No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1)

by Stasia Morineaux

  At least an hour had passed, and I’d just started on my second ale, when I felt compelled to raise my head from the book I was enjoying.

  He stood there, next to the door of the semi-private booth, dripping not with the rain from the storm outside, but with what I could only call his old-world grace and allure. Gideon.

  My heart did a little trip-hop…I wished it would stop doing that.

  He was leaning, so nonchalant, shoulder against the carved wood column, arms folded, watching me. How long had he been watching me, just standing there like that? And why was he here? This was my find. My sanctuary. I regarded him grudgingly for a moment, before expelling a sigh and dropping my book to my lap.

  I was actually thrilled to see him; I just hadn’t wanted any of them knowing about this refuge. And why did he have to look like that? So…so…mouth-watering. And why was I even thinking such a thing? I had to stop that. But then I remembered last night’s dream. Should I tell him anything about it? I didn’t know what any of it meant, or why currently there rested in my pocket a pendant, which I’d been told by a woman I’d never seen before, to have him put on me. Oh…and hadn’t he kissed me on the top of my head before he left last night? Or had I dreamed that as well?

  There was an ever-present sensuality about him, in his dark blue eyes, in his mouth, in the way he stood. He was the kind of man, that in my old life, never in a thousand years, would I have flirted with. Yet right then, in that moment, I felt myself sit up straighter, look at him from under my lashes, and move my hair away from my neck so he could fully appreciate the length of bared flesh. I just couldn’t help myself. It was completely involuntary. I swear.

  A smile curved his mouth and he waved me over to him. No words.

  I sighed again, resentfully giving up my repose. But the compensation was time with him, so...

  He conducted me into the charming enclosure and as I passed by him I inadvertently brushed against him ever so slightly. He didn’t shift whatsoever to move away from the subtle contact.

  I took a seat on the cushiony leather bench. He stared down at me and for a split second I saw an utterly unshielded look in his eyes, but just as quickly as it had shown up, it vanished. Had I really seen sentiment there?

  He closed the door behind him. Our door had an etched picture of two ravens. They faced each other. In their talons, they held a triskele…I felt incredibly unsteady.

  My hand reached into my pocket and wrapped around the necklace. It was cool and soothing in my hand and settled me some, but not all the way.

  Why was the exact same symbol that was on my pendant on this pub door?

  “I hear things went better today,” he said in a voice I couldn’t decipher, as he sat down across from me. Was he here to hand out a reprimand, another warning, because I’d left Liam to do the second cull? Liam had been acting like a complete jerk.

  “Sure.” I was suddenly glad I’d left my leather jacket on, I wasn’t ready to explain the tattoo…not that I should have to anyway, but I just never knew.

  It had been hours of intensely odd pain, somewhere between a hard and steady scratch and a burning sensation, a searing and tedious burn as he carved the ink into my flesh. It was worth it. It was gorgeous and even the remnant pain felt kind of strangely nice, kind of sexy, very worth it.

  “Liam wasn’t very pleased that you left him to finish up.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be,” I countered. I glanced around the inside of the booth, taking in the décor on this side of the door, avoiding Gideon’s stare. To one side of the door there was an antique bell system, I presumed for alerting staff.

  He laughed. That shocked the hell out of me. He laughed a deep, rarely used chuckle, one full of gentle amusement. It affected me in a way I would not have expected, so strongly, something in my heart lifted and warmed and wanted to move to him. He brushed an errant spiraling curl away from my face and that slightest touch made me shiver.

  I pulled my gaze from his, my heart beating too quickly.

  “How long have you known Liam? How long have you worked together?

  “No questions. I came here to see that you were alright. Michael said when you left you were upset, that you looked unwell.”

  “I’m fine. Liam was just…” he’d been a creep, but I didn’t want to cause him any strife with Gideon either, “upset…still upset over the flubbed up cull, I guess.” Was that it, or was it because we had fought about not being together? Did that bother him at all, or was it just about the cull I’d screwed up on? I didn’t want to discuss either tonight…again…or ever.

  There was a light rap on the door and Gideon opened it, admitting the server with two plates of food and fresh drinks.

  “Shepherd pie,” Gideon informed me as he laid out his cloth napkin over his lap.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, my hands not moving to my food as a thought entered my mind. “Is this place yours too?”

  He laughed again. “No, Draghail, it’s not.” He drank from his frosted ale glass.

  “So, it’s just a complete coincidence that you just happened to show up here, that you found me here?”

  “Of course not.”

  I sighed.

  He smiled. I wished he’d stop doing that…sort of.

  “My friend, Bellamy, is the owner of The Shield.”

  “The what?”

  “Na Sciath Snug is The Shield Snug. I’m sure you can see why we would favor such a place considering the accommodations offered. In our profession privacy can be of the utmost importance. This is our snug.”

  I barked a sharp little laugh. I didn’t mean to, it was on the unflattering side as far as I was concerned. I sounded like a baby harbor seal. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle any further such noise from trying to escape me.

  Figures I’d become totally infatuated with an establishment owned by a friend of his.

  He laughed again, this time at my bark. “Now, no more questions. Eat.”

  I was nothing but questions. It wasn’t as if I wanted to tell him about making a new friend today, for all I knew that was just as taboo as wanting to be with Liam. If I didn’t ask, I couldn’t be told no. Childish? Yes. Effective? For now. I wasn’t about to tell about the tattoo either, just to be on the safe side.

  It was hard to have a conversation when questions were forbidden. I told Gideon that.

  “Let me rephrase for you. No work related questions.”

  “Well, that doesn’t leave me with much.” I sighed, dramatically, just for him. “Okay. Where are you from? What is that accent?”

  “I grew up spending time between Scotland and Ireland, even in Wales some bit. My accent would be considered Ulster Irish, for the most part. And you?”

  He’d answered. I was slightly shocked. I paused on his question, that was a weird one for me now. “Before? Or after? I scoffed at him.

  “Ah…touché.”

  “Born in Northern California, moved to Southern California. Most recently lived in Long Beach, spent a lot time in New Orleans. Very recently had to relocate to Seattle.” I looked at him pointedly. “Accent would be So Cal I guess. My turn. What was your favorite food when you were a child?” I feigned a gasp and a look of faux pas. “Oops, my bad. Were you ever a kid?”

  I tried not to smile or giggle. Actually, I kind of did wonder if he’d ever been a kid or was just always this.

  “Yes, smart ass, I’ve been a child. And my favorite food was pasties. Chicken, beef, lamb…made no difference. We’d grab them from the cooling rack my mum would place them on fresh from the oven, and take them outside to eat as we played. I miss her little meat pies. What was yours?”

  “Pizza. My mom made the best pizza from scratch. She’d make one every Wednesday night. Most people seem to have it on Friday or Saturday, but she always thought it made the middle of the week special. We’d have a pizza, snuggle on the couch and watch old movies until we fell asleep.” I smiled at the sweet memory. I missed her. She’d been gone nearly eight
years now. I mentally shook myself. No time for that. Not right now. This was actually fun, sitting here sharing a meal and just being normal with him.

  “That sounds nice.” He smiled at me gently, and then added solemnly. “I’m sorry we took you from her.”

  I shrugged.

  “What’s done is done.” I wanted him to sting the way I still did. But I couldn’t hold him responsible for that. I had to amend my words. I shook my head. “It wasn’t you. She died about eight years before…well…before me. And my Dad…I don’t remember him really. No grandparents either. But if it’s okay, I’ll keep blaming you for not having friends anymore…or my car.” I smiled. It was a weak one, but still a smile. I added softly, “And I understand it wasn’t you. Anyway…next question.”

  He contemplated me, his eyes roving my face.

  “Favorite mode of transportation?” I asked, ignoring his searching look.

  “Walking. I don’t get to do it often, but I prefer it. I miss walking to the village the way I did in my younger days.”

  “In Ireland?”

  “Aye. We lived not too far from a little seaside village. Every month or so my brother and I would take what money we had saved and make the trek to buy some sweets for our mum. It was beautiful countryside.”

  I could see him traveling back to that time in his mind. His smile at the thought was something else. It made my heart skip lightly, made me smile too. It was a rare look that crossed his face. I liked it, Very much. It looked wonderful on him.

  “Your turn.”

  “Well, used to be that I’d say flying, but…I think that’s changed to riding a horse.” I thought of Eyvindur and what bliss I was in when we ran, when we flew. “What’s your favorite time of day?”

  “Sunset. You?”

  “Four o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “That’s rather exact.”

  “Well, you know, right there around four, in the fall. It’s that really magical time of day, when the sunlight turns this amazing color. It’s softer, more golden, and everything has this…time of being more hushed for like, half an hour or maybe just a little more. As if the world has set this time aside for less harshness, the way the sunlight hits the leaves on the trees, the way it shines down and casts shadows differently, settles over everything in a different way at that time. It’s so unlike any other time of day. I can feel it…” I placed my hand on my chest, “as it draws near. There’s a calm that steals over me, through me, and it’s as if anything could happen, anything is possible for that time.”

  His gaze was fixed on me, intensely.

  “And crows, they seem to talk a lot during that time.” I glanced at the door, the two crows etched there. I couldn’t tell him about that yet. Any of that. Maybe tomorrow.

  “My turn.” Gideon took over, pulling my eyes from the window with his voice. “Favorite time of year?”

  “Easy,” I laughed. “Fall. Well…wait. Maybe winter. That’s hard. I love them both. Um…” I pondered, tapping my bottom lip with my fingertip while I did. I noticed his gaze drop to my lips. His eyes darkened, but not as they did in anger. I liked this darkness, it was tinged with heat. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Fall.” I nodded, affirming my choice to myself. Willing my heart to stop trotting quite so frantically in my chest. “I love all the colors, the smell of the air, the feel of the air, that crispness. I can always feel it coming…clear back into August. I can see the shift in light. The air changes, the smell carried on it…ever so subtly. And Halloween! Who doesn’t just love Halloween?” I beam at him. “Yours?”

  “Winter…Snow…A fire in the hearth…heavy blankets…”

  It seemed like he was planning to say more, he had that look on his face…like trying to find words or decide on them, but he added nothing. An image flashed through my mind of being locked away in a lovely Irish cottage with him, wintering with him, nestled closely under a blanket, the fire crackling…a soft bed…

  “What sound do you love?” He broke into that beguiling vision.

  “Autumn leaves crunching under my boots. You?” I asked, ever-so-slightly breathless from the sight left floating in my head like a ghost.

  “Snow falling. When everything has gone utterly silent and still, except for the sound of the snow touching the ground.”

  I grinned. It was one of my favorite sounds.

  “What’s the best part of waking up in the morning?” He asked.

  “Wow, we’re going really random here…” I laughed. “Going back to sleep. No. I’m kidding.” Finding you in my bedroom. Of course I didn’t say that out loud, instead I said, “Coffee. The smell of coffee already brewing. You?”

  “Coffee.” He chuckled. “Favorite indoor and outdoor activity?”

  “Indoor, reading, and particularly next to a fire. Outdoor…walking in the woods.” I gestured for him to take his turn, as I drank.

  Were we actually getting along this well, dare I say, being friends? I was feeling a little tipsy from the Guinness, and from being this way with him.

  “Indoor would be…” he paused. His lips crooked up at one corner, in a slightly wicked manner, half of a wolf grin. That same dark look traveled through his eyes again, slightly stormy in a very sexy way. A dark heat, like a summer thunder storm. I felt myself blush. I felt a need to fan myself, but didn’t want to draw attention to the fact I was feeling that need. What was his favorite indoor activity? Really? He was so male, carnally male looking at the moment as he mused over the question. Did I really need to wonder?

  I took another much needed slug of my not-nearly-cold-enough Guinness.

  “…reading,” he continued, lifting an eyebrow, “in bed…before falling asleep.”

  Was he really referring to reading? The way he said it, the way his voice rolled out of him, like a tiger’s purr made me wonder. Was it innuendo?

  “Outdoor…exploring new places,” he finished.

  “First kiss, how old were you?” I couldn’t help asking the question…my brain was stuck on that track now.

  “I was eleven. And she was an adorable ginger that lived up the road. I’d had my eye on her since I was nine.”

  “Patient.”

  “Very.” He looked at me meaningfully. I glanced down at my dish, fiddled with my fork.

  “I was thirteen. I’d had a crush on him for over a year. And one day he picked me to hang out with, finally. I went to his baseball game, then to a small after-game party at his house. I was on top of the world. It was my first real kiss, and he was so sweet, it was the sweetest thing.” I lost myself in the memory of David. “But then the next day I found out he’d only asked me out to make his girlfriend jealous…they got back together that very next afternoon.” I sighed. “Bittersweet.”

  “As most first kisses are.”

  “Oh no. Not all. Most aren’t. They’re amazing, breath thieving, butterfly inducing wonders. I used to have a friend that collected first kisses.” I smiled. “She said it was because they were the best ones. I always envied her, that freedom she possessed, never feeling the need to have more than that. To be able to just have the first one and move on. There’s never anything quite like that first kiss, that…dizzying feeling…of losing your breath, of spinning out of control, the anticipation, and then finally being there…that moment of discovery and satisfaction. Heart pounding…the chills…the fire…”

  “Someday you’re going to meet the right man—that one man— and every kiss will be the first kiss, a new kiss, the first touch.”

  My mouth went dry, my skin fevered at his words, and the look in his eyes as they dipped to my mouth.

  “One day that man will kiss you, and you’ll find that when you are without him, is when you can’t breathe at all.

  We continued our little game of Q & A on the walk home to my place.

  Always the chivalrous one, he’d insisted that I not walk alone, even though it was just up the block and around the corner a short way.

  It turned into a quiet walk
after a couple of blocks, a comfortable silence settled between us. Being alone with him in the dark, under the trees and the moon, with the fall breeze whisking around us, I found myself wanting to brush my hand against his in hopes he’d take hold of it.

  Ah crap…I was getting besotted. This couldn’t happen. This was Gideon…even if Uldwynah had said…

  He only walked me as far as my garden gate. For just a split second I dared to dream he’d kiss me good night, instead he opened the gate and pushed me gently through.

  “Sweet dreams, Draghail.”

  “When are you going to stop calling me that?”

  “When you no longer are that.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  ~ Chapter Twenty-One ~

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, when I passed through my living room, on the way to retrieve a ginormous cup of coffee to cut through the morning haze, I found a note from Liam stuffed under my front door.

  There wasn’t much to it, just that we were to meet at Ye Old Curio Cupboard, a shop down at the waterfront, in the morning. No, ‘hey, are you okay’, or ‘where did you go’, or ‘I’m sorry I’m such a jackass.’

  I was so glad I’d made a friend yesterday...and had a nice dinner and face time with Gideon.

  It took some of the sting from Liam’s coolly toned note.

  I met him at the appointed time and place. Michael was with him again. I was happy about that. I’d done my cull perfectly. With refined coolness and detachment. With expediency and proficiency. So why the watch dog again today? Because of Liam. Because Liam just had to stir stuff up yesterday. It was obviously to keep us in line.

  But I had to wonder, again, on a deeper level, if it was to keep us from fighting or from kissing. I didn’t want to ask. Did it really matter anymore?

  Now I had a new friend to confide in, and a new book in the works in which I could dump all of my unresolved feelings.