"You broke my nose," Florence wailed as he touched it, his hand stained with blood. "You broke it…"
~ * ~
"Oran, hold up," Moya said. "They've finished, quit, done, Florence is going to slink away like the horrible creature he is. The vermin who infests all things good and decent in this world. If there is any justice to be had--that is."
Oran's fists flew in rapid fire staccato, hitting imaginary Florences. A jab here, a jab there, an uppercut then he brought his fist up to protect his face. He let out a karate kick high into the air. "Take that and that," he said as he danced in the air. "I'm going to make you pay for every rotten deed you have ever brought to fruition." His fists pummeled the air--another kick--more punches. A grunt then a groan emanating from Oran.
"Oran, they are quite done. Stop." Moya's wings fluttered fast and furious, her heart a rapid staccato beneath her ribcage.
"Dinna care. I'm having fun here. Don't you stop me from my fun." Punch, jab, kick, punch, jab, kick, "coward, lily-livered rat--take that--and that."
"They will get away and you won't have done anything to help the situation. See, Patrick seems to have takin' a liking to young Kelly. Maybe they will join forces and our young lovers will no longer be star-crossed." Moya brought her clasped hands up to her face and stared lovingly at Kelly. "Ah, Casey darlin', you have a found yourself a wonderful lad." The deep sigh emanating from her was long and filled with enchantment.
Oran sucked in a shaky deep breath, gasping for air. Bending over at the waist he continued to inhale then pant as he slowly drew air into his lungs in a normal way. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling once more.
"Oran, I dare say you are a wee bit out of shape. You've been imbibing in the ale a little too much of late. Your little ticker is not going to last out your life if you don't see fit to take care of yourself." Moya never liked it when Oran over did his activity. He wasn't the young man he used to be, and he didn't seem to understand moderation was the key to longevity.
"And you're a model of perfection, Moya?" Oran asked as he finally filled his lungs enough to talk.
"Closer than you."
~ * ~
"I'm going home," Florence said while he scooted backwards on his well-rounded derriere. "I'm…"
"Going to tell your daddy?" Kelly asked a broad smile across his face. "Tell him the truth this time. You can weave a good tale about the fight, three against two."
Patrick slapped Kelly across the back, "Never knew you had it in you, Kelly."
"Who's been kickin' whose butt on our Sunday escapades?"
"I believe the Catholics have won every time," Patrick said, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought over the matter.
Kelly threw a punch then a jab. "You be remembering wrong. Except for one unusual Sunday when a certain little Catholic lass wandered into our fight, the Protestants have won every meeting for the last year."
"Ah--I don't recall anything like that. We've been beating you every time."
Patrick's arm went around Kelly's back, pulling him to the ground. They wrestled, each struggling to overpower the other. Kelly grunted as he threw Patrick onto his back. Minutes later, "Say uncle, Patrick."
"Uncle," he said laughing. Kelly rose, extending a hand helping Patrick to his feet.
"I let you win."
"You did not. I had you from the start," Kelly said feeling a deep giddiness swimming up from his soul. He could be friends with Casey's brother if not for their religious differences. Hell, he didn't care a fig for religion. In his mind religion had started a lot of wars for no other reason than greed and power. True faith was in the way a person treated other people and how they lived their life.
"Shake," Patrick said.
"I love your sister."
"Would you consider converting?" Patrick asked.
Chapter Seven
"Come on, Casey, dance with me."
For a few tense moments, Casey stared at a knothole in the floor, her stomach rolling somersaults and fluttering butterflies. The scene she conjured left images in her head she didn't want to come to fruition. But she didn't want Kelly to beg. Dancing was something girls were supposed to love.
"Case…" Kelly held out his hand, a small gesture but one that went a long way in Casey's mind as to accepting. She hedged, wishing she could run from the room and not cause everyone there to watch her fail miserably. She'd accepted Kelly's invitation, knowing full well she had no business at this Protestant dance.
At the moment she had taken a giant leap, defying her parent's wishes and attending an event that would give them apoplexy if they uncovered the truth. Of course everything she'd been doing and thinking lately would have the same effect on them. She should never be in love with a man her parents did not approve of. Guilt swept through her, yet she stood straight and met Kelly's gaze.
With a shy tentativeness she held out her hand. His fingers closed around hers. Warmth engulfed her and his smile of encouragement filled her soul. Yet she remembered her dance lessons. Her instructor had thrown up his hands in frustration, marching from the room muttering something awful.
"You know I should not be here," she said as he pulled her into his arms. "My parents…" she broke off as he whirled her around in a circle, "Don't approve--the feud--the religion." She stumbled backward.
"Hush love, don't think of things you can no longer change. Watch where your feet are going. I won't let you fall. Just hang on to me."
His muscles flexed beneath her fingertips. His long lean body flowed with the music as they moved faster and faster around the dance floor, her feet barely touching the planked wood beneath her. The music changed, slower now, and Casey relaxed into his arms. Heaven could not be a better place than how she felt. She wanted to spend a lifetime with him. He was her soul mate.
She looked up. His eyes glowed with affection and love. She thought it was love but wasn't sure. She knew she'd never seen that look before. He had said the words, "I love you." He'd said the words for the first time last night and once this morning. Would he ever say them again?
"Kelly…" she began, moistening her lips, hoping to say the right words yet not knowing what those words were. Her mouth was dry, her lips parched. If she spoke, she felt sure she might choke and the words would come out like a frog's croak.
"Yes, my love," he bent down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, his hands gently squeezing where they touched.
"Can we--get something to…" Well that wasn't what she wanted to say. "Drink?" She cleared her throat, wishing for courage she didn't have. If she did have something to drink, she would most likely spill it down her front or worse yet spill it on someone else.
He laughed. It was lighthearted. "Of course, follow me. We will have to make sure we get the one that hasn't been spiked." He gave her a devilish wink then sauntered to a table heavily laden with food and drinks of all sorts.
"Of course," she said but she wouldn't be averse to having a little something that might give her a wee bit of daring. She needed to tell him how she felt--that she would spend her life with him if he would always love her. Now don't jump the gun here, Casey darling. You know he told you how he feels but I'm still afraid to give my heart away. He told you he loves you. But how long have you known him? And for goodness sakes what had she done?
He ladled punch into a cup, sipped it as if he checked it then gave her the cup. "Want to enter the competition?" He leaned against the table. His long legs mesmerized her, his dark good looks sent her heart racing and his gorgeous brown eyes sent her mind spinning with wicked thoughts. Yet his smile always made her melt. When he grinned lazily at her, she was lost.
"Let's watch," she had to stand her ground on this one. She couldn't let him talk her into dancing in a competition. At best, she would humiliate herself; at worst…well she definitely didn't want to think of the worst that could happen.
"No, come on, Casey. I want to dance. We could win this," he said. "We have nothing to lose and everything to gain."
He bent down close to her, "I'm a very good dancer." His whisper sent a lock of hair blowing away from her face.
And I'm a very bad dancer, "It's your life…" she said, knowing she was bound to trip, run into someone, or possibly take a couple out right on the dance floor. "You might be the last one standing if you had a different partner. But you are cursed with bad luck tonight because Casey O'Connell is your dancing partner. Do you see anyone else you could dance with and win?" she asked not wanting to know the answer to that question.
She closed her eyes, picturing the scene. Everyone sprawled on the floor, moaning in pain, Kelly rubbing the back of his neck wondering how on earth he could find himself in such a horrific pickle. Casey saw broken legs and arms, broken pitchers of glassware, food spread all over the planked floor.
Music played. Without her permission, Kelly swept her into his arms and they were dancing. Well, maybe not dancing, more like stumbling without grace. Her nerves seemed to snap while her muscles were a wobbly mess of instability and her mind spun precariously. She closed her eyes and prayed to stay upright.
"Hang in there. We aren't the first…"
"The first what?" she asked breathless and feeling as if she might be getting her sea legs under her or would they be called dancing legs?
"To be eliminated," he bent close and whispered by her ear, sending little chills of delight down her spine.
"Oh!" Casey chose that moment to step on his foot. He pulled her close but not before the stumble was apparent to the judges.
"We're the second. You can stop now and look. Open your eyes, darlin'." He pointed to the dance floor. "Everyone, including you, are still on their feet. You've done no permanent damage to anyone or anything. You can be proud of yourself for trying."
"So we're done." Casey had never been so relieved in her life. She inhaled a deep breath of air. "I don't have to pray to St. Patty now, do I?" She waved a hand in front of her face, hoping to cool her heated cheeks as well as hide her blush.
"Let's go outside. There is a full moon. Besides I don't believe St. Patty is the patron saint of the dance," he said with a wink and a lopsided grin. He brushed a lock of rakish hair away from his gorgeous eyes. She thought she might swoon when he threw her that look.
"The moon will be beautiful for sure." Maybe he will kiss me. She caught her lower lip lightly between her teeth and peered at his long well-muscled back as he led the way through the dance floor to the waiting and very romantic scene outside. With her hand in his she trotted behind, bumping into a dance couple on her way out.
Moon glow bathed the porch. A warm spring breeze redolent with the scent of Daphne and roses filled the air. Frogs croaked nearby and a few lazy crickets chirped their own song of pleasure. An owl hooted. Casey sighed inwardly, taking in everything she saw, her hopes and her dreams spinning crazily inside her head.
Kelly pointed to a gazebo surrounded with scented foliage. "Shall we?" he asked his voice a tiny bit hesitant. "We could sit and talk."
"Talk?" she asked. She felt brazen and little bold. She didn't want to talk. "About… about what? The feud..."
"Us, and yes, the feud and the people keeping secrets. About this morning."
Casey hoped he had the same thing in mind as she did. She wanted a kiss tonight, needed to feel his lips on her and his arms around her. She nodded, her wayward mind having no second thoughts. Her legs did though. They were wobbling so hard she wasn't sure she could walk all the way to the little gazebo.
She stumbled slightly, her hand resting on his back to steady herself. "I could carry you." He didn't wait for a reply. He swept her into his arms, closing the distance to the private sanctuary away from prying eyes.
"Kelly, put me down."
"Never."
"But… I'm too heavy."
"You're as light as a feather." His voice was thick--husky, Casey wondered at the sound and timber. She'd never heard him sound that way before.
In the gazebo Kelly turned her, holding her hands in his, swaying slightly, pulling her body close to his. She swallowed hard, anticipation making her insides quake. She looked up at him and moistened her lips. He was tall, almost a head higher than her, his eyes huge pools of sweetness, promising love and tenderness. As if in slow motion, Kelly leaned forward. His lips met hers in a gentle undemanding kiss--a daytime kiss. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue.
"Casey, darling, you are so sweet," he said. "I will not take advantage of your innocence and purity." He traced her collarbone with a calloused fingertip, pulling back from her as he spoke softly to her. His jaw tightened as if he fought his emotions, his needs--his love for her. His hold upon her loosened and fell away.
"You are not taking advantage of me, Kelly." She suddenly felt as if she wanted to stamp her foot in a childish tantrum and yell at him--yell, no, tell him how old she was, that she was a mature woman, and she was damn tired of everyone treating her as if she were a toddler just come from her dear mother's womb.
"Ah, but I be thinkin' I am. You are so young and have you ever kissed a boy let alone a man?" he asked, a lopsided grin replacing the serious expression. "I will not have you rue the day you met me or the evening I took you to the gazebo." He laughed softly as if he was enjoying a private joke of some sort. Then his features turned grim once more. "I cannot do this. I've come to admire your brother. While I don't know the rest of your family…" he looked skyward as if seeking divine intervention.
She inhaled sharply, wondering what he was trying to say. Was this just a lark to him, a pastime that meant nothing? Did this morning mean nothing? Were all her feelings for him one-sided? She felt empty and horribly alone at this moment. She stepped back, distancing herself from him and wondering what game he played and if she had misinterpreted his interest in her. Perhaps Patrick was right. Maybe he didn't care for her. She pushed away from him, feeling so many pent up emotions she didn't know what she should say to him. "I've come to admire your brother." What about me? My brother? Does he want to know the rest of my family? Well that could be disastrous.
"Why, Kelly Shaunasey, would you be using me? And to what ends?"
~ * ~
Cary flew around the young lovers, an evil smile in her heart, and Conn fluttered up beside her, a devil's smirk on his lips. She enjoyed this, the teasing of innocence. And while Kelly called Casey naive, he was much the same. Trusting, young, inexperienced…
Without guile…
Pure…
"Ha! It's a rare opportunity we can find a moment with these two virtuous creatures without their ever present guardian angels around," Cary said.
Conn had known from the beginning he needed help to carry out his plan. Cary was just the pagan faerie he wanted to assist him with demolishing these star-crossed lovers.
The joy of the star-crossed lovers never finding love made his heart catapult.
"You mean their godfaeries Moya and Oran?" Conn asked, rubbing his hands together in pagan faerie glee. He had never felt so hopeful and he no longer thought he had an uphill battle to wage in order to win the war. Florence had proven himself useless in his bid to win the fair Casey's hand. He was such an arrogant dandy. Conn could barely stand to be around him and he was his god child.
"I wonder what mischief we can do tonight before Oran and Moya find their way here. That little ruse you dreamed up to send them to the wrong place was very clever," Cary said, her evil smile stretching nearly ear-to-ear. "They will be flitting around that empty hall and cursing you until they are blue in the face. But that won't help. They will still have to figure out where to go to find their young charges. I must pat myself on the back--several times. We have already put to a screeching halt their lovers tryst in this very romantic gazebo."
"I be thinkin' the same thing. But common sense will win out. Moya is the logical one. There are not too many places they could be. Their wings will be smoldering hot, but they will get here before the night is done." Conn puffed out his cheeks, flying backwards for a moment then twirling
in a tight circle as if he searched the night sky for a sign of the good faeries.
"Is that a gold streak up there?" Cary asked pointing to the north. She blinked twice to make sure she wasn't seeing things she didn't want to see.
"By the grace of God, it is. It must be Moya and Oran. That was faster than I thought. Someone must have tipped them off."
"You little piece of foul…" Moya settled on top the gazebo, cursing Conn and Cary. "Garbage," she yelled, shaking her fist at the two faeries. "You--y-y-you, I have no words to describe the pair of you."
Cary grinned, enjoying Moya's distress. "Garbage? Now, Moya, I'm sure you can come up with something a little more despicable. Something that would fit my personality a bit better. Garbage is just too, too, benign."
Moya's wings fluttered fast and furious, sending a cavalcade of faerie dust swirling in the air. Her little hands were braced on her hips and a scowl darkened her features.
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