The moment Kelly noticed him he knew. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his fingers twitched. A spasm swept through him ending with a tick in his jaw. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at Kelly as if he could kill him with that one piercing look.
Casey turned to look over her shoulder, running into an end table, and knocking over a candle. Kelly raced to put out the fire that smoldered on the hem of Casey's dress. Florence grimaced, wondering how the devil he could stand to be around the walking disaster that was Casey. The small flames extinguished, Kelly wound his arm though Casey's, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. The love that emanated from Kelly's eyes hit him in the chest like a sledge hammer. His air rushed from his chest.
"I need that marriage certificate immediately. I plan on going to her parents and having the bans read as soon as humanly possible."
"What makes you think her dah will agree to a marriage?" the priest asked. "I've heard the brother despises you."
"I know things," Florence said, watching the couple disappear into a back room.
The priest coughed, clearing his throat. "I will not do anything I'll regret, Lad."
"You already have," Florence cocked his head sideways, the grin growing on his lips felt evil. He liked the feeling--pure wickedness.
"I'll not be jeopardizing myself anymore." The priest turned, walking away.
Florence set his hand on the man's shoulder, leaning close. "You will do as I say, when I say it."
"Or what?"
"You will regret the day you were born."
Chapter Six
"Wind the yarn in a ball--not too tight." Casey knew she stared at Kelly with stars in her eyes as he held the skein of yarn for her. Love radiated from her entire soul as her heart fluttered with shivers of delight.
"Like this?" Kelly asked, looking up as Casey nodded at him. Casey had seen Florence speaking in hushed tones with the priest. A different type of shiver had swept through her when she saw the man who had just recently asked for her hand in marriage. She would kill herself before she would say yes to Florence's overtures.
She felt a prickle of fear sneak up her spine. Kelly's eyes flashed, his shoulders tensing. Hot rancid breath whispered by her ear.
"I know what the feud is about," Florence whispered, his voice rough and malicious as he taunted Casey.
Casey jerked away from Florence, her knitting needles hitting the wood floor with a dull thud. She stood so quickly all the yarn she held followed the needles, her hands trembling and her stomach churning.
"Don't!" Kelly's words rushed from his mouth as he jumped to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. "Leave her be."
"You can't believe the likes of that young fellow," one of the older ladies told her, pointing one needle at Florence and shaking it. "He's a scoundrel of the worst sort."
"No one knows what the feud was about, least as no one who's willing to talk about it," another interjected. "Wouldn't you like a nice cup of tea, dear?"
"Yes, tea would be nice and maybe a strawberry scone," the first lady said, rising as if to walk to the kitchen to do just that. But she stopped, looking over her shoulder and seeming to wait for more conversation.
"He lies to get his own way," another shook an empty needle his way. "You best be getting home, Mr. Florence, or the devil spirit who haunts you will make you more nasty than you already are. Where are your god faeries when you be needin' them?"
"What about that tea? I'm near starving…" one lady asked.
"Wait!" Casey cried out her voice shaking. "Florence, for God sakes, what is it you know about the feud?"
Florence's lips shifted into a crooked, malicious leer. "It will cost you a pretty penny, my dear. Perhaps a stroll in the moonlight along with a kiss."
"Be off with you. No one wants to hear your lies and mean spirited insinuations," Kelly moved forward his hand clenched tightly at his sides.
Casey rose, stepping in front of Kelly before he made a spectacle right here inside the church.
"Please, Kelly. Let him speak now or forever hold his piece. But he will know I will never take a stroll anywhere with him or kiss the likes of him. Not for any information he might taunt me with."
Florence dusted off the arms of his jacket with milk-white hands. "Don't think I feel like telling anyone just yet. I'll meet you privately, Casey. Then perhaps if I feel--well--feel as if you deserve to know the truth, I might be telling you."
"The hell you will!" Kelly shook off Casey's hand, moving toward Florence once more. "You stay away from Casey."
"Or what?" Florence asked with a sneer. "Another duel in the misty morning? I won't miss next time."
"I'll find out from someone else. I will never be with you as you say, in private," Casey said. "I truly believe there are more people around who do know than who don't." Casey sat down before she fainted. Her legs wobbled and shook as she reached the seat of the chair. She inhaled a few long, deep breaths before she looked around the knitting circle.
"Don't you let that horrible young man hurt you," one lady said. "He may be rich as Midas but he doesn't have a soul."
A collective murmur rattled around the room in a wave of agreement as well as chatter about market places, lace and fairs. Casey strained forward, realizing there might be some knowledge gained here. These women knew and were talking about the feud. But so many voices rang in her ears she couldn't make out the details. Belgian lace…the two words were there over and over again. Florence wasn't the only one who knew. Could this feud that had lasted for more than a century be about Belgian lace? Never, no one was that crazy.
"Belfast? Did you say you met your first beau there?" One lady asked another as if she attempted a diversion.
"Oh, my, but that was a long time ago. I was at church one Sunday and when he looked at me, my heart fluttered and I nearly swooned."
Casey thought she'd had enough of this prattle, but she didn't know how to stop these wonderful church ladies who she knew only had her best interest at heart. "Did you say lace? Belgian lace?" Casey queried, cocking her head sideways, her heart thundering beneath her ribs. She was so close to the answer.
"You best be asking your father, little missy. Mum's the word," one lady said as she cast a baleful glare around the room at the gossipy ladies. "As for the rest of you, all of you, you must have way too much time on your hands. We are all meddlesome old busy bodies. It is long past the time to stop the gossip mill."
"She deserves to know the truth. Star-crossed lovers these two are not meant to be. If her dah won't tell her, I will." With those words said, the older lady stuffed her needles yarn and partial shawl into her knitting bag. She gave all the ladies in the room a nose-in-the-air stare before departing. The room fell silent while Casey mulled over all that had been said.
~ * ~
Moya felt alive with anticipation, her poor little heart fluttering so hard she gasped for air. Casey was about to find out how the feud started. She knew deep down one of these ladies would tell her. She wanted to chant, "Tell the girl, tell the girl." Oran would have a wee little fit if she did. But then it occurred to Moya the discovery would not be the end of the quarrel between the two families. Much had transpired over the 100 or so years and the argument and hatred between the two families had escalated.
"What would you be thinkin', Moya?" Oran asked.
"I be thinkin' these two might indeed be star-crossed. All those ladies can do is gossip. If I could, I'd shout out Belgian lace and tell my poor Casey how this all began. And--I be thinking even if she discovers the truth, there is too much hatred, way too much hatred for the feud to dissolve."
"My head is sore listening to all your thoughts, Moya." Oran rose gracefully from his perch and flew around Kelly, sprinkling some good luck dust on the young man. "I would like to see this resolved too."
A tear slipped down Moya's cheek. She was so afraid their machinations and the faerie dust was not going to be enough to overcome the odds. She and Oran would have to be even more vigilant.
>
"Come on, Moya, don't be givin' up on the couple yet. It's not like you to lose all hope." Oran flew to Moya's side and hugged her, wiping away the tear drop. He looked at her and smiled. When she smiled back, he chucked her under the chin.
"You say that now, but I remember when Casey's grandda shot Kelly's great uncle. I'm so afraid nothing's going to stop. Either of them could get hurt--s-shot. I couldn't bear it if anything bad happened. They are meant for each other."
"He shot him in the foot, Moya. The act was hardly life threatening."
"I know, but then the uncle retaliated by tearing out the picket fence in front of Casey's grandda's house."
"The years have taken their toll, Moya, but these two will change that. I promise you they will heal all the wounds between these two families. When they have their first baby the parents will be so delighted they will forget everything bad between them. I tell you all will be well."
"Or make it worse. And when were you gifted with the ability to see into the future?"
"Moya, you must have faith."
"I dinna believe you have a wee crystal ball in that shirt pocket of yours? Oran, you cannot be blinded by the facts here. They are star-crossed lovers and I will not believe anything but that until we see them united at the altar with their families standing up for them."
~ * ~
"You're a damned sight better than Florence, but hardly good enough for Casey." Patrick leaned negligently against a tree, tossing an acorn in the air as he spoke. He slanted Kelly a sideways glance before the acorn flew into the air again.
"And who are you to be judging me, Patrick O'Connell?" Kelly skipped a stone across the little stream winding its way behind the church. An owl hooted in the darkness of the night, a lonely sound. I can be just as cool headed as Patrick O'Connell. I can be cooler, just watch me.
"Where's Casey?"
Patrick's tone made Kelly jump, his stomach in knots. "Knitting--talking--finding out things I'm afraid to know." Kelly rocked back on his heels, his hands behind his back, feeling helpless. Control was something he wasn't used to losing. This relationship spiraled dizzily out of control. Closing his eyes for a moment, he listened to the sound of whispering trees and the slight mist as it fell to the earth. He smelled the sea and felt the rhythm of the thundering surf as it hit the rocks nearby.
"You ok with Casey alone with the ladies?" Patrick tossed one of the acorns across the creek then another.
"No, but I was about to lose my temper, and I didn't think that would be wise. I had to find some time alone--to think."
"Why would you be losing your temper?" A strange grin spread across Patrick's face as he spoke. "You nervous?"
"Florence."
"Ah, a one word response that makes so much sense," Patrick said.
"He's a threat to both of us." Kelly felt a muscle in his jaw twitch then radiate outward to end up in his stomach. Nerves tensed, every synapse seeming to snap with thoughts of Florence and what he might maliciously accomplish.
"Florence is evil."
"Vile," Kelly said, dusting his hands off as if he could rid himself of Florence with that one simple gesture.
Kelly stood with his hands behind his head, gazing toward the church, ready to storm the knitting circle. Rushing headlong into the gaggle of ladies was not wise and he welcomed the diversion Patrick created.
"I don't understand what he wants. Clearly, he doesn't care for Casey in any way."
"It's about the game--the mischief-- the trouble he creates," Patrick said. "I've known him since we were both in knickers. He hasn't changed."
"The heartache," Kelly said feeling the same churning in his stomach he had earlier. He wanted Casey in his life with an elemental need he didn't understand.
"Go get Casey, walk her home, kiss her."
"I dinna believe my ears, Patrick O'Connell. You givin' me permission to court your little sister? Kiss her?" A kiss--his heart raced at the thought. Casey in his arms--butterflies fluttered in his core--every part of him hardened with need. All he had to do was think about her. The memory of her scent filled him.
"You've fallen hard for my sis. Best you treat her right."
"I have. She's everything to me. In such a short time…"
"There is nothing worse than a lovesick fool," Florence said as he stepped from the shadow of a large oak tree. "And I see one now. You planning on pining away for your lil lass or are you going to show her how a real man would treat her?"
"And you would know this how…" Kelly asked. "You're not a real man, Florence. You're a contemptible creature who thrives on others' pain."
"I'm vile? I'd hardly use that term," Florence said, wiping off his sleeve with a monogrammed hankie. "And I thought you liked me."
A rustle in the night air alerted Kelly, his senses on full alert. This meeting was no coincidence.
"Need any help teaching these two a few lessons?" Two men stepped from the shadows behind Florence, flanking him, fists clenched at their sides.
"Who would be teaching whom a lesson?" Patrick asked, balling his fists. "I would not be so hasty as to jump into this fray without a thought in your wee brain."
"We would be teaching the likes of you two," one of the men said, a crooked leer making his scarred face.
"I suppose you think the odds are right? Two against three and all, of course Florence doesn't really count as a man. He'll stand behind you two men then claim a victory, if there is one, for himself."
Kelly was pretty sure he and Patrick could beat these two effeminate men even though their biceps were huge. He had a hankerin' for a fight and if that was what these guys wanted, he would be more than willing to oblige. He slanted Patrick a questioning look, saw the nod of the head just before one of Florence's cohorts swung at him. He ducked and punched the aggressor in the gut.
Patrick shouted and with a high kick knocked the other man at shoulder level, decking him with one blow. The man hit a tree, sliding along the trunk until he sat, legs spread wide on the grassy knoll.
Florence danced flat-footed around the other two men, staying out of reach. Kelly wanted nothing more than to get at the prissy dandy but couldn't find his way past the other man who seemed hell-bent on protecting Florence. It occurred to Kelly the only way Florence could acquire such seeming loyalty would be through blackmail.
"You're a lily-livered little girl," Patrick said. "Fight like a man or call your dogs off, Florence. No one likes a coward or didn't you figure that out at the duel?"
"Or what?" Florence asked. "What will happen to me?" Florence let out a low and long chuckle from behind his protectors--his sneer scalding Kelly's soul.
"Or your reputation will be worse than it has ever been." Kelly danced light-footed around the last body guard. Florence sidestepped behind a tree. "You can cry off now or forever hold your peace."
"Not that I care a fig for my reputation. I have enough coin to pay my way into any circle. If the situation here becomes intolerable and I stop having fun, I can move to London. Can you say the same thing, Kelly?" Once again Florence slid behind the last barrier he had between Kelly's pummeling fists.
"I dinna need to pay my way anywhere. You fit well in London. I hear the depravity in the gaming hells exceeds even your limits. But your limits haven't really been tested have they?" Kelly would love to see the last of Florence. Uneasily though, he knew Florence would never make life easy for him. The hatred ran too deep and had lasted far too long.
"Touché, Mr. Shaunasey. And you will be supportin' Casey on your meager wages--ah, but I could show her off in style, take her to the most fashionable modiste, buy her the newest frippery from Paris. You know her family has more money than I have. She is not used to a life of poverty. Is that what you be wantin' to give the lass?"
"I dinna believe Casey cares for money over love," Kelly said, dodging a feeble punch from the Florence's only protector who was left standing. "We have something few people have, a love that is true and pure. I will make her happy."
/>
"Love cannot feed a family, or put pretty dresses on the wife." Florence's taunt came out in a rush of hot air. He staggered backwards his hand to his face, a look of sudden astonishment in his eyes.
"Take that you whining piece of blubber." Kelly had hit Florence square in the nose and the flamboyant loud mouth went down, bleeding profusely. His friends looked at Florence for a brief moment, shrugged their shoulders in unison and walked away. their backs to their so called friend. They didn't turn around or give Florence a second thought.
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