Wild Irish Dreamer
Book 8 in the Mystic Cove Series
Tricia O’Malley
Lovewrite Publishing
Wild Irish Dreamer
Book 8 in The Mystic Cove Series
Copyright © 2020 by Lovewrite Publishing
All Rights Reserved
Editor:
Elayne Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without express permission of the author. This includes reprints, excerpts, photocopying, recording, or any future means of reproducing text.
If you would like to do any of the above, please seek permission first by contacting the author at: [email protected].
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Secret chapter
Ms. Bitch
Authors Note
The Isle of Destiny Series
The Mystic Cove Series
The Siren Island Series
The Althea Rose Series
Author's Note
Author's Acknowledgement
“You may say I'm a dreamer,
But I'm not the only one.” – John Lennon
Chapter 1
You almost lost him.
Fi awoke in a sweaty mess of sheets, her heart hammering in her chest, her mind stuck in the boggy ground between waking and sleep. Having shot upright at the voice that raged in her dream, she now plopped back to her pillows, gasping, and attempted to sift through the images that threatened to slip from her mind. It was the cove, she was sure of that, for no dreams ever spoke to her as vividly as the ones that came from the enchanted waters in the cove. The problem was, this wasn’t her first time – and likely not her last – having prophetic dreams involving her hometown.
It was her bloodline that had enchanted the waters there, after all.
It was probably just another dumb tourist who refused to listen to the advice of the locals. Fi sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, willing her breathing to calm down. Every year, someone was seriously injured at the cove. Despite the posted warnings, despite the local people educating visitors about the vicious undertow, someone always insisted on trying to venture down the steep trail to the deceptively tranquil beach in the cove. They quickly learned their mistake, they always did, but sometimes at a steep price.
The cove was magickal, as was her blood, a gift which Fi often did her best to suppress. It wasn’t that she detested what had been passed down to her through her bloodline – it was more that Fi just wanted to do everything on her own. She’d been like that since she came screaming from her mother’s womb, ready to take on the world, and nobody could tell her differently. Sometimes the gifts of magick that had been passed down from the great Grace O’Malley herself came in useful for Fi, but for the most part, she tried to ignore them; it was vitally important to her that she conquer the world without any extra help.
The dreams, though – those were another story.
“Who am I losing?” Fi demanded out loud, closing her eyes and willing herself to see. Of course, the one time she did want her gifts to work, all she could get was vague snatches of the cove and someone in incredible pain. Worried it could be someone close, Fi checked the time and picked up her phone.
“Aye, and to what do I owe this pleasure? Me own wayward daughter, running about the world with not a moment to call her mum.”
Fi grinned at Cait’s words through the phone, having just spoken with her two days ago.
“I’m positively a stranger these days, I am. ’Tis a right shame I bring to the family,” Fi agreed.
“Your father is convinced you’ve become a groupie to a band and have gone to drugs now.”
“A groupie? That’s insulting. I’d start me own band, that’s the truth of it,” Fi scoffed, offended that her father would think she’d just blindly follow some deadbeat musicians around the world.
“Ah, so it’s just the drugs then,” Cait said.
“Naturally. But I just sell them. It’s how I fund this fancy lifestyle of mine. But I don’t use. Never get high on your own supply, as they say,” Fi said, stretching her legs out and letting her mum’s voice soothe her pounding heart.
“’Tis the smartest way. It’s why I’ve only a nip or two of the whiskey when I’m working,” Cait agreed.
“Is… everything okay?” Fi asked, closing her eyes so she could read her mother’s voice.
“I believe it to be. Have you had a dream then?”
“Aye, about the cove. Maybe have someone give it a check and make sure another tourist hasn’t ended up down there?”
“Shane, your daughter says check the cove. Have a call over there, will ye?”
“Tell her to come home.”
“She’ll come when she’s ready.”
“Tell him I’ll be home for Grace’s hen party soon,” Fi promised.
“Oh, right. Have you ideas for it then?”
“I do…”
Fi spent the next half hour chatting comfortably with her mum while the anxiety drifted from her neck and shoulders. All seemed to be well at the cove, so Fi shrugged it off as an odd dream and left it at that. No need to search for more troubles – she already had enough on her plate. Speaking of which, she needed to finish her project for today so she could spend the rest of the day shopping for supplies for Grace’s party. But first, coffee.
In the time since she’d been living on the Amalfi Coast, Fi had learned to love strong coffee like her Italian neighbors, though she preferred to linger over it on her small terrace overlooking the water if the weather was nice instead of taking it like a shot at the counter of the coffee shop below. Try as she might, Fi had never mastered the art of waking quickly, and she’d learned to build time into her mornings to ease into the day and wake her brain up. Fi now took this routine to sit by her window where she could read the paper – yes, the actual paper – and savor her morning espresso.
As a translator specializing in Italian, Spanish, and French, Fi thought it necessary to immerse herself where she worked. Hence the Italian paper, which she read every morning, front to back. It helped to loosen her mind and get her thinking in Italian, after which she could sit down to whatever contract she was translating and work with confidence.
Today, though, her brain struggled to focus. Inexplicably, she was drawn back to the memory of a man whose image periodically drifted through her mind. Liam Mulder. She wondered where he was these days.
She hadn’t been long out of university when she’d first met him. Fi thought back, closing her eyes and tipping her face up to the sun that struggled to shine through t
he clouds.
She’d been green, eager for work, and ready to take on the world. Sean Burke, Margaret’s husband and kin to Fi, had hired her to translate a contract for his shipping company up in Dublin. Fi still remembered her first day: Dressed in a smart black suit and wearing sky-high red heels, she’d walked into the meeting and realized just how egregiously overdressed she was. Scattered around the table were a slew of men in denim pants and button-down shirts, sleeves casually rolled to their elbows. Immediately recognizing her dismay, Sean had welcomed her and put her at ease, a warning look in his eyes for the others. Only Liam had smiled widely at her, including her in on the joke she’d made of herself. She’d immediately taken to him.
Through their negotiations – Sean was acquiring two new ships from an Italian shipping company – Fi had found herself laughing and chatting with Liam. There was something about the careless confidence he’d exuded that had pulled Fi in.
When he’d invited her for a drink after work, Fi had eagerly accepted. But when she arrived back at Sean’s house, where she’d been staying the night to catch up with him and Margaret, he had called to cancel.
“Work conflicts,” Liam had said, apologizing gracefully.
“It’s not our time,” Fi had replied, then pulled the phone away to look at it in shock. Where had that come from?
“Is that so? Well, you’ll have to let me know when it is,” Liam had said, and Fi had hung up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What was wrong with her?
“That Liam?” Sean had asked, watching her carefully from across the table.
“Aye, that was. He called off meeting up tonight.” Fi shrugged.
“That’s a lad. Wouldn’t want to mix business and pleasure,” Sean had said, and then gruffly changed the subject. That was when Fi had realized Sean had scared Liam off.
Goddess save her from overbearing family. Vowing then and there to follow her dream of being independent and traveling the world, Fi had eagerly accepted the next client project that allowed her to travel. Off she’d gone, and Liam had faded into the past.
Just a memory… or so she’d thought.
Chapter 2
It must have been six or so years before she’d happened upon Liam once again. It was completely by chance, as things often are, and Fi almost hadn’t recognized him when he’d pulled up a chair at the little table where she was sitting outside a small restaurant on a back street in Pula, Croatia. Glancing up, she’d composed her face into a coolly distant look, ready to dismiss whoever had dared to interrupt her rare moment of alone time.
“Fi?”
“Ah… yes? Oh my – Liam, right?” Fi had asked, a delighted grin stealing across her face.
“Correct. I thought that might be you, but I had to do a double take. You’ve cut your hair,” Liam said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“And you’ve grown yours.” Fi smiled once more, leaning back into her chair and studying him. He’d grown, she realized, in more ways than one. He was more masculine now, with a scruff of beard and hair a few months past a haircut, and his sea-blue eyes seemed to promise tales of faraway lands.
“Aye, life at sea will do that to a lad, I suppose,” Liam said, running a hand through his chestnut hair. With enough time in the sun, Fi imagined, his hair would go to red, but just now it was a deep brown with hints of amber and gold woven through.
“Have you been on the water then? Less time in business meetings, more at sea?”
Liam paused when the waiter stopped at their table, and raised an eyebrow at her as if to ask whether it was all right for him to order. He waited until she gave a small nod, and then ordered enough food to feed ten men, along with two types of wine.
“Will there be more joining us?”
“I’ve been at sea for the last two weeks, my lady, and the food on board is not quite up to this level. I plan to indulge myself. And since you’re here, I’m assuming you’re hungry as well, so I took the liberty of ordering for us both.”
“How do you know I didn’t already order?”
“No bother then, I’ll eat your share as well.” Liam had smiled and Fi found herself charmed by him.
“I haven’t yet ordered my food, so I’ll take you up on your non-invitation to dinner.”
“See? And since I didn’t invite you to dinner, then Sean can’t run me off again,” Liam said, nodding his thanks to the waiter who deposited red wine and two glasses on their table, along with a basket of bread. “May I?”
“You may,” Fi said, tilting her head to look at Liam’s face. “So it was Sean who made you change your mind that time you asked me for a drink.”
“That it was. I can’t be blaming him, either. I think every man in the room would have given it a go if Sean hadn’t laid down the law.”
“Given it a go?” Fi raised a delicate eyebrow at the phrase.
“Sure. Taken a chance on asking you out. I was the only one ballsy enough to try. I like taking risks though.” Liam held up his glass and Fi automatically did the same with hers, clinking it gently against his.
“Slainté.”
“And yet, you still canceled on me,” Fi said, sipping the wine and letting the flavors roll over her tongue. Her cheeks felt flushed – not from the wine, but rather the frank appreciation in Liam’s gaze upon her.
“Aye, ’tis true, I did. I didn’t realize the family connection until later. As Sean was a colleague, I had to respect his wishes. It’s not a bad thing, either. I’ve learned over the years to never mix business and pleasure. It inevitably muddies the waters, and it’s never worth it.”
“Is that so? I’m inclined to agree, but I’m a curious sort, Liam,” Fi said, leaning over to pick a piece of rosemary bread from the basket. “Care to tell me how you learned that lesson?”
“I’d be lying if I said I learned it right away. It took me a round or two to hammer it home – the most recent one being the worst of them. I think that’s me done with working with my romantic partners, and that’s the truth of it.”
Fi paused, reading real pain in his eyes. Keeping her mental shields up, as she didn’t want to pry into his thoughts, she waited. Her mother had taught her at a young age that their gift of reading others’ thoughts was not something to be used in a harmful or disrespectful manner. She’d borne the brunt of a few disgruntled outbursts when she’d spoken other people’s thoughts in the shops as a child.
“Silence? I see you’ve learned a few things at the negotiating table.” Liam sighed and leaned back in his chair, running one hand over the scruff on his chin. “Her name was Vera and she was working the financials on a recent shipping contract I was project-managing. Despite myself, I was drawn to her and crossed the boundary. We dated for over a year – quite seriously, I thought.”
“Where is Vera from?”
“She’s Russian.”
“Were you working in Russia?”
“No, here in Croatia. We’ve been contracted here for almost a year. I… I thought there was more to the relationship than there was.”
Despite her best efforts, Fi got a mental flash of a ring box and Liam standing outside a doorway.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to tell me what happened?” Fi asked. She nodded when he held up the bottle to top off her wine glass.
“I was taken for a ride,” Liam said, and then paused, draining his glass and filling it once more. He grimaced and looked out across the street, pain slicing across his face before he shook it off. “It hurts to admit that more than anything, I think. I’m usually such a good judge of character.”
“Love can blind us,” Fi said, reaching out to pat his arm.
“Aye. That it did.”
“She cheated?”
“No. Well, at least not that I know of.” Liam shrugged. “But I overheard her having a conversation on the phone. They were very clearly discussing how much money I make.”
“Okay,” Fi said, sipping her drink and tapping a finger on her glass as she thought about
it, “but that’s not entirely unusual. Even though there’s been a shift in the mentality that the man has to take care of the woman, and I am all for women supporting themselves, I can see where her friends might want to be sure she was provided for.”
“It wasn’t quite like that. They were discussing bank accounts. And numbers. And what accounts to drain and wire money to.”
“Oh,” Fi said, stricken. Reaching across the table, she squeezed his hand, “Oh, that’s a tough one. I’m sorry. Did they get anything from you?”
“No, I backed away from the door quietly and changed all my info before breaking up with her.”
“Smart man. I’m sorry, that I am, Liam. Should we find her and do something decidedly nasty to her?”
Liam chuckled. “You’ve a bloodlust in you, Fi.”
“That I do. I think it’s the warrior in me. It’s in the blood.”
“I like that about you,” Liam said.
“Thank you. Just remember it, should you ever get on my bad side,” Fi promised.
“I’d like to get… and stay… on your good side.” Liam measured a look heavy with meaning across the table at her and Fi almost rolled her eyes. Of course he would try and push his feelings away by pretending to flirt with her.
Wild Irish Dreamer (The Mystic Cove Series Book 8) Page 1