“Shouldn’t we do something?” Neala whispered to Bianca.
“Oh, you’re right. Let’s help clear the table,” Bianca said, jumping up to begin stacking dishes.
“I meant about the Domnua,” Neala protested.
“Domnua aren’t our problem until they make themselves our problem. For now, we dance.”
Neala scanned the room. Flynn, Keelin’s sexy dark-haired husband, dandled baby Grace on his knee, looking completely at ease. Seamus traded jokes with Patrick, while Aislinn and Fiona discussed something about herb growing. Not a one of them looked tense except for her. Turning, she looked at Dagda.
“Do you want us to leave?” Neala asked him. He leaned nonchalantly against the door, his arms folded over his burly chest, seeming for all the world a man at ease in a pub. Neala had quickly learned that his ‘at ease’ pose was all a ruse, and she wanted to be told straight.
“Here’s as safe as any. Relax. I’ve got you,” Dagda said, nodding to where another Guinness had been placed in front of her. Neala flashed back to earlier this week, when she’d downed a pint in one gulp at the pub. It seemed positively ages away from where she was now – or even who she was now. She wondered if she’d ever go back to being the same carefree woman who downed pints at the pub on a challenge. Part of her wanted that – to go back to before, where she could live a simple and settled life running her business and meeting friends at the pub. No muss or fuss, but an easy, happy existence that she’d worked hard to build for herself.
Her eyes strayed to the group laughing around the table – Keelin sighing and pulling a floating dinner roll from the air in front of a squealing baby Grace – and she realized that no, she didn’t want it to go back to the way it was. Instead, a part of her desperately ached for this type of camaraderie – the type of family that she saw in the connections between the women and men around the table. Even though they were wildly different, and she was certain each had their own magick, they were all accepted and loved in a manner that withheld judgment, and offered only welcome. She wanted this in her life, Neala realized with a fierceness that almost hurt her soul, and she didn’t want to do it alone. Glancing over to Dagda, she wondered what he thought of all this, and if it called to him – or if he itched to leave it all and be back on the open road, with no expectations and no responsibilities hanging over his brawny shoulders.
Life was certainly easier that way.
At the first piping strains of the fiddle, the group began to clap and an old familiar tune wafted across the table. Morgan, in a surprisingly beautiful voice, picked up the words immediately, the rest following her.
Her eyes they shone like diamonds,
You’d think she was the queen of the land,
And her hair hung over her shoulders,
Tied up with a black velvet band.
Baby Grace slid from her mom’s lap and toddled across the room, her little bum bouncing in time to the music, until she stood in front of Dagda, her arms raised. Neala caught her breath, wondering what the bear of a man would do with this little firecracker of a baby.
Dagda scowled down at Grace, his arms crossed over his chest, and shook his head once.
No.
Baby Grace didn’t like the word no, it seemed. She glowered up at him, stubbornly stomping a foot and raising her arms once again. Her pigtails vibrated as she seemed to have a conversation with Dagda, which looked much like scolding, though Neala couldn’t hear anything over the song.
Dagda shook his head no once more, and this time baby Grace’s lower lip poked out in a pout, and her eyes went big with tears.
Neala wasn’t sure if she’d yet seen a look of panic on Dagda’s face like the one now as tears began to drip down Grace’s face. She’d seen him kill Domnua with less concern than he now exhibited at the tiny storm threatening to burst at his feet. Quickly, he scooped her up and bounced her on his hip, doing his best to distract her from what had looked like the beginning of a full-on tantrum.
“Sucker. She pulls this on all the men,” Keelin whispered in Neala’s ear.
Neala choked on a laugh, but couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the burly warrior holding a teacup of a baby, doing his best to keep her from crying.
If she hadn’t been lost before, Neala was dangerously close to it now. There was something so sweet about a strong man holding a baby, doing his best to soothe, that made her want to snuggle up next to him. Maybe having Dagda as a protector wasn’t such a bad thing. Or perhaps this was a lesson in teaching her that she could have a man in her life who complemented her needs and lifted her up – without trying to take away from who or what she was. Judging by the men who delighted in their wives and girlfriends here in this pub, maybe it was possible to find the perfect partner. Neala’s heart began to open to the possibility of more – of love – as she opened her mouth and sang.
And when Dagda began to sing – in a surprisingly strong tenor – with baby Grace clapping in delight in his arms, Neala’s heart cracked wide open, filling with a warmth she didn’t fully understand.
Heart open, Neala reminded herself. Head up – but heart open.
Words of the wise.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dagda was finally relieved of a babbling baby Grace – or ticking time bomb, as he thought of her – by a smiling Keelin. Shane played on, moving easily into another favorite, “Fields of Athenry,” and Dagda saw Seamus and Flynn head for the back door. Seamus gave him a wave so, once more checking the door was locked behind him, Dagda followed the two men to a small enclosed courtyard out back.
“Smoke break,” Flynn said, handing Dagda a cigar. The men sat companionably in silence, Dagda on top of the picnic table so that his view through the back window was unfettered. Should any Domnua break through the front, he’d be there to help in under a second. Relaxing slightly for the first time that day, Dagda tasted the sweetness of the cigar and held it up in his hand.
“Thanks,” he said to Flynn.
“No problem. You looked like you needed it after Gracie. She’s hell on men.”
“You’ve got a handful there, that’s the truth of it,” Dagda said, charmed despite himself. “She’s got a way about her, though. You just can’t say no.”
“Nope, you really can’t. Disciplining her is virtually impossible. She just laughs at you and goes on doing what she wants anyway. But surprisingly, I’ve found she’s not stupid. She wants what she wants, but she never puts us or herself into harm’s way. So I’ve learned to ease up a bit. Keelin’s still hovering.”
“Women tend to do that,” Seamus said.
“Aye, they do at that. Though Bianca seems like she’s pretty solid,” Flynn commented.
“She’s the light of my day, she is. But I’ve mooned after her for years. Nearly made a damn fool of myself more than once and missed out on dating her several times over. When I finally saw my chance, I wasn’t going to miss it. I’m just lucky she felt the same way,” Seamus said, at ease with his love for Bianca.
“I feel the same with Keelin. I didn’t want to fall for her. I wasn’t ready for love. But here I am.”
Dagda shook his head. Were the men about to break out their pajamas and have a pillow party and talk about their feelings?
“Neala’s a beauty,” Flynn said, a smile on his face.
“Aye, she is,” Dagda agreed.
“Is she yours?”
“Mine? No, she’s mine to protect. But only as demanded by the goddess,” Dagda said stiffly, refusing to examine anything that came remotely close to having feelings for her.
“So you’re security then, nothing more?” Flynn asked, stretching long legs out in front of him.
“That’s the way of it,” Dagda said, steadfastly ignoring the underlying question, his eyes trained on the image inside.
Baird, the head doctor, had leaned in to have a chat with Neala, and she threw her head back and laughed. Her face danced, coming alive so that it was as bright as the sun, her hair boun
cing in red rivulets over her shoulders. It surprised him just how badly he wanted to be the one who made her laugh in that manner. She was a beauty just going about her business, but when Neala dropped her guard and laughed from the soul, she was breathtaking.
“See how he looks at her?” Seamus said to Flynn.
“The man’s a goner and he doesn’t even know it,” Flynn replied.
“Stubborn though,” Seamus said, tapping his cigar on the ash tray.
“Stubborn is for fools. I say make a move. Nobody knows what is destined in our path,” Flynn said.
“Do you think he’ll realize that?” Seamus asked.
“And admit he loves her?” Flynn studied Dagda. “Doubtful.”
Dagda jerked his head, coming back to the conversation, realizing that the men had been talking all along and that he’d been caught, staring like a lovesick fool at Neala through the window. Turning, he saw both Flynn and Seamus beaming at him.
“Shut it,” Dagda growled.
“Not gonna happen, my friend,” Seamus said, laughing as Dagda glowered at him.
“It’s clear you love the lass,” Flynn said, gesturing with his cigar through the window. “Why don’t you make your move?”
“I don’t… that’s ridiculous. I just… she’s a pretty woman. That’s all,” Dagda spat, furious with the lot of them.
“Pretty amazing, too. She’s handled all this exceptionally well for being tossed into mid-battle with a bunch of magickal beings that she didn’t even know existed last week,” Seamus said around the cigar sticking out of his mouth.
“That’s a handy quality in a woman,” Flynn agreed. “Adaptable and flexible, but has a backbone. All good things.”
“That’s doesn’t mean I love her,” Dagda said, shaking his head at them. “I can’t love her.”
“Why not?” Flynn asked.
“I barely know her. Well, she barely knows me. I know her, but in a weird from-afar way, since I’ve had to watch her for a while. She doesn’t know me. Or understand me. It wouldn’t work, is all. It’s best not to make things messy,” Dagda said, exasperated with the conversation.
“Are you worried she won’t love you back?” Flynn asked, his eyes narrowed in consideration.
“That’s it. I’m done with this conversation. Cacklin’ out here like a bunch of hens. I thought we’d be having a smoke and a men’s talk. I’m going back to the women. At least they seem to have some sense,” Dagda declared. He stormed inside, leaving the grinning men in the courtyard behind him.
“I’d say our work is done here,” Flynn said, raising his pint glass to Seamus.
“Couldn’t have done it better if we’d planned it out. The man’s family has all but disowned him, from what I understand. I can see where it would make him a wee bit nervous to be taking a chance on love,” Seamus said, swigging a refreshing sip of his Guinness.
“He’ll get over it,” Flynn said, pointing at Neala through the window. “Even if he doesn’t want to love her – he’ll have to.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Once again, they were paired in the same room and Neala could practically hear the matchmakers singing their way to their apartments, hoping something would transpire between the two of them. Despite her misgivings, Neala hummed as she readied herself for sleep, pulling down the comforter on one of the two double beds in the small apartment tucked in a building behind Gallagher’s Pub. Dagda studiously ignored her as he paged through a book, stretched out on his own bed.
They’d ended the night not too long ago, as it was way past baby Grace’s bedtime – not that she allowed anyone to put her to bed when she didn’t want to sleep, Neala was told. It seemed to Neala that Grace was a miniature monarch, holding court over the lot of them, and she wondered if it was because of her extensive powers or her extensive charm. Perhaps both. Thinking back on how she’d wrapped Dagda around her little finger, Neala laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Dagda said from his bed.
“I was just thinking about how baby Grace had your number. She certainly knows how to get what she wants.”
“Little terror,” Dagda growled, paging through his notebook.
“She’s a doll and you know it,” Neala said, delighted with him.
“Trouble,” Dagda said.
“Oh, that’s the truth of it. They’ll have a run for their money with that one.” Neala laughed again and then bounced her way into the bathroom. Deciding she had enough time for a quick rinse, she undressed, showering quickly but keeping her hair piled on her head. After a quick swipe with her toothbrush, she pulled her white t-shirt over her head, and put the green silk panties back on. Deciding for a moment whether she needed to fully redress just to cross the room to her bed and then undress again, Neala decided against it. They were both adults on a deadly mission. He’d bought her the damn panties, for crying out loud. It wasn’t a big deal. They covered as much as a swimsuit would. With that decision made, she left the bathroom and walked across the room, refusing to spare Dagda a glance as she placed her folded clothes on the chair next to her bed.
“What are you playing at?” Dagda asked.
Neala swung around, surprised to find him standing behind her. She’d not even heard him move from the bed. Her heart quickened its beat in her chest and her eyes trailed up his bare chest to his scowling face.
“I’m sorry? I’m certain I don’t know what you’re implying,” Neala said.
“You come strolling past me half-naked, shaking your bum for me to see. What kind of games are you playing?” Dagda demanded.
“I’m not playing any games. I just didn’t see the sense in getting fully dressed just to cross the room and then undress again before going to bed. That’s all,” Neala said, nervously licking her lips.
His eyes zeroed in on where her tongue had just been and Neala felt heat zip through her. She wondered what would happen if she reached up and stole a kiss from him.
“It’s not proper. A less honorable man than I could get the wrong idea,” Dagda scowled.
“And what idea would that be?” Neala asked.
“That you… that you want…” Dagda raked his hand through his hair.
“Are you saying that what I’m wearing implies I want sex?” Neala asked, raising her chin in anger at him.
“No. And yes. But no. And, no. Not like that. Just… in this situation. Beds, tension, growing attraction…” Dagda all but stuttered in his frustration and Neala found herself completely charmed, once again, by this man who would do anything to stop a baby girl from crying and would worry about men taking advantage of Neala.
“Are you saying you’re attracted to me, Dagda?” Neala asked, tilting her head at him in question, seizing on the last part of what he said.
“What? No, I was not saying that.” Dagda broke off from what he was stammering about and glared at her.
“Oh? You don’t think I’m pretty?” Neala asked. She reached up to pull the band from her hair so that it tumbled over her shoulder, and stuck her lip out in a pout.
“No, it’s certainly not that. Of course you’re pretty. Even a blind man could know that,” Dagda said, raking a hand through his hair once again. “I just…”
“You just what? You don’t want me?” Neala asked the question hovering between them. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was poking the bear – she wasn’t even sure if she was ready for the response she might get, or whether she could handle it. Perhaps it was the Guinness she’d drunk, enough to make her mellow and not worried about her heart hurting. Or perhaps it was watching the closeness and intimacy of all the couples around her tonight and, just for a moment, craving that with someone too.
“More than you know.” Dagda’s words, said on a rasp, were followed swiftly by his lips, and Neala gasped as his hands dove into her hair, bringing her chin up so that she met his lips.
It was like being devoured by flames, Neala thought, when sane thought was able to slip through her mind again. The man vibrated wit
h energy, his touch on her skin creating a heat like none she’d ever known, and she moaned into his mouth as he coaxed her lips open to suck gently at her tongue.
At her moan, Dagda pulled back, looking slightly stunned as his eyes met hers.
“I’ve watched you and ached for you… for ages now. Will you let me touch you? I’ve burned for this,” Dagda said, his hands once more at his side as he stepped back and allowed her to make the choice. Neala noted that he said nothing about loving her, but then why the hell should he? She’d certainly had sex with men she’d spent less time with, and been less attracted to, than this man. It would be weird to be throwing the big L-word around after knowing someone a matter of days.
Saying nothing, Neala reached out and took his hands – surprised at how they all but swallowed hers – and brought them to her waist beneath the t-shirt. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his, leaning into the kiss. It was all the assent Dagda needed. He growled into her mouth as he ran his hands up her curves, cupping her breasts lightly before walking her backwards to the bed. In one move he lifted her as if she weighed nothing – a feat no man had managed before – and laid her gently on the bed.
Propping herself on her elbows, Neala smiled at Dagda, suddenly feeling a little shy as he stood over her, studying her.
“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I imagine it’s how the stars feel when the moon rises. For even though they see thousands of other lights twinkling brightly away in the sky, when the moon rises, the other stars just fade into the background,” Dagda said, his voice husky as he straddled her on the bed, his arms coming up on either side of her head.
His words took her breath away and she reached up to run a hand over his cheek. He turned his face to press a kiss to her palm, sending a tingle through her. It was probably one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her.
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