The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

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The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance Page 31

by Trisha Telep


  If he was loony enough to believe he was descended from a sea god, he was likely to be the type of man who’d pretend to have magical powers.

  And like a complete idiot, she’d allowed herself to be sucked into his fantasy world. After working in television for two years, she should know better than to believe everything she saw.

  Kate joined her colleagues and sat at one of the plastic tables by the catering van with her styrofoam cup of tea and an egg and bacon breakfast roll. She breathed the sea air, marvelling at the fantastic view of white-topped waves on the green Celtic Sea. From the rocky headland where Knock House stood, the land sloped down to the village of Knocknapog: a small harbour surrounded by a scatter of slate-roofed cottages with bobbing fishing boats riding the waves in the bay.

  On the lawn in front of Knock House, Esras’ people and some of the villagers had started to erect stalls and tents for the Midsummer Feast.

  As if her thinking of Esras had summoned him, he stepped out of the house, rested his hands on his hips, and surveyed the feast-day preparations. “Grand. You’re all doing a fine job,” he shouted to the workers. He had on his dove-grey tailcoat minus the top hat, this time with Hawaiian-pattern board shorts. His gaze found her and a smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. Kate’s stomach did a hot flip as she remembered his hard muscular arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. She quickly looked away and tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed him.

  As he sauntered over to her, the pearl started to pulse against her chest. She ignored it, telling herself it was probably just vibrating with her racing heart.

  “How are you doing this fine morning? Did you sleep well, my love?” His term of endearment caused a few raised eyebrows among the production team who were breakfasting with her. Kate’s instinct was to tell him that she wasn’t his love, but if she protested too much it would only confirm everyone’s lascivious suspicions.

  “I slept well, thank you,” she replied. “The room’s very comfortable.”

  “Wonderful.” Esras rubbed his hands together and glanced around at her colleagues. “I’m expecting you all to dress up for the Feast of Beauty. I have traditional costumes for you to choose from.”

  “Ohh,” Claudia said, slipping on sunglasses as she joined them. “Did I hear something about costumes? What fun. I adore dressing up.” She put an arm through Esras’ as she accepted a cup of tea from Peter. “When can we see the clothes, Esras darling?”

  “Right now if you like.” Esras turned towards the house, taking Claudia with him. The female members of the production team followed eagerly, while the two cameramen climbed wearily to their feet and trudged behind.

  Kate had no intention of dressing up. If she did, she might end up on camera, and she hated herself on film. Although she didn’t want to see the costumes, the sight of Claudia hanging eagerly on Esras’ arm annoyed her. She stuffed the last of her roll in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of tea, then followed the rest of her colleagues inside.

  Everyone had trailed through to the back of the house to a room full of costumes. Each outfit was carefully covered and hanging on a metal rail. What kind of man had a storage room full of costumes in his house for goodness sake? Surely that proved he was weird.

  Peter looked puzzled, while the cameramen grabbed the first things that came to hand and retreated quickly. Claudia and the other women oohed and ahhed over sparkly dresses while Kate watched from the doorway.

  Esras came to her and caught hold of her hand. “I have the perfect dress for you. It’s the same sapphire blue as your eyes.”

  She stood her ground when he tried to pull her into the room. “I grew out of playing dress-up years ago.”

  The corners of his mouth dipped sadly although his eyes continued to sparkle with mirth. “All work and no play makes Kate a dull girl.”

  His words hit a nerve. “Then I guess I’m dull,” she snapped and yanked her hand away from him. How would a wealthy eccentric like Esras understand that normal people didn’t get anywhere in life by wasting time playing dress-up and fantasizing about magic?

  Work hard and you’ll get your reward in heaven, her mother had always said. And Kate wasn’t getting any work done watching Claudia fawn over stupid dresses.

  Kate stomped back outside, found her clipboard, and started ticking off the jobs she had completed.

  Three hours later, all her colleagues and Esras’ people were in costume and set to go. Esras walked regally down the four steps from his front door garbed in a gleaming silver and emerald cape over a pearly grey suit. Despite the theatrical costume, he still managed to look damn sexy. He wore a gold crown on his head decorated with mother-of-pearl and huge sparkling green gems. The stones looked like emeralds, but couldn’t be; otherwise, the thing would be locked up in a vault. Esras’ people had carried out his throne, and it was set upon a dais beside a smaller throne decorated with tiny pink and yellow shells.

  “OK, people, are we all ready?” the director shouted. Kate glanced down at her schedule, pleased that they were starting on time despite the fact that most of the team had had to change clothes.

  Dressed in an elaborate off-the-shoulder gown of silver and gold with a scattering of tiny crystals across the bodice, Claudia introduced the episode before the crew filmed Esras taking his throne.

  “And now, we’ll witness the highlight of the festivities here today. King Esras will choose his Feast of Beauty queen,” Claudia said in her silky on-camera voice. She turned to Esras expectantly, obviously keen to be called up to sit beside him. A tense silence fell over Esras’ people and the watching crowd of villagers. Kate had assumed Esras would select Claudia. She had even pencilled Claudia’s name in at this point on her schedule. Still, she couldn’t deny a niggle of . . . what? Disappointment? Jealousy?

  Esras remained silent for so long that people began to shift restlessly and the director muttered his annoyance. Kate stared at her clipboard, bracing herself to hear Esras call Claudia to be his Feast of Beauty Queen. Finally she looked up at him. His eyes were fixed on her, a hint of a smile on his lips. She seemed to fall into the green depths. A strange tingle that felt like bubbly water raced across her skin. The faint hum of voices and the noise of the feast day faded until all she could hear was the gentle hiss of the sea.

  “Why are you ignoring me, Kate? You knew I’d choose you.” Esras’ words whispered on the wind.

  Kate stared at him wide eyed. “I didn’t . . .”

  “Kate is my queen,” Esras announced, and she snapped out of her trance with a jolt. Everyone was looking at her, some smiling, others with raised eyebrows, Claudia with daggers flashing from her eyes.

  “You bitch,” Claudia grated under her breath.

  “You can’t have Kate,” Peter said, striding forwards. “She’s not dressed up. It’s much better if Claudia’s your queen. It doesn’t really matter who you have, does it? It’s just pretend.”

  Esras leaned back and crossed his arms. The temperature dropped. Tendrils of sea mist crawled over the cliff into the garden and drifted between the stalls like wraiths bringing a damp salty taste to the air.

  After a long awkward silence, Peter heaved a resigned sigh. “Go and put on a damn dress, Kate. And hurry up.”

  Kate hesitated in an agony of indecision. She didn’t want to be filmed, yet she could barely contain the shivers of pleasure running through her. Esras wanted her to be his queen. Of course, she wouldn’t have minded if he’d chosen Claudia. After all, this was partly being staged for the television show.

  “Kate,” Peter said in a warning tone. “I’m getting old here.”

  “I didn’t choose a dress,” she said weakly.

  “Look on your bed,” Esras said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Kate ran up to her room with Claudia’s make-up artist Tina on her heels.

  On her bed, she found a beautiful deep-blue dress with a satin bodice decorated with a sparkling beading design a
nd overlaid with tulle draping. “Oh, yes,” Tina said. “The man has got an eye for colour. This will go perfectly with your dark hair and blue eyes.”

  After stripping off her jeans and T-shirt, Kate stood obediently while Tina fastened her into the dress. She squeaked in protest when Tina undid her bra and pulled the straps off her arms. “I can’t go out there bra-less.” Her mother would never be able to hold her head up in church again if her friends saw the show.

  “The dress has spaghetti straps.” Tina held up Kate’s tatty bra with a pointed look.

  With a sigh of acceptance, Kate plopped down in front of the dressing table. She watched in the mirror while Tina brushed her long dark hair and quickly applied make-up. Her teardrop pearl gleamed in the reflection, tempting her to think of Esras.

  When Kate stood up for inspection, Tina raised her eyebrows. “You look pretty good when you make an effort. You have the most amazing pearly skin. Watch your back, though. Claudia’s going to be as mad as hell with you for stealing her thunder.”

  Holding up the hem of her dress, Kate raced down the stairs and out the front door. The chatter outside hushed, making her pause. Everyone stared at her. One of the cameramen gave her a thumbs-up, and Peter smiled. “OK,” the director said, “keep it steady. You’re not running to catch a bus.”

  As if in a dream, Kate listened to the instructions she normally heard from the other side of the camera. On her cue, she started walking towards Esras. He rose from his throne and held out a hand to her. Her heart thundered as his fingers slid around hers and he steadied her as she stepped on to the dais. A group of Esras’ people surrounded the throne. The beautiful women shone in brightly coloured dresses while most of the men wore grey or white. Faelan produced a small gold circlet decorated with tiny blue shells, and Esras placed it upon her head. His fingers lingered against her hair, stroking the strands back from her eyes.

  “There you are now,” Esras whispered. “Doesn’t that feel right, my love.” His fingers brushed her shoulders and then trailed down her arms before curling around her hands.

  The cameras and the people watching faded away as Kate gazed up into the emerald depths of his eyes. Faelan started to chant in a language she didn’t recognize, while the rest of Esras’ people joined in with occasional words.

  Kate couldn’t take her gaze from Esras’ face. She had thought he was not much older than she was, but she had been wrong. His green eyes held a depth of knowledge that belied his youthful appearance. Even as warmth swirled through her body at the thought of touching his golden skin, a brush of warning slid down her spine. He touched a deep part of her that she’d pushed to the back of her mind and locked away, the fanciful part of her that adored her grandmother and made her mother angry.

  Faelan stopped speaking and stepped aside. Esras pressed his lips to hers in a quick chaste kiss for the cameras, which was over before Kate had a chance to enjoy it, and then handed her into the smaller shell-clad throne.

  Facing the onlookers, Faelan announced, “King Esras Mac Lir, rightful heir of the sea god Lir, has chosen his queen. All hail the Sea-Fairy King and Queen.”

  While Esras’ people and the villagers cheered, Kate watched her colleagues working. Her cheeks flushed to think she would be the star of this episode of the series. She prayed her mother would be proud of her performance and not embarrassed by it.

  Claudia strode forward and thrust a microphone under Faelan’s nose. “I suppose the King chooses a different queen every year,” she said, casting Kate a malicious glance. “Presumably it just depends on who happens to be available and willing.”

  Faelan frowned at her before glancing at Esras for permission to answer. “No. When the King pledges himself to his queen, he does so for life.”

  Four

  Faelan’s words took a few seconds to sink into Kate’s brain. She blinked at him, opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Surely she’d misheard. When Faelan stepped away to be interviewed by Claudia, Kate turned to Esras. “I’m confused. Don’t you choose a different queen at each Midsummer’s Feast?”

  The hint of mischief that usually sparkled in his eyes faded to be replaced by a deadly serious gleam that sent flashes of warning through her. “No, Kate. I usually preside over the festivities alone.”

  She shook her head. “Then why choose a queen this year?”

  “Because you came. I told you last night: you belong with me.”

  Conflicting emotions ricocheted around inside her, stealing her breath. “But that ceremony . . . it wasn’t . . .” She swallowed so hard her throat hurt.

  “The Union of Opposites ceremony bound us as one,” he said.

  Kate jumped up, her legs trembling, plucked off her delicate gold crown and tossed it down on to the throne. When Esras reached for her hand, she snatched it away. “This doesn’t have any standing in law. I can leave whenever I want.”

  Kate had expected a clever reply to her angry tirade; instead, tiny lines formed between Esras’ eyebrows as if he were puzzled. “But you accepted my invitation to be queen.”

  “I didn’t know you were serious!”

  Suddenly she realized the crowd had fallen silent. A quick glance around confirmed her fear that everyone was watching them – and even worse, the camera was still rolling. Heat flooded her cheeks, part anger, part embarrassment. When her mother saw Kate’s starring role on television, she was going to have a coronary.

  “Come inside. I’m not discussing this in public.” Kate stepped off the dais gingerly, wary of her unsteady legs, and tried to keep her expression calm as she headed for the front door of Knock House.

  The crowd stepped aside to let her pass. Most of Esras’ people eyed her with confusion, a few with disappointment. The villagers looked curious while her production-crew colleagues positively gloated over the unexpected conflict that added spice to the show.

  As soon as she and Esras were inside with the door closed, she rounded on him. “What in hell’s name do you think you’re playing at? This is a performance; we’re pretending.”

  He opened his mouth but she didn’t give him a chance to answer. “We’ve only known each other for a few hours. I can’t imagine why you thought there was anything serious between us.”

  “Calm down, Kate.”

  “Don’t try to tell me it’s got anything to do with the pearl you made. You might be able to fool most people with your magic tricks. I’m not so easily suckered.”

  Esras set his crown on a table, then unfastened his cloak and draped it over a chair before turning back to stare at her. His assessing gaze probed her. “Why are you so angry, Kate?”

  She threw up her hands in exasperation. “First you pretended to throw Grandma’s pearl down a well. Then you conned me into believing you’d made another one especially for me. Now you’ve got me to dress up and go through some freaky ceremony, and you’re trying to tell me to take it seriously. You’re nuts!”

  “Why are you frightened of following your heart?”

  Kate pressed her fingers to her temples. “I am following my heart. Working in television is my dream. I’m a damn good production assistant.”

  “Do you enjoy your job?” Esras asked in an annoyingly reasonable tone of voice.

  Who did the man think he was? A psychiatrist? “Of course I do,” she snapped back.

  Esras stepped closer to her, bringing with him the salty fresh-air scent of the sea. “Does your work bring you pleasure? Does your work make you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows working in television is tough to start with. The rewards come later.” And there was no way she could give up her dream job. Not when her parents had subsidized her by letting her live at home until she moved up the career ladder far enough to support herself.

  “I only invited Barthurst Productions here because of you, Kate.”

  “What?” She blinked at him.

  “The first time I spoke to you on the phone, I
heard the music of the sea in your voice and knew who you were.”

  He stepped closer and raised a hand. His fingertips brushed the teardrop pearl hanging in the valley between her breasts. Tendrils of heat shivered across her skin.

  “You’re one of the Rainbow People descended directly from King Manannan Mac Lir and Queen Fand.” He kneeled at her feet and pressed a kiss to her hand. “You have more right to rule the people of Lir than I do, my love.”

  Five

  Kate’s anger dissolved at the note of sincerity in Esras’ voice. However crazy she thought him, he obviously believed everything he’d told her. Her head wanted to be mad, her heart had softened the moment he knelt and kissed her hand.

  She sighed. “Oh, Esras, can’t you see this isn’t going to work? I have a job. I’m leaving with the Barthurst people tomorrow.”

  He climbed to his feet again. She didn’t resist when he eased her closer and enfolded her in his arms. She pressed her cheek to the hard plain of his chest, breathing his enticing male fragrance while listening to the steady beat of his heart. When his lips touched her temple, she closed her eyes, not wanting to admit that she could easily get used to this.

  “Kate, why don’t you want to accept who you are? Your grandmother must have told you something about her life in Ireland.”

  Happy memories of Grandma swam inside Kate’s head like a shoal of sparkly fish. She remembered sitting at her grandmother’s feet when she was a little girl. While her mother worked, her grandmother had cared for her. The old woman had spun such magical tales of fairies and leprechauns and people who lived in a city beneath the sea – the Rainbow People.

  Kate’s breath trembled as memories she had denied and tried to forget flooded back. She remembered ribbons of coloured light flowing around Grandma as she spoke. How the old woman would capture the light in her hands and mould dolphins and seahorses out of the rainbows.

  Then one day her mother had come home early and caught the end of a story. There had been screaming, shouting, and tears. And no more stories. Ireland had become a taboo subject.

 

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