Her Irish Rogue. Kate Hoffmann

in her throat. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

      Will turned to her and looked down into her eyes. He reached out, brushing his fingertips over her cheek, and Claire shivered at his touch. She waited, unsure of how to react, her breath coming in tiny gasps that made her a bit dizzy.

      And then, he bent closer and kissed her, his mouth warm on hers. Claire parted her lips as the kiss deepened and she felt her mind spinning with desire and her body pulsing with wonderful sensations. But then the kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun.

      Will glanced up at the sky. “We’d better hurry along. It looks like it’s going to rain.”

      They walked down the steep hill to the circle of rough pillars. It was like a miniature version of Stonehenge, the stones no more than ten feet high and four feet wide. The diameter of the circle was at least fifty or sixty feet.

      She slowly walked around the outside, touching each pillar as she passed it, surprised by the strange atmosphere. She could feel the magic all around them, like electricity in the air or a scent in the wind.

      “It’s very powerful,” she said. “What did they do here?”

      Will shrugged. “They say it’s like a calendar. The Druids celebrated at specific times of the year. At both solstices and both equinoxes. Beltane and Samhain and a couple others I can’t remember. In fact, Sorcha does her Samhain celebration on Friday, if you’ll still be here. The whole island comes to watch. It’s all very pagan.”

      “Did they do sacrifices?”

      “Like virgins?” He chuckled. “When I was a teenager we used to come out here with girls. We thought the magic would help us get lucky.”

      “Did it work?” Claire asked.

      “Sometimes. I felt a girl up for the first time right over there. I thought I was doing all right.”

      “And do you ever come out here with women now?”

      “I’m here with you,” Will said with devilish grin.

      Claire chuckled. “And do you expect to get lucky with me?”

      Will grabbed her by the waist and drew her over to one of the stones, trapping her against it with his arms. He pressed his hips against hers and stared down into her eyes. “Times have changed. Maybe you should get lucky with me.” He turned her around until he leaned back against the pillar, her hands now braced on either side of his hips.

      “Will you let me get to first base?” Claire teased.

      He frowned. “First base? As in, baseball?”

      “Yes,” she said.

      “You played baseball?”

      Claire shook her head. “No. It’s just a way of saying how far you went with a boy. Actually, boys use it to discuss their prowess with girls. First base is kissing. Second base is hands under the shirt. Third base is hands in the pants and a home run is full-on sex.”

      “No wonder Americans are so fond of baseball,” he said. “Much more interesting than cricket. So we’ve been to second base, then,” Will said.

      “We have?”

      “Last night,” he said. “There was some groping that went on.” He reached down and slipped his hand beneath her sweater, finding the warm skin beneath.

      Claire shivered at his touch, then mimicked his caress, slipping her hand under his sweater and sliding her palm up his chest. “Yes, I suppose you could consider this second base.”

      He cupped her lace-covered breast in his palm and ran his thumb over her nipple, drawing it to a peak. Claire sighed softly and closed her eyes and a moment later, his lips met hers in a deep, demanding kiss.

      Suddenly, she couldn’t stop touching him. She shoved him against the pillar and pushed his sweater up, revealing the muscled flesh of his abdomen. Impatient, Will shrugged out of his jacket, then yanked his sweater and T-shirt over his head. The brisk wind caused goosebumps on his skin and Claire pressed her lips to his chest. She was still fully clothed and he’d made no move to undress her, his hand still hidden beneath her own sweater.

      Slowly, she drew her tongue to his nipple, then circled it several times. It grew to a hard peak under her ministrations and Claire continued to tease at it. He groaned softly, and ran his fingers through her hair, tangling in the windblown strands.

      Her hands drifted down his to belt and then lower, smoothing over the fabric of his jeans until she felt his growing erection beneath. Normally, she might have hesitated. But this mystical place made her feel bold and uninhibited, as if they’d stepped into another world where there were no rules, only impulses and desires.

      Claire began to work at his belt while Will leaned back against the stone pillar. He watched her as she fumbled with the buckle, holding his breath as if her touch were enough to send him over the edge. Claire had nearly got it unfastened when she felt the first drop of rain hit her head.

      A moment later, the skies opened up. She glanced up at Will to see him smiling…and shivering. “I guess the gods have spoken,” he said.

      Claire giggled, then reached down and handed him his sweater. “Should we listen to them?”

      “Just until we find someplace out of the rain.” Will grabbed his jacket and they ran toward the path, the downpour soaking them both. But Claire didn’t care. She’d never experienced anything quite so exciting as this. There was something between them, some force of nature, that couldn’t be denied.

      Was it part of this magical place or part of this land? Where did these feelings come from? And why did she feel so compelled to act upon them? For a moment, she thought about stopping him, about lying down in the soft, wet grass and making love right here in the middle of the meadow.

      But in the end, she decided that a warm bed and a crackling fire would be much more conducive to an afternoon of pleasure. And the only place to find that was back at the inn.

      “I REALLY DON’T THINK it’s broken.”

      Will reached out and gently pushed Claire’s jacket sleeve up to examine her wrist. On the way back to the Range Rover, Claire had slipped on a moss-covered rock and gone down hard. She now lay sprawled in a muddy patch of the footpath, her hair drenched, her clothes dirty.

      “Wiggle your fingers,” he said. She winced as she did and Will sat back on his heels. “I think it may be broken.”

      “It’s probably just a sprain,” Claire insisted. “Really. Just help me up. It’ll feel better once I put some ice on it.”

      Will tugged his jumper over his head and fashioned a crude sling, then slipped into his jacket. He carefully helped her back to the car and once he’d settled her inside, got behind the wheel. As they drove the short distance back to the inn, Will glanced over at her. She was trying to make light of the accident, but it was clear from the tight set of her jaw she was in considerable pain.

      Claire met his gaze and forced a smile. “It’s already feeling better,” she assured him.

      Will turned his attention back to the road, navigating the bumps and soggy parts as carefully as he could. But every time the Range Rover took a hard bounce, Claire let out a tiny cry of pain.

      When they reached the main road, he turned toward the village. “We’ve got a medical clinic here on the island.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he reached out and put his finger over her lips. “Humor me.”

      Will reached into his jacket pocket for his mobile and rang up Annie Mulroony, the nurse who staffed the clinic on a daily basis, and Sorcha’s mother. “The doctor comes over from the mainland once a week,” he explained to Claire. “If we’re lucky, he’ll be in today.”

      Five minutes later, they arrived at the small, white-washed cottage on the edge of the village. Annie was waiting at the door. She’d been the island’s nurse and midwife for