by Vi Carter
“I don’t believe you.” She dips her head again as a soft laugh bubbles from those perfect lips.
Tipping her head up towards me her laugh falls silent and she swallows. “I wasn’t calling you a liar.” That fear that I am so used to seeing filters across those perfect brown eyes.
“You could if you wanted to, Margret,” I say and her brows furrow with confusion.
“You can say anything to me. Don’t you ever fear me.”
She nods and I move closer until my lips brush her warm ones. She’s soft and molds against me perfectly. My fingers entwine with silky chestnut hair.
“I’ve waited far too long to do that.” I tell her when I break the kiss. She looks confused again and I smile as we start to walk.
Chapter Four
Margret Hegarty
He’s holding my hand as we walk through Kells. I wouldn’t dare walk through the town this late at night and I almost laugh at the thoughts of someone stopping Michael O’Reagan. He was the most dangerous thing on the streets. I take a peek at his strong jaw line, the moon reflects off his face softening all the sharp angles. It’s his eyes that have always captured me. The blue so light in color, but dark with life.
“Tell me something about you that no one else knows?” He stops walking and his focus is solely on me. I try not to move away from him and instead enjoy his attention.
“When I was seventeen, I saw you for the first time in church. You had a pink ribbon holding back your hair, it was shredded slightly.”
My chest tightens as he speaks. My mother didn’t want me to wear such a bold color and had pulled it from my head damaging the ribbon. Once she had left the kitchen I had stuffed it in my pocket and later placed it back in my hair. The wooden spoon was my punishment later, but I hadn’t regretted it. I had felt pretty for the first time in a long time.
“You had looked at me and smiled.” We stare at each other now just like we did that day in church. A part of me had believed that it had been one sided.
“Tell me something about you that no one else knows.”
My heart gallops his questioning frightening me, but it was only fair.
“I still have that ribbon.” Now I can’t hold his eye. “It reminds me of the day you smiled at me.”
Looking back up at him my breath catches as he leans in and steals a kiss. The kiss is deep, and it flows all the way down to my toes before moving back up through my body. I’d never been kissed, but this didn’t feel awkward. I felt like a movie star. I felt desirable.
A man walking a dog moves past us and I settle back down on my feet. My hands still cling to Michael’s large shoulders. I don’t want to release him; I don’t want to lose this moment with him.
How many women had he taken on dates, swooned with words. Where did I fall into a very long line of broken hearts? My mother warned me, she wasn’t as against Michael for how he earned his money. She was against his ways with women.
I push away all those thoughts and look up into pale blue eyes that streak across my face. I reach out and allow my fingers to run along his jaw bone. I feel sad now, like I got a taste of something that I know I will never taste again, but at least I know.
“It’s getting late,” I say while tracing his jawline. “I should go home.”
“Of course.” Michael’s words disappoint me. I didn’t expect him to protest loudly, but I didn’t want him to give in so easily. I step away from him and we start to walk back towards the restaurant and to his car.
“How will you get back inside your house?” He asks and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
“I sleep downstairs so I’ve left my window ajar.” When I glance at Michael, his lip tugs up.
“I hope this is your first time sneaking out Margret. I don’t think I will be able to sleep very well picturing you gallivanting at night.”
A small quick laugh bubbles up my throat. “You sound just like my father.”
His hand rests on my arm and we stop walking. “I’m not joking. The streets aren’t safe. Tell me you won’t ever sneak out again.”
“I won’t,” I say at his serious tone. If he told me to raise my hands right now, I would. He was scary when he was serious.
“Good. You can only do it to see me.” My heart jumps in my chest.
“So we will be seeing each other again?” I feel bold by being so direct.
“Yes. Wednesday night at eight.”
That was only two nights away. “It seems unfair,” I say as we stop at his car.
“What does?”
I lean against the door so I’m facing Michael. He’s making me feel very bold. “That I can only sneak out for you.”
He’s moved closer, his eyes flash angrily and I wonder again if I have overstepped the line. “If I have to put a man at your window every night to keep you in, I will do that.”
Power flows through me at his words. I want to push the boundaries but his eyes still flash angrily.
“There will be no need for that. I’ll stay put,” I say and he relaxes.
“You’re not going to be easy.” He says it more to himself and I can’t stop the smile that travels across my face.
“For some reason I don’t think you want easy.” I step closer to him. My legs are like jelly but I refuse to show it.
“I know what I want and I always get what I want.” I believe him. My hand trembles as it rests on his chest. I hope he can’t tell how nervous I am.
“What do you want, Michael?” I ask as I look up into his eyes. His fingers travel into my hair as he tightens his hand on my neck.
“You,” he tells me before he closes the distance.
Chapter Five
Michael O’Reagan
“Mr. O’Reagan I swear it wasn’t …” The boy hits the concrete hard. The impact a warning to the other three who are lined up and ready for questioning.
Richard drags the boy back up and into formation. It’s cold today, and this is the last place I want to be. The old farm yard hasn’t seen livestock in a very long time. It was away from the rest of the world and it was a place where I carried out punishments. It was something I had learned. You had to rule your kingdom with an iron fist. Someone always lurked close by ready to snatch it from you and that wouldn’t happen to me.
“You are like my children. Do I not give protection to you and your families?” I look at each boy. Two of the boys look at the ground and tremble. The one who tried to speak is staring at me.
“Do I not feed your families?” I step closer to Craig, he was young. Maybe fourteen and he was a runner for me. I was just as young as him when I worked for Mr Malone. The only difference between me and these boys was my loyalty ran deep. They would cut my throat to try to sit on my throne. But they were only boys. Not large enough to fill it.
“Do I not teach you how to have all this?” I step closer to Craig.
“It wasn’t me.” He’s shaking his head, but he isn’t trembling like the rest. But he should be. I know it’s him. I knew from the moment I stepped into this room.
“So who was it then?” I asked Craig, and he shrugs his shoulders. He’s the newest runner to my crew. I nod feeling disappointment. Lies. I didn’t accept them.
“Richard, take the boys home.” They all look at me now. Uncertainty flashes in their eyes.
“Craig you stay.” Craig shows his first signs of fear. His eyes dart to the hurried steps of the other boys.
“I didn’t do it.” This time his words fall flat but he still holds his head high.
“I’m disappointed,” I admit. I had picked him because I had thought I had seen something in him that lay deep inside me. The want to belong, the want to prove that I wasn’t a nobody. All my father had was a push bike and hands like shovels. My mother loved him. I didn’t. I remember thinking I would never become him. I would be bigger, stronger, better.
“Take off your clothes.”
Johnny
one of my men steps into the barn and I give him a brief nod.
Craig folds his arms over his chest. “No way.”
His bravery again was making me think twice. “If you don’t, Johnny here will cut your fingers from your hands.” His clothes quickly form a pile in front of him.
It’s cold outside as Craig shuffles in front of me covering his manhood. His face holds real fear now.
“Keep walking,” I tell him and he faces forward. His shoulders shake with silent sobs. We reach the large tree that I pat when I arrive. I called her the watcher. Johnny has followed us out, rope in hand and I give him the nod. Craig doesn’t protest as he’s tied to the large beast of a tree.
“It’s a cold night, Craig,” I say and step away as Johnny drenches him with a bucket of water.
His startled scream won’t be heard. “Stealing from me comes with a death sentence. Right now I am allowing God to make the decision of whether you live or die. If you’re alive in the morning, I will let you go.” His blue lips tremble and I think God has already made up his mind.
“Please, Mr O’Reagan. I’ll do anything.”
I’m nodding as he speaks. They always plead when the reality sinks in. “The only certainty is that you will never steal from me again.”
***
I’m standing across the road again waiting for Margret. This time I feel more nervous than the first. Checking my watch I look up as I hear footsteps. She’s smiling, her hair loose around her face, and she looks even more beautiful. She runs across the road to me and stops abruptly a few paces away. I can see it there in her eyes. She wants to kiss me but fear maybe of being seen is keeping her still.
“Why do you always wear a suit?”
The question surprises me. “I don’t know. I like them.” I answer her honestly. “I also think I look very handsome in a suit.”
Her laugh is quick and lights up her eyes. Her blue dress is loose but still manages to catch on her curves, giving her an innocent look but when the material gathers in the right places all I want is her in my arms, in my bed.
“Are you ready?” I ask and she links her arm with mine. She takes a final glance at her home before we go to my car.
There’s an auction on in Kells. Usher’s auction. It’s where I pick for our second date. I hope I’m right but I think it will impress Margret.
“Where are we going?” I don’t answer as I open her car door and help her out, she takes my hand and the heat from her skin is instant.
“It’s an auction,” I say as I close the car door behind her.
“What kind of auction?” Her weary words make me smile and when I look at her she blushes.
“What kind of auction are you implying, Miss Hegarty?” Her cheeks deepen.
As we move closer and she can finally read the sign, she smiles up at me. “Furniture,” she says with a grin.
“Not just furniture. But treasures.”
Chapter Six
Michael O’Reagan
The area is full and no matter where my eyes go they always land back on Margret. She’s as fascinated as I knew she would be. Everything she touches I make a note of. Every pause. I’m not the only one watching her. Johnny is here writing down each lot piece, so it’s hers, it’s ours. She’s so gentle as she opens a book and flicks through it like the story might pour out around her feet.
“Mr O’Reagan.” Mr Usher the owner holds out his hand and I take it. “It’s fantastic to have you here.”
“It’s been too long.” I tell him. It had been, work took up everything but now with my business thriving, I had time to focus on all the other pieces that I had ignored.
“Don’t ever be a stranger.” He pats my shoulder gently before walking away. I find Margret easily, her hands skimming over more old books. Johnny is right behind her taking notes. She glances at him a few times and when he looks at me I give him a nod. He moves away a few paces giving Margret some room.
The O’Rourke’s arrive. All noise and overbearing words. They own a lot of Kells and their snobbery isn’t something I mingle with. We give each other a wide berth and stay with Margret. She must sense me watching. Looking up she inhales deeply and mouths “Hi.” I’m aware we are being watched.
“Hi.” I mouth back and she smiles. She doesn’t look away as I walk around to her. She continues flickering through the books, but it doesn’t hold her attention any longer.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” I ask her over her shoulder. A small freckle behind her ear has me licking my lips wanting to kiss it.
But I wouldn’t dare have anyone talk about her. So I keep my lips to myself, reluctantly.
“Not tonight.” She glances at me over her shoulder.
I lean in closer deliberately letting my breath stroke her neck. “You are beautiful,” I tell her and reach around her taking a book from a stack in front of her. “You like to read?” I ask her neck.
“I like pretty books.” She answers as I examine the book in my hands. It is pretty with Celtic designs coating the hardback cover.
“Me and you both,” I say before slipping away with the book in my hand. I continue the same ritual for the next twenty minutes. Staying far enough away to give her room but close enough so I can watch her.
She’s aware now that I’m following her, but she doesn’t look up. It has become a battle of wills. My attention slips as one of the O’Rourke’s steps close to her. He’s young, boyish looking and foolish for approaching her. He moves far too close to her and Johnny takes a step towards them but I hold up my hand stopping him. Words are passed and Margret slams the book shut that’s in her hands, fire lights up her eyes as she turns to a red faced O’Rourke. I make my way around to her as the same time his older brother Jason does. We meet nearly at the same time.
“Is everything okay?” I ask Margret and she startles. Her chest is red, the color spreading up her neck.
“I only paid her a compliment.” The smell of drink is heavy and Jason tightens his hold around his young brother’s upper arm.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” Margret speaks between gritted teeth. The young boy laughs and I join him.
“No harm done,” I tell them and now Jason looks at me.
“Let him apologise.”
I shake my head and continue to smile. “It’s not necessary.”
Margret looks back at me with a look of pain in her eyes. Like I’ve just betrayed her.
“I’m not apologising to her.” The boy can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.
“Shut your mouth now, Victor.” It’s now he looks up at Jason, maybe the seriousness of the situation worming it’s away through his foggy brain.
“Enjoy the auction boys.” I walk away while taking Margret’s arm gently. I’m waiting for her to pull away but she doesn’t.
“What did he say to you?” I ask without looking at her.
“You didn’t seem interested a few moments ago.” The fire in her voice has me stopping.
“Tell me now.” I’m facing her and can see the hurt and embarrassment that’s fleshed into her perfect face.
“I looked like someone who rolled in straw.” Her hand flutters to her neck. “I never have… or would.”
“I know Margret.” I do. I know she has never been touched. No one dared to touch her. She was mine. I made sure of it.
“Don’t let him spoil our evening,” I say and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. It’s then my eyes meet Jason’s. He knows the warning flashes in my eyes. They shuffle their brother from the auction room. Johnny is already on their heels.
“Why don’t we go?” Margret nods instantly. “Just give me one minute.”
I leave her and find Mr Usher in his office.
“I got that list off Johnny,” he says waving the slip of paper towards me.
“I want everything on it,” I say and he removes his glasses.
“You aren’t the only bidding.”
“I want them. The cost doesn’t matter.”
He sits up straighter. “Very well. It will be yours.”
“You might try to keep the bidding fair. I wouldn’t want to over pay either.” My warning rings clear in his office and he slips his glasses back on.
“I’m a fair man.”
“So am I.”
Chapter Seven
Margret Hegarty
It had been weeks since I meet Michael and each time I snuck out and spent time with him, the deeper I fell for him. I was falling so hard that there was no way back. I had nothing to catch onto; there was nothing to break my fall.
“Margret that’s burning,” My mother’s sharp tongue wakes me from my slumber. The small sheet of smoke clings to the ceiling of the room but once my mother opens the oven door a blast bursts out; I cough and cover my mouth.
“The door.” She coughs while pulling out the trays. I open it as she throws the tray of brown bread out onto the lawn. I follow her outside, with burning eyes.
“Child I don’t know where your heads at these days. But take it out of the clouds.”
As the smoke leaves, I’m staring at the smouldering black blocks. “I’ll quickly go to Tim’s and get more ingredients.”
My mother looks nervously at the sky. “We should wait until your father returns.”
“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t wait. I need to fix this.”
“You need to focus, Margret.” There is a sadness in her eyes like she knows I was daydreaming about Michael, like that’s all it is, a daydream.
“I love him,” I admit.
“Love.” She tuts and shakes her head focusing on the brown bread. “That’s for fools.”
“What about Father?”
“He’s a good man. A good husband and a good father.” But there is no mention of love. I want to tell her right here and now as we stand over the wasted ingredients that I wasn’t like her. I wouldn’t settle for good.