by Lisa Bain
“What do you mean?”
“You just need to give yourself permission to have a good time, without worrying about a relationship. I know how you are; you think it has to mean something. It doesn’t.”
John ordered another round of drinks and proceeded to give her his advice. He told her to find a guy, but not get attached. “Libby, just make sure to totally bin him afterwards though. Shag ‘im and ghost ‘im. Save all the sloppy emotional stuff for the absolute one. Act like a dude. No attachments, no guilt, just fun. It’s allowed. Whatever you do, don’t fall in love.”
“This coming from the guy who is so sentimental he carries an ancient suitcase because it belonged to his grandmother. And you needn’t worry about my getting attached. After…what happened I set wards around my heart to prevent that.”
“Touché. I’m impressed you remembered that story. But Geez, Libby, wards? I know I said don’t fall in love, but it’s you we’re talking about. Didn’t you say you had to experience the joy of it all? You have to open up your heart in order for this to work. Take those stupid wards down.”
Libby stared into her glass and sighed. “Now you sound like Michael. I know. I figured I could do this without letting anyone get close. Fine then. I’ll take the wards down and let full naughty mode commence.”’
“Yes, this pirate approves of full naughty mode. You have good badness about you Libby, as all girls should. This is totally okay. But maybe it’s better if you stick to guys here and not the Kingdom. Here not as many people know you.”
“Righto.”
“And don’t make it so complicated. The less talking the better.”
“Sweet Jaysus, you’re romantic. Tell me again how you convinced your wife to marry you?”
John didn’t get to answer because at that moment both of their phones started ringing. Their absence had been noticed, and not appreciated.
While no one could say much to Libby, John incurred the wrath of Sean via phone, Fynnigan, and Geoffrey. They were all yelling at him, when he cut them off. “She wasn’t in any danger but needed to be off the grid. And before you start again, I know what she needs. You need to mellow the fuck out and let me do my job as Queen’s Knight Grand Champion.” He stormed off to his tent.
Scarlett and Awen were secretly relieved, and finally shared this bit of information with Geoffrey. It was understandably awkward for him, but he also laughed. Dale would have found this hilarious. He was also relieved that John was, in fact, exactly what Libby needed in a Champion. He’d figure out a way to get Fynnigan and the other knights to back off.
Meanwhile, Libby finally followed her son’s instructions. Maggie had told her that when she felt doubt, to return to her heart center. So that’s what she did.
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself.
She grasped the talisman that Krystal had given her before they’d departed, and let the pink glow wash over her, washing her clean of the pain and guilt of her encounter with Galen. She searched for, and found, reasons to be grateful for Galen. He’d reminded her that she was still alive, and what she’d been missing, even if it wasn’t real. She realized his behavior reflected his own pain and suffering and had nothing to do with her. She decided that it wasn’t a mistake, but a learning experience. Digging deep into her heart center, she found love and forgave them both. And though she was still hesitant, she released the wards she’d set around her heart.
She felt rather than saw Michael smiling at her.
Chapter
A Belfast Break
After making the decision to take a few weeks off in the regular world, Libby settled down to her favorite activities: hanging out in pubs and listening to music. John had come with her. Scarlett was dead set against her going out on her own, but even she knew she’d be safe. Libby definitely needed a break from training and the reminder of what she still had to do. And though Libby had forgiven him, any opportunity to erase the memories of Galen McIntyre would be worth it. She begrudgingly let her go. Funny, Libby thought. I figured it would be Sean and Fynnigan who’d give me the hardest time. She left them all to take some well-deserved time off with their loved ones.
She grabbed a table in the back of the pub and waited for the evening’s musician to arrive. It took a while to realize that this was the first time she’d been at the Duke of York since the night Dale was injured. She was sitting alone since Dee wasn’t able to make it on short notice and John hadn’t arrived yet. Not a big deal. She’d shown up unannounced, and this was Belfast. It was safe, and with her bartender friends keeping an eye out, no one would bother her. She looked around the pub. It wasn’t crowded yet, so there were still a few copper-topped tables available. The sheer quantity of whiskey memorabilia on the walls and ceiling was overwhelming to someone with minimalist taste, but the music, whiskey, and people were what kept her coming back to the Duke every time she was in town. When tourists had a vision of an Irish pub, this was it.
They didn’t say who was playing, which wasn’t unusual. Irish musicians were often loosey goosey about time and showing up, so most pubs had back-ups on deck as needed. As she nursed her whiskey, she noticed him come in the side door. Long dark hair, golden eyes, and a disarming smile. He was tall and trim but had the swagger of a man who knows he’s got it all and can have even more. As he was setting up, she realized she recognized him. He was a big name in American Country music and currently lived in Nashville. Nashville and Belfast were sister cities and shared a long musical connection. She remembered reading he was originally from Ireland but wondered what he was doing there in the pub that night.
As famous as he was for his chart-topping music, he was equally infamous for his womanizing. The confirmed bachelor and self-described lovable rogue had a thing for the ladies. Confident, charming, and a smooth talker, it wasn’t about the conquest. It was all about the challenge. He ignored the groupies who threw themselves at him. No, the more unavailable or uninterested a woman was, the more he dialed up the charm. If he was a hunter, he’d be bagging big game somewhere. It was the thrill of the chase for this Belfast boy who’d made it big.
Despite his regular road crew, when he played back home, he did his own set up. He never charged the pub for the performance, just made them promise to keep it a secret until he took the stage. It kept him close to his roots, and he loved the intimate venue. He could see more from the stage in places like this than he could in the large arenas. He came from a long line of music men. Generations ago one of them had married a wizard. His great-great-grandfather didn’t know it, but that union would infuse musicians for generations with the ability to unknowingly create magic when they played. It may have been one reason he’d been so successful. His latest album, Brash as Fuck, had hit triple platinum in record time.
He’d noticed her watching him as he was setting up and wondered who she was. She was pretty enough, but not what anyone would describe as beautiful. A hint of exotic, perhaps? You didn’t see too many multi-ethnic women in Belfast, and it made her stand out. And then there was the whole blue hair bit. It was her confidence he found attractive. She had bearing, even sitting alone, that warranted further investigation.
He lost her attention when her male companion arrived. Rohan wrinkled his nose at the sight of them together. They didn’t look like they belonged together at all. He continued to observe while he finished setting up. They were obviously close. They were sitting closer than business associates and had an intimacy that was apparent as they leaned into each other. But, perhaps not a romantic one. He was a tall man, so his arm around her seemed a practical way to spread out rather than a romantic gesture. Friends? Relatives? He wondered.
She felt him watching her and looked up at him in time to meet his gaze. She smiled, and something about that smile issued the challenge. A fun one. He’d never let a man stop him from going after a woman he wanted.
So, he watched her. Tonight just got interesting, he thought to himself as he flashed her one of his famous smile
s and started to play.
Her eyes widened as she saw the familiar sunset glow emanating from his fingertips. For fuck’s sake, she thought. Tonight just got interesting. She got up and ordered another round of whiskeys and had the bartender send down a pint for Mr. Rohan Fitzpatrick. “What are you doing here, magic man?” she whispered into her glass.
While he was playing, Libby tore her attention away and took the opportunity to talk to John.
“I appreciate your willingness to come with me but think you should use this break to visit your family.”
“What are you talking about? You want me to leave the party early?” John demanded, pretending to be wounded.
“We both know that time could be short. Neither of us knows what will happen. Spend this time with your wife and son. You know I’ll be fine here. It’s Belfast.” She insisted.
John ran his fingers through his long blonde waves while he thought about it. It was a nervous habit whenever he was deep in thought. He knew she’d be fine, and that she was right.
He broke out into a grin and said, “Well, there’s no time like the present.”
He drained his whiskey, leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and stood up to leave. “Catch you in a few Libby. And thanks. Don’t be good while I’m gone.”
She blew him a kiss and motioned him away as he turned and loped out of the pub into the night air and home.
Rohan rocked the house until it was time for his break. By now social media channels had let out that he was in town and playing on his old turf. He was mobbed by old and new fans alike. He shook hands, posed for photos, and eventually pulled away and made his way to where she was sitting.
“Thanks for the pint,” he said as he slid into the booth beside her, pulling his shoulder length dark hair back into a ponytail. “Where’s your friend off to?” motioning to the empty space John had filled just moments ago.
She just smiled, ignoring the question. “You’re welcome for the pint. Least I could do. Your music isn’t half bad. Duke of York was one of my first Belfast pubs and I always visit when I’m in town. I’m addicted to live music, and Belfast has the best out of everywhere I’ve been. Maybe tied with Nashville.”
He smiled again and said, “Well, I play there too sometimes.”
“I know who you are, magic man.”
“Magic man? Well, I do have magic fingers.”
She almost spit out her drink laughing at that one. She knew what the local musicians meant by that.
“Classy,” Libby snorted.
“That still doesn’t tell me who you are,” he said.
She extended a hand. “I’m Libby McGregor.”
“Rohan Fitzpatrick,” he replied as he took her hand in his. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Is it? Pity. You didn’t seem like the one-sided pleasure kind of guy,” she replied, laughing.
He laughed, too. She was funny.
They exchanged a few more inappropriate one-liners, and then he got up to retake the stage.
“Hey, Cowboy,” she called after him. “Play well. I’d hate to be disappointed.”
He shrugged his shoulders in mock disbelief but chuckled all the way up to the stage. Yes. This was going to be fun.
She sat there in the pub, feeling that familiar warm glow begin as the colors around his hands changed. She quit wondering what his magical lineage may be and let herself close her eyes and fall into the music. The energy of each musician was different, like a magical fingerprint. As he played, she savored his. It was warm, comfortable, familiar, like she’d felt it before. It was also sexy. What? her eyes popped open. That had not happened in a long time. Was that right? She felt something she remembered...desire. While she’d been attracted to Galen, it had been loneliness more than desire–the need for a physical connection to another human being. His use of magic had manipulated that, which meant it wasn’t real. This was different. This was fun.
Well, she thought, if I have to do this anyway, I may as well enjoy it. This is unexpected.
She heard Maggie in her head, telling her to shut up and not to overthink it. So, she took a deep breath and a swig of her whiskey, and just let the music wash over her. Yes, she thought, definitely sexy.
He kept glancing her way. Her reaction to his music was unlike anything he’d ever seen. He wondered if she knew what she looked like, with her eyes half-closed and that blissed out smile on her now rosy-cheeked face. For a split second he envisioned that face in bed next to him. Content. Satiated. Sexy as hell.
He was into his next song when he noticed her stand up to leave. She winked at him and nodded as she turned and walked out of the pub.
He rarely let himself get distracted by a woman, but suddenly couldn’t think about anything else. He was in it for the hunt now. She’d practically dared him to find her. There wasn’t a woman alive who could resist his charms. Not even a queen.
Especially if that Queen didn’t want to resist.
It had taken a few pints after the show to get Paul, the bar manager, to tell him what he knew about this American woman, Libby McGregor. He was able to figure out the building she was staying in, not far from the pub. After that it was pretty easy to get flowers and a note delivered to her flat. Belfast was still a small town and he had enough connections to get what he wanted. When he saw the American number ringing through on his phone, he knew it had to be her.
“Thanks for the flowers, Stalker,” the voice on the other end began.
“Stalker? I’m chagrined. More like an admirer.”
“Admirer? Of what?” she laughed. “And how did you know lilacs were my favorite flower?
“I can only tell you that in person. Have dinner with me tonight.” “I have plans,” she lied,” but thank you for the invitation.”
“Break them. You know you want to. I saw you watching me sing. I’ve never seen anyone want to have dinner with me more than you. I’d hate to have to show up and knock on your door like the pizza boy.”
There was silence on the other end. He wondered if he’d pushed too far. American women were a lot more sensitive than their Irish counterparts.
“What do you have in mind?” broke the silence.
He grinned. “Dinner at my place.”
“Wow, forward AND cheeky,” she replied.
“Now hold on, you know who I am. There isn’t a restaurant in town we could have a meal and enjoy some peace and quiet.”
Libby laughed. “Wanna bet?” she challenged. “I know just the place.”
Later that evening his taxi pulled up at the address she’d given him on Antrim Road.
“This can’t be it. Are you sure this is the right place?” He leaned forward to ask the taxi driver.
“311 Antrim Road is what you told me, and that’s where we are,” he retorted with a shake of his head.
Rohan looked at the address again, and then around to see if there was anything else close by that might fit the bill. When she walked up to the taxi and knocked on the window, he realized they would in fact be dining at Walker’s Chip Shop and finally got out of the car.
“Really? A chip shop?” he snorted, clearly disappointed.
“Best fried chicken on the planet. And no one here cares who you are. Emphasis on the no one.”
He laughed and draped his arm around her shoulders as they entered the shop, “We’ll see about that.”
After they got their order, they sat at the edge of the bar on the wall away from the window. Fish and chips are hardly romantic date food, but she was right, the food was excellent. And, disappointingly, no one did seem to notice or care who he was.
“Alright, spill it, Stalker.” Libby demanded. “How did you find my flat, and how did you know lilacs were my favorite?”
A grin crossed Rohan’s handsome face. “You were wearing lilac perfume the night we met. That’s not a common fragrance. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen lilac perfume before. I took a chance ordering them. As for finding your flat, that’s my secret.”
“Why do you like lilacs?” he asked, wanting to get her to talk about herself.
Libby shrugged. “I always have. My mother always had them planted in the garden, and they remind me of her. There is something about them that makes them a beautiful contradiction. Lilacs are wild and delicate at the same time. They are sweet but incredibly sturdy. Totally reliable, but easily out of control. And they are survivors. Do you know anything about gardening?” She asked.
She continued when he shook his head. “Well, lilacs, along with roses, can survive almost anything. If you ever come across an abandoned cabin or farmhouse, you’ll likely find the lilacs and roses have taken over. They are a force of nature.”
“Sounds like a perfect choice for a woman like you, Libby McGregor.” She rolled her eyes, and he made a mental note to have fresh lilacs delivered to his house the next day. He wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.
He was funny. He made her laugh, and he made her feel good about herself. More than that, he made her feel sexy and desired. She was still young and wasn’t meant to live a life alone. Hell, Awen kept on her about it. She just hadn’t found anyone interesting enough. Rohan persisted, and succeeded where others had failed. The first morning they were together, she could actually feel the energy blockage in her chakra shoot out of her feet. As she lay there purring like a mama kitty, her feet felt like they were on fire. She could see the orange energy pulsing around her. And she couldn’t stop laughing.
Libby was almost ready to fight the dragon.
One afternoon, white cotton sheets tangled around them, Libby asked Rohan about his life as a musician. He’d told her about his first nice guitar, a Gibson. Back then, early in his career, he’d saved every cent he earned. Most of the money went back to equipment, and as things got more high-tech they also got more expensive. He loved that guitar; it represented that he’d made it to where he’d always wanted to be. He’d bought it after his first big album success, I Am Trouble, hit the charts. He was heartbroken when it was stolen a few years later. He looked at her, feeling a bit sheepish. “I know it’s silly, but I’d even named her. GiGi, short for my Gibson Girl.”