Wild Irish Dreamer (The Mystic Cove Series Book 8)

by Tricia O'Malley

  Touched, Grace held a hand to her heart and looked around at the circle of women who beamed back at her. Fi leaned over and gave her the small box, and Grace carefully unwrapped the silvery paper, sighing in joy at the bracelet she found there. Handcrafted from silver, each stone in the bracelet represented a woman of their circle, and each had their own attribute. Rose quartz for Keelin and her mother’s love for Grace. Agate for Morgan, representing courage. And so on, all the way down to Fi’s stone – a sapphire for curiosity.

  “This is brilliant,” Gracie said, running her hands over the bracelet. “It’s really powerful, and I can feel how much love is pouring through these.”

  “It’ll help, you know, in your healing and your tonics,” Keelin said – she had always had an affinity for stones. “It should channel your energy through love.”

  “I can feel that.”

  “We’ll also add an extra touch of, um, oomph, I suppose,” Fi said, tripping over her words. This was the part she’d felt really uncomfortable with, but Keelin and Aislinn had insisted. “As a circle, now, we’ll pour our energy into blessing the bracelet. Fiona is here, and she’ll add her love as well.”

  There – she’d lightly danced around the words ‘magick’ or ‘power’ by using ‘energy.’ Love was energy, right? Decidedly uncomfortable, she glanced to Keelin, who registered the look on her face and smoothly took over.

  “From here, I’d like to put the bracelet in the middle of the circle and for all of us to hold hands.” Keelin waited as the women dutifully held hands, and all closed their eyes. Fi looked around for a moment, studying the serenity on each woman’s face, before closing her eyes. A warm hum began to vibrate through her core, like she had plugged herself into an electrical socket, and the feeling of it had her popping her eyes open again as Keelin began to speak.

  “We invite the circle to be ever open, yet always unbroken. May the love of the goddess bless this bracelet and be always in your heart. Nine women, nine stones, nine powers contain. Merry meet and merry part, and merry meet again.”

  Fi’s eyes widened as a flash – the blue of the deepest water of the cove – hovered above the bracelet for an instant before winking from sight. She blinked, looking around the circle to see everyone else smiling and content. How were these women so at ease with the magick they created? It was something that had never sat easily with Fi, and now once again she was forced to contend with it. It was hard to ignore what was directly in front of her face.

  “I can’t believe you allowed magick at my hen party.” Gracie laughed at Fi’s face as she picked up the bracelet and secured it on her wrist. It sparkled there like it was lit from within, and all the women nodded their approval.

  “It is your party, after all. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t include… well, what makes you you,” Fi said, shifting uncomfortably in her latex dress and wishing she’d made a different choice for her outfit.

  “And you, too. When you’re ready to accept it,” Gracie said, and Fi shifted again as all eyes turned to her.

  “It’s not that I’m not accepting it, and that’s the truth of it. It’s just not a comfortable thing for me. You’ve taken it like a duck to water, you have, Gracie. Since the moment you could walk you’ve been all fire and magick. But that’s not me.” Fi shrugged a shoulder.

  “You don’t have to live like Grace to accept your power,” Aislinn said softly.

  “I do accept it. I just don’t want to rely on it or use it to live.”

  “Is that what you think we do? Use it as a crutch to prop our lives up?” Keelin asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

  Fi realized she might be offending her family. “No, I don’t think that at all. I envy your ease with what you have. I’m just… I guess I’ve always needed to prove I can do it on my own. Without any added… abilities.”

  “But those abilities are you. You wouldn’t tell a rugby player not to use his muscles in a match. Or a singer not to use her voice. It’s just part of who you are,” Morgan said.

  “I… yes, I suppose,” Fi said, hating that the attention was on her once again. Seeing her distress, Gracie came to the rescue.

  “Enough about Fi. This is my night, ladies! I believe there was a round three?”

  “There is! At the pub. Shall we?” Fi jumped up, grateful to be leaving that particular discussion behind.

  “They’ll not let this go, you know,” Kira whispered at her shoulder.

  “As long as they lay off tonight, I can handle them,” Fi said back.

  “Then let’s party and I’ll steer them away if I see you cornered.”

  “Hopefully it’ll be too loud for them to do any talking anyway,” Fi grinned.

  Chapter 18

  “It’s a club!” Grace crowed when they piled through the door of Gallagher’s Pub again.

  “It’s a pub club,” Kira amended.

  “The closest I could get to a dance club in Grace’s Cove.” Fi smiled and winked at Cait, who had been just as eager to help transform the pub into a swanky nightclub for the evening. They’d put Shane and a few of the other local lads to work all day while they were out, and now the pub barely resembled its usual charm. Instead, black velvet had been draped over the walls, hiding the Guinness adverts and whiskey signs, and a real disco ball had been hung in the middle of the ceiling. In the corner, a shiny DJ booth was set up and all the windows were covered in the same black velvet. Tall mirrored tables had been set at various points around the room, and twinkle lights and small candles completed the look. The only thing that remained the same was the long length of the polished bar that had always dominated Gallagher’s Pub.

  The DJ at the booth straightened and flashed the ladies a disarming grin before starting up “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”

  “Yes!” Aislinn shrieked and threw her hands in the air, shimmying her way across the… well, what was now the dance floor of Gallagher’s Pub.

  “Oh my.” Fi bit back a laugh.

  “Whiskey,” Grace decided, turning and looking imploringly at Fi. “We need all the whiskey.”

  “I’m on it,” Fi said. She caught Cait’s eye and they moved as one, mother and daughter’s movements so in sync that they barely missed a beat as they ducked under the bar, pulled out trays, glasses, and shot glasses. Because, of course, there would be shots.

  “Champagne as well?” Cait asked, brandishing a bottle she’d pulled from the glass cooler behind the bar.

  “Yes. I don’t know that I can see Margaret taking down a shot of whiskey.”

  “Then you don’t know Margaret,” Cait laughed. “But yes, she’ll likely drink a nice glass of red or some champagne instead.”

  “This is great. Look how much fun she’s having.” Fi smiled and leaned on the bar, looking out to the middle of the dance floor where Grace had thrown herself with more enthusiasm than actual grace.

  “Oh, here’s the others.” Cait nodded to the door and the cheers in the room grew as the rest of the women in the village piled through the door. Fi had thought it would be nice to invite everyone – it was a small town and with Gracie living here full-time, she didn’t want to exclude people. She’d designed the day to have some fun with the smaller, more intimate group of friends, and then the rest of the village could come party. She had spread word of the theme, and now Fi almost lost herself laughing at the mix of ridiculous bridal dresses walking through the door.

  “Would you look at Meredith? I swear her dress is so awful she looks beautiful,” Cait laughed, looking at the local baker who was done up in a gingham wedding gown. There were veils, trains, sparkles, and hair piled high on heads. It was like a fabric and makeup store had exploded in the room, and Fi could not stop laughing.

  “This turned out to be way funnier than I was expecting,” Fi admitted.

  “Go on now, get out there with your friends then. I can cover this bar with me eyes closed. I’ve got backup coming in just a wee bit – don’t you give me that look, Fi,” Cait warned, deflecting Fi
’s protest at her mother working on such a special night. But, knowing Cait, she would work all night. That was where she was happiest, Fi thought as she sashayed out onto the dance floor with a tray full of shots for everyone.

  “Ladies! Let the evening begin,” Fi called, and the women surrounded her.

  Hours later, everything had become a bit blurry. They had danced – oh, had they danced, Fi thought, chuckling softly to herself as she leaned against the bar. She had finally stepped breathlessly off the dance floor to seek out a glass of water. She wasn’t sure when the last time she’d danced was, Fi realized, let alone for hours on end while a DJ played on. Now, nearing one in the morning, Fi was astounded to see Margaret leap her way into the middle of the circle and start a nifty Irish step dance. Where had she learned that?

  Fi gulped down her glass of water eagerly, the cool liquid calming her breaths, and filled it once more. Then, moving around the side of the bar, Fi leaned against it to watch the dancers.

  When the door blew open, almost slamming against the wall with a loud crash, Fi jumped and her mouth dropped open. Frozen, she watched as Dylan’s stag party poured through the door with raucous cheers, coming to claim the women.

  Liam’s eyes locked on hers, and Fi froze as everything inside her turned to warm liquid heat.

  Chapter 19

  What was she wearing?

  The sight of Fi dressed in shiny latex that hugged every dip and curve of her slender body, and made her look like a dominatrix angel, had Liam pulling up short. Every thought in his brain seemed to tie up into one big knot, and his nerves went haywire, as his entire focus narrowed to Fi. He didn’t see the room, the other people, or anything other than this woman – his woman – standing against the bar, her luminous eyes wide in her face.

  When she licked her lips, Liam’s vision clouded and he started toward his woman.

  “Hey there, mate, slow it down.” Dylan blocked his trajectory across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. “I know what you’re about to do, but I’ll remind you her family is here.”

  Shaking his head to clear the blind lust that clouded his brain, Liam narrowed his gaze to meet Dylan’s.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m saying no.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in your drink enough by now to not talk reason to me?” Liam hissed.

  “I am. But even I can see this is a bad idea. You can’t throw her over your shoulder and leave. Not like this. Not this late. And definitely not when she’s dressed like that.”

  “She looks…”

  “Yes, like a wet dream. Which is why you’ll be treating her with nothing but respect. Or I’ll be taking you out of here myself. Understood?”

  “I…” Liam took a shaky breath, and then another. “Aye, mate. Understood.”

  “That’s a good lad. Now, be a gentleman and offer to buy her a drink.”

  “How am I supposed to talk to her when she looks like that?”

  “Don’t look down. Look at her face. The dress is… well, yeah, we can discuss that another time. I have my own bride to try and avoid manhandling.” Dylan shot a glance over to where Grace beckoned to him from the dance floor.

  “You’re far too reasonable at such a late hour on your stag party.”

  “Get me some whiskey then, lad. It’s gonna be a long night, I’m thinking,” Dylan laughed. He slapped Liam on the shoulder, certain the crisis was averted, and went to greet his bride on the dance floor. Cheers filled the room as they embraced, and despite where his head was at, Liam smiled after them.

  They’d had a long day of festivities, and for some reason it seemed the more Dylan drank, the more sober he became. Liam, along with the rest of the lads who had spent the day out at Flynn’s participating in Highland-style games and a cookout accompanied by a massive bonfire, all staggered around the room in various stages of drunkenness. Liam prided himself on being able to handle his drink, but he was decidedly not sober.

  Nor was Fi, by the looks of it, he thought as he approached her. She still stood at the bar, watching him. Schooling himself to keep his eyes on her face as he drew closer, he tried a bright smile in her direction.

  “Oh, that’s himself three sheets to the wind, isn’t it then?” Fi laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth when she hiccupped.

  “Would this be the time to point out pot and kettle being black?” Liam asked, leaning against the bar.

  “Sure and I’m a bit wobbly, I’ll admit it,” Fi sniffed, sticking her nose in the air and then breaking down into a laugh. “But that’s what hen parties are for, are they not? And what makes you think your stag party can go and interrupt my well-planned hen party?”

  “We missed our womenfolk,” Liam said with a shrug.

  “Bah, that’s a lie. You men always gripe about your women and how we talk too much. Now you want to be by us?”

  “Sure. We do think you talk too much. But we’d be lost without you,” Liam said. He raised an eyebrow at Fi’s look. “What’s that look for?”

  “Why, Liam. It sounds like you positively respect women.”

  “I do respect women. They make the world go ’round. They are fire and ice, strength and beauty, and manhood would die out into a cold and unforgiving place without women to right our ships. You’re the captains, the navigators, and the backbone of humanity. I adore and respect women, absolutely.”

  “And yet we talk too much.”

  “Nobody can be perfect, darling, though you’re damn close to it,” Liam admitted, not caring that his filter wasn’t in place this evening.

  “Am I now? Why’s that?”

  “You’re fiery, and yet unsure of yourself. You’re brilliant, but not posh about it. I like how courageous you are – going after what you want and traveling the world alone. Not many people could do that. You know how to listen, to be a friend; you can hang with the boys and yet be utterly and completely feminine when need be. You’re the perfect package, and I’m doing my damnedest not to look at you in this dress and think inappropriate thoughts right now.”

  “Damn it, Liam. You confuse me. You reject a tumble with me and yet say these things to me now. After how many whiskeys?”

  “It’s the way men work, darling. We’re complicated beings.”

  “Not that complicated,” Fi grumbled.

  Liam watched as she tugged at the latex bust of her dress. Groaning, he looked away.

  “Would you stop fidgeting? I’m trying not to look at the dress.”

  “What’s wrong with the dress?”

  “There is nothing wrong with the dress. You are every man’s fantasy in the dress. I’m trying to be respectful of you, but you’re wearing a fantasy outfit and it’s taken me brain in a decidedly naughty direction. This is not your fault; I am but a humble man with a very vivid imagination.”

  “Is that right? And what are you imagining, Liam?” Fi asked, licking her lips once again.

  Liam’s blood soared in his veins. “Nope. Not going there. I see your mum. And there’s your father. Don’t try my patience, Fi. You’re not being fair.”

  “I suspect you’re right, though I’m tempted to play with you a bit more,” Fi said.

  Her words sent lust raging through Liam. Taking a step back, he held up his hands. “I’m going to dance with your mum. Or someone else. Anyone.”

  “Nice chatting with you, Liam.” Fi beamed at him and gave a little waggle of her fingers before turning to bend across the bar and reach for a bottle of whiskey.

  Liam’s mouth went dry as he watched the latex stretch across her bum. Turning, he plunged wildly into the dancers, grabbing someone at random and twirling around, allowing the music to drum out the beat of lust in his head.

  “Well done, lad,” Dylan called as he bounced past Liam.

  “I hate you for bringing me here,” Liam shouted.

  “Nah, you’ll be fine. Drink up!” Dylan shoved a bottle of whiskey at him, one of many being passed through the crowd, and Dylan drank, not caring anymore wh
at the night would bring, so long as he could drown out thoughts of Fi in that dress.

  “Slainté, mate. This is going to be one hell of a wedding.”

  Chapter 20

  She’d switched to water. Probably for the best, Fi thought as she saw another woman make a fool of herself and throw herself into Liam’s arms. Turning, she washed glasses out of habit and tidied behind the bar.

  “This is the best party,” Gracie gushed, leaning over the bar to smack a kiss on Fi’s cheek. “Thank you so much for throwing it for me.”

  “It’s the best I could do in our little village since you refused to let me whisk you away for a weekend in France.”

  “Bah.” Gracie waved that away with one hand. “Who needs France? I’ve got everything I need right here.”

  “Do you?” Fi wondered, putting a glass down to lean her arms on the bar and look out at the dance floor where the DJ dutifully played on, though it was damn near three in the morning and people were dropping like flies.

  “Of course. Do you see that?” Gracie gestured out to where Cait and Keelin swayed to a song together, and Dylan paraded Aislinn in a sloppy circle around the dance floor. “That’s love. All of them. Each powerfully unique, each magickal in their own right, and they’re all right here. There’s more excitement and magick in this roomful of people than in the whole world. Why do I need to leave to find that? My roots are here, yes, but so is so much beauty and wonder. I love living on the cliffs, and feeling the ocean’s heartbeat in the cove, and watching my plants grow and become part of healing potions for the world. I’m content here, Fi. I don’t need to race around the world to be happy.”

  “I envy you that,” Fi sighed.

  “You could have that. If you let yourself.” Gracie nodded toward Liam.

  “My happiness should not be tied to a man. What kind of woman would I be if that was so?”