SmallTownDuke

by Forbes, Sara

  “Good. I want to kiss you.”

  “Stay where you are,” she says laughing and backing away. “You don’t want to be providing X-rated entertainment for your staff and guests.”

  It’s like she’s got a sixth sense because about thirty seconds later, when she’s just sliding into her car, my father enters the reception area with a broken wooden shelf under his arm.

  “Is that going on the bonfire?” I ask him wearily.

  “Of course.” He peers out the window at Cliona getting into her car. “What’s she still doing here?”

  I ignore that. Instead I ask, “What are you telling Lorcan about this bonfire? He’ll ask questions you know, especially when he sees the straw people. Burning his mother isn’t exactly sending a child-friendly message.”

  “He’ll understand about that when he’s old enough.”

  “We should just put a stop to it.”

  “You don’t get to decide on an old family tradition,” my father growls.

  “Old?” I scoff. “It’s only six years old. That’s not a tradition. That’s temporary insanity.”

  “Are you too good now to celebrate your poor, dead brother?”

  “I’m not saying that,” I say testily. “Of course, I’ll be there. The point was that Lorcan shouldn’t be.”

  “Good, because I thought you’d really lost all sense of family and loyalty there for a minute—cavorting around with Cliona Stephenson.”

  My gaze flickers involuntarily to her car’s tail-lights as she drives off, and he catches it.

  “Are the rumors true?” He asks his voice gruff with dismay and anger. “You and her?”

  What’s really killing me is that look of hope I his eyes—hope that I’m going to deny it. And I wish I could, but…

  “I’m sorry, but yes, It’s more than me just helping out with Lorcan. I like her, Da. I can’t help who I’m attracted to. No more than you can, or anyone can.”

  Da slams his walking stick down. “Of course you can help it. You have the choice of any girl in Ireland. Prettier, younger, richer, smarter. You could choose Mary Doyle down the road and she’d be a better match for you! But of all people, that witch Stephenson? Oh God, why?”

  My fists bunch up. “Don’t call her that.”

  “I’ll call a woman who cheated on my son and caused his death anything I feel like, thank you very much. I certainly don’t need permission form the coward who ran away after and left the mess behind for his family to clean up.”

  Whoa.

  I’m not going to win this argument so I say, “Da, she’s human. Owen’s death was an accident. Moore came over here last year and explained it all to your face. I believed him. So should you. She’s doing her best to move on. Everyone deserves a chance.”

  “A chance maybe. But sleeping around with her? That’s an affront to my dead boy. Owen,” he calls up plaintively to the ceiling. “If you’re up there, I’m truly sorry you have to witness this. Oh God.”

  “Oh God is right,” I mutter. “We’ll still hold the ceremony as always. But Lorcan’s attendance depends on his mother’s consent. Seriously, she could take you to court for this.”

  He snorts contemptuously. “And if she did, whose side would you be on?”

  *

  I’m sitting at the bar, a few hours later, nursing a Jameson-20. I’m doing double duty this evening—bar and reception area.

  I’m drinking faster than I should be. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shaken by Da’s reaction.

  Niall and Lorcan come back in the door with faces grimy and pink from exertion. They bring the smell of wood, damp leaves an ash with them.

  “Was it fun?” I ask, putting the whiskey behind a rack of brochures. Drinking on the job is not a good look.

  “It was,” Niall says with a wide grin. “I’ll leave him here now so you have the reception to yourself when she comes.”

  I look at him steadily. “Why would you say that?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Himself’s on the rampage about it, just so you know.” He indicates Da’s bedroom upstairs.

  “Has he turned in yet?” I ask hopefully.

  “Think so, yeah. You might have a bit of peace”

  I glance down at Lorcan who seems oblivious to what we’re talking about. “Well, I appreciate the heads up.”

  “Anytime.” Niall stretches his arms and then goes and retrieves his motorbike helmet form the shelf under the reception desk where he always keeps it. “Hey, I’m heading back to Dublin tomorrow, so you’re just going to have to manage on your own. I’ll be gone before you’re up in the morning, so I’ll say bye now.”

  I come around the desk and hug him. “Thanks for everything, bro. I’m sorry I stole your mid-term break away from you.”

  “’S all right. Nothing new. I’ve had fun. Especially with this little guy.” He smiles down at Lorcan whose cheeks turn red with pleasure.

  I feel I twinge of jealousy. Am I not the favorite uncle? But I snap out of it just as quickly. “Take care, Niall. Woo that Texan lass with your poetic words. And try not to start any fires in the lab.”

  “You got it. See you in July.”

  Lorcan sits in a chair quietly and watches the TV that’s off to the side perpetually displaying the news. There’s been a tornado somewhere in the mid-West of America and he’s fascinated enough by it not to want to move for a while. I watch it idly and take a furtive sip of my whiskey.

  I wish his mother would hurry up and get here. Maybe I can steal a kiss when she arrives. Anything more than that will be a bonus.

  16

  CLIONA

  I’ve never been excited at the prospect of collecting my son from Callaghan Castle before. I boot it down the lane. The lights of the hotel seem welcoming, something to look forward to, as opposed to something to dread. Although I could still face a whole bucketload of acrimony, depending on who’s on duty at the front desk.

  I see two heads in reception when I look in. One of them is clearly Lorcan. The other? Maybe Seamus, but it could equally be Niall. They have similar, stocky profiles from a distance. As I get closer and park, though, it’s clear from the beard that it’s Seamus. My heart lifts. I scramble out and hotfoot it to the door.

  The blast of warm air from the reception area is as welcoming as Seamus’s wide, unguarded smile. My heart gives a flutter.

  Lorcan comes running up to me and crashes into me with a hug. I pour all my pent-up affection for him, and for his uncle, into that one hug because I’m not sure if public displays of affection between the adults are going to be on the cards here.

  “Don’t I get a hug?” Seamus asks, answering my question.

  Lorcan stands back with an openly curious look. This is a drastic departure from the usual frosty relations he’s used to witnessing in this place.

  “Of course, Seamus,” I say perfunctorily.

  He winks back.

  Hugging a man whose bones I want to jump is actually trickier than anticipated, especially when my young son is watching with great attention. Seamus and I approach each other tentatively and end up standing about a foot apart. I lean in awkwardly, getting his scent of whiskey mixed with fresh leaves and soap. We’re all arms at first, then we press chest to chest, then my cheek grazes against his beard and I flashback to his head between my legs and that beard touching my inner thighs. This makes me flush violently. It’s almost impossible not to bury my head into his chest and groan out loud, but I manage to contain myself. I pull myself out of his embrace.

  “You’re stuck here for the night?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Some day we’ll stay over,” I blurt.

  “Oh yeaaah,” Lorcan enthuses. “Can we really?”

  “Yes,” Seamus and I say at the same time. Our gazes lock.

  Once again, I get that weird feeling of family.

  “Well…I’d best be going,” I say. “You will say hello to your father from me? And to Niall and Enda.”

  I’m s
aying this purely for Lorcan’s benefit, and Seamus’s wink acknowledges it. I couldn’t care less about saying hello to the father as he hates me, Niall’s a bit of a nutcase, quite frankly, and Enda’s not around. He’s moping up in Maynooth College in Kildare, trying to decide whether to join the priesthood or not. The only Callaghan I feel any warmth toward, is Seamus. But unfortunately, the others are equally related to Lorcan.

  “I’ll pass on your regards,” Seamus says. “Sorry you have to go.”

  The longing in his voice speaks directly to my soul.

  Still, I have things to be busy with. Like telling Lorcan about us. I can’t put it off any longer because the whole community probably knows by now. It’s the Ballytirrel way.

  *

  “Lorcan,” I say as we’re clearing off the supper plates later, “You know what it means when people are dating, right?”

  He nods.

  “Like your friend Paul’s big sister and her boyfriend?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Well, when two people like each other, they do that. They go dating.”

  “OK,” he says, shrugging. The conversation is concluded as far as he’s concerned.

  “Well,” I press on. “It’s like that with Seamus, your uncle Seamus, and me. We’re dating now. How do you feel about that?”

  “You and Uncle Seamus?” he says, as if testing it out.

  “Yes.”

  He scrunches up his face. “But you’re too old.”

  I chuckle weakly. “You can date at any age. Well, any age above eighteen.”

  “Oh, like Danny and Shannon?”

  “Yes, like them.”

  Lorcan’s face goes into concentrated mode as he works out something.

  “So…you don’t mind?” I ask him eventually.

  “No, no. Uncle Seamus is nice.”

  “Yes,” I say, “I know.”

  “And Danny and Shannon got married.”

  “Uhm…yeah.”

  “So, you’ll get married too?”

  God…

  No, is what I really want to say, but that’s too black and white an answer for the poor boy who’ll then wonder why not. And on and on.

  “We’ll play that one by ear,” I say, folding the dishcloth and hanging it on its hook. “Come on, time to brush your teeth and start getting ready for bed.”

  In a state of mild shock, I go through all the motions of putting him to bed. There’s no more talk about dating which I optimistically take to mean that he’s assimilated the news already.

  If only everyone could be this easy.

  Just as I’m settling down in Mother’s old armchair with a lovely romance novel that I’m hoping will distract me, the door rattles and in comes Deirdre.

  “Lorcan asleep?” she asks.

  “Not yet. You’ll still catch him awake if you go up now,” I tell her.

  “OK.” She pads up the stairs.

  She went out tonight, down to MacAuley’s. I envy my sister’s freedom. She can show up there, or anywhere in Ballytirrel, just fine. For me, it’s a bit of a battlefield. Some of the locals still hold a grudge against me for my role in Owen Callaghan’s death. They have been known to cross the road to the other side when they see me. Stuff like that. It makes me less enthusiastic about going for a stroll down to the center.

  “How was the pub tonight?” I ask her when she comes back downstairs.

  “No Callaghans there anyway,” she says with all kinds of added emphasis.

  “Seamus is on reception duty, Niall’s headed up to Dublin, and Enda’s in Maynooth.”

  She sits down in the armchair opposite me—Dad’s old one—and gives me a good old stare.

  “What?” I ask, putting my book aside.

  “You seem to know their comings and goings quite intimately.”

  “Yes,” I say primly, “Lorcan and I were over there this evening.”

  “Mm, so I heard.” She’s still got that weird light in her eye. “And Lorcan just told me you and Seamus are getting married. Should I go out and buy a fancy hat?”

  I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out. I end up swallowing some air instead.

  “He got the wrong end of the stick,” I say when I’ve recovered.

  “Yeah, I kind of gathered that,” she says, smiling. “But is there any truth in it? Where there’s smoke there’s fire.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, biting my lip. “I like him. I don’t like his family.” I flop back against the cushions. “And he’s Lorcan’s uncle. What am I doing?”

  “Following your heart to the edge of the abyss?” Deirdre suggests.

  “The edge?” I say. “I think we’ve gone beyond that.”

  *

  The next few days are all about damage control. I sit down with Lorcan on two different occasions to impress on him that dating doesn’t mean intention to marry, at least, not in this modern cynical age. There are lots of whys.

  But it’s no use. It’s already leaked anyway. The whole village is scandalized. The whole county, for all I know. The Callaghans are famed far and wide, as is their tragic story. The femme fatale appearing on the scene and stealing away the golden boy, the chieftain, is the perfect next installment in the saga. And they’re loving it.

  For sure, I won’t be going near MacAuley’s pub. I’ll give Lannigan’s shop and post office a skip too. Maybe I should bunker up here at home and never come out again. Once again, I’m sorely tempted to just sell up and get the hell out.

  My big consolation is that I get to see Seamus two nights in a row as he managed to hire someone temporary for the nightshift. He waited both times until Lorcan was asleep in order to avoid any awkward conversations with the boy about marriage. It’s a conversation we’re taking pains to avoid ourselves.

  Each night has been passionate—every woman’s dream.

  Each morning, before down breaks, he disappears.

  On the third morning, I say to him as I lie beside him. “Listen, Seamus, what would you think about staying for breakfast today? It’s football day, and you’d be collecting him anyway. It would make no sense to pretend that you were coming over when you’re already here.”

  “True,” he agrees, stroking his beard. “I hate sneaking around when I want to see the boy. Let’s do this.”

  I smile at him. “Does it bother you that everyone knows.”

  He shakes his head. “Why would it bother me?”

  “I don’t know. It seems to bother a lot of people what goes on in our private lives.”

  He nods and trails his fingers slowly over my back heading toward my butt n a pleasurably ticklish way. “It’s all because of Da. They know he’s still bitter about Owen. People like to keep on the good side of the old patriarch. Just in case, you know?”

  “Yes,” I say with a sigh, twisting my head from the pillow to look up at him. “He’s never going to come around, is he?”

  He looks at me solemnly. “Honestly, I can’t see how.”

  I dip my head. “What I did was unforgivable.”

  He takes my chin in his hands and raises it, meeting my eyes fervently. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. It was an accident. If I can accept it of Moore then I can definitely accept it of you.”

  “And do you? Accept it of Danny?”

  “Yes. I truly do. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “I need to hear from you.”

  “Well, I do. Have no doubts on that score. But Da doesn’t. Niall’s on the fence, and Enda’s stuck somewhere between heaven and hell. That’s where you stand when it comes to the Callaghan clan.”

  I make an effort to smile. “Good to know.”

  “But here’s how you stand when it comes to me.” He puts his hands on my hips and in one swift move, rolls me over onto my back, making me squeak. “Or rather, here’s how you lie. Hm,” he says surveying my naked body stretched out before him. “Missionary style today.”

  I press against his chest. “Seamus, you’re going to be late for Lor
can’s football.”

  “Not if we make this quick,” he says, planking over me and grinding his hips against mine. “Not if you spread for me,” he says in a growlingly deep voice, raspy with desire. As he sits back, takes a condom from the night stand and rapidly sheaths himself, he adds, “And take what I have to offer like the real woman that I know you are.”

  “Oooh.” Desire pools up in my pelvis and radiates throughout my body so that I’m thumping with insatiable lust for him. This is how Seamus affects me. It’s like pressing a button. “Hit me with it.”

  “And fuck that trainer, anyway,” he mutters as he dives back down, finds my entrance with his steel-hard cock, pushes into me, filling me up to the hilt. My body molds around him. It’s the best feeling in the world. I need this so much. I don’t think I can ever get enough of this big, kind, warm, beautiful, and totally badass man.

  17

  CLIONA

  Is it wrong to feel excited about my best friend returning from his honeymoon? Danny’s still my best friend. I classify Seamus as my lover. Keeping them compartmentalized helps me get on with things without tripping myself up over divided loyalties or any of that crap.

  Of course, Danny’s a married man now, so it’s inappropriate for me to rush over there and expect to go for a ride with the horses as we would have done in the past. And as much as that would bring joy to my soul, I’ll do it the correct way and wait for an invitation from the duke, like a proper lady in a Jane Austen novel.

  The invitation comes pretty soon—the very afternoon after their arrival, in the form of a brief phone call from Danny who sounds tired, but more exuberant than usual.

  “We’re jetlagged, but also kind of hyper at the moment. Come on over and we’ll have a cup of tea and fill you and my mother in at the same time so we don’t have to keep repeating stories.”

  “Sounds great,” I say.

  I drive over with Lorcan jumping up and down in the back seat with excitement.

  “Uncle Danny said he’d bring me a present from New Zealand,” he says. “I wonder what it is!”