Three Sisters Promontory, Dingle Peninsula, Ireland

 

“What do you suppose is wrong with me?”

Blánaid tugged her cardigan closer about her body trying to conserve some warmth. Ronan had certainly chosen a chilly enough evening to watch the sunset.

He had driven them out to the Three Sisters headland, as far as the tractor road went, then they had walked up the field’s steep incline to the summit of the Middle Peak. To the left was Binn Hanraí, Henry’s Peak, and to the right was Binn Diarmada, Dermot’s Peak. Below them was nothing but jagged cliff-face and the roiling Atlantic Ocean, its frothy white halo ebbing and flowing over the rugged coastline.

It was beyond Blánaid’s comprehension why the Three Sisters had men’s names on two of her peaks. Right now, the only things she knew was that she was freezing her bum off, and that if she were here with a lover, she could snuggle against him for some warmth.

The North Atlantic winds were blowing right up the legs of her trousers. She moved to tuck her legs under her but it did little to alleviate the goose bumps from the chill seeping through her clothing.

“What do ye mean by that?” asked Ronan with his soothing soft Cork accent, glancing at her.

The breeze caught his cinnamon colored hair and whipped it around his face for a moment before leaving it in a wild state that gave him a roguishly handsome and just out of bed look.

She swallowed hard at his intense gaze. Looking away, she continued. “Just what I said. There must be something wrong with me. It’s a lovely Friday evening and we’re sitting here watching the sunset together.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is that I should be sitting here with a boyfriend sharing a bottle of wine between us rather than with a friend-friend and a flask of tea.”

“Are ye saying ye don’t love me, then?”

Blánaid glanced over at him and lifted an eyebrow in response to his question, but her unease continued growing. Even in the fading light, she saw curiosity in his hazel eyes even though his words held some humor. His gaze was penetrating, as if he was trying to look into her thoughts. Things had always been easy between them, but something seemed different lately and she couldn’t quite say what.

She shifted nervously and faced the horizon again. It was awash with amber, gold and russet with cloud streaks of lavender and peach. Silver starlight began to shimmer along the edges. And the sea echoed the glow along the path of the setting sun, rippling as if on fire. Night was coming quickly on a deep azure velvet sky from the eastern horizon beyond Ballyferriter Village. The moon was out but not quiet full, giving it a lopsided appearance.

Yes, it was the perfect night for lovers, yet Blánaid saw none of it. Instead, all she thought about was her unseasonably dry dating spell.

“What I’m saying is that it has been months since anyone has asked me out. You haven’t dated either if I’m guessing right,” she told him.

Ronan cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well . . .”

“And now, if we want to take pleasure in something as simple as a sunset, we have to come out here together.”

“Are ye saying ye don’t want to be here with me?”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t rather be sitting here with a woman you love rather than me?”

Ronan didn’t reply immediately, forcing her to finally look over at him again. The words seem trapped on his tongue. When she opened her mouth to speak, he finally said, “I wouldn’t rather be here with anyone else.”

Blánaid wasn’t sure she could be more stunned. What made him say such a thing?

He took her hand in his. It was warm and strong, and instantly alleviated some of the chill that had been seeping into her bones all evening. Something else warmed her insides and she found herself looking back up into his eyes—really looking this time. She shivered again, but this time not from the cold. His tender gaze hinted there was more on his mind than he was letting on.

Unnerved, Blánaid slipped her hand from his and crossed her arms in front of her, tucking her fingers under her arms to keep them warm, and looked back to the horizon again.

“Do ye not believe me, then?” asked Ronan.

Blánaid chuffed to herself. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Ronan. It’s just that . . . well, I’m sure if you had the choice, you would rather be here with someone special.”

 

Blánaid shivered noticeably. If he had been thinking of the weather rather than getting her alone, he would have remembered to at least bring a big blanket they could share. What bothered Ronan as much as her discomfort was that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her how he really felt about her.

If he were a real man, he would confess that he was in love with her and had been for some time now. Like, since the moment he had first seen her almost a year ago when he had moved to Dingle. He and Blánaid had become friends almost instantly.

As he got to know her better, he thought he might have a chance with her. Then a few months back he had overheard her talking to their friend, Siobhan, about the kind of men they wanted in their lives. When he heard Blánaid’s description, he knew he could never live up to her expectations. He had gotten it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. She was looking for Mr. Right . . . a tall, dark, gregarious man to sweep her off her feet. He was none of those things. He was a typically average Irishman and he knew it.

He also knew the kind of man Blánaid was looking for couldn’t possibly exist. Bits and pieced of him could, but not the whole package. At least not in the real world. Hollywood, maybe. So he had settled for being her friend —her shoulder to cry on, a partner to go out with when there was no one else and always be there for her whenever she needed him, day or night, no matter the hour—and hoped his actions alone would prove his feelings for her. Maybe then she would change her outlook toward him.

But it wasn’t working. Not for him. Not anymore.

Just sitting beside her, like now, made him ache with need for her. To touch her, hold her, make love to her and with her. He wanted her beneath him while he showed her with his body and his words just how much he loved her. He only held back because of what he had heard her tell Siobhan. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He would either have to confess his true feelings or walk away from her altogether. His love for her was tearing him apart.

The silence seemed to drag on. Her last statement echoed through his head.

Finally, he looked at her. She had the traditional Irish features—creamy porcelain skin, thick, wavy auburn hair that framed her heart-shaped face, and full, sensual lips . . . lips he ached to kiss. Her beauty was the kind that didn’t require make-up. Not even around her eyes. Thick, dark lashes made her emerald eyes sparkle.

Her cheeks bloomed with color from the chilly air and the breeze tossed tendrils around her face. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to brush the hair away from her temple. His heart squeezed in his chest at the sadness on her face.

“Come here to me,” he whispered. He slipped his hand under her hair. His thumb brushed her neck as he reached for her shoulder to pull her to him. She came easily, as she always did when she was sad and he wanted to comfort her. After all, was this not what friend do for each other?

He pulled the side of his jacket around her and enfolded her in his embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder but didn’t say anything. He wondered if she heard his heart pounding like a bodhrán in his chest. He certainly felt it.

The wind calmed the moment Blánaid settled in his arms. Everything seemed right and perfect with her beside him. Why could she not feel it, too?

“Blán,” he started, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves below them.

Before he could say what was on his mind, Blánaid straightened slightly and said, “When I was young, my father and I used to watch the sunset together sometimes. He was a fisherman and would take me out in his curragh to the Blasket Islands. We’d sail around the tiny islands going from place to place pulling up mussel lines, cutting seaweed and fishing for things feeding around the rocks. Before heading back to the dock at Dunquin, we’d watch the sunset.”

“That’s a wonderful memory.” He knew her father had passed in recent years, before Ronan came to Dingle, and he knew she missed him terribly. Her father had been out fishing with a mate and an unexpected squall had come in. The boat capsized and both men had been lost. It was weeks later that her father’s body had been found washed up on one of the islands. If not for the pattern of his cream jumper, he could not have been identified. Not because of the old wives tales about clan patterns, but because she had knitted it herself and knew her own design.

“Of all the silly stories he used to tell me, it was the one about the setting sun I remember the most.”

“I don’t think I remember any old Irish tales about the sunset.”

Blánaid chuckled lightly. Her body trembled against his, flaming the fire already building inside him. He had the urge to pull her into his lap but let her continue. “I don’t think it’s an Irish one.”

“Tell me, then,” he prompted.

“See the sun, how it’s lowering toward the horizon. Watch. Listen.” At that moment, everything around them stilled. The breeze ceased. The sound of the waves breaking below calmed. Even the blood pounding in his ears seemed to diminish.

Then, the lower edge of the sun touched the horizon. “Hear it? Do you hear the sizzle? That’s the sound of the sun setting into the sea.”

Sure enough, there was a distinct crackling sound that seemed to grow louder the further into the sun seemingly sank into the ocean.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Blánaid turned her rosy face upward. Her eyes had lost some of their sadness. He could tell her memory had lightened her heart a little.

For a moment, Ronan was speechless as he gazed at her. Her gentle smile crinkled the corners of her now sparkling eyes.

She was amazing.

He was lost.

He leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers. He could no more halt his actions than he could the sun from setting into the sea.

As he covered her mouth with his for the first time, everything around them disappeared. All he knew was the woman he loved was in his arms and he was pressing his lips against her petal soft mouth.

Ronan always thought that seeing shooting stars and feeling electricity blazing a path to his groin were things in romantic movies. But in that moment, he was a convert. There was a whole fireworks warehouse going off in his head and the resulting inferno flashed through his body where it lodged in his lower belly.

Kissing Blánaid was a state of ecstasy he never knew existed. Holding her here, now, in this place, and kissing her . . . it all seemed perfect. The more he kissed her the more he wanted to kiss her.

Ronan slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer. His heart regained its rapid pulse against his ribcage and his body vibrated with pent up desire. He slanted his lips over hers, tasting the sweet tea they’d shared and her own natural flavor.

He breathed heavily in an effort to control himself. The combination of her natural perfume, warm skin and the salty sea breeze assaulted his nostrils.

Blánaid’s name echoed through him like a whisper as he devoured her with his mouth.

Her hands were all over him—clutching and grabbing at him. Her whimpers filtered through his ears and enflamed him all the more.

Then it dawned on him. She was not clutching and grabbing at him. She was fighting him. She was pushing at him and trying to pull out of his arms. The realization was like a slap of ice water washing over him.

He released her instantly and she sprang away from him as if he was on fire and she had gotten too close. Alarm etched across her face; tears streamed down her cheeks. She took giant gulps of air as she inched away from him.

Reality of what he had done washed over him.

“Blánaid . . .” he started, but what could he say? By the look on her face ‘I love you’ wouldn’t have been appropriate, even though it was the truth. But he would not apologize. He meant every kiss he had given her.

“Blánaid . . .” he tried again. He ran his shaky fingers through his windswept hair. “I . . .”

“D-don’t say anything.”

“Do ye want me to apologize?” he asked.

Her spine noticeably stiffened and her gaze turned serious, but the tears still shimmered on her cheeks.

She stared at him for the longest time, unspeaking. Then she rose and walked away from him. She was leaving.

Ronan lifted himself to his knees and was nearly pushed back down by the gust that swept up the cliff face.

“Stop,” she warned.

“Blánaid . . . please . . .”

“Leave me alone, Ronan,” she warned, turning from him. “Just let me be!”

“Blánaid!” he called after her, but she was gone.

 

Blánaid ran down the rise until she came to the old tractor road. She didn’t stop running until she reached the outskirts of Ballyferriter Village.

At the edge of town, she collapsed against a high stone wall edged with wild ivy and dainty red fuchsia. She hadn’t looked back while she ran, but she didn’t hear Ronan behind her either. She had just kept running because she didn’t know what else to do.

Sinking down into the cool mossy grass at the edge of the wall, she rubbed her trembling hands over her face, pressing her palms against her eyes. Ronan’s kisses still burned on her lips and her heart pounded more from the feelings he had awakened in her than from her run.

What had he done to her?

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss. Something in her had wondered for a long while now what it would be like to kiss him. He was a great friend, but as a rule, she didn’t date any of the guys in her social group. But while Ronan was a friend, he was also a man—a very attractive man at that. He had all the looks of a charmer but was really just . . . charming.

He wasn’t at all her type of man. Not that she had a type. She just knew she attracted a certain type, but none of them were really right for her—those charmers who were out for a laugh and a good time and little beyond that. Not that she had dated a lot. She just knew she never cared enough for any of them to get very serious.

Then she had started thinking it was herself with the problem and not the type of men she had dated. Especially lately when no one asked her out. She was a traditional Irish woman and always wanted to be asked out rather than being the one asking. What if they turned her down or laughed? She couldn’t handle that.

Was it her dry spell that made her look at Ronan as someone other than a friend? She had considered, late at night when she was half asleep and lonely, what it would be like to have a friend with benefits.

Then he was kissing her.

She never, in a million years, thought he’d ever kiss her. He never seemed interested beyond friendship. Could that be what he was after tonight—friends with benefits?

In the beginning, she let him kiss her. His mouth touched hers . . . and if she were being honest with herself . . . she had melted into him.

For a moment, every lonely feeling she’d had, every pent up emotion, poured out of her and into the kiss. Her body fairly exploded with sensation.

Then, just as quickly, the realization of what was happening hit her. Ronan was kissing her. Ronan, of all people! And she panicked.

“Ronan,” she softly sighed, running her fingertips over her lips.

Next to Soibhan, Ronan was her closest friend. She’d never thought of him any other way. Until recently.

But the moment his lips touched hers, everything changed, and anything she thought she wanted in a man or for her future became obsolete.

Her mind spun like a whirlwind. What was she going to do?

Ronan kissed her!

Her breath caught in her throat. How could he do this to her? He’d change everything. They could never go back to how things were before. She was pretty sure she could never again even look him in the eye. There she had sat, wrapped in his arms, whining about her dating dry spell, so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t even think what might be going through Ronan’s head. He was a man, after all. Was that the only reason he was friends with her? To get close enough to get her into bed? Was that all he wanted from her?

She couldn’t think. And she couldn’t sit here in the dark in the damp grass. Ronan had driven them to Three Sisters so she didn’t even have a way to get back to Dingle. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and called someone she knew would come collect her and bring her home, someone who would help her sort out her feelings. Siobhan.

 

Blánaid sat with Siobhan in Murphy’s Pub in Dingle.

Siobhan was a great friend. Blánaid had known her since childhood and was the only other friend she could count on in an emergency—Ronan being the other. Now that he had changed their relationship, Siobhan was the only one she could turn to for advice. Especially matters of the heart. Her friend had driven over the mountain to Ballyferriter to collect her and bring her back to Dingle. The least Blánaid could do to repay her friend for putting her out was to buy her a drink—or in this case, several.

“Are you ready to tell me why you were stranded in the wilds of Ballyferriter?” asked Siobhan.

“Maybe after another one of these,” she replied, presenting an empty tumbler in her fingers.

‘You’ve already had three. Must have been bad.” Siobhan held up two fingers in the bartender’s direction. When he nodded to indicate he’d seen her, she turned her attention back to the subject at hand. “You know, when I collected you, I thought you were just cold. Now that you’ve warmed up, I must say you’re absolutely glowing.”

Blánaid lifted an eyebrow in her friend’s direction. “It’s the Jameson.”

“No, girl, I know what you look like with a few jars in you. This is different.”

The bartender delivered their drinks then Siobhan turned her attention back to Blánaid.

“What?” she finally asked when her friend continued staring at her.

“Out with it. What were you doing in Ballyferriter without your car?”

Blánaid knew she wouldd have to tell her sooner or later, so she might as well get it over with. “Ronan took me out to Three Sisters to watch the sunset.”

“Ooh, romantic.”

“He’s just a friend,” she reminder her friend.

“You two have a fight? Ronan doesn’t seem the kind of lad to leave a girl stranded in the middle of nowhere,” Siobhan noted.

“Ballyferriter is hardly the middle of nowhere, Siobh.”

“Maybe not, but you could hardly get home on your own. Now, out with it.”

Blánaid took a deep breath and told Siobhan everything. Well, everything about what happened on the Middle Peak, not what was happening in her head. When she was finished, her friend sat back and just looked at her. The only indication that she was still awake was the smirk on her face and her laughing eyes.

“Well?” she finally asked when her friend didn’t say anything.

“Well, what?”

“Say something.”

“It’s about damn time.” Siobhan chuckled.

“What do you mean ‘It’s about damn time’?” she mimicked. There was something in her friend’s voice that made her feel uneasy.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“You think?” Blánaid rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “If you know something I don’t, please tell me, because I swear I don’t know what to do. How am I ever going to face him again? Everything has changed.”

Siobhan leaned forward and gazed at her. It was a similar sort of searching look Ronan had had earlier. “How do you feel about Ronan?”

Blánaid shrugged. “We’re friends. I like him. He’s a nice guy.”

“Sean’s a nice guy and he’s your friend. Do you feel the same for Sean as you do Ronan?” Siobhan asked.

Blánaid sat back in her seat with crossed her arms in front of her and looked into her tumbler, wishing there was more in the glass than just an ice cube. She didn’t remember downing the drink that was just delivered.

Blánaid thought she had everything figured out. She thought she knew where her life was going. She had a good job, one she actually enjoyed. She thought knew what kind of man she was attracted to and wanted him for a husband, someone with whom she could create a family. But she never planned for anything like this.

Friends were friends. Friends were the people you turned to when you had a fight with your boyfriend, or they dumped you. You loved them, but you weren’t supposed to be in love with them.

“He’s just a friend,” she finally said, as if repeating the statement would force her heart to obey her mind.

Siobhan lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“Honestly?” Siobhan nodded enthusiastically, urging Blánaid to continue. “Honestly, I’ve never thought about my feelings for Ronan. He’s always just been a friend. He’s not my . . .”

“Type?” Siobhan finished for her. “Blánaid, ‘types’ are like old wives tales. They don’t really exist. They’re just excuses we use to brush off guys we’re not interested in. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Well, I can’t,” she snapped.

Siobhan sat back and refolded her arms in front of her, mimicking Blánaid’s posture. “I thought you were being honest with me.”

“I am!” People turned to stare because of her outburst. Blánaid took a long, deep breath to calm herself and sank back into her seat.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Siobhan exclaimed under her breath after a long silence between them. “Ronan loves you. A blind person could see he does.”

Blánaid couldn’t have been more shocked by her friend’s statement. But when the thought of Ronan’s kiss flashed through her mind for the thousandth time since she had run from him, she had to wonder how she really did feel about him. He had to care more about her than he was letting on to kiss her as he had. She had never been kissed with so much passion, so much desire, so much . . . love?

 

She remembered sitting here with Siobhan only a few weeks ago. They had been sharing a few jars and talking about men, not unlike now. Back then, they had giggled like school girls, dreaming of course, in their slightly inebriated state, and really exaggerating what the ultimate male would be like for each of them. Blánaid knew their descriptions were purely fantasy and totally unattainable, but they had had fun just the same.

This? This was serious. Very serious.

Could Ronan really love her? If he did, how did she feel about him? Really feel.

Her mind raced back to that moment on the Middle Peak and the feel of Ronan’s kiss . . . the very instant his lips touched hers, how she felt when he nudged her lips apart and she felt his tongue caress her so intimately, the feel of his hands on her body and the sensations that suddenly exploded in her head and throughout her body. Her heart leapt, even now, at the thought of his kiss and how she had responded so quickly to him. She hadn’t kissed many men in her life, but she had never reacted to them like she had reacted to Ronan. Could she love him? Certainly, she loved him as a friend . . . as she loved Siobhan. But was she in love with him and just didn’t know it?

Siobhan sat forward again. “Has Ronan ever said or done anything that you could have missed that might be a clue to his feelings for you? That is, besides kissing you tonight?”

Blánaid thought for a moment. They did spend a lot of time together. Since neither of them had been dating, they often went go out together, for the company . . . or so she’d thought. Even if she had been the one to ask him to go with her to the pictures, he still insisted on taking her out for a meal beforehand, and he always paid. And more times than not, he brought her flowers. Sometimes it was a handful of blooms he bought in a shop in town, and sometimes it was a simple wild rose he snipped from a wild roadside plant that grew along the stone walls.

On nights like tonight, he shared the warmth of his coat. Or he comforted her when she was melancholy, or held her up while they were laughing themselves silly. Were these all attempts . . . or opportunities . . . just to be close to her, to touch her?

When her car was on the blink, he took her to work, and picked her up at the end of her shift. If she needed company on a drive up to Killarney, he went with her, ‘for the craic,’ he’d say.

“A few months ago,” she said to Siobhan, “not long after Ronan moved here, we were going to drive to Killarney to the pictures. I’d just closed the café and was waiting for him up by Murphy’s Ice Cream. I’ve always hated working in the winter because it gets dark so fast. Four o’clock and it’s lights out, you know?”

Siobhan nodded her agreement.

“Ronan was running late. I probably should have waited in the café, but I knew he would be there at any minute and we didn’t want to miss the start of the movie, so I walked up to Murphy’s and was going to meet him coming down Green Street so he didn’t have to circle around, ya know?

“A man came around the corner. He was drunk, and well . . . if Ronan hadn’t arrived just then, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“You never told me about that.”

“I never told anyone. I just wanted to forget it, and Ronan never mentioned it again either. But at the time, he had held me while I cried. He said all the right things and made me feel better. He whispered encouragements and promised he would protect me forever. At the time, I thought it was just stuff you said to someone who had just narrowly escaped danger, but now . . .”

“Now you think it might have been a sign?” Siobhan suggested.

Blánaid nodded. “Maybe. Everything he has ever done for me makes sense now—putting himself out for me, going out of the way to make me happy . . . defending my honor.”

“Sounds like love to me,” said Siobhan.

“What I don’t understand is why he never told me. Why didn’t he say anything to me? It’s not like we hardly see each other or the opportunity hasn’t ever come up.” She looked into Siobhan’s eyes, hoping for an answer, but none was forthcoming. “You know what I don’t understand?”

Siobhan shook her head. “What?”

“I don’t understand why no one has asked me out. I’m not full of myself, if that’s what you’re thinking. You of all people know I’m not. But I used to get asked out occasionally. Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what? Tell me, Siobhan. I started tonight thinking something was wrong with me. I’ve been thinking, am I getting fat, looking old, am I starting to turn into a frustrated spinster? If you know what’s happening . . . I’ll buy you another drink,” Blánaid promised.

“I’m sure we’ve both had enough.”

“Then tell me what you know. Please,” Blánaid pleaded.

“You must be blind, Blán. You have to be if you can’t see what everyone else around you does. Ronan loves you. We all know it. No one is asking you out because everyone thinks you two are sparking.”

Blánaid let out a very unladylike snort. “Yeah, we’re sparking alright. Just not the way you think.”

Siobhan took Blánaid’s hand in her own. “The point here is that everyone sees you two together and we keep waiting for you to open your eyes. None of the lads want to ask you out because they see how it is with Ronan. No one wants to be ‘the other man,’ even if you don’t see how he feels for you. Didn’t you ever think it was odd how he hasn’t dated since he moved here?”

“I thought it was ironic, alright, but I didn’t think it was that strange. We all go through dry spells,” she said.

“It’s no dry spell he’s been on. He hoped the more time you spent together, the sooner you’d realize how he felt about you. He’s been very patient though. I have to give him credit for that. But something must have happened tonight to make him take the next step.”

Blánaid nodded. “It was perfect up there. Everything was perfect. Except me.”

“And now?”

“And now, I need to find a way to make it up to him,” she said.

“Do you love him?” asked Siobhan.

For a moment, Blánaid didn’t say anything. Then, “Maybe it was wrong to put all the blame on him. I saw the signs, but I ignored them. As a rule, I’ve never dated the lads we hang out with. You know that. It would be too uncomfortable if anything went wrong. So I’ve always just considered everything Ronan did for me an act of friendship. He was new here. I thought he was just making friends.”

“That was nearly a year ago. What about now? How do you feel about everything he does for you now?”

Blánaid shrugged. “He’s a really nice guy. What else can I say?”

“Say you’re not taking advantage of him.”

“Trust me, I’m not. You know me better than that. I can’t deny that I thought he was really handsome, but I never dated friends so I wasn’t looking any farther than that. Just like I don’t date any of the lads I work with in the café. It’s just too uncomfortable after a break-up.”

“Kind of limits the dating options though, doesn’t it?”

Blánaid laughed lightly. “It does. Especially in a small town like Dingle.”

“So what are you going to do now? Know that you know how Ronan feels, that is,” asked Siobhan.

“Now, I make it up to him.” Blánaid gave her friend a big wink.

 

Ronan stood on the Middle Peak facing the sea and watching the setting sun. The evening was nearly as perfect as it had been a few nights ago. The only thing miss was Blánaid. He didn’t think he could continue living in Dingle if she never spoke to him again.

Just standing here, in the spot where he’d last held her, brought back every memory of that evening—the feel of her body on his fingertips, the smell of her skin, the taste in her mouth . . . At the time, kissing her had seemed so right. How could he have gotten it so wrong? He didn’t understand how a kiss could have led to this.

Of course, she could have slapped him, but she hadn’t. She could have shouted at him, but she hadn’t done that either. Instead, she just ran from him. He had wanted to go after her, but something told him to let her go. She hadn’t look angry . . . just frightened.

No, not frightened . . . confused maybe. Undoubtedly, he had given her something new to think about. But she hadn’t talked to him since.

It was exhausting him trying to come up with new ways to tell her he loved her without actually saying the words. He wanted her to realize it herself. He wasn’t perfect, certainly not the kind of man she told Siobhan she wanted, but he loved her more than any other man ever would. If it took another few days for her to realize her feelings for him, he would wait.

He was beginning to think he had scared her off. She had made it abundantly clear she wanted to be left alone that night, and he had obeyed her wishes. He knew she would contact him when she was ready. And she had. Fortunately, it had only been three days. But the wait had slowly been killing him.

She had sent a text to his mobile. It simply read: it’s a marvellous night for a moondance - meet me on the middle

He wondered what she was on about. The message was cryptic. Did she want to go dancing?

And what did she mean about meeting him in the middle? Was this some kind of compromise? The typo was confusing.

He reread the message and realized that maybe she hadn’t made a typo at all. Maybe she didn’t want him to meet her in the middle but back on the Middle Peak.

Well, he would find out soon enough. He only hoped tonight would go better than the last time.

“Ronan.” Her voice was so faint he had almost missed it. He thought it was a memory echoing on the evening breeze. Then he felt her presence behind him and slowly turned to look at her.

“Blánaid.”

She stood on the crest of the peak. She boldly stood her ground as the breeze whipped her hair and her skirt flagged around her legs. She was made more beautiful by the last of the sun’s glow warming her skin.

He let his gaze take all of her in and noticed she carried a bottle of wine in one hand and pair of glasses in the other. What had she said that night about lovers sharing a bottle of wine? His heart thumped once, hard.

She slowly moved toward him. “I thought this would be appropriate.” She softly smiled, holding up the bottle as she moved forward.

He stepped forward to meet her half way across the distance separating them. Her smile went right to his heart and hope bloomed in him.

“It’s a marvelous night for a moondance,” she softly sang. “All the stars up above in your eyes. A fantabulous night to make romance, ‘neath the cover of October skies.”

Ronan choked on his chuckle. “It’s August, ye daft woman.”

He didn’t think he could grin more than he was. He really loved this woman and now it was obvious the feeling was mutual. He didn’t know what happened over the last few days, and he didn’t care. His only care was that she was here before him now . . . and singing a Van Morrison tune.

They stopped inches from each other. Their gazes never wavered.

“October is months away, love. Please tell me I won’t have to wait that long.”

She placed a finger on his lips. “Sshhh, kiss me.”

He swore he stopped breathing just then. Once his shock had worn off, he took the wine bottle and glasses from her and set them in the grass. Blánaid wound her arms around his shoulders as he rose.

“Blánaid,” he said under his breath. Stepping closer, he slid his hands up her arms and pulled her closer as he tested her reaction with a single soft kiss.

But that’s not what she wanted. She pushed him back slightly and he looked at her. “Kiss me like you did the other night. Kiss me like you mean it.”

He swallowed hard before sliding his palms along her throat and threading his fingers through the hair at her temples. He cupped her face and held her gaze for a long moment as he looked at her.

Was this what she really wanted? He had to be sure. He saw her lips twitch, almost smiling but slightly parted as if anticipating what he would do to her.

Slowly, as not to scare her, he dipped his head and firmly pressed his lips to hers. When she didn’t pull away he kissed her again. And again. He slanted his lips over hers and made love to her mouth, stealing his tongue between her lips to tease with hers. He felt her body instantly relax against his and she met him kiss for kiss. The ache in his chest lessened . . . no, not lessened, but grew to a feeling he couldn’t quite name, but he knew it held the promise that something remarkable was happening.

He nipped her lower lip and traced the line of her jaw from chin to temple with his mouth. She tasted lightly of sea spray and clean skin. Her delicate flavor, the natural scent of her skin and the feel of her body against his caused a riot of his senses. Her whimper of pleasure enflamed him. Need pooled warmly in his belly, and lower still.

His body vibrated with desire. But he knew if he didn’t reign in his control, there was a strong chance that he and Blánaid would never have the chance to talk. So, with great reluctance, he softened his kisses then leaned away from her.

“So, did I mean it?” he asked, not mistaking the graveled sound in his own voice.

Blánaid’s eyes fluttered open and found his gaze. Smiling, she said, “I could get used to this.”

“Me, too.” When she leaned into him for another kiss, he asked, “Shouldn’t we talk first?”

“About what? We both know what a fool I’ve been. Anyway, there’s time enough for talk. There’s something I want to show you, first,” she said. “Sit with me?”

For a moment, neither moved, then Blánaid stepped out of his arms, taking the heat with her. A gust came up the cliffside that chilled him. “I bought a blanket this time,” he told her.

“Grand. You spread it on the grass and I’ll open the wine.”

 

Ronan had lowered himself onto the blanket, and when she stepped over, he held his hand up to her. She took it and held onto him while she adjusted her skirt to sit then handed him a glass of red wine. He took it in one hand than reached over and took her free hand in his. The warmth of it took away the chill that was seeping into her. It was cool enough, but it had been a warm day for a change. Certainly not half as cold as it had been a few nights ago. Still, she really shouldn’t have worn a skirt, but she wanted to look nice when she saw Ronan again. She hadn’t seen him since she ran from him a handful of nights ago.

She couldn’t believe how natural it felt kissing Ronan just now and wondered what it would be like when they made love. She knew they would and she looked forward to it. She felt it was going to be amazing. How could it not when a man kissed like he did. But tiny steps first. This was all new to her. To them. She wanted it to be perfect.

“Before I offer a toast, I want to apologize.” She gazed into his eyes and hoped he saw her sincerity. “I was a fool, Ronan, and I’m sorry. I should have seen the signs. If my eyes had been open, I would have.”

He shook his head. “Ye don’t owe me any apologies, love. I should have just said how I felt.”

“Why didn’t you? You should have said something.”

“I overheard Siobhan and ye talking a while back at Murphy’s and . . .”

“Say no more. I remember the night. Let me just say we were well into our jars and talking a load of shite. I know the kind of man we were talking about doesn’t exist. But if he did,” she said, reaching up to stroke his jaw and softly added, “he would be exactly like you.”

“Blán,” he sighed, lifting her hand and kissing her palm.

She put her finger to his lips. “You talk too much, Ronan.” Holding up her glass, she said, “To us, and the blue moon.”

Ronan clinked his glass with hers then surprised her by wrapping his arm through hers, drawing her close. They sipped the wine, gazing into each other’s eyes. Blánaid’s heart beating so fast it made her dizzy with longing.

Was this was it was like to be in love? If so, she wanted more.

She leaned into him with the intentions of more mind-bending kisses, but Ronan leaned away slightly.

“Is something wrong?”

Ronan shook his head. “Nothing, but ye said you had something to show me.”

She grinned and nodded. The sun had very nearly disappeared into the seas and the evening sky had darkened, but the Three Sisters headland was awash in light.

Blánaid took Ronan’s glass and set it and hers in the grass. She gazed into his eyes momentarily, then reached up and stroked her fingertips gently over his lids. “Close your eyes.” She grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him down onto the blanket. “Lay back.”

“Blánaid, what are ye up to?”

“Just a moment.”

His lips parted, as if he expected her kiss. When it didn’t come, he asked, “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Be patient,” she said. When she was finally lying down beside him, she wove her fingers with his. “OK, you can open them now.”

“Wow!”Blánaid heard the sharp intake of Ronan’s breath and glanced over at him. His face was awash with bluish light and deep shadows. Wonder shimmered in his eyes and in his smile as he looked into the sky.

Just above them hung the full moon. Not just any moon, but a blue moon—the second full moon in one month. And the atmosphere tonight made it look twice its normal size. From their position, it looked like a giant beacon in the sky.

“Amazing, isn’t it.”

Ronan rolled toward her and gazed down at her. “Ye are amazing.”

She reached up and stroked his jaw. “I have it on good authority that love that’s true happens only once in a blue moon.”

“Is this true love?” he asked.

“Could be, but I won’t know for sure until you kiss me again.”

Ronan leaned down and her heart leapt into her throat. She placed her palm against his chest to stop him and gazed at him. This was the start of a new life for them both and she wanted to remember this moment forever. She took in every rise and plane of his face, the tender look in his gaze, the beat of his heart against her fingertips, the touch of his hand on her stomach.

His chest muscles bunched beneath her touch when he shifted. The heat of his skin radiated through her hand, up her arm and continued through her body until the sea breeze coming up the cliff became nonexistent. The only indication to the temperature around them was the exhaled vapors of their breaths that hung in the moonlight like sea mist.

Blánaid smoothed a path up his chest, along his neck and threaded her fingers in his thick hair. He had the kind of hair that looked coarse so its softness was a surprise. She toyed with long strands at his nape until he groaned.

“Blán?” whispered Ronan. The soft, tender timber of his voice drew her gaze. There was such love in his eyes. She knew the look now. She didn’t know how she could have mistaken it for anything else all these months.

She stroked his lower lip with her thumb then slid her fingers across his smooth cheek. He’d obviously shaved just before coming up here tonight. Did he want to look his best for her as she had for him? She glanced down and noticed he’d bought a new shirt too. She smiled knowing he had really made an effort.

Running her fingers down his throat to the top button of his shirt, she popped it open. Then the next. And the next. When his shirt fell open, she splayed her hand on his chest and felt his heat seeping into her. How could he be so warm on such a cool night? She ran her hand over him, marveling at the muscles she never realized he secreted beneath his clothes. She wanted to see what else he was hiding from her, so she popped the last of the buttons and pushed the shirt aside.

Looking at him, she took in ever exposed inch of him. He was built like an athlete. His muscles were long and sinuous, with soft curves defining his pecks and abdomen.

A fine line of hair traveled from his navel down, disappearing under his waistband. Boldly, she traced that line with a single fingertip. She felt his muscles quiver at her delicate touch and looked up to see him watching her with serious look etched across his face. She caught his gaze and watched him as he watched her lower her mouth to his stomach. He gasped audibly when she kissed him just above his navel. She kissed him there again, this time using her tongue to encircle his navel. This time he groaned. She felt his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp.

“Ah, Blán,” he groaned again. Her name sounded like a sigh.

She kissed him across his belly as she stroked his warm skin with her fingers, his taught flesh relaxing under her touch. She continued watching him as she kissed him like this and saw the strain on his face. He didn’t stop her but didn’t encourage her either. He let her test the waters in her own time. But when she popped the top button open on his trousers, he stilled her with his hands.

Grasping her by her shoulders, he pulled her up to lay on top of him. He pulled her down to kiss him.

She felt his hands all over her back. At first she thought he was stroking her, but she became aware that he was trying to pull her top out from under the waistband of her skirt. Without breaking their kiss, she reached around and pulled the garment free. Ronan’s hands instantly slid under the fabric, kneading her flesh as he pushed the blouse up. She felt him fumble with the back of her bra and giggled at his frustration.

“Would you like some help,” she asked between kisses.

“Bloody hell, yes.”

Giggling, she reached around with one hand and popped the hooks. Apparently not one to stand on ceremony, he slid his hands inside her bra and pushed the cups off her breasts. She arched into him at the sudden heat of his palms on her, the feeling of his thumbs rasping her already sensitive nipples.

Pushing the fabric higher, Ronan broke their kiss and bent to put his mouth on her. She arched fully into him. And when he nipped her, her eyes flew open with surprise. The shimmering blue moon cast its glow all around them like a beacon, but in that moment, she didn’t care if the whole of the Dingle Peninsula saw them up here on the Middle Peak.

She suddenly felt Ronan’s hands on her legs, pulling them around his waist as he sat up. He captured her mouth with his once more, his strong fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her taut against his abdomen. She felt the heat of his belly pressing against her center. When she parted her lips on a gasp, he quickly slipped his tongue inside and swept it across the inside of her mouth. She kissed him with equal alacrity until she was panting hard and fast.

His hands seemed to be all over her at once. Her body was alive with sensation.

“Ah, Blán,” he groaned. His breath was hot on her cheek. His moist lips kissed their way down her throat and across her shoulder. Then his lips trailed kisses back to her mouth for another searing kiss.

Blánaid buried her fingers in his hair and held him still so she could kiss him back. She never knew just kissing like this could be so wonderful. So full of passion. So full of . . . yes, love, damn it! She could kiss him forever, but something inside her, something deeper, lower, wanted more. A lot more. She wanted him. All of him.

“I want ye,” she heard him groan into her mouth. “I’ve wanted ye since the first day we met.”

“Ah, Ron. You don’t have to sweet talk me. You have me now.” She leaned in to kiss him again but he held her away.

He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then said, “This is not sweet talk, love. This is the god’s honest truth, I’ll be tellin’ ye. I love ye. I always have. From the first day I met you, I saw how ye were. Laughing, full of life, always making other’s smile. Ye had my heart that day. And I dare say, ye’ll have it for the rest of my days.”

“That sounds very serious.”

“As serious as. But we won’t talk about that kind of seriousness. Not just yet. Just know that I love ye and we’ll take this as slow as ye like,” he promised.

“Not too slow, I hope.” To prove her point, she ground her hips against him a little until he groaned.

“Easy now, woman, I’m not a saint.”

“Just as well because neither am I. But I’m no sinner either.” She hoped the look on her face told him what she could not.

“What are ye saying, Blánaid?”

Apparently she had failed. How could she tell him he would be her first without actually coming out and saying it?

“I remember one night you held me. You kissed the top of my head and promised to protect me forever. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. Do you still promise? To protect me forever, I mean.” She gazed directly at him, saw his eyes shifting back and forth as he looked at her.

“I swear it on my life.”

“Do you think what we have here . . . I mean, all this, you and me, together . . . do you think it’s true love?”

Ronan grinned one of his toothy grins. His face lit up the same as it had moments before when he’d seen the big blue moon hanging overhead from their prone position on the blanket. Wonder filled his features then, just as it was now.

“I’d bet on it.”

Sheepishly now, she could only look at him through sidelong glances. “Well, what I have to give you can only be given once. And . . .”

“Ah, Blán!” Ronan’s arms encircled her and held her close, cutting off what she was about to say. Maybe it didn’t matter what she wanted to say. Then he pulled away and looked at her. “Are ye sure? We can wait. Really, I don’t mind. I’ve waited this long for ye. A while longer won’t kill me.”

She laughed. “But it might me. Yes, I’m sure. I want you. I want you here, tonight, now. With all my heart, I love you, too.”

With that, Ronan, pulled her down onto the blanket spread beneath them and covered her with is body. He kissed her again, and if it were possible, he made her feel even more loved than before.

Just as he palmed her breast, she pushed him back slightly. His cinnamon colored hair fell over his face and blocked most of his features. She wove her fingers through his hair so she could see his eyes.

“Ronan?”

“Yes, love?”

“How do you like your eggs in the morning?”

He was noticeably stunned by her question, but the instant he realized what she was suggesting, a Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face. He leaned in, brushed his lips against her cheek and whispered, “I like mine with a kiss.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. She had waited a lifetime for Ronan, and it took the magic of a cerulean blue full moon to make her realize that everything she’d ever dreamed of was right beside her the whole time.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Blánaid pulled the edge of the blanket over them, blocking out the cool Atlantic air. She slid her hands around his back and pulled him down to her, closing the gap between them, and showed him just how much she loved him.

 

♥