“I’m glad we cleared the air,” Griffin said. He took out his cell phone. “Let me make an audio note on what we agreed to.”
He brought up his voice journal app and spoke into it. “My name is Griffin Gallagher, the Duke of Gallagher Castle in Malin Head, County Donegal. I have epilepsy of the kind where I lose my memory. My last seizure was eight days ago after I came home from the United States. I sat in an airplane next to Clare Hart. She stole my Heart of Brigid, and she has agreed to give it back to me. In return, I will not turn her over to authorities. Clare, do you have anything to say?”
He gave her the phone, so she said, “I thought to play a practical joke on Griffin because I wanted to meet up with him again. I didn’t know it was valuable, so I swapped his precious Heart of Brigid with a lump of coal. I hid his stone in a fairy mound at Bronagh Abbey. We are going to the abbey to fetch it. I will give the stone back to Griffin and not ask anything in return. I hope we can stay friends because I truly enjoyed the time I spent with him. I’m hoping he will get his epilepsy treated. I promise to be there at his side to help him through it.”
She handed his phone back, and he paused the app. Then he looped his arm around her shoulders and took a selfie with her. He set the timer and asked, “May I have a kiss?”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Clare could hear the simulated camera sounds, but if this was the last kiss she’d get from Griffin, she’d at least make it worthwhile.
He kissed her almost breathless, and when he finished, he turned on the ignition. “I’m glad we’re speaking from our hearts. It wasn’t easy trying to keep up all the parts of the story.”
“Same here.” Clare blinked as wetness seeped from her eyes. “I guess this means we start over from the beginning. We’re not getting married or playing like we’re lovers. I’m not a changeling or fairy queen, just an ordinary woman with an overactive imagination.”
“Sounds exciting to me,” he said as he pulled into traffic. “I’m just an ordinary epileptic who can’t hold down a job.”
“You already have a job being duke or inheriting from your grandfather,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “Please. I know when I’m being mocked. If I want to make something of my life, I need to step away from the world of pretend and face reality head on.”
“As boring and dull as it is?” she asked, remembering how he’d admitted his life was as dull as dishwater without the high stakes and drama of a fictional existence.
“We can make it interesting.” He reached over and took her hand. “By taking it one day at a time. I still find you the most fascinating creature in my short current existence, and that’s without you being Brigid or the Morrigan or even a changeling.”
“You’d settle for a mere human friendship?”
Despite her question, she liked the turn of their conversation. Her heart couldn’t distinguish between pretending and real affection, and as starved as she was for a sense of permanence and belonging, she could have fallen for an illusion.
“I’d like to think we’re a wee bit more than friends.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “But I will leave the decision up to you. After you give me back my Heart of Brigid, you’re free to go.”
“Do you want me to go?” Her voice took on a flirtatious lilt. “Didn’t you say the Heart of Brigid points you to your true love?”
A smile quirked his lips, and he nodded while keeping his eyes on the winding road. “Ah, yes. Let’s see if it works its magic. Would it bother you if it turns out to be you?”
Clare felt her cheeks warm, and she didn’t dare look him in the eye. All her life, she’d been careful about guarding her heart. She had no real family, other than her friends and her recently acquired genetic cousins. The nuns at the abbey had drilled it into the girls’ minds that men were scoundrels up to no good.
Like Seamus O’Toole, the man who talked smooth, drew big dollar signs in her eyes, and absconded with all her money.
“I’ll let the Heart of Brigid decide,” she scrambled for something to say when the silence dragged too long.
If Griffin was putting his heart out on a sleeve for her, she surely didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Of course, he was an extremely eligible bachelor.
“Good, I can’t wait to find out.” He pulled the car onto a narrow, rutted lane. “We’re almost there.”
Clare raised her eyes to the dark shadows of the tumble-down walls of the abbey.
“Stop,” she said. “Let’s not go to the gate. See that gap in the walls? I know a way to the fairy mound through there.”
Chapter 24
“You are the most spontaneous woman I know.” Griffin held back the branches of a prickly bush to help Clare get through the gap in the pile of stones passing for a wall.
She’d put on hiking boots but was wearing the sparkly evening gown she’d chosen as her wedding attire. She’d hurriedly packed without interference from her two friends who were still at work.
He was frankly surprised she went along with the plan. But then, he had to believe she meant to restore his heirloom. Being a youngster, in her early twenties or so, she was full of fun and adventure.
“I hope I don’t lose too many sequins here,” she said, holding up her gown from the brambles.
“Where is the fairy mound?” Griffin waved the flashlight on his cell phone.
“Up there, behind that cistern, there’s a cellar where I can get to the underground tunnel.” She tiptoed gingerly down a narrow pathway between piles of debris and overgrown bushes.
A twig cracked not far from them, and Griffin froze, covering the light. “Are you meeting anyone?”
She put her finger over her lips and shook her head. After standing still and hearing nothing but the rustling of leaves, she again led the way.
This time, Griffin followed as silently as he could, keeping his light pointed on the thin trail between broken walls and what looked like headstones. The night air was damp, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with the feeling that someone or something was watching them.
Clare didn’t seem fazed. She knew the way, and soon, they were standing in front of a stone beehive hut with a hole leading down into the ground.
“Are we going down there?” he asked.
“You keep watch,” she said. “I’ll go down.”
“I’m going with you. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of a fairy mound.”
“It’s faster if I go alone,” she insisted. “If anyone sees me, they might think I’m one of the fairies.”
Griffin’s hackles raised with alarm. “You mean others visit the mound?”
“Most of the orphans know about the tunnels,” Clare said. “But I’ve hidden your treasure in an area rumored to be guarded by the death angel, or banshee. She might not take lightly to your intruding on her domain.”
“I thought we were dealing with reality, not fantasy.” The words came out harsher than he intended. “You’re not thinking of skipping out with the rock, are you?”
The corners of her lips turned down, and she shrugged. “I’m being truthful with you. Things happen down in the tunnels, and some orphans never return.”
He didn’t want to piss her off before finding the rock, so he patted her back. “Of course. You know best, but let me come with you. I’m not afraid.”
“You don’t trust me.” She flipped her face away from him and pouted. “Very well, you go first.”
Griffin looked back at the darkened ruins they’d passed. His heart raced, and his thudding pulse was interfering with his ability to listen for intruders. After deciding no one was following, he turned his flashlight down the dank hole. The steps were narrow and steep. The air was stale and musty, with the fetid odor of dirt and dead animals.
“Does this fork off at any point?” he asked, feeling his way along the damp stone walls. Water trickled underneath the pebbles at their feet, and the walls were cracked and damp.
“This cistern is built in one of the mou
nds, and there is a twin mound on the other side which is dry. We’ll go underneath the old monastery, so it’s down and then up. Sometimes it’s flooded on the lowest level, but most of the water should have been diverted to the cistern.”
“How far will we have to swim if it’s flooded?”
“I’m hoping we only have to wade,” Clare said with a chuckle. “If you want to turn back, it’s not too late.”
Her voice held a tone of mocking, and Griffin wasn’t about to let her get the better of him. “I’ll take care of whatever threats that’ll come up here. Let me go first.”
She giggled as he barged ahead. He was too tall for the tunnel and banged his head. “Ouch.”
“I was about to tell you to duck.”
“Fine, I’ll walk like a hunchback.” He lowered his spine and shined the light down the tiny passageway. He looked back the way they came, but it was pitch-black.
At least no one followed them.
After passing between a narrow wall, the tunnel dipped sharply, and water flowed at their feet. Soon, they were wading in ankle-deep water, and Clare had tied her dress up around her waist.
She’d taken the lead, and Griffin kept his eyes on her shapely legs and cute butt since she also had to bend over. She cut quite a figure, sparkly in white and glittering as he waved the flashlight back and forth.
“Damn.” Clare came to a sudden halt.
Griffin stumbled and bumped into her from behind. “What is it?”
“They walled it off.” She pounded her fists on what appeared to be a freshly laid brick wall.
“Who? The nuns? I thought only the children knew about the fairy mound,” Griffin said.
She spread herself against the brick wall. “Maybe this is an illusion. It makes us think we can’t go through it, but if we melt into it, we’ll pop out the other side.”
Was she insane? Or acting out something from one of her books?
“Are you saying this is a portal of some sort?”
She gave a loud sigh and heaved her shoulders. “Of course, in the presence of unbelievers, no magic works.”
“This is obviously a kind of magic that wards off intruders,” he answered, not sure what she was getting at. He pointed the beam of the flashlight at a set of inscriptions. “Runes. Do you know what they mean?”
She bent down and peered at the markings. Several seconds transpired, but she remained silent. Instead, she knocked and tapped on the bricks until she came to one that sounded different.
“Ah, ha,” she said, pulling the brick from its position. “There’s a key in here, which means there’s a door. I wonder what they’re hiding in here.”
“I hope they haven’t found my Heart of Brigid,” he grumbled.
“I doubt it. I have a secret pocket only I know about.” Hugging the wall, she slid her way along the passage.
After several minutes of trekking through twisty, tight passageways, Griffin lost all sense of direction with all of the turns they made.
“How do we know we haven’t gone in circles?” he asked.
“You’re a real joy to have on an adventure.”
He could feel her rolling her eyes, but what did he care? As long as he got his precious Heart of Brigid.
“After we get out of here, I’m treating you to a vacation,” he said to show he was still in the game. “Then we’ll see who’s more adventurous.”
“Ever been sky-diving? How about base-jumping?”
“Baby stuff. I bet you’ve never climbed a glacier or fought a cave bear. How about facing down a horde of dirty, smelly Norsemen?”
“You’re lying.”
“Not at all. Try time travel. It beats real life.”
“Whatever.” She continued to feel the walls until they came to a metal gate. “This is also new. It’s only been a few days since I was last here.”
“That worries me,” he said as she fit in the key and unlocked the gate.
“Not me,” she said. “I wasn’t followed.”
“As far as you know.”
“Pessimist,” she shot back.
“Realistic,” he countered.
They trekked onward in silence, and Griffin was just starting to relax when he heard a noise behind them.
It was the scrape and sound of a metal gate closing, followed by a click.
Clare stiffened and tapped him. “That sounds like the gate we passed.”
“No worries, we go forward,” he said, determined not to be derailed. “You have a key.”
“Sure, I know of another way out, but we’ll have to crawl. Our clothes will be a wreck.”
“Especially your beautiful wedding dress.” He roped her in and held her. “Let’s take another selfie to remember this.”
He kissed her cheek and snapped several pictures. She really did look like a fairy princess wearing a tiara and the quartz Heart of Brigid replica over her pale bosom.
They got going and ducked around a grate where water dripped through. A howling, whistling sound keened from far above, and the sound of dragging chains clanked below. Was someone imprisoned down there?
Clare slipped crossing over a channel filled with water, but he was close enough to catch her and hold her steady.
“You okay?” he asked. “Maybe we should have gone to the front door and asked the abbess for shelter. Then we could have dressed differently.”
“We’re almost there,” Clare said. “Who cares about wedding clothes when we’re about to find your true heart?”
He nuzzled her closer. “Maybe I already have. It’s not made of stone, but flesh and blood—more valuable because it’s alive.”
She didn’t respond, although she softened against him. It was enough to let him know his words affected her.
The last few passageways were so narrow, he was sure his dandy clothes were all scuffed. Her gown was already ripped, the hemline soggy, and her tiara off-center. Her hair was matted and tangled.
She grabbed his phone with the flashlight and pointed it through a cracked wall. “It’s in there.”
“How will we get to it?”
“Watch and learn.” She dropped her pack and pulled out a fishing rod. There was no line attached, but she attached a hook to the loop at the tip. “This is why no one can get to my hiding place.”
“Couldn’t they bring a fishing rod too?”
“They don’t know the exact angle to go through the crack and into the pocket in the wall. Hold the light.”
He held the flashlight firmly against the crack while she fiddled with the fishing rod. His pulse was pounding, compounded by the steady dripping of water, the scuttling of possible rats and other critters, but he was too excited to worry. Since he’d come back from his last seizure, he’d never touched the Heart of Brigid, just read about it, and knew it was a diamond in the rough.
Clare grunted and swore under her breath as she angled the rod this way and that. It didn’t look like she was having an easy time.
“Are you sure it’s still there?” he asked while wondering if she was playacting this entire scene. Maybe this was a wild goose chase, and she was playing him for a fool.
The actual diamond was safely ensconced somewhere else, or she could have sold it at one of those underground auctions by now.
Had she had enough time?
But if so, why had she come to the castle and exposed herself?
Her brow was twisted, and sweat dripped over her forehead as she poked and prodded the rod.
“Maybe you should have brought one of those fiber-optic scopes so we can see,” he said.
“Shut up. I know it’s there.”
Now, her tongue was sticking out, and the sight of it all wet and luscious struck him straight in the groin. His body had a strange way of making lust known at exactly the wrong time.
“Stop moving the light,” Clare grumbled.
“Let me try.” He jiggled her forearm. “What are we trying to hook?”
“A latch that lifts a metal block, so I c
an push this stone in.” She kicked a flat slab at the base of the wall.
“Got it.” He pulled the rod back and raised it to lower the hook against the surface on the other side. After a few sweeps, he pushed harder and met resistance. “Get ready to push.”
He pulled back and heard the stone creaking below.
“Got it,” Clare said, withdrawing her hand.
He dropped the iron weight with a heavy clang. “Let me see it.”
She pulled open a velvet bag and poured a translucent lump into his hand. “I believe this belongs to you.”
He could barely breathe as he shined the flashlight over the stone. It was duller than he expected, but it seemed to throb with its ruddy, purplish lifeblood.
“You did it!” he exclaimed. “It’s precious and everything I dreamed of.”
He couldn’t stop staring at diamond in the rough, turning it this way and that in the light. He was barely aware of the sounds of shuffling and the clanging of the weight raising and lowering to secure the hiding case.
“Happy now?” Clare asked, sidling up to him. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? Told you I’d keep my promise.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a full embrace. “You really came through, and I’ll keep my promise to you, too.”
“I’m so happy.” She tipped on her toes and pressed a kiss on his lips.
He immediately took advantage and deepened the kiss. She had earned his trust, and now that he had the Heart of Brigid, he could fulfill his destiny and be free of his family obligation. Frankly, he was tired of the tradition spelled out in the annals, and now that Clare had convinced him reality was much more intense and fun than fantasy, well, he might as well start experiencing it now.
“I’d like you to be part of my reality,” he mumbled between kisses. “You’re the one my heart yearns for.”
“I’d like to go with you,” she said, releasing him from the kiss. “We do make a good team, don’t we?”
Lucky Like Love: The Fae Legacy #1 Page 17