“Well, what is it? And don’t tell me yer need to pull yer manky scunders down to do it!”
Before I can protest again, Declan produces a worn magazine with the picture of a smiling Savie on the front cover. I barely recognize her. Layers of makeup cover every fragile feature of her face. She’s wearing another one of those star-spangled getups she wears on the stage that look like glorified knickers. Costumes, she calls them. I like her without all the trappings of fame that shout in my face that she’s not the lass for me.
I stare at the magazine, wanting to fall into the shadows of her eyes, wanting to replay the past and create a different ending for myself. One where a woman’s betrayal doesn’t slice into my soul. One where I get the family I’ve always wanted.
After a few tortured moments, I read the headline:
Pop superstar, Savannah Starr, pregnant with guitarist Jet Master’s love child.
Declan takes a few steps backward after I lurch forward and grab the offensive pages. After staring a few more seconds, my anger snakes up my spine, threatening to choke me. Like storm clouds in an early spring sky, shrouds of grey steal the blue from the winter horizon. They roll and thunder, but beneath their darkness, I see one ray of light. Now that I know Savie’s carrying another man’s baby while she’s fecking me like some kind of slapper, it takes any tortured decision I might have had about sending her away from me.
With the strength of one midnight confessional, I’m free. So why do I feel like I’m trapped in a cage of my own making?
She’s not the one. She’s not the one from the ritual. This magazine is proof.
“I don’t think ‘tis a good idea for yer to get too close to this molly,” Declan says, backing up in the face of the heat radiating off me in waves. I probably look like I’m going to throttle him when in fact, the only person worthy of my raging anger is myself.
Savie is so alien to me, so exotic compared to the other women I’ve known throughout the years. When I stumbled across her during the blizzard, stranded in her monstrosity of a bombardier, she’d seemed to need saving. Now, I’m the one who needs saving.
From her.
“Don’t go gettin’ yer knickers in a wad, Declan. I’m not gettin’ close to her. In any way. Where did yer get this publication?” I ask the question as if knowing its origin is going to make the information any more palatable. My stomach flips over, and I struggle to keep breathing so I can fire more questions at him.
“Yesterday, I be walkin’ from the garage to the pub to get a pint and one of those delicious roast beef sandwiches that Caris makes, so I was. Right in the middle of the street, Mary Murphy flags me down, using this here magazine. Yer know how she gets. She be wantin’ us to throw Miss Starr out of Wintervale on her arse. Like I’d ever do that to a pregnant lass.”
“Where did Mary get it?”
This isn’t the type of material anyone reads around here. Most days, Caris doesn’t even want anyone reading the local paper. Wants everyone communicating face to face. Personal contact and all that other female stuff that no man ever needs or wants.
Declan makes a face. “I’ve nair an idea. She probably picked it up at the library. She’s always there with a stack of books and her nose right in ‘em. Sometimes, I think that woman does too much learnin’. And yer encourage her, Ronan, including her in all the important rituals. Especially, the rituals that only require one other besides yerself.”
I look at the magazine again. “Well, if ‘tis from the library, it must be true.”
Declan reaches out and touches my arm in silent male solidarity and consolation. My sister must have been shooting her yap off again about the ritual and the calling in of the one. Except… Savie’s not the one. I no longer fecking believe in the Cailleach Beare, either. I’ll always love Sal, but I’ll never believe her again.
I walk away from Declan and peer out the window, focusing on the sunshine dancing across the remaining dots of sparkling white snow instead of the way my heart feels as if it’s been ripped from my chest cavity.
The feeling is ridiculous, I know. But it’s there.
“When a musician pulls a note out of thin air, some people see the travel of fingers across the instrument. Others see only the magic. I used to see it, but I’ve had years of female betrayal leadin’ to skepticism and disbelief. And the written proof is right in front of my still denyin’ eyes.”
Declan nods in sympathy. “If ‘tis any consolation, the part to the bus arrives tomorrow. She won’t be here much longer. I know the big star is itchin’ to flee our town and get back to her big city roots. And to the father of her unborn child, so I would say.”
“I wish Caris was here right now,” I say, continuing to stare outside. My face grows hot under the weight of my negative emotions and it would feel good to step out into the fresh air and clear my head. But that would be rude, and I’m not going to shove Declan out of my cottage for my own comfort when he came here with good intentions.
“Why?”
“’Cause a man could use a Guinness right about now.”
He sighs. “’Tis true.”
The sound of a car’s tires scrunching down the gravel drive yanks me back to the present. Caris must be bringing Savie back home from the festival preparations.
No, not home. This is my home. Never will it be hers.
“Shove that feckin’ thing back down yer cacks!” I snap, not wanting any evidence of my new knowledge to come into the light of day until I have a chance to digest it alone.
Declan jumps to attention and complies just as the front door swings open and the girls breeze through it, all giggles and feminine energy. For a tortured second, I wish for more than what I have after my newfound knowledge. I want it all. I want to be the da of Savie’s baby.
She moves to stand near me, and I can feel the magnetic pull coming off her in pulses that are hard to ignore. She tosses her hair away from her face and looks at me, her eyes glittering with something I can’t articulate.
“Did yer ladies ‘av a good time?” I want to break the crackling silence with a subject that can’t be misconstrued as controversial.
“Aye, that we did,” Caris says, sliding into a dining chair and looking at me with expectant eyes that demand an invitation. If she thinks I’m going to just brew her a cup of scaldy as easy as you please, she needs to reconsider.
“We did,” Savie adds. Unconsciously, I take a step toward her, overcome with the need to touch her, feel her body pressed against mine just one last time.
But I don’t.
I watch her sit down and feel her loss instead. Even though she’s still here in my home, the moment I found out about her deception, she drifted so far away that she might as well be back in America. I wonder what she had been thinking, wonder why she gave herself to me when someone else clearly stood between us. Is that how women outside of my small circle live?
Running my hands over my newly barbered face, I know in an instant that it’s going to be difficult to move forward until I resolve this issue within myself. I need to ask her about this situation. Once I have closure, maybe I’ll be able to let her go without malice and only hope for her happiness.
“Yer part is scheduled to arrive on the morrow,” Declan says, and I pretend not to notice how Savie’s eyes light up with pleasure. The expression is similar to the pure and honest pleasure I’ve seen when she’s strumming her guitar.
Caris reaches across the table and grabs Savie’s hand. “I’m really goin’ to miss yer, Savie.”
“Me too.” There’s actually a touch of emotion behind her flippant words. Mayhaps she is a good actress in addition to having the voice of a bird.
The thought strengthens my resolve.
Come tomorrow, Savie Starr will reside only as a ghost of a memory from my past. Holding on to my anger like a badge of honor will stiffen my backbone and prevent me from reaching out to her, as I refuse to give in to the desperate needs of my body. I fear giving in might destroy me.
Somehow
, I’d placed the weight of saving her squarely on my own shoulders just like I’d placed the health and happiness of my community on that broad width. As their Bard, I hold part of their very souls in the palm of my hand, and I won’t let them down. I will rise up to meet any and all challenges head on.
Declan lifts a brow. “I’ll see yer tomorrow then?”
Savie nods in agreement, the relief clear on her face. “Yes, tomorrow.”
Caris looks from me to Savannah. “Well, at least yer get to sing in the festival, so yer do.”
Savie’s eyes flash on Declan. “Won’t the bus be fixed tomorrow?”
He shakes his head. “Nay. ‘Tis a detailed and time-consumin’ repair. The parts don’t come in ‘til the afternoon, and I don’t work weekends. Especially not the weekend of the festival. Otherwise, I might ‘av been talked into it. If I don’t play my part to her approval, the missus might cut off me knackers.”
I expect the spoiled songstress to begin to wail at the inconvenience. Instead, she looks at Caris and shrugs. “Okay. I guess Wintervale, Ireland is an extra special stop on my world tour.” Then she turns to me. “On one condition.”
All eyes turn on me, and I swallow. “What’s that?”
Savie grins. “You have to play with me.”
Shite.
Chapter Eighteen
Savannah
By the Light of Arthur here I stand
The long night as cold as my heart
Winter lifts the veil, giving way to the spring
Tearing the truth of my past apart
As the last chords of the melody fade into the crisp air, I glance over at Ronan. I still can’t believe I talked him into singing and playing with me. The sun shines warm on my face. My lips yearn to pull into a smile of contentment. For the creativity. For the simple beauty of the venue.
For the man sitting beside me.
But my lips falter, unable to complete the upward swing. It’s as if they’re frozen in place by Ronan’s icy demeanor. He’s been so frosty, I’m surprised his fingers were thawed out enough to work the strings the past few minutes.
A tenuous burst of panic sweeps through me even as my ears digest the roar of the small crowd. Their love and support don’t move me when the man beside me looks like he hates my guts. Of course, his anger is better than the total avoidance I’d been treated to last night and this morning. Without a word, he’d climbed into the loft, leaving me to look at the space in which he’d disappeared, completely puzzled.
This morning was much of the same, with Ronan barely looking in my direction. He was polite but very distant, and the more I tried to interact with him, the more he pulled away. On the ride into town, he placed a bag between us, ensuring that our bodies were unable to touch in the saddle as they had our first trip into town. He didn’t touch me, not even to help me onto his horse.
And I have no idea why.
When we played our song…everything else melted away for those few magical moments. Our voices merged as if two lost souls had found their home.
The music had moved me, but now it’s over. The connection is over. Everything is over.
I close my eyes for a moment, fighting away the deep grief that accompanies my thoughts of Ronan and my impending departure.
Tomorrow, I’ll be gone. And I hate it. Hate to leave things so cold between us. I know me and how my mind works. For all of my life, I’ll wonder and worry about what happened. There are loose ends between us. Loose ends that need to be tied tonight.
If he’ll even talk to me.
Emptiness settles in bone deep. I acknowledge the crowd with what I hope appears to be a genuine smile and wave, and then rise, leaving Ronan behind to deal with later. After placing Helen in her velvet-lined case, I pivot my head, searching for Caris. At least she’ll be nice to me. I still want to walk around the festival and learn more about the traditions of this ancient Yule celebration.
“Don’t walk away from me, woman,” Ronan’s deep baritone stops me dead in my tracks.
So, we’re back to woman again, are we? I can feel his electric heat before I even turn around. I don’t want to move as every cell in my body screams to defy him. He doesn’t own me, and his surly behavior doesn’t inspire me to capitulate to his moody whims.
As I imagine walking away, for one final second I stay rigid and remember what it felt like to fall into the arms of a man who can hold space for me instead of simpering and falling at my feet. Even now, he takes me to a place I’ve never been before. His entire body radiates a raw masculinity that I can’t describe. I can only feel it.
And dammit, do I feel it now.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say, and I might not even mean it. The words are a knee-jerk reaction to his control over my body. Over my reactions. The sudden thudding of my heart irritates me along with the crackling magnetic pull suspended in the air between us.
I jump when I feel the heat and pressure of his large hand touch my shoulder. I hate my body for reminding me how much I’m affected by this man.
“I want to talk to yer about somethin’ afore yer go, if yer please.”
I don’t please.
“I need to go find your sister,” I say, not giving him a chance to make any more demands I can’t honor.
Besides, the sooner I can get away from him, the sooner I can exhale.
His hand tightens when I try to jerk away. “I won’t be denied.” The same grit dripped from his tone the first time we had sex. I’m sure he’s used it during every single encounter with a woman since he reached puberty. He’s not going to get away with his leash and collar bullshit with me. I’m fucking Savannah Starr. No man disrespects me more than once and gets away with it.
“You may find it easy to convince the people here in Wintervale that you’re some kind of demi-God, Ronan. I’m not so easily swayed.” I poke him in the chest. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and stop trying to control me, I’m going to slap your impertinent face. What do you think of that?”
The fingers on my shoulder become my answer, digging into my flesh so deeply the line between pleasure and pain blurs into a tornado of sensation. He yanks me until I fall into his solid chest with a resounding thump of aching flesh.
His warm breath hovers around my ear. All I feel is his steely body flush with mine, and all I can hear is the thudding of my own heartbeat in my ears. Tense moments crawl by until he finally breaks the silence. “I’d like to see yer try it, woman.”
“Don’t tempt me, man. You’re pushing me, and one day, you’ll push me too far.”
I tense even further, my body a ball of anxiety and seething emotion. He smells like man and lust and something else that I never knew I wanted. A wave of answering heat sweeps through me, wetting my panties. Every single time I try to will it away, it flitters off for a second but then comes back twice as strong as before.
I raise my hand to hit him just to prove that I can, but he anticipates me and encircles my wrist in a vice-like grip. We’re standing in the wings of a makeshift stage. Hundreds of people socialize and dance around us, taking in the sights, sounds, and tastes of the Yule celebration. But Ronan and I are alone in spite of the boisterous company. No one else exists in this moment and time.
He wrests me away from the crowd, and I struggle in earnest, flailing my arms and legs. With each awkward movement, his commitment to contain me grows until I can’t even flex a muscle without an answering squeeze from his hand or his body. He traps me as he bends me to his desires, and it’s not a feeling I’m used to.
My heart begs to explode out of my chest as I anticipate a thousand ways I can make him pay for manhandling me. I’ve never wanted to call my lawyer so much in my entire life. And after that phone call, I want to make a date with my vibrator. In spite of what he’s doing to me, I still want him with a fervor that can’t be denied.
Then why am I not screaming for Mel?
You know why.
“You’re hurting me!” It’s a futile hope
that my raw words can play on his mercy. Not that he has any. How could I forget that very important fact? What he hasn’t anticipated is that I never back away or down from anyone. He may have every single part of my body wrapped up in a maelstrom of turbulent emotion. Except one.
I lift my foot and bring it down on the top of his, delighting in the crunch of my heel on his leather boot. That’s going to leave a bruise.
Ronan jerks me even harder against him, and before I can even inhale, he captures my lips in a kiss so searing, I fear flames might erupt around us right on this first day of winter. His mouth covers mine, taking everything that I’ve been unwilling to give. More like demanding. And damn me and my traitorous body, I surrender with only a pathetic final protest, melting into him.
I’m letting him devour me at the same time my mind’s screaming at me to pull away so I can retain a shred of dignity. In a burst of rational thought, I twist away from him and look up into his face. Those damn blue eyes dance with mirth, and fire, and…triumph. I reach out my hand again, wanting more than anything to connect my flesh to his in a way where I can gain control. He grabs my wrist, but this time he brings my hand between his legs. His cock throbs and pulses underneath my palm, and all my self-righteous anger fades away.
“I think ‘tis time yer use yer hands for somethin’ more productive, woman,” he rasps, and I feel him grow harder under my palm. “Don’t defy me again.”
As if I’m in some kind of hypnotic trance, I sink to my knees. If I’d had a drink before going on stage, I’d swear he slipped something in it. I imagine him standing in front of a sacrificial altar, casting a spell on me that makes me want to jump to perform his warped bidding.
Even knowing how foolish I am, I slowly unzip his jeans, never losing eye contact with those piercing blue orbs. He holds my stare, demanding I give him exactly what he wants. All of me. The price is too high but that doesn’t stop me from capitulating. Every nerve in my body fires on all cylinders, my blood rushing through my veins. I want to be possessed in a way I’ve never been before.
When Ronan makes his incessant and unreasonable demands, something comes over me, stealing my senses. Like he’s giving me the space to forget the parts of my life where I’m forced to become a caricature of myself. With him, I can let all of that pretending fall away, and I come into myself as a woman in a way I’ve never been before.
Solstice Song Page 15