her head with visions of old people sex? Maud would be paying for Meg’s therapy as part of her punishment for being so fucking stupid. Declan’s wife, Clara Monaghan, had a reputation for being an animal. No matter how fantastic a poke Declan gave Maud, no one was good enough for you to risk your life over.

  Michael’s voice broke into her thoughts. “This way.”

  Meg took Sam’s hand and they followed the Irishman as he weaved between groups of excited and expectant people waiting for loved ones to arrive.

  Michael strode toward a man in a charcoal gray trench coat and was swallowed in an embrace that had his feet leaving the floor. The man let him go and they punched each other on the shoulder and then hugged again. Meg glanced at Sam and he shrugged, apparently as in the dark as she was about the strange ritual.

  “Ah, Michael Monaghan, as I live and breathe. You’re as fine a thing as I remember.”

  “Fuck off, Shamus.”

  “And still as eloquent as ever. So, do I get to meet your friends?”

  Michael turned. “Maggie and Sam, this is Shamus.”

  Shamus took Meg’s hand and brushed his lips over her
knuckles. The man stood a good head shorter and quite a few pounds heavier than Michael, and whilst he may once have had a full head of dark hair, his pate shone as bald as a baby’s. However, the dark-eyed stare left her in no doubt this man was some relation of the Irishman currently standing to one side with a stupid grin on his face.

  “Lovely to meet you, Maggie. An Australian beauty on Irish soil, if ever I saw one.”

  Meg could feel heat rise to her cheeks as she tugged her hand back. The stories about Irishmen and blarney must be true. Either that or all of Michael’s clan were hell-bent on sleeping with any and every female they met.

  Shamus turned his attention to Sam, holding out his hand. Sam accepted the handshake before wrapping an arm around Meg’s waist, tugging her tight against him. A small spark of annoyance came to life and spluttered out at the thought he didn’t trust her. Maybe he wanted to protect her from the flirtatious stranger. She was grateful he loved her enough to want to keep her safe. Sam was her lifeline to sanity. The last few days had been very trying, and she wanted a chance to stay in one spot long enough to work out where the hell she was.

  Shamus grinned at them. “So, shall we away? I’ve got a lead on the old dog and his new woman.”

  “Where are they?” Michael asked.

  Picking up Meg’s case, Shamus turned toward the exit. “They’ve moved on from Dublin and are holed up in a holiday cottage.”

  Michael tugged Shamus’ sleeve. “Not Aunt Rosalie’s? Tell me it’s not Aunt Rosalie’s.”

  Shamus’ booming laughter filled the air, turning heads as he strode on toward the revolving door and the outside world.

  An impending sense of doom descended on Meg. She should have insisted her mother find Maud and stayed home safe and sound with Sam.

  Chapter 15

  Michael sat in the front seat of the beaten-up old Ford Cortina and took in the scenery as it sped past. The Dublin he remembered hadn’t changed much despite the current economic turmoil. Teenagers hung out on street corners smoking. Groups of children shoved a ball back and forth on an empty patch of land, and older people scurried along the pavement, hands deep in their pockets and collars turned up to keep out the winter chill. His parents had migrated to Australia when he was just a kid but something drew them all back every few years; a wedding, a wake, a party, any excuse to visit family and rekindle old friendships.

  Shamus cleared his throat. “You know fat Freddie’s getting married next weekend. You should come to the buck’s night.”

  “I don’t know about that, Shamus. Last time I saw Freddie he was pretty pissed at me.”

  “Jaysus, any man would cause a ruckus if he found his friend with his dick up his lady.”

  “It was a simple misunderstanding.” Michael glanced over his shoulder at Maggie and Sam. She was gazing out the window in her own little world, no doubt charmed by the strange place passing by, but Sam was staring straight at him with a wide grin on his face. He’d lump Shamus one later. Now Sam had even more ammunition against him. So, okay he had humped a woman or two in his day, but he hadn’t shagged Freddie’s girl.

  “Did she trip and fall on your dick? With one that big I could see it being an accident waiting to happen.” Shamus’ voice shook with barely contained amusement.

  Michael gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in an attempt to push back the tide of anger boiling up from his gut. “No, I’d had too much to drink and she climbed in my bed uninvited. I couldn’t have fucked her even if I wanted to.”

  “You had the droop? Terrible shame.”

  “Where are you driving us to, Shamus?”

  The laughter bubbled out of his cousin. “Taking you to a lovely wee cottage where you can catch up with your wayward relatives.”

  Michael closed his eyes and hoped they weren’t heading where he thought they were. He’d kill Declan once he caught up with the randy old goat.

  The car sped on, leaving the hustle and bustle of Dublin behind. Buildings thinned out and white-coated fields stretched into the distance. Michael knew the terrain without being able to see any discerning features. With each passing mile his mood darkened. Of all the places in the world to go, why the hell would anyone choose Aunt Rosalie’s? Obviously Declan had been economical with the truth about who Maud was. Rosalie would never condone him running off with another woman.

  Narrow roads and snowdrifts slowed their progress, and Michael held on to the hope they would be forced to stop altogether and turn back to Dublin. If he had to face Rosalie he preferred to do it alone. Perhaps he could come out later in the week and talk Declan into coming home.

  When they pulled around the last corner, two small stone cottages and a large two-story house came into view. All hope of it being anywhere but Rosalie’s was lost. Smoke swirled from the chimneys and washing flapped stiffly in the bone-chilling wind.

  “Is she expecting us?”

  Shamus glanced at him as the car careened dangerously through the open gateway. “I called her yesterday. She’s looking forward to seeing her favorite nephew and his traveling companions.”

  “Who did you tell her Sam and Maggie were?”

  “I said nothing. The explanation is up to you.”

  “And Declan is definitely here?”

  “He was, not that I mentioned to her that you were looking for him.” Shamus pulled the car to a halt. “Good luck.”

  “You’re not coming in?”

  “You’re on your own, Michael. I did my penance already. It’s been nice knowing you.”

  Sam tapped Michael on the shoulder. “Problem?”

  “No, it’s nothing. Shamus here thinks he’s a comedian.”

  All three of them climbed from the car and pulled their suitcases from the trunk. As the car sped toward the roadway the front door of the main house opened and a hefty woman dressed in black stepped onto the front step.

  Michael lifted his case and let out a sigh. “Come on, time to meet Aunt Rosalie. Leave the talking to me.”

  Meg followed in his footsteps. “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  *

  Weighed down with both his and Meg’s cases, Sam was a pace behind his fellow travelers. Regardless of who this Aunt Rosalie was, as long as she had coffee, a fire, and a comfortable chair, Sam was happy to see her.

  The woman stepped off the porch, and Michael placed his bag on the floor and gave her a hug along with a quick peck on the cheek. When he tried to step back she took a hold of both his arms.

  “Well, look at ya, all grown up at last. I hear you’re still into the ballet. Got your own band or whatever ya call it now. Your ma says you’re a regular Rudolf Nureyev.”

  Sam snorted at the idea of Michael’s mother passing off Michael’s stripping career as ballet, but held in his laughter when Aunt Rosalie pinned him with a wild blue-eyed stare. “And who might these people be? Shamus was very coy when I asked why ya would want to holiday up here in the middle of bloody winter with two strangers.”

  Michael shook off the old lady and turned to face Sam and Meg. “This is Sam Stephens and Maggie Riley.”

  “Not married then. Are they up to the funny business? I’ve only the one cottage free and I won’t be having anything going on, so Maggie might have to stay in the big house with me and Father Donnelly.”

  Meg took a step toward Sam, and he resisted the urge to slip an arm around her and hug her close. No matter what, Meg was not going to be staying anywhere without him. If needs be, he’d get them transport back to Dublin and they could stay in a hotel. Meg had finally got over her paranoia about what her mother would think of her sleeping with Sam and he wasn’t going to let someone else scare her back into her shell. He glared at Michael. The bastard had known what his aunt was like and had brought them all the way up here anyway.

  Michael grinned at Sam. “Nope, nothing going on. Sam’s a member of my troupe and he’s gay, as queer as a nine bob note.”

  Sam spluttered to find the words to proclaim his preference
for women, but before he could utter anything Michael jabbed his elbow into Sam’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

  Aunt Rosalie stared at Sam and then turned her attention back to Michael. “What about yourself? I hear there’s a lot of gay amongst you dancing types. Did ya catch the gay, Michael?”

  “Straight as they come. I only like girls.”

  “Good for you, son. So you’ll be getting married and settling down then. I know your ma would be loving some grandchildren around her feet. Brigit is always asking after ya. Lovely girl and she needs a man to help look after her Brett. The boy’s twelve now and still no sign of his father. Brigit claims she never knew the man’s name. Funny business all around, that. You do remember Brigit Donnelly, don’t ya? You should, ya spent all summer with the girl before your ma whisked you back to Australia, positive you’d learned your lesson and would mend your ways.”

  Michael’s smile was positively sickly. “I remember Brigit.”

  “As unnatural as it is, I suppose there is one good thing about the gays that no one is going to be getting themselves in the family way.” She looked Sam up and down and then poked at his chest. “Well, he looks strong enough, nothing girlie about him at all. I never would be able to tell. He looks so normal.”

  “I am normal.”

  “He’s happy to be here. Aren’t you, Sam?” Michael put an arm around Sam’s shoulder and gave him a hug while whispering, “Play along, for God’s sake, or we’ll get split up from Maggie.”

  Sam shrugged Michael off. “Yeah great. Never been happier.”

  “He had an injury and needs to recuperate and I knew this place would be perfect.”

  Michael’s aunt turned her focus to Meg, and Sam elbowed Michael viciously in the ribs, making him cough and wheeze.

  “I hope you didn’t bring one of those foreign illnesses with you. I can’t have ya staying if you’re going to make Father Donnelly sick. He’s a very important and busy man. God bless him.” She crossed herself.