Mack's Witness Page 8

  What felt like moments later but turned out to be an hour, Mack was waking her to switch trains, this one headed for Tipperary. Deirdre didn’t know where they were going, but she’d put her complete faith in Mack, the man she’d met less than two days before. He could be taking her off to some quiet lonely road where he could kill her and no one would find her body for days. Or not.

  In her heart, she knew he was one of the good guys. Her second biggest worry was that if she survived until they found the murderers, she might find herself entirely too dependent on one American marine. And, bloody hell, what would she do if she fell in love with him?

  On the second leg of the journey, she kept distance between them, trying unsuccessfully to ignore him. As if anyone could ignore the man. He was taller than most men she knew and filled out in the most delicious way. If they weren’t on a train bound for who knew where, she’d…

  She’d what? Ride him again? And how would that help her in her effort not to fall in love with the marine?

  Her life was too hectic, too managed by others to allow her to have a relationship. She was committed to her schedule and to people all across the world.

  And in a matter of minutes, she’d had her agent cancel an entire feckin’ week of appointments. Just like that.

  As if a weight had lifted, she allowed herself to glance out the window for the first time since they’d left Dublin. The lush green countryside stretched out all around her. This was the Ireland she’d grown up in and loved. Fields dotted with sheep, crisscrossed with centuries-old stone fences. From the crumbling castles on hilltops and beautiful cliffs of Moor, to the seaside town of Kinsale, she loved every inch of it. Never had she felt unsafe.

  Until now. If not for Mack, she’d be hiding away in some dark hotel, afraid to go outside for fear of being spotted by someone who could get word back to the men she’d bumped into in the Kilpatrick Hotel.

  A shiver rippled across her body.

  Mack reached out, slipped his arm around her and pulled her against his hard strength. “We get off at the next stop.”

  She glanced at the signs as the train pulled into the station. Cahir.

  A smile curled her lips. She remembered this little town in south Tipperary. Best known for its castle and the Swiss cottage built in the early 1800’s, it was small and quaint like so many towns in Ireland. Deirdre had been there once with her mother and father when she was a little girl. They’d stayed at the hotel in town and walked to the castle where an old cannon ball was embedded in the wall from a battle centuries ago. They’d been on their way to Kinsale and had stopped to explore along the way.

  Her chest tightened. She missed her parents. They’d died in a plane crash two years ago on a short jaunt to Scotland. They’d been so proud of her success as a model and had encouraged her all the way.

  As she stepped down from the train, the clouds hovering over the town took that moment to release their heavy burden. Rain fell, hard and heavy.

  Mack pulled an umbrella from his backpack and unfolded it over her head.

  Deirdre headed for the hotel where she’d stayed with her mother and father.

  As they neared a fork in the road, Mack clutched her elbow and aimed her south, walking along a narrow sidewalk that led up an incline.

  “Aren’t we going to stay at the hotel?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Then where are we staying?”

  His lips spread in a smile. “In a castle.”

  “But the castle is just for tourists to visit during the day.”

  He marched past Cahir Castle on their left and continued on, climbing the slight hill where another castle rose into the clouds on their right. She’d forgotten all about this castle as it hadn’t been open to tourists when her parents had brought her as a child.

  She read the sign on the wrought iron gate. “Castle O’Leary B-and-B. We’re staying here?”

  “I had a personal invitation from a very lovely woman I met on the plane. I thought we might as well take advantage of it.”

  “A woman?” Deirdre frowned, not certain she wanted to share Mack with anyone else.

  “Yes. Her name’s Kate.”

  They walked up the long drive and around to the front door of the small castle with one tall round turret on the south end.

  “We came to Cahir when I was a little girl. I wanted to go inside this castle, but it was booked.”

  “Hopefully they aren’t booked now.”

  She shot a sharp look his direction. “You didn’t make a reservation?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to trace the call.”

  He knocked on the door. When no one responded, he opened it and stepped inside. “Kate O’Leary?”

  “Who’s askin’?” a lilting voice came from a room to the right.

  “Mack Magnus.”

  A petite woman with short-cropped white hair emerged from a door and crossed through a sitting room crowded with antique chairs and sofas. “Mack. I didn’t expect to see ya so soon. What brings you to Castle O’Leary?”

  “We need a room for a couple days. Can you spare one?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Let me consult me appointment book. As of a week ago, I was booked solid. But I had a cancellation just today.”

  “Did you hear that Deedee? It might just be our lucky day.” He hauled her up against him. “You know how I told you I was there for my brother’s wedding? Well, Deedee and I decided to make it a double.” He grinned. “I know, crazy, right?”

  Kate’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment.

  Mack continued, “We got married in Dublin. Deedee wanted to stay in the city, but I told her all about Castle O’Leary and she insisted on spending our honeymoon here.”

  “Well, isn’t that a trip to the Blarney Stone?” Kate rolled her eyes. “A young couple like you two spending your honeymoon in Cahir when you could be visitin’ the pubs and everything there is to see in Dublin?” The older woman snorted. “Pull me other leg, will ya?”

  Mack reached out and hugged her. “It’s good to see you, Kate.”

  “Oh now, get on out of here while I check the books.” She waved toward an open dining area on a lower level. “Help yerself in the kitchen to a drink.”

  “I don’t suppose I could have hot tea?” Mack asked.

  Kate snorted again. “As if there’s any other kind. Damned Yanks, don’t know a proper cuppa if it hit them in the face.” She muttered all the way through the entryway back into her private rooms. “Hot tea. Ha!”

  Deirdre turned to Mack, her brows rising. “Married?”

  “Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I didn’t think she’d go for us staying in the same room unless we were. Come on, let’s find that tea.”

  “Deedee?” She shook her head.

  “Your initials. I thought I’d stick to something I might remember.”

  “Good thing you’re not a regular spy.”

  “Never claimed I was. Give me a gun and a target, and I’m your man.” He wandered through a swinging door into a large kitchen where a tea kettle sat on what appeared to be an antique stove. He touched the side and jerked his hand back. “Hot.”

  “Here, let me.” Deirdre found a small teapot in a dish drainer and took a couple of teacups from a cabinet, setting them on the counter. She fished a teabag from a tin, dropped it into the teapot and draped the string over the side. Then she poured hot water from the kettle into the teapot. “Take a seat in the dining room. I’ll bring this in.”

  “You’re kind of sexy when you’re all domestic.”

  She frowned his way. “Don’t get used to it.”

  Mack raised his hands, a smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare.”

  “Good.” She winked. “Now, get out of here before I spill this on you.”

  He backed out of the kitchen, the door swinging closed.

  Deirdre found herself smiling over the simple pleasure of fixing tea for her man. The tea
kettle clattered onto the stove as the thought solidified. He wasn’t her man, and she’d damned well better remember that. Grabbing a tray from a stack, she set the teapot, cups and saucers on it and carried them it into the dining room.

  “How do you like your tea?” she asked.

  “I usually drink coffee, but I thought I’d try tea, since it seems to be the drink of choice in Ireland.”

  “It is, though I’m certain I saw coffee in Kate’s pantry.”

  “I’m used to drinking cold tea with ice in it.”

  “Purely an American abomination,” Deirdre commented.

  She poured the tea into a cup and reached for the cream on the tray.

  Mack held his hand over the cup. “I’ll drink it hot, but no cream. I prefer my tea with lemon or nothing at all.”

  Deirdre stirred a drop of cream into her cup, lifted it to her lips and glanced up.

  Mack studied her over the rim of his cup. “With all your travels, you haven’t acquired a taste for sweet iced tea?”

  She set her cup in the saucer. “Actually, I have. With a twist of lemon. It’s wonderful on a hot day in the south. But in Ireland where warm days are rare, hot tea hits the spot.”

  “Do you find it difficult to adjust to the heat?” Mack tipped his teacup back and swallowed.

  “I’ve done shoots on locations in the Caribbean, Texas, Arizona, in the Australian Outback and India. I find that I can adjust with the appropriate amount of sunscreen.” She glanced at her pale skin. “I have the typical lily-white Irish skin and it tends to burn easily.”

  Mack set his cup on the saucer and reached out to trace a finger along her bare arm. “It’s beautiful.” His blue eyes darkened and his gaze captured hers. “All over.”

  Deirdre’s breath caught and held at the look of hunger in his eyes. Her stomach fluttered and her core heated, making her want to drop her teacup and climb into his lap naked. Before she could get her hand to the table with her cup, footsteps sounded behind her.

  “You have the luck of the Irish,” Kate called out as she reentered the room. “The cancellation I had was for the turret room for the entire week. Shall I sign you up?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mack said. “And thank you. You’re a lifesaver. My sweetheart would have been very disappointed if we had to go to the local hotel.”

  “No use going there when you can stay here.” Her chest puffed out. “And I serve a traditional Irish breakfast at no extra charge.”

  “I remember you saying that on the plane.” Mack patted his stomach. “And what is a traditional Irish breakfast?”

  Deirdre nearly laughed out loud. She hadn’t had a traditional Irish breakfast since the last time she’d traveled with her parents as a child.

  Kate recited the menu, “Two eggs anyway you like them. Toast, tomato, beans, pudding, tea and orange juice.”

  “Sounds great.” Mack smacked his lips. “Speaking of food, where can we go to get dinner? We haven’t eaten since…” His brows dipped. “I don’t think we’ve eaten all day.”

  Deirdre smiled. “And the snack you picked up in the train station doesn’t count.”

  Kate answered, “There’s a restaurant in the hotel in town, or an Italian bistro down the street from the hotel.”

  “If by Italian you mean pizza, I’m good for that.” He pushed to his feet.

  Deirdre groaned. “I haven’t had pizza in two years. You can go without me.”

  “You’re coming with me.” He gathered their bags in one of his big hands. “Let’s leave our things in our room and we can figure out what to eat when we walk back into town.”

  Kate handed them the key to their room and pointed to the turret stairs. “Climb the steps all the way to the top. I cleaned the room this morning, but once a day up those stairs is enough for these seventy-year-old knees. You’ll have your own private loo as well. There are towels, shampoo and soap. Anything else, you’ll have to come down here to ask. There’ll be no room service.”

  With that, Kate left them to tidy up the dining room and kitchen, muttering as she went. “Hot tea. Ha!”

  They climbed the spiral staircase to the top of the tower and faced a bright blue door. Mack stuck the old skeleton key in the lock and turned it. The lock clanked and the door opened into a miniscule room with two twin beds perpendicular to each other with barely enough room to walk between them to get to the loo beyond.

  Deirdre laughed. “It’s a hostel room. For students backpacking their way through Ireland.”

  Mack frowned at the narrow beds. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Perhaps Kate could see right through your lie about us being married.” Deirdre shook her head and held up her left hand. “It’s not as if I’m wearing a ring or anything.”

  “Speaking of which…” He captured her hand and held it in his. “Why isn’t there a ring on your finger?”

  She stared up into his eyes, her thoughts scattering. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re beautiful and loyal to your family. As far as I can tell, you’re nice to people. Why hasn’t some man snatched you up to be his bride?”

  Her fingers curled around his and she stiffened. “I could say the same about you.”

  He laughed. “I’m not beautiful, though I am loyal to my family.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss. “As for nice to people. Not always.” His lips thinned and he glanced away, a shadow darkening his countenance.

  “I’ll bet you’re nice to the people who count.” Deirdre cupped his cheek with her free hand and turned him to face her. “And you are beautiful, in a manly way. Any woman would fall all over herself to be your bride.”

  “Except you?” he whispered.

  “That’s neither here nor there.” She dropped her hand from his face and forced a smile, her gaze falling to where their hands remained joined. “I have my career.”

  Mack nodded. “And I have mine.”

  Deirdre’s chest tightened. “That about sums it up.” She drew in a deep breath to ease the pressure on her lungs and tugged her hand free. Their brief time together was just that. Brief. No use crying over what couldn’t be. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Even for a model. I could eat an entire pizza by myself.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll gain a pound?” Mack’s gaze raked her from head to toe. “Though you could stand a little more meat on your bones.”

  “Since we haven’t eaten all day, I can spare a few calories.” She moved toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  With her hand balancing her on the stone wall, she descended the spiral staircase a little faster than was wise, an ache building at her core. Trying to tell herself it was just hunger, she knew it was a lie. The thought of the future and parting ways with the American left her feeling the kind of empty inside that no amount of food could alleviate.

  “Hey, slow down.” Mack caught her arm as she practically sprinted for the entrance to the castle. “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head, refusing to look at him lest he see the tears in her eyes. “I’m just really hungry.”

  Mack didn’t believe that hunger was all that was bothering her. Something had made her sad when they’d been talking in their room. Her very expressive face was what made her so photogenic. And it betrayed her emotions every time. Rather than push for an answer she seemed unwilling to provide, he let the issue slide.

  “As your bodyguard, let me go out first.” Mack moved past her and shoved the heavy wooden door open, glancing around for any signs of danger before he let her pass through.

  Once outside, Deirdre asked, “Do you think the killers would have followed us all the way to Cahir? We were careful not to leave a trail.”

  “We don’t know what they are capable of. I’d rather err on the side of caution.” Mack laughed. “Or as my commander would say, ‘Better safe, than sorry.’”

  Deirdre fell in step beside him, slipping her hand into his. She kept up with his pace, her long legs matching his st
ride. The sun was setting as they neared the center of Cahir, the last rays bathing Cahir Castle in a soft orange glow. Mack made a mental note to visit the castle the next day. History had always interested him. Especially when it pertained to battles won and lost.

  Past the castle and a public parking lot, the hotel sprawled on a corner to their right, with several cars parked against the curb.

  Mack slowed to a stop at the corner, glancing around for any sign of trouble. “Would you prefer to eat a nice meal at the hotel? I imagine they would have a salad,” Mack offered.

  She shook her head. “Now that we’ve talked so much of pizza, my heart is set on it.”

  Mack squeezed her hand and turned left onto the main street running through town. A few buildings down, a sign hung over the sidewalk marking the spot for Galileo Restaurant. “That must be the Italian restaurant.”

  Inside the restaurant, the limited amount of seating was packed. Mack and Deirdre shared a large plank table with another couple and ordered pizza, sharing a pie between them and washing it down with mugs of beer.

  They laughed and scraped cheese of each other’s chins like any other young couple in love.

  Mack studied her, liking the little lines appearing at the sides of her eyes when she laughed or smiled.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she asked, scrubbing at the corners of her mouth. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

  “No. I just like the way your eyes light up when you smile, and the way they crinkle at the corners when you laugh.”

  She touched the corners. “Oh dear. Lines already? The ad companies will think I’m getting too old.”

  “I like them. They’re a mark of your character. You know how to smile and laugh.”

  “I know I won’t be young forever, but I hope to save more money before my looks go away.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “No. But I don’t want to worry when I can’t model anymore.”

  “You don’t plan to marry some fat-cat billionaire before your modeling days come to an end?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not cut out for that life. I like things plain and simple. When I’m done modeling, I want to lounge around my house in jeans, pajamas or whatever makes me happy, making my own tea and baking cookies.”