“Um. Hi.”
I gave a half-smile and checked under my sheets to be sure I was dressed. Realizing that my outfit from the previous evening was still on me brought back more heinous memories of Fergal’s assault and my face grimaced.
“You’re okay, Maeve. Ya just have ta keep tellin’ yerself that.” Rory’s voice caressed me, smooth as butter.
“He was going to….” My trembling voice stuck in my throat.
“No. That fooker doesn’t have it in him. Don’t give him so much credit.” Rory picked himself up and stretched his back, sticking out his chest. “Come on, now.”
He came over to my bed to get me moving.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Rory….” The next words got stuck behind the first, causing my lip to tremble.
I looked at him as heavy pools filled my lower lids.
“Ah, sure. You’re welcome.” He looked away and at the floor. “I’ll make some coffee.”
I gathered fresh clothes and a towel and headed for the bathroom. The stairs leading down to the door of my flat, out into the alleyway, were right next to the bathroom door. I stared down the steps, seeing Fergal lingering in every shadow.
“Rory…” My voice shook and rose to a high pitch.
He bolted from the kitchen in an instant.
“Ya, what?” His eyes moved up and down me, checking for signs of distress.
“Do you mind staying here, at the door, while I shower?” I looked at the floor, feeling stupid.
“Ya, sure, o’ course. Go on.” He waved his head at me to git.
The warm water cascaded down my body, cleansing every piece of grime and spit left by Fergal. Soap made sure to destroy any residual bits of his assault. My senses cleared and my inner self peeked out from behind the wall of terror. My audible sigh welcomed her back.
I needed to call Paul.
My eyes pressed shut in a hard squint.
He was going to be pissed. He told me not to be alone. Ever.
My head fell back.
I wondered if Rory spoke to him already. Probably not, or he’d be here by now.
I wrapped my towel around my hair and flipped it back. The warm mist of the shower hung in the air and kept my body warm, as I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
A shuffle outside the door reminded me of Rory’s presence, making my skin prickle in mini-goosebumps. I imagined opening the door and inviting him in, allowing him to hold me again and make it all better.
My eyes widened and I shook my head to clear it.
I must be truly traumatized.
I grabbed my clothes and threw them on in a hurry. To clear any of my prior devious thoughts, I exercised my jaw, stretching my mouth open and then closed, and cracked my neck both ways.
Then opened the door.
Chapter Ten
Tribal Feud
With my hair still wrapped in a twist of towel, I peeked out the bathroom door and looked at Rory, leaning against the wall scrolling through his phone.
He glanced up at me.
“Ah. Now that’s better.” His bright smile flashed in my eyes.
I couldn’t help but smile back and reached for the towel on my head, wondering if it looked dumb or if maybe I looked pretty to him.
Oh god. What was wrong with me?
“Thanks, Rory. For everything.” My eyes dropped to the floor. More words formed but I couldn’t get them out.
He followed me into the kitchen as I moved toward the undeniable pull of morning coffee. Two mugs sat by the pot and he filled the big one and gave it to me. He reached for the pint of cream and poured it in while I held the mug with two hands. I pulled it to my face and inhaled as my eyes flickered shut.
“I make a mean cup o’ joe.” He snickered.
The mess of grounds, spilled cream, and dirty spoons gave the appearance of a coffee-making battle scene, but he was right. It was a beautiful thing.
I inhaled more of the swirling steam and took a long, deep sip. It filled me with the comfort of home, friendship, and normalcy.
“It’s the best coffee I’ve ever had.” I looked up and met his eyes as I continued to slurp.
He smiled with a boyish grin.
“Did you call Paul, Rory? And the gards?” I searched his face for details, wondering if he’d called Paul and then pictured cruisers pulling up to my flat with the blinding reflective letters GARDA written across the sides.
Rory rubbed the back of his neck.
“The gards want you to go to the station to make a statement. When you’re ready.”
“What about Paul?” I pressed.
Rory moved closer to me without breaking his gaze into my eyes. He took the cup from my hands and put it on the counter.
I pressed back against the sink as he stood in front of me, his feet on either side of mine. He reached for the towel on my head and unraveled it in slow loops, dropping it to the ground as my wet hair fell around my shoulders, never breaking eye contact.
He took my face in his strong hands. “I can take care of you, Maeve. Can’t you see that?”
My lips parted to speak but I found no words. Shock ran through me as my mind went blank.
“Maeve.” His voice turned my name into a melody. “I want you to be with me. Always have.” He whispered along my cheek and held his head next to mine, inhaling the scent of me. “Not being with you has been… impossible for me.”
If Rory hadn’t come, I’d be dead. I owed him my life.
He moved his warm, full lips along my jawline and onto my neck. The thrill of his touch ignited a torch inside me that sent me spiraling.
But Paul had come back to me, fully. I hoped. Would he betray me again?
My head dropped back by instinct, inviting him further. The scratch of his stubble along my face heightened my senses, churning desire in every nerve. Being with him was as easy as breathing.
My inner voice sent an awakening shout of resistance trying to break me from his spell.
I pushed Rory away with a hard shove.
“Stop!” I caught my breath and my wits. “Rory! What are you doing?”
Guilt washed over me for falling so easily for his charm.
He backed away as if he were wounded.
“I’m with Paul, Rory. You know that.”
The chime of my phone tweaked my brain.
“I know it.” He rubbed his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
Another chime.
I pressed my hand into my forehead. My exhaustion was making me lightheaded. I shook my head.
“I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t fair.” He stared at the ground. “I just couldn’t help m’self. You’re just… you’re all I think about.”
I dropped my face into my hands.
I was a wreck. I had no clue how I got here. In this moment. I needed Paul. He had the power to stabilize this situation. Pull me together again.
“No. It’s my fault too. I should have stopped you quicker. I’m sorry.” My hand covered my mouth, then pulled away. “I’m not myself right now.”
My eyes fell to the ground in shame.
My phone chimed a third time and I stared at it across the room, knowing it was Paul.
“I’ll take you to him. You shouldn’t be alone.” He looked at his shoes and shrugged.
I pushed away from the counter to get to my phone. In my haste, my elbow bumped into Rory’s side.
“Ack!”
He keeled over in pain, holding his ribs. At first, I thought he was kidding, but he looked up with a grimace, baring his teeth.
I grabbed his shoulder for a better look.
“Rory, you’re hurt!”
I reached for his hands and pulled them away, to see what he was hiding. Small spots of blood seeped through his T-shirt.
“Oh my god. You’re bleeding!”
I tugged on his shirt for a better look and he pulled away.
“Did Fergal hurt you?” My eyes bulged in fear.
; “I’m fine. It’s old. Sure, bloody thing won’t heal right.”
He stepped to the sink and pulled his shirt up for a better look.
Elaborate artwork covered his ribs. Tribal symbols and Celtic designs. The tattoo covered much more skin than his original “Ruaraidh” script, which I’d noticed last winter, right before I left to go back to Boston.
That was back when I first realized Rory had accepted his role as chieftain of the MacMahon Clan. The ink marked him as Red King for his tribe. But now it took on a more aggressive look, almost threatening.
My hand reached out to examine it and I moved in for a closer look.
“Rory. What is this?”
My eyes followed a thick black swirl, along his ribs and over his sculpted abs. Closer to the center, it looked raw and unhealed. He flinched from my breath on it.
“You need to have someone look at that. It might be infected.”
“That’s the thing, see. I can’t. It’s not public yet.”
He wet a paper towel and dabbed the sore.
“What’s not public?” I pulled back and looked into his face.
“The whole chieftain thing. It’s done, though. The initiation.” He looked at his ribs. “This is the mark of the tribe chieftain.”
I stepped back and sucked in a quick breath.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, that’s the problem, really. It’s kind of a big deal. Ancient rituals, treaties, duties to the clan. It’s all on me.”
“So, Fergal?”
The connection within his clan was obvious. I just didn’t understand the details. Or the big picture.
“He’s dangerous, Maeve. You know that now. He’s a rogue clansman, looking to change the course of history. Centuries-old pacts. He’ll stop at nothin’.”
My shoulders slumped as my hands began wringing.
“What does he want?”
Rory stopped dabbing his wound.
“He wants the MacMahons to hold permanent claim to the territory. The land and sea of the west. It’s rich land. Legend says it’s riddled with treasure.” He smirked, hearing his own words. “You’re a major threat to us, Maeve. Connected to the pirate queen. I know. Fergal knows. He thinks you’re her, come back to reclaim the land.” He put his shirt down and looked into my eyes. “Dumb, right?”
I stared back into his dark pupils as they seemed to try to pull information out of me that I didn’t know I held.
“I didn’t know you knew that much about the pirate queen.” I stared at Rory.
“The clan told me. And sure, you’d rambled on about it back in the day, so it made sense.” He rubbed his jaw. “Sure, when I saw ya first at Lynch’s, when you’d just come back here, I saw ya in a new light—as a true enemy. Surprised me. My glare scared ya, I think.”
He smirked but then his face fell.
“You’re a threat to us now, Maeve.”
His words shocked me and sent a chill into my core.
It explained why he stared at me with such a caustic gaze that night at Lynch’s, though. But I couldn’t get my head around being enemies with Rory. Eternal enemies. It didn’t seem to fit.
“And Fergal? He’s with you?”
“No! He’s an outlier, Maeve. Headin’ up his own revolt.”
I pressed the bridge of my nose, between my eyes. Fergal’s revolt nearly killed me.
“We knew he’d be comin’ fer ya, at some point. So we had a bit of a lookout set. Good thing, too.” He sniffled in triumph. “Or we mighta missed him last night.”
The doorbell rang and I jumped back like I’d been shot.
I ran to my room to look out the window.
Paul’s car reflected bright light into my eyes as if to mock: We’re here….
My heart leapt into my throat.
“Shit, Rory! It’s Paul.”
I grabbed my phone and looked at his text messages.
“Oh my god. This looks so bad,” I said out loud.
I paced for a second then ran down the stairs, panting.
Rory hadn’t contacted Paul last night. I knew that now. And I still hadn’t had a chance.
Crap. Oh god.
I pulled the door open.
The relief that washed over Paul’s face made me sick with guilt.
He reached for me and took me by the waist, pulling me in to him.
“Hi.” He smiled into my eyes. “I was worried about you.”
His cheek brushed mine and he kissed my face.
“I haven’t heard from you and I… I just don’t want you to be alone,” he whispered into my ear.
He hugged me and lifted me off my feet in his strong embrace.
My body went limp as I remembered the attack and then Rory in my kitchen. Panic surged through me like poison.
Paul lowered me down and pressed some of my hair away from my face.
“Are you okay?”
He studied my expression but his lost eyes showed he couldn’t get a good read.
“Actually, no.” I tore my eyes from his before I got physically sick. “A lot has happened. I need to tell you.”
I pinched between my eyebrows to think, then pressed my lips with my fingers, not knowing where to begin.
“What’s going on, Maeve? Tell me.”
He moved farther into my alleyway, but then glanced down the corridor to the door of my flat as we heard the heavy footsteps coming down.
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, hoping to evaporate into thin air.
Rory stepped out of the door and into the alleyway, pulling his arm through the sleeve of his black jacket. He turned toward us and gave a sideways glance through his hair.
“Hey, man.” He nodded at Paul. “I was just leavin’.”
Paul released his grip on me and stepped back, like he’d taken a bullet. He moved his wide eyes back and forth, from Rory to me. He swallowed hard.
Rory turned his body and pressed past us in the narrow space. He pulled on the blue door and looked back over his shoulder.
“See ya, Maeve.”
His arrogance wasn’t lost in the tone of his voice and he was gone with a slam.
Paul’s silence made me shrink to the size of a mouse. His blank eyes stared like he’d been hollowed out. He fell back against the wall and looked to the ground.
I reached for his hands, hanging lifeless by his sides.
I never wanted to hurt him. Ever. I had to fix this, fast.
Seeing him crumble before my eyes made me love him even more. I wanted him to come back to me. Strong as ever so the two of us could move forward, together.
“It’s okay, Paul. He helped me.” I lifted his hands to my heart and stepped closer to him. “My heart is with you. I promise.” I brought my face close to his and looked him in the eye. “Come on. I have a lot to tell you.”
I pulled him toward my door that led up to my flat, but he didn’t budge.
“Maeve. Did you sleep with him?” His eyes stayed fixed to the ground.
My heart rate plummeted through the floor.
“No. It wasn’t like that. He was here to protect me. That’s all.” My voice took a commanding tone to reassure him.
His knees buckled and he bent over as if he were going to vomit.
“Are ya tryin’ ta kill me, Maeve? Ya might as well be pullin’ me guts out.” He choked on his words. “He’s protecting ya now? Why? How is he here and not me?”
His shoulders slumped as his lost eyes searched mine.
I stared back at him. His vulnerability was raw and he made no effort to hide it.
I just wanted to hold him. To love him. To pour myself into him forever. How could he not know that?
I reached for him, as if he were a wounded soldier, and held his face in my hands. I kissed his soft lips as he remained motionless, defeated. I kissed him again, this time with a smile on my lips. I spoke through the kiss in a whisper that blew gently on his mouth.
“I love you, Paul McGratt.”
He stru
ggled to hide his smile, but it pulled up one side of his mouth enough to show he liked it.
I pulled on him more, to get him to bring his strength back.
“Fergal was here,” I said.
Paul’s eyes widened and he straightened in an instant.
“How the hell was Fergal here?” he blasted through clenched teeth as molten lava erupted in his pupils. His strength returned full force.
“Last night. Rory followed him. If Rory hadn’t come, I don’t know what would have happened.” My voice cracked along with the scattered fragments of my story.
“Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” His face fell as his eyes searched me again for damage. He reached for the redness on my cheek, subtle scratches from the wall, and stroked it with his thumb.
“Come on.” I tugged on him to follow me upstairs. “I’ll make coffee.”
He was right on my heels, but then stopped. I turned back.
“What?” I asked.
“You said last night.” His blank stare faded as his eyebrows scrunched down.
“Hm?”
Oh shit.
“Last night,” he repeated. “Rory’s been here since last night?”
***
Paul fidgeted in the hard, straight-backed dining chair. With an elbow on the table, he clamped his chin in his fist and watched me as I made a new pot of coffee.
I wiped the counters of loose grounds and spilled cream, whisking away any evidence of Rory’s presence.
I grabbed the mug he had taken from my hands earlier and rinsed it warm water. Then hot water. I left it under the tap and let scalding water course in and splash out.
Paul’s gaze moved out the window across the stretch of green fields and into oblivion. I pulled the other chair close to his and sat with my knees pressing into his leg.
Leaning in, I whispered, “Look at me.”
He turned his head and blinked into my eyes as his chest imploded with his slow exhale. Sitting up taller, pushing himself back into his chair, he pressed his jaw to the side and looked at me through half-closed eyes.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened?”
My stomach clenched like a vice sending vile sickness through me, turning my gentle smile into a twisted scowl.
“Fergal tried to kill me.” My voice remained flat to avoid reliving the emotions of the event.
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