Free Hot Whispers of an Irishman by Dorien Kelly Page A

couldn’t seem to focus on the words.
    Stars and tiny comets danced in front of her eyes. She blinked, then blinked again. It was no help. Her knees grew weak, and she sat on the damp earth before she would fall.
    “Vi?” she heard Liam or perhaps the rock nearest to him asking.
    “Head between knees,” she managed to say, then slumped forward, doing her best to make action follow words.
    Bloody damn hell, she was not a woman who fainted.
    Until now.

Chapter Five
    The traveler has tales to tell.
    —I RISH P ROVERB
    N ever before had a woman gone unconscious at Liam’s feet. He might have fantasized about it once or twice, but definitely not with the participants clothed. Neither had his fantasies included this level of alarm.
    “Vi?” he asked over the slamming of his heart.
    He bent down to get to her, but his newest appendage prevented him from reaching the ground. Her little dog was trotting back and forth above her head, worry on his face, to the degree a dog could look worried.
    “Stinking pot of boiled sheep shite,” Liam muttered as he unbuckled, unhooked, and wrenched off the GPR unit that stood between him and Vi. He knew little of where she’d been or if she’d been well these past years. It was a hard fist to the stomach to think even for a moment that she was ill. By the time he was kneeling beside her, though, she had begun to stir. Liam wasn’t sure who was more relieved, himself or Vi’s dog.
    Because she was ever-invincible Vi, she began to scramble to her feet. Liam grasped her by the upper arms and stilled her. “Slow now or you’ll be out again.”
    “I don’t faint.”
    She’d spoken with such dignity that he scarcely managed to quell his smile. “Then you’d best give me warning before you nap again.”
    Her exhaled breath was nearly a laugh.
    Liam looked for signs of color returning beneath her skin, but she remained too pale for his comfort. He’d take her in his arms if he didn’t think he’d end up with them broken for the effort. Instead, he reached out to smooth a lock of hair back from her forehead, but the obvious warning in her green eyes stopped him.
    “You’d best not. I’m not through being angry,” she said.
    Vi and anger were things not to be trifled with, even when she was at less than her best. He dropped his hand to his side. Knowing Vi’s inattention to matters mundane as food, he asked a logical question.
    “So tell me, she who does not faint, when did you last eat?”
    “Yesterday.”
    “At my parents’ house?”
    She nodded.
    “You didn’t eat. You chased a carrot round your plate.”
    “Close enough.”
    “Not when the carrot wins.”
    “It’s grand to see the years haven’t robbed you of your sense of humor,” she said quite dryly. “My father will be here soon with some food.”
    “Define soon.”
    She rubbed at her temples with long-fingered hands. “By teatime.”
    Liam glanced at his watch. “Nowhere near good enough. I’ll run you and your dog—”
    “Roger,” she corrected.
    “Fine, then, Roger —into town and get some food in you.”
    “I can wait for Da.”
    A faint tinge of pink had crept under her skin, making Liam feel better, too.
    “Don’t be stubborn,” he said, knowing he’d have a better chance in asking fire not to burn. “You can’t live on less than a meal a day.”
    “I can and have,” she replied. “But I suppose you can take me to town.” She ran her hands through her hair and then began brushing off her right shoulder and hip, which had been in close contact with the ground.
    “You’re welcome,” he replied with all the grace she was refusing to show.
    He stood, then held out a hand to her. She hesitated.
    “For God’s sake, Vi, I’m helping you up from the ground. You can shred me alive for trespassing after you’ve eaten.”
    She gripped his hand and rose. “Don’t think I’ll be forgetting.”
    Liam knew better than to even think that.
    “I’ll be right back,” she said.
    He shook