“No one has ever described me that way before. Although it’s very possible I don’t really know who I am.” I have his attention now. “I’m twenty-two and don’t know who I am! Is that even normal?” My insistence in embarrassing myself with this guy is beginning to astound me.
The wind picks up and I notice Declan wince. I want to reach out to him, put my hands over his ears and bring his head close to me. I want to feel the roughness of his jaw against my cheek. It seems unfair to have all these unspoken rules. I want to skip to the part where he’s mine and I can touch him whenever I please.
“Listen, it’s freezing out here…” he says, annoyed.
Ugh. My stomach does a somersault at his words. “Oh yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you. I was actually just heading to the pub anyways. You know, the Town Pump,” I say quickly. I cannot blame him for wanting to be somewhere else. Try as I might, I cannot seem to be anything but awkward around Declan O’Shea.
“No, I just…You were?” He pulls out his phone and then puts it back in his pocket. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come to my room at the inn. It has a fireplace.” And this time he’s looking me in the eye. His hair hangs in his face and I suppress the urge to reach up and sweep it away for him. He hasn’t shaved today, but the stubble suits him. Everything about him suddenly seems cloaked in magnetic perfection.
I’m unnerved, but I want to do this. This is something real. I can feel his attraction for me and I have no doubt of mine for him. I want to know how deep our connection is. “That sounds great. I will. Thanks, Declan.” I manage finally.
“You’re welcome, Ellie,” he says mocking me with a boyish grin.
He starts walking toward the inn and I get up to follow him. Turning to me he smiles and takes my hand. Again I am surprised at the warmth of his body considering the cold. There’s a change in him. He seems more comfortable, as if a bridge was crossed. I must have missed something.
What did I miss?
All of a sudden, another vision flashes in my mind…
He’s holding a candle at his side. It’s the only light in the room. I am in my bed, but I am wide-awake. He’s looking at me with longing and yet I can feel his self-loathing. He has been drinking. I know I should tell him to leave, but I want him to stay.
“William?”
“Ellie? Are you ok?”
Declan’s voice brings me back. I wince for a second and look up at him. The concern in his eyes momentarily distracts me. Realizing his arms are around me, supporting me, I actually consider asking him to hold me tighter and then silently scold myself for being so ridiculous. “I’m so sorry. I’m fine. I just keep having these dizzy spells,” I tell him, squirming out of his grasp without a trace of grace.
He’s still holding my arm and stroking it lightly with his thumb. “Is that normal?”
Neatly avoiding his question I start telling him about the history of the inn. He’s politely listening, but I can tell he’s still worried about my mini-blackout. I keep talking until we reach his room. It suddenly dawns on me that I have no idea what I’m doing here. What does he want? Are we just going to talk or did he ask me up here hoping I’d sleep with him? Where is his father? Does he have his own room?
I take a deep breath and remind myself that I trust Declan. I may not know him all that well, but my soul trusts his just the same.
He leads me into the room and puts his stuff on a chair. Looking around I’m pleasantly surprised at how quaint and cozy it is. The decor is dated, with pale pinks and forest greens, but it is clean and smells of wood. There is a kitchenette, a fireplace, a chair, a small sofa and of course, the bed. The window overlooks the bay. I walk over to it and notice the sun is already beginning its descent. The sky is a mixture of purples and oranges while the water is a vibrant blue. I’ve seen it a million times yet it still stops me dead.
“Beautiful, eh? I can see why you like it so much up here.” He’s right behind me. I can feel his closeness. It makes me shiver. “Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Tea?”
“A glass of wine would be great, thanks. It’s not really that early I suppose,” I say with a wink. His room is very neat and tidy. Looking down beside his bed I see he has brought one duffle bag and a guitar. I ask him how long he has played.
“Since I was ten,” he answers. “It calms me to play it. I don’t even care how good I am. I just play it for me.”
“I like that. Somehow I think that’s how it’s meant to be…doing things because we love to and not requiring any other reason.”
I sit down on the sofa. Declan hands me the glass of wine and settles in beside me, two cushions over. I tap the glass with my fingers, searching for an icebreaker.
“You should play with Tynan sometime…He plays the drums,” I say, happy to have found a neutral topic.
He ignores my comment completely. “You’re very beautiful, Ellie.” I swallow hard. He continues, “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. It’s just…it’s obvious and I just wanted to let you know that I think so.”
I feel myself go red. “That’s sweet of you to say Declan, thank you.”
“I’m not just saying it to be sweet.”
The silence is loud now. I don’t know what to do. I have made out with three guys and had sex with one in my entire life. None of these experiences are worth mentioning here. It’s not that I didn’t ever want to fall in love; it’s just that it never happened. I know that I held back, but it was safer that way. It never seemed clear to me what guys wanted, other than the obvious. But what about afterwards? Was there room for love in their lives? Was there room for me?
Frances says it is the other way around…that I have been unwilling to welcome in anyone who I hadn’t known at least half of my life.
“What are you thinking about?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Ellie. If you’re not comfortable, I can walk you to the pub or even home and we can call it a night.”
I’m sure the disappointment is written all over my face. I look down at my wine and say nothing.
Declan shifts over to the cushion next to me and takes the glass from my hand to set it down on the table. He puts his left hand on my thigh and with the other he sweeps my cheek. I feel my heart quickening and I hope to God I’m not blushing again.
His face is so close to mine now that I can feel his breath, warm and insistent on my lips. I dare myself to look in his eyes. He takes this as the green light he was waiting for and puts his mouth to mine. His kiss is soft and my head begins to spin. He gently pushes me back against the arm of the couch and positions himself on top of me. Instinctively I bring my hands to his back. I feel the strength of him.
I can’t focus; I can’t breathe. I let go.
Lifting his flannel shirt up, I make small circles on his skin with my fingers. He moans softly against my neck and moves a hand down to my hip to pull up my dress. The room must be moving because I cannot see straight. He kisses the hollow of my collarbone and I feel it throughout my whole body.
All I can think is: I want this.
It crosses my mind that I have never been truly attracted to a man until now and I have never felt so wanted, so required. Declan is turning my world on its head.
Bringing my hands to his hips I pull him to me, willing him closer and closer. There is a feeling that I could never get enough, and yet I still want more; I want as much as he can give. He is hard against me and I hear him gasp as I bring my hand between us. I am so caught up in the moment that I barely notice my phone ringing until Declan pulls back slightly.
“Did you want to get that?” His voice is breathless. It makes me think he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
“Um yeah…I guess I should.” I sit up and reach for the phone and instantly remember where I was supposed to be. “Damnit! I totally forgot about Tynan. I’ll let it go to voicemail and I’ll text him back. Just give me a second.”
I send T
ynan a message saying there was a change in plans and that I’ll call him soon. I look back at Declan hoping to continue what we started but he’s gotten up from the couch and is pacing the floor.
“I feel like I should apologize. I don’t normally do things like this…ask girls back to my place so quickly. I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I uh…I don’t know…There’s something so familiar about you, but that doesn’t excuse…Anyway, I’m sorry, Ellie.”
I feel my heart sink to the floor in an undignified heap. He regrets this. Am I supposed to feel like a fool because I don’t? It’s not supposed to be this confusing.
I scramble to pick up my phone and purse. “Oh, it’s ok. I should be going…” And then all of a sudden I feel angry. Why the hell is he playing these games? I don’t deserve this. “Wait a sec. So you wanted to ask me back here, you wanted to kiss me and now you don’t?” There’s a tone of bravery in my voice I barely recognize.
“Well, it’s just…”
“Just what? What is it, Declan? What?” I ask, unable to contain my impatience.
“I don’t know. It’s messed up. I don’t know you, but I feel like I do. More than that, I feel like I will only hurt you. But the really strange thing about that is I can’t imagine how! All I want to do is take you in my arms and never look back, but this stupid nagging voice in my head says you’re way too good for me.”
He’s worked up now. I can tell he wasn’t expecting to blurt all of that out. His breathing is heavy, thick with fear.
“I see.” I mumble, not knowing what else to say. I put my coat on and walk over to him placing a kiss on his cheek. “I’m all for slowing down Declan, but I like you. I’m confused too, but I do know that I want to see you again. I won’t make you go against your gut though. If you want to see me, you know where to find me.” I walk out the door.
I can feel him watching me; his helplessness is palpable. Part of me feels like crying and the other part of me feels like I should have expected this. It all happened so fast.
I take a deep breath thinking how hard it will be to wait two days to see Mrs. Dawes. I have a lot of questions that need answers. Right now it seems like looking into the past is my best bet. I don’t want to wait. I want to see.
Mrs. Dawes always said to pay attention to my intentions. I go to bed that night asking what my mother calls ‘that still, small voice within’ for a favour: To see more of my life as Louisa.
She is a sister soul; she is me. I am rewarded in dreams.
CHAPTER 11
William
Mr. William Mara could hardly believe where he was. Sitting in the drawing room of the home of Sir Thomas De vale on Turks Row would have been beyond anything he could imagine only five short years ago.
Upon finding the home he had counted fourteen windows on the facade alone. And now he sat in a room three times the size of his own drawing room with the largest hearth he had ever seen. The furniture was elegant and tasteful, nothing gaudy nor boastful about it at all. He had not known what to expect, but it was clear that the De vales, while wealthy beyond imagination, were not garish. They were comfortable in their station in life and it seemed, comfortable in their own skin.
William ached to know what that would feel like.
Growing up poor in London taught him many things, but foremost in his mind right at this moment was gratitude…gratitude and a solemn vow that all he had attained would never slip through his fingers. Working at the dockyards and apprenticing with an abusive fishmonger from the age of 13, William had gained many skills. He also had the good sense to know there was nothing dignified about struggle. He had seen what poverty had done to his parents. He had borne witness to the ugliness of it, the sheer helplessness. It disgusted him.
No, he would never be poor again.
William’s father, Matthew Mara, was a gentleman and the second son of a wealthy and noble family in Ireland. The Mara family holds a great estate in the county of Tipperary as well as a town home in London. Matthew wanted for nothing. He attended Oxford and after his graduation had gone to London for the Season. While he was expected to marry well within his sphere, his family had not pressured him to find a bride quickly. He was free to be a bachelor and took advantage of this freedom often.
Much to his surprise, William’s father found love in London and in his own home. Olivia, a chambermaid, was in Matthew’s eyes, perfect: An angel from Manchester with hair like a raven’s feathers and lips the colour of poppies. She spoke softly though her accent was rough. She moved in long graceful strides as if changing sheets were a dance, not a chore. Matthew was captivated and soon Olivia was with child.
Their marriage meant that he was disinherited and they were forced to leave the house. Olivia had some small savings, but these quickly ran out. Matthew, being a gentleman, was not particularly skilled in anything. It had been his intention to enter the militia, but now he could not afford to purchase a commission. He eventually found work as a clerk in a bookshop and William’s mother did laundry for some families nearby. Even though they were often cold and their meals were scant, William noted his parents never seemed unhappy. His father looked at his mother as if he were under a spell. Their love for one another was palpable.
Indeed, his parents had two of the most generous hearts he had ever encountered, but he noted bitterly that it got them nowhere. In William’s eyes their love brought only destitution and disease. In the end they died when he was a mere twelve years old, within days of each other, feverish and delirious. William could only hope there was a heaven for if there was, they were surely there together.
“Mr. Mara? The master and Miss De vale will see you now,” called the butler.
“Very good, I thank you.” His voice was even, but in actuality his mind was racing. Miss De vale would be there too? Whatever for? The only thing that bothered him more than this news was his reaction to it. After all, why should it matter if a woman was present? What could she possibly have to say on the matter?
William was led down the seemingly endless hall to a large black door. The butler announced him and he entered. Sir Thomas was seated behind a grand oak desk and looked sincerely pleased to see him. Miss De vale was sitting on an ornate chaise lounge to the left of her father, her hair pinned becomingly and her hands folded neatly on her lap. She looked at him with an open smile that momentarily disarmed him. He had not expected her to look at him directly. Upon hearing Sir Thomas, he was brought back to the purpose of his visit.
“Ah, Mr. Mara! How good it is to see you again,” he stood to greet the younger man. “Do have a seat. I am anxious to hear your proposal! You have not yet had the pleasure of meeting my daughter Louisa; am I correct?” Sir Thomas asked, sweeping his arm in Miss Louisa’s direction.
“That is correct indeed, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss De vale,” he said bowing before her.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mara; I assure you,” she replied bowing her head in return. She looked nothing short of lovely. Her dress was obviously made of the finest silk and its golden yellow colour brought out the green in her eyes brilliantly. She was pretty, that much was certain, but there was more to it. She had an ease and grace about her that said at once she was open to joy and yet she had more than enough to give.
“My dear, did you send for tea?” asked Sir Thomas.
“Yes, father.” Louisa said with a knowing smile that had anticipated the question. It was clear that father and daughter knew and understood one another well. William was both pleased and envious to see it.
“Good, good. Alright lad, let us get down to business. Please, tell me more about this proposition,” exclaimed Sir Thomas rubbing his hands together quickly. He had an easy joy about him that was infectious.
William heartily agreed and pulled out the plans for the fishing village from his satchel and spread them out on the desk. The project was planned by the British Fisheries Society, who William was representing, but they needed more capital from private investors.
He explained that the drawings came from Thomas Telford himself, a renowned Scottish engineer. Mr. Telford would be there to oversee some of the construction as well. He spoke slowly, deliberately so. It would not do for Sir Thomas to guess at his desperation. It would not do at all.
Louisa
Louisa listened intently as Mr. Mara described the intentions for the village. It was apparent he was a passionate man and keen on her father’s participation in the project. She watched as he pointed out various areas on the plans and explained how much money he was expecting would be required. She noticed that from time to time he would look at her out of the corner of his eye, but would not actually address her directly. She took no offence. She knew men seldom sought the opinion of ladies. This was another reason she had no wish for marriage. Her father respected and trusted her and even desired her opinion. It was probable that a husband would want no such thing.
Trying her best to take in all she was hearing, Louisa found that she loved the sound of Mr. Mara’s voice. At times she thought she detected a touch of cockney in his accent, but as quickly as it came it would then disappear. She also could not deny how handsome he was. She was again taken aback by the darkness of his eyes and the stunning likeness they had to his hair.
He was dressed well, though he did not seem exactly comfortable in his expensive clothes. At times he would fiddle with his neck cloth, though Louisa could not blame him. Cravats seemed constricting and entirely ridiculous as far as she could tell.
Her musings were temporarily interrupted by the tea being brought in. She offered to pour it out herself and presented both gentlemen with a cup.
“And you are certain, sir that this is all the money that you are anticipating will be required?” Sir Thomas asked and then cooled his tea with a long breath.
“It is an estimate, sir, based on past projects though I am aware that weather on Mull is unpredictable. Of course it would be preferable to begin this project in the summer, but it cannot be put off any further, I fear. My fellow men at the BFS have tried other investors but to no avail. You are, it would seem, our last hope,” finished Mr. Mara quietly.
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