The Mystic Cove Series Boxed Set (Wild Irish Books 5-7)

by Tricia O'Malley

  “Parts must be rusted. You know how it is living close to saltwater,” Dylan said, his tone terse as he moved down the sidewalk. The morning had dawned brisk, with a light chill in the air, but he was happy to see that the rain, which had plagued them for days now, had finally subsided.

  He’d spent much of yesterday holed up in his house, reading books, researching the history behind Grace’s Cove, and doing his best to push the infuriating Grace O’Brien from his mind. Unfortunately, he’d failed at the last part and had spent much of the day mooning around the house wishing she was there for him to battle with. Or to engage in other more lively diversions.

  The village hummed around him with the Monday morning bustle of children being packed off to school, markets opening, and people heading off to work. The scent of a proper Irish fry-up wafted to him from a diner he passed, and Dylan’s stomach grumbled in response. If his boat weren’t set to dock soon he’d have stopped for a breakfast, some tea, and a chance to look over the paper. Instead, he was on his way to meet some of the workers he’d managed to bribe into working for him – and the men who were already loyal to him – at the docks for a quick meeting on what they hoped to accomplish this week, with the added benefit of being able to keep his eye out for The Pirate Queen.

  The name still made his stomach clench every time he recalled Grace casually saying she was no mermaid, but instead a pirate queen. Though he’d resolved himself to believe that she was toying with him, a deeper side of his subconscious seemed to press at him as though it knew he was lying to himself. If he was being totally honest with himself – something he usually tried to do – he would admit that he didn’t see Grace as being that crafty. For she’d been genuinely surprised when he showed up at her house with gifts, and he doubted she would have used that moment – especially before she’d even fully woken up – to try and mess with his head.

  Still. It had to just be a coincidence. It wasn’t that uncommon to talk of pirates, especially when one lived on the water. She’d likely just plucked an idea from the air and spoken without thinking. It meant nothing more than that.

  “It’s a brand new digger,” Liam said, bringing him back to the conversation, though he had noted Dylan’s distraction.

  “Then it’s vandalism. Just because we don’t know how it was done doesn’t mean it wasn’t vandals. Remember, we’ve got a target on our backs here, right?”

  “Aye, vandalism it is then,” Liam said, affable in the morning sun that struggled to peek through the clouds. He even had the audacity to whistle a little tune as they walked past storefronts painted in cheerful colors.

  “Is there something you’d like to say?” Dylan ground out, annoyed at his friend’s response.

  “You’re the boss. If you’re comfortable with claiming vandalism, that’s fine by me, boyo,” Liam said, a smile hovering on his lips. Dylan narrowed his eyes at him as they dodged a group of schoolboys, dressed in their uniforms, racing up the sidewalk chattering about the hurling match from the weekend before.

  “Liam, I don’t have the patience for this today. Just speak your mind,” Dylan said. He’d had another night of fitful dreams, torn with lust, half in love, with Grace as the star of the show.

  “I’m just thinking back to the other day when the trucks starting honking and dancing all on their own. Just wondering if there’s other hijinks in the air is all,” Liam said, holding a finger up and swirling it in a little circle in the air.

  “Is this about magick again?” Dylan pinched his nose and sighed.

  “You’re not one to ignore all possibilities, are you?” Liam asked, cagily dodging the question.

  “I’m not, no. But… I think this whole ‘enchanted curse’ thing is going to everyone’s heads. My guess is that there is a very logical and reasonable explanation for all these events,” Dylan said as they drew close to a group of men – a smaller group than he’d hired – who huddled at the dock.

  “If you say so, boss,” Liam said, clapping a hand on Dylan’s back before striding forward to greet the men.

  “I swear I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Dylan called after him, only to receive a shit-eating grin over Liam’s shoulder.

  Briefly, he turned to scan the harbor. The sea was calm today, with just a light breeze to ruffle his hair, and it was business as usual for the fishermen on the water. His boat should have been here by now, Dylan thought, especially on such a calm day. Wondering what the holdup was, but trusting his crew, he turned back to join the group that waited for him.

  “Seems we have some more issues,” Liam said, tucking his hands in the pockets of the fleece jacket he wore.

  “Morning, gentlemen. What seems to the be problem?” Dylan asked, smiling at each in turn. A few shuffled their feet, some hunched their shoulders, and, aside from the crew he’d brought with him, most averted their eyes.

  “Well?” Dylan asked again, when the silence drew out.

  “Ryan’s car won’t start. John has the flu. Derek had an allergic reaction to something he ate and is covered in hives. David’s tools are missing. Erik can’t find the keys to his toolshed or for any of his construction equipment. Ron’s power has gone out at home and the water isn’t running in Sean’s house,” Liam recited quickly, and Dylan was reminded once again why he’d hired this man to be a project manager. He doubted he would have been able to remember each man’s name so quickly, let alone all the particular worries that plagued each of them this morning.

  “Well, now, that’s quite a litany of problems, is it not? Tell me… is a certain red-haired woman who lives near the cove bribing you to be coming up with these issues?” Dylan asked bluntly. The shock on their faces was enough to have his answer.

  “No, sir. We need the money, that’s the truth of it. Look, I even came when I’m sick,” Derek said, pulling his shirt up to reveal a thick rash of hives that covered his stomach.

  “And you still came in for work? That’s a good man,” Dylan commented and pulled Liam a few feet away.

  “I’ve heard of this happening before. It’s like… I forget the name of it,” Dylan said. “But when the whole village believes something, they all get sick or they all think it is a curse, and things happen because they all believe it.” Dylan stopped, realizing that he was dangerously close to babbling.

  “If you say so, bossman,” Liam said, still way too cheerful for Dylan’s liking.

  “Just pay the men their day’s wage and send them home. Let them know I’ll contact them when the work is ready.”

  “No problem,” Liam said, turning to speak with the men. They protested, for all of them preferred doing an honest day’s work for their wage, but finally Liam was able to convince them to take the money for their trouble and wrangled a promise of their future cooperation when the work was ready.

  “Don’t even say it,” Dylan said, when Liam finally joined him where he stood, scanning the horizon for The Pirate Queen.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Liam mused, pulling a thin cigar from his pocket and lighting it, content to let the silence draw out between them as they watched the boats bobbing far out in the harbor.

  Dylan’s thoughts whirled. Sure, his mother had always delighted in all things magickal and fae, but it seemed so far removed from reality. At least the reality he lived in.

  “There’s an explanation for this. I suspect the village is just banding together to try and run us out of town,” Dylan finally spoke.

  “And the hives?”

  “Happenstance. An easy excuse,” Dylan said, shrugging.

  “And if it’s not?” Liam asked.

  “Then I know just the witchy-eyed woman to confront,” Dylan grumbled.

  “That’s a lad,” Liam said, and clapped him on the shoulder.

  Chapter 25

  “If you’re certain, Grace, I’ll draw up the papers today,” Martin said, measuring her over his desk.

  “Oh, I’m certain. Seeing as I shouted it in front of the of the entire pub the oth
er night,” Grace said, and Martin was kind enough to pretend to be surprised.

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh, don’t act like you haven’t heard. I swear gossip travels faster than the speed of light in this town,” Grace said, plucking at a loose thread in her pants. She’d done nothing but field phone calls from various family members and friends all day long yesterday. The blessing had been finally getting a chance to speak with her parents, whom she’d assured several times that they didn’t need to leave their cruise. After she’d promised for the gazillionth time that she would have them come home if the situation escalated, as well as the promise to send them copies of all litigation-based paperwork, she was able to get off the phone with them. Cait’s daughter Fiona had taken a bit longer to persuade.

  “Fi, you’re living it up right now. Do not come home,” Grace had insisted.

  “Then you come to me,” Fi demanded.

  “I feel like leaving now would probably be a bad idea,” Grace said gently, and laughed when Fi groaned on the other end of the line.

  “Duh. You need to be there to kick his arse into line. And then to kiss his wounded male pride when you dominate him,” Fi decided. Grace laughed once again, picturing her friend drinking Limoncello on the Amalfi coast and having what she sincerely hoped were many a flagrant affair.

  “I promise I’ll visit soon. Let me sort this out first.”

  “Keep me posted on this Dylan. I think he’s the one for you, Grace. Don’t discount all the history you have,” Fi said, worry lacing her voice.

  “I’m not discounting it. But I think I need to learn from it. It hurts too much, you see? I can’t love or live with the possibility of losing like that again. I’m happy with my life now. I love where I live, I love helping people, and I’m over the moon with everything going on with my business line in New York. I’ve no reason to muck it up with a man. You know I’m more than capable of scratching that itch when needed,” Grace said.

  “Be that as it may, I think you’d regret not giving this a chance,” Fi said, and Grace could all but feel her worry push through the phone.

  “Bulldozers, Fi. Remember them?”

  “Right, right. Bulldozers. Got it.” Fi had signed off with the promise to call later in the week. Grace had spent the rest of the day ignoring her phone and working on the first stages of the battle she’d decided to enact against one Dylan Kelly.

  “I’ll admit that I heard wind of an altercation,” Martin said, drawing her back to the conversation at hand.

  “Martin, I don’t think there’s any way around this. He’s determined to have his land, and I’m determined to keep what’s mine.” Grace held her hands up in despair.

  “Then I’ll be happy to draw up the papers for you. It will take a few days, and of course we’ll have to formally serve him and his counsel,” Martin said, then paused, his face lighting up.

  “What?” Grace asked, looking around her.

  “It just occurred to me – the man needs permits passed, no? For his building and whatnot?” Martin looked at her owlishly across his desk.

  “And? I’m assuming he’s secured the proper permits,” Grace shrugged.

  “Well, usually there’s more than one permit that’s needed. It’s a process as a build-out happens. Inspectors go out and so on.” Martin waved his hand in the air. “If there’s a challenge to the permit or, say, any litigation that’s brought before the Village Board… There’s a council meeting, you know. Anyone can go. And lodge a protest.”

  “Well, now, would you look at you? I had no idea you had this side to you, Martin. I quite like it,” Grace said, delighted with the man.

  “It’s all aboveboard, of course. I’m just calling it to your attention, if needed.” Martin cleared his throat, but a faint blush of pleasure tinged his cheeks.

  “And what happens if the whole town goes to the meeting?”

  “Depending on how many complaints there are and the like, it can go past a Board vote to a village vote. Frankly, I don’t think we’ve had a village meeting where we all voted in years,” Martin mused, rolling his pen between his fingers as he leaned back and thought about it.

  “Sounds like it’s high time for another meeting, don’t you think?” Grace smiled sweetly at him.

  “Well, we do so like to chime in with our opinions on matters,” Martin agreed, breaking into a smile.

  “You’re the best, Martin. A saint among men. I’ll get the town gossips on this little tidbit right away,” Grace said and breezed out the door, barely remembering to say her goodbyes to a pleased-looking Anne. Her first stop would be the pub, Grace decided, for it was just nearing lunchtime and she could at least get the ball rolling. It was only a short stroll from the solicitor’s office, and Grace all but danced down the street.

  At Rosie’s sharp bark, Grace looked up to find a decidedly angry-looking man heading right in her direction, his long legs eating up the ground between them until he stood, a breath too close to her.

  Refusing to step back, Grace raised her chin until she met Dylan’s eyes.

  “Can I help you?” Grace asked, amused at the frustration she saw in those gorgeous sea-blue eyes of his.

  “That’s kind of you to ask, Ms. O’Brien,” Dylan said, deliberately addressing her by her surname. “There is something you can help me with.”

  “Go on,” Grace said, hands on hips, chin raised.

  “I don’t know what little games you’re playing, but you’ve no reason to get the town to vandalize our equipment,” Dylan said, watching her closely.

  “I didn’t,” Grace said, not missing a beat.

  “You’re telling me that you aren’t responsible for our equipment breaking?” Dylan asked, his eyes narrowed.

  “I’m telling you that I didn’t, and wouldn’t, encourage anyone in town to break your equipment,” Grace said, neatly sidestepping his question.

  “But you aren’t saying that you’re not responsible?” Dylan asked, too smart to let her get away with that.

  Grace looked away then, and noticed they were once again drawing a crowd. A group of women, ready for lunch at the pub, waited on the sidewalk across the street and watched them, avid interest on their faces.

  “I’m responsible,” Grace said, knowing at heart she couldn’t lie to him.

  “How?” Dylan demanded.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Grace said and took a step to move past him. When he grabbed her arm, she paused and looked down at his hand until he let it drop to his side.

  “Don’t try to tell me it’s this enchanted cove curse nonsense. I get mysticism and magick and all that, but this is a bit much,” Dylan said, frown lines appearing in his forehead.

  “Okay,” Grace said, with a small shrug, and began to walk. She was used to dealing with skeptics, and had found that instead of trying to explain or justify her beliefs or what she knew to be true, it was easier to simply let them believe what they wanted. It wasn’t her job to prove herself – to anyone.

  “Wait, that’s it? Just ‘okay’?” Dylan said, blocking her once more as she tried to pass. Grace rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh.

  “Yes, that’s it. Is there anything else?”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, and it certainly seemed it wasn’t what he had expected to say, judging from the surprised look that crossed his face.

  “No, thank you,” Grace said, politely letting him off the hook.

  “You owe me,” Dylan demanded.

  “I do not,” Grace argued, annoyed to find them once more facing off in front of a growing crowd of people.

  “You admitted you’re responsible for my equipment breaking. For my part, I’m willing to let the cost and damages of that slide if you have dinner with me,” Dylan said.

  “How would you prove that I damaged your equipment?” Grace tilted her head at him.

  “Your word.”

  Caught – Grace typically was
an ethical person, though she wasn’t against some nefarious tactics in battle – she sighed.

  “Fine. Come to the cottage for dinner.”

  “Nope. I say when and where. I’ll be in touch.”

  Frowning after him, Grace felt unsettled, like she couldn’t get her sea legs under her. Which was what the man wanted, she reminded herself, and turned into the pub, ready to spread the word about the town meeting. She was still at war, after all.

  Chapter 26

  “You want me to meet you at the harbor?” Grace asked, pulling the phone away to look at the screen in confusion. She hadn’t given the man her number, but someone – and she could imagine a few sneaky someones – had given it to him.

  “Yes, at five o’clock, please,” Dylan said.

  “That’s a tad early for dinner, no?”

  “You’ll survive,” Dylan said, and ended the call quickly. The man was obviously still annoyed with her for the havoc she’d wreaked on his equipment and his crew, but Grace didn’t feel bad about it.

  Granted, when it came to her magick, she usually stuck with the centuries-old practice of harming none. Causing the flu and hives to hit her fellow villagers was technically harming someone – however, she’d remedied it straightaway and had even added a boost of extra magick to speed them on their recoveries. She’d gone around herself to both of their homes and made certain they were right as rain. In turn, and as penance, she’d taken the illnesses into herself and had then suffered the consequences of both the flu and hives on her body. She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, and had a miserable night, but had woken with no sign of either illness except for the deep shadows under her eyes. Fiona hadn’t bothered to stop by while she was sick, but Grace was actually thankful for that.

  She didn’t need someone pointing out her stupidity, thank you very much.

  She wasn’t perfect, Grace thought, as she spent the morning running some rituals over a new cream she was concocting to soothe colic. A friend of hers was struggling with a particularly colicky baby and Grace felt better for being able to do something positive for the world. Truth be told, she didn’t feel good about enacting the magick she’d done yesterday. Even though she’d paid the price for it, it sat uncomfortably on her soul.