Quinn's Deirdre by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

if it were
obvious. “I might’ve gone long since if I hadn’t hated so very much to leave
your poor bones in the black grave.   It’s
just as well I didn’t or ye’d had much further to come to find me. Though, it
might not have been such a bad thought— Dungannon is far
enough away I doubt anyone lookin’ would find ye .”
    “Probably not,” she said. “I don’t want
to think about it now.   If I were in
danger, then you’d be, too.   Let’s agree
not to worry, not now and not today.”
    He grinned and some of the harsh lines
vanished from his face.   “All right, woman,
then let’s go somewhere and get a bite.   What would ye like?”
    Deirdre didn’t need to think.
“Winstead’s,” she said. “I want a double steak burger.”
    “Winstead’s will do for now,” Quinn
replied. “There’s something more I want later, love.”
    “What’s that?” she asked but she knew.
    Quinn nuzzled his cheek against hers. “You, acushla, you.”
    Her blood warmed and she shivered but it
wasn’t from cold any more. “We’ll call it dessert,” Deirdre said.
    Together in every way, their
relationship restored beyond any damage her reckless lies had inflicted, they
kissed, then climbed into the car to go.
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    At Winstead’s, Deidre savored each bite
of the classic steak burger, but her appetites were whetted for more than food.   They faced each other as they dined, but her
hands strayed to touch Quinn’s often.   Beneath
the table, she used her foot to rub up and down his leg, teasing and
provocative. They laughed often and talked without restraint.   Any lingering awkwardness had vanished after
their earlier conversation, and Deirdre thought they were as much in sync as
they had ever been, possibly more.
    Quinn’s tender expression could have
melted stone, she thought as she gazed back at him, with complete happiness.
“Let’s go home, woman.”
    Deirdre nodded.   “Yes, please.”
    He parked behind the pub in a narrow
space off the alley and they entered through the rear door, holding hands and
whispering.   Quinn put one finger to his
lips as they tiptoed past the kitchen door.   Delicious aromas floated from the room along with the rattle of
pans.   He stopped and kissed Deirdre, a
slow, tantalizing kiss.   Caught short and
breathless, she grasped the lapels of his pea coat with both hands and hung on
tight. “Would ye like more of that?” he whispered,
then rammed his tongue into her mouth and kissed her hard.
    “Quinn, lad, is it you?” Desmond called
from the kitchen and Quinn released her.
    “Aye, uncle, but we’re goin’ upstairs.”
    “Ye’d best go then and be quick about
it,” Des said.   His serious tone caught
both Deirdre and Quinn.   Quinn stuck his
head into the kitchen.
    “What’s amiss?”
    His uncle shrugged. “Oh, naught, but
there was some woman, a news reporter from the telly, askin’ round the pub if
anyone had seen Deirdre King.   So far, no
one else has blabbered but if ye’re seen, ye’ll never make it upstairs nor will
she.”
    Whether it was the cold breeze blasting
through the half open rear door or fear, Deidre trembled. “What do you mean no
one else has told?” she asked. “Who did?”
    “’Twas April,” Des replied. “I’m sorry,
lass.   I’d told her to keep quiet, but
she didn’t listen.”
    Crimson filled Quinn’s face with color
and when he spoke, his voice sounded harsh. “Where in hell is she? I’d like a
word with her.”
    “I sent her home for now and told her
ye’d likely sack her,” Desmond said. “I knew ye wouldn’t be happy about it.”
    “Why did she tell? I don’t understand.”
    Desmond snorted. “She’s had her eye on ye for some time.   If
ye hadn’t been blind and deaf to women, ye’d have known long since.   But ye’d not paid much mind.   With Deirdre back, April’s feelin’
scorned.   That’s why.”
    “I never scorned her! I never thought of
her as anything but