by Lia Lee
The look he gave her made it clear he thought that there was at least something a little shady about it, and Carly blushed a little.
“Oh, well, I got a job offer suddenly, and that’s why I left Boston so quickly.” There was more to it than that, but it was not something she was all that inclined to go into with her late grandmother’s lawyer.
“Well, of course,” he said rather diplomatically. “Well, now all that matters is when you’re going to be taking residence.”
“Taking residence?” she asked, and the lawyer—Mr. MacGowan—gave her a stern look.
“Of course you’ll be at least planning to look at the property, won’t you?” She hadn’t been, but once the idea was planted it seemed as if it were inevitable. Mr. MacGowan booked all of her travel, and just four weeks after she found out that she was the owner of a mysterious property in Ireland, Carly was on her way.
“This is really far too much trouble for someone to go through for a kidnapping,” Carly muttered to herself. “And even if they were, I can’t imagine I’m the target demographic for that kind of thing.”
Carly was the type of girl that others called “pretty enough.” She was far from the slender sylph-like ideal she saw in magazines. Instead, she was as curvy as the rolling waves of the Atlantic, with a long dark braid that fell down her back and copper eyes that were most often described as cat-like when anyone bothered to look. She was still certain, however, that there was not such a high premium on her type that she had to worry about kidnapping.
“Oh, you’re looking for Loch Naine?” said an elderly man she met at a gas station. “You’re on the right road.”
“And that will take me to Dunn Borrun?” she asked anxiously. The last thing she needed was to be sent on a wild goose chase and end up in a random town in the middle of nowhere.
“Oh, that might be the name on the map, but you’re looking for Loch Naine,” he said confidently.
It was the best information that she had to go on, and at least when she pulled into the small town, she could get some kind of food before she resumed her search.
Carly, who grew up bouncing from city to city and would absolutely call herself a city girl, found herself unexpectedly charmed by the town. There was a kind of bustle to it that prevented it from being utterly desolate, but there was a peaceful quality to the town on the edge of the sparkling blue lake.
I’d probably be bored to tears here in a matter of days, she thought to herself.
Carly caught a battered and official sign pointing to the Dunn Borrun library, however, and that told her she was getting close. Now she needed to find her grandmother’s cottage, which Mr. MacGowan had warned her was a more difficult matter. She had a hand-drawn map to help get her to where she needed to go, however, and that could come after lunch.
She found a place to stow her car, and she started walking down the main street of the town. There were a few likely-looking places and one coffee shop that her caffeine addict soul longed for, but it was so nice stretching her legs in the cool spring air that she walked on.
Living in cities for her entire life had given Carly an enhanced sense for trouble. At any rate, she knew when she heard the sharp cry that there was someone in distress. She darted towards the sound without a second’s hesitation, and around the corner of a small alley, she found a courtyard.
When Carly stopped to take in the scene, her heart sank. There were two large men, flashily dressed and somehow already red-faced and drunk. There was a small girl no older than seventeen pressed with her back against the wall, fear and dread on her face.
“Oh, shut yer yap, we just wanted to have a word, love,” crooned one man, and the other simply laughed nastily. Their intentions were plain, and Carly felt a hot spike of anger drive through her. She slipped her hand into her purse, and without thinking twice, she stepped forward.
“Oh my gosh, Amanda!” she exclaimed. “There you are! Mom and I have been looking everywhere for you!”
The men pulled back, but Carly saw that the first one hadn’t let go of the girl’s wrist. He held on to her with ease, but she could see the girl struggling, birdlike to get away.
“This your sister?” he said suspiciously, looking her up and down. “Really?” The girl was as pale as paper with a shock of red hair. With black hair and darker skin, not to mention her American accent, Carly had to admit that they didn’t look much alike. However, both men now had their attention focused on her, and that was far better than whatever they had had planned for that poor girl.
“Really,” Carly said with a smile that she knew probably looked terribly fake. “Same mother, different fathers, that’s all. Thank you for finding her, Mom’s been wondering where she got to.”
The whole time she was talking, Carly was moving closer, trying to make it to the girl without looking as if she was scared or angry. She put a careful lid on the anger because it could always come out later. Right now, she had to act the part of the concerned sister.
It was a strange thing she had discovered years ago. Men who would do terrible things were still nervous about making a fuss or drawing notice to the things they were doing. If someone showed up and simply imposed an alternate reading on it, sometimes, she could change how they acted.
Right now, these two idiots were watching her as if confused as to where she had come from. They allowed her to get close enough to their would-be victim so that she could reach for the girl’s free hand, tucking it firmly into hers.
“Again, thank you so much,” she said as smoothly as she could. “Amanda and I really do need to be going.”
She felt a meaty hand wrap around her upper arm, clenching painfully tight.
“Well maybe we can make this a family affair,” the man started, and then he screamed as Carly sprayed him in the face with a can of mace.
“Why you little bitch,” growled the other man. He started for her, but the important thing was that he let go of the girl. He grabbed her arm hard before she could spray him as well, but that was enough for Carly to draw in a lungful of air and scream.
“Fire!” she screamed, “Fire, fire!”
A few things happened at once. First, the girl she had rescued took off running down the road, and Carly had a moment of relief before she had to look up at the monster who held her now. There was murder in his eye, and she winced as he drew back his fist. Then the man's face melted in agony, and his grip on her loosened before dropping off entirely.
“What—”
“Dog and son of a dog,” spat the tall man who was twisting her assailant’s free arm behind his back. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”
Carly’s rescuer was a big man, tall and blond, dressed in a suit that her mind numbly counted as being worth at least a thousand dollars. His face was set in a snarl, but there was something terrible living in his eyes. It was as if there was a demon there that had finally been allowed to hunt, and now it was relishing the chance. She shivered, and the man glanced at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “They did not harm you?”
“No, not at all,” she said. “But the girl–”
“Here,” said a soft voice. The girl waved from the head of the alley, where she was keeping her distance from the men who had accosted her. “I’m ringing the police.”
“Good girl,” the blond man nodded. “And then we’ll make sure that these two are well taken care of. Though I have to admit, little American, you were doing a fine job when I turned up.”
For a moment, she had no idea that he was speaking to her, and then she blushed.
“I was about to get my face punched,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I owe you one for a rescue.” He still held the man in a punishing grip, and just for good measure, he stomped hard on the prone man’s wrist. Carly hadn’t even noticed the man she had maced trying to get to her feet.
As casually as if they were standing in a bar, the man smiled at her, a real smile, and despite the adrenaline that was shooting th
rough her system, Carly felt her heart flutter in a strange way.
His eyes are such a beautiful gray, she thought. The man was almost absurdly handsome, and she wondered if her time in Loch Naine had just gotten a little more complicated.
Chapter Two
The police showed up not long after that, and Carly was relieved to hand the girl’s assailants off to them. The girl herself, an Emily Tavan, was handed off to her very grateful parents, who insisted that Carly come to their home for a proper thank you sometime soon.
Carly was more than happy to have everyone safe and sound—or imprisoned, as the case might warrant—but when she finally stood alone again outside the police station, she could feel her knees knocking. The sun, so pleasant before her encounter, now seemed almost glaringly hot, and she blinked at the spots in front of her eyes. The ground was rushing towards her, and she just had a moment to realize that that was very bad when suddenly she felt herself hugged in a pair of very strong arms.
“Oh, poor darling,” said the man who had rescued her. “Are you feeling all right?” She started to answer, but then he had lifted her off of her feet and was carrying her princess-style across the small parking lot. Carly was slightly disturbed that her first instinct was to nuzzle her face against the sleek fabric of the man’s suit, or perhaps she was disturbed because she wasn’t disturbed. Feebly, she pushed against him.
“Look, just because you stopped a girl from getting kidnapped doesn’t mean that you get to kidnap her yourself,” she protested, and he glanced at her, a glint of humor in his gray eyes.
“Oh, is that what I’m doing? I thought I was trying to get you somewhere dim and cool.” Dim and cool sounded amazing just then, and she didn’t protest when he set her gently in the passenger side seat of his Mercedes. The seats were blessedly cool leather, and then he turned the air conditioning on high. For what felt like forever but was likely just a few minutes, Carly let the frigid air fan across her face, her eyes closed.
When she finally felt human enough to speak, she sat up, glancing at the man next to her ruefully.
“I guess I should have taken the suggestion of a medic a little more seriously, huh?” she asked and the man laughed a little bit.
“A little scrapper like you? I’m surprised you didn’t try to make off with those men’s heads for your wall.”
“I was terrified out of my wits,” Carly found herself admitting. “I’m not really a scrapper or anything like that. If I had thought very long about what I was doing, I might have just called the cops.”
“Brave isn’t what you are, it’s what you do,” the man said with a shrug. “In my book, you’re brave.”
“I didn’t thank you for the help in there, did I?” she asked. “You showed up right in the nick of time.”
“Well, I have a habit of doing that,” he said cheerfully. “And my name is Donovan, by the way. Who do I have the honor of addressing?”
Carly had to laugh at herself. “All that we’ve been through together, and I didn’t even give you my name? It’s Carly.”
“Well, Carly, now that we’ve been introduced, what do you say to some lunch? That’s where I was going when Emily Tavan flagged me down, and after all that excitement, I could certainly use something to fill my belly.” Carly started to demur, even if there was a part of her that cried out against it. She was tired, she was still shaky from what had happened, and she wanted to find her grandmother’s cottage before things took another unexpected turn.
Those were all good reasons to get out of the mysterious Donovan’s car, but just as she opened her mouth to express that, her stomach rumbled, a grumbling sound that seemed to echo in the car.
“Well, that settles it, I guess,” she said with a helpless laugh. “Lead the way.”
“I know just the place,” he said with a wink.
As he pulled onto the street, Carly wondered at the butterfly wings that seemed to be beating a mile a minute in her belly. She was definitely too old for schoolyard crushes, so why did looking at Donovan make her heart flutter?
***
The Goat and Compass was a small and unassuming pub slightly off the main drag. Carly would have likely walked right past it if she had been wandering on her own. From the plain exterior and the faded sign—a goat leaping over a compass rose—she might have thought it a slightly shady place to get a meal.
Donovan walked in with confidence and took a seat at a booth in the back.
“You’re sure you’re not kidnapping me?” Carly asked, only half joking, and he smirked. To her surprise, he eyed her up and down before looking her in the eye again.
“If you were in to that, I suppose I could be convinced. I could take you all the way to Dublin where I keep house, or perhaps to London if you prefer that.”
She laughed a little, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands.
God, I need to get a grip, she thought to herself.
Carly realized that she was likely still shaken up after everything that had happened before. At the very least, that was a handy excuse.
Donovan didn’t seem to notice her concern. Instead, he got the attention of the woman dishing food out to the other patrons, who Carly saw were all rather rough-looking local men. They glanced over, and to her surprise, they gave Donovan friendly nods that he returned.
“Two bowls of mutton stew, and if it’s fresh, a half-loaf of soda bread, Marilee.” The older woman snorted.
“Bite your tongue,” she retorted. “You know it’s always fresh.” Donovan laughed easily, and Carly glanced at him.
“London and Dublin, and yet you come here often enough to know everyone by name?”
He tipped her an amused eye. “Are you surprised that I’m not some kind of snob, or are you telling me that you are?” he asked.
Carly caught herself blushing and ducked her head slightly. “Neither,” she said. “I guess I was just a little surprised that you paid attention to such things. Most men like you don’t.”
He leaned back in the booth, and she realized that he was assessing her. His gaze was still warm, but there was a speculative quality to it. It made her rather think of a lion intent on cutting a gazelle from the herd.
“I think I’ll pass over being offended by that and simply say it to you straight. There are no men like me, but I believe I have plenty of quarrel with the ones who made you think that. What’s your story, pet?”
Carly had typically had very little patience for men who called her by little pet names as soon as they met her, but there was something different about Donovan.
He listens, she realized. Other men waited, patiently and sometimes not even that, for their own turn to talk, and it could never come soon enough. By contrast, Donovan was turned towards her, all his attention focused on what she was saying.
Still she hesitated for a moment, and then she shrugged. Perhaps the fear earlier had given her bravery.
“There’s not much to tell, really,” she said. “I was born in Cincinnati, I grew up in Chicago, I spent some time in Boston, in Philadelphia, all along the east coast, really. I’ve got a business degree, but mostly these days I’ve been getting gigs as personal assistants and things like that. Administration.”
He gave her a considering look. “That’s strange.”
“Oh? They don’t have personal assistants in this part of the world?”
“Well, here, when people ask you for your story, most of the time, they’re asking for your people. Who are you when you are at home, who your folks are and who you know.”
She hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to laugh at him, and then to change the topic. It was shockingly personal, and in some ways, it felt like a challenge. She raised her chin slightly, meeting his eyes across the table.
“My parents are dead. Car accident when I was seventeen. I lived with an aunt who never liked me much.”
Donovan looked saddened, and he nodded. “I lost mine as well,” he said, his voice deeper and more somber. “Mother to c
ancer when I was just a child, father just four years ago. It’s an ache that does not go away, but I like to think they would be pleased with what I have done.”
“What have you done?” she asked, and then she blushed at how challenging it sounded. “I mean, I know you rescue girls in alleys. But I understand that it’s hard to do that professionally.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, I was thinking of taking it up,” he said with a grin. “But truthfully, I’m in real estate development. I suppose you could say that what I do is that I see potential. I look at land and property that might be sitting empty or abandoned, and then I give it new life.”
His speech was interrupted by the woman, Marilee, coming to set two bowls in front of them. It was a brown stew, chunky with meat, carrots and potatoes. There was a delicious smell coming from it that made Carly’s mouth water, and she could barely wait for Donovan’s to get set down as well before she started eating. It was still hot enough that she would burn her tongue if she wasn’t careful, but it was so good she was not sure if she cared at all.
“Do you like it?” Donovan asked, and she smiled at him.
“It’s delicious. I can see why you might come from Dublin or London if you get this regularly.”
“It’s the Goat and Compass’s special, a lamb stew. The way Marilee tells it, the recipe’s not changed for more than a hundred years. This place has been around for twice as long, so I wouldn’t doubt it at all.”
She ate the food with delight, finally slowing down after the first rush of hunger to savor the richness of the dish. There was also the bread to eat as well, a dark bread that smelled faintly sweet and spicy. She wasn’t sure what to expect from something called ‘soda bread,’ but the bread itself turned out to be lovely, dark and firm, and studded with raisins.
When she saw Donovan reach for his wallet, she tried to stop him, but he waved her away with a careless gesture.
“You may still be trying to assert yourself over in the States, but here in Ireland, men still know how to treat their women.”