He took the pants and stared at them, momentarily at a loss. “I can’t wear these.”
“Then you’ll be walking through the forest naked.”
Grunting, he stepped into the pants, grimacing as bits of the forest floor flaked off against his legs. He picked the shirt up off the floor and shook it out, revealing the full extent of its tatters. He tossed it onto the floor again. “That’s useless.”
“You’ll have your jacket to wear again soon enough,” she reminded him. “I’ll lead you back to the dryad’s clearing.”
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, wrapped her stained cloak around her shoulders, and led him into the forest. She moved silently, discouraging any attempts to talk to her, so he just watched her lithe body swaying beneath her cloak.
The mere sight of her, even shrouded in that cloak, was enough to make his blood pulse. There were so many more things he wanted to explore. Were the backs of her knees ticklish or would kissing her there leave her dripping with excitement? Would she gasp and moan in pleasure if he buried his face between her legs and loved her with his mouth and tongue? Would her breasts bounce and sway with her energetic movements as she straddled his hips and rode his cock? Now that she knew his name, would she scream it as she came?
She stepped into a clearing and swept her arm out to gesture at the leaf-strewn ground. “This is it.”
He recognized the wych elm at once. Eileen’s crystal still hung from the branches, and he’d swear the tree was sulking. That was the only explanation for the pronounced droop of the branches.
Skirting widely around the tree, in case the dryad managed to break free of the charm binding her and lunged for him, he searched the surrounding forest. His jacket was tossed over the lowest branch of a neighboring sycamore.
He pulled it from the tree, then dug in the inside pocket. After pulling out a business card and a pen, he scribbled his cell phone number on the back, and handed the card to Eileen.
For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t take it, but then she reached forward and plucked it from his hand.
“I’m not promising I’ll call.”
He smiled. “You’ll call.”
“Arrogant American!”
She turned and stalked away. Dermot watched her go, her long, swinging strides reminding him of her strong legs, locked around him. When the forest had swallowed her, he sighed and took out his cell phone. He punched in the number of his driver.
“Meet me at the eastern entrance to the woods in half an hour,” he ordered.
“Your luggage has already been loaded in the limousine. Would you like to leave directly for the airport?”
“Unload it. I’ll need to go back to the manor and shower before I can be seen anywhere.”
He snapped the phone closed before his driver could ask any more questions. Shrugging into his coat, he stared for a moment at the last place he’d seen Eileen. Then he sighed, and opened his phone again. He’d never expected to use the GPS feature. He’d never expected a leprechaun to grant him his heart’s deepest desire, either. He needed to learn to broaden his expectations.
Whistling softly, Dermot headed for his rendezvous.
Chapter Four
“Arrogant American,” Eileen muttered under her breath as she stalked back to her cottage. He expected her to call him, did he? And drive up to Dublin for a quickie at his convenience?
Her anger softened, her steps slowing and her lips curving at the memory of their lovemaking. No, it would never be a quickie with him. That she could be sure of.
“Dermot.” She whispered his name, enjoying the feel of it in her mouth. Almost as much as she’d enjoyed the feel of him in her mouth.
A flush of heat swept over her, her breasts tingling and moisture gathering between her thighs. By the circle, the man was a fantastic lover.
She smiled, fingering the card he’d insisted she take. Maybe she’d call him after all.
She glanced at the card, instantly recognizing the logo of a globe chiseled from granite. Stone International Industries, makers of applesauce, zippers, and everything in between. Stone.
She sank to her knees in the leaf-strewn path. Now she knew why his face had looked so familiar. It had been staring at her from the magazine racks on her last trip to the market.
Dermot Stone, multimillionaire son and heir presumptive to Randolph Stone’s multi-billion dollar empire, had been declared the most eligible bachelor of the year. A collage of photos had shown him on the arms of models, actresses, and beautiful women from the wealthy elite.
Eileen knew she was pretty enough not to scare the livestock, but certainly not in the same league as the women he normally dated. What could he possibly find of interest in her? Her mind and spirit? He hadn’t had a chance to discover much of either. They’d barely spoken to each other.