The Irish Heiress

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  He paused for a moment, standing still, eyeing her closely. “You’re involved with a man, aren’t you?”

  Mara remained motionless at his accusation. He was absolutely right. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment and shame. The answer was written all over her face. Mara didn’t need a mirror to know what she looked like in her disheveled outfit, from her well-kissed lips to her tousled hair. She had just showered with Foster, for goodness’ sake!

  “I gather from your lack of protest that I am correct,” he’d gone on to say. Then he’d raked her with an appraising look. “Not to mention your current appearance . . . like you just tumbled out of bed.” Phillip shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Mara, since I had plenty of time to think while I was waiting here, sick with worry over you. Aren’t you the least bit interested in what I have to say?”

  Again Mara shook her head.

  “I’d shake my head too, if I were you,” he acknowledged ruefully. He resumed pacing back and forth. “With all this time on my hands waiting here the last few hours, I began to ask myself what kind of man entertains a well-bred young lady secretly at his home in the middle of the night? Certainly no respectable gentleman would do such a thing. But I thought, Mara has no contact with disreputable fellows and she’s not one for rough or coarse men. So it would have to be someone from our own ranks. A gentleman . . . But only a gentleman who had something to hide. Perhaps a gentleman who didn’t want his wife to discover what he was doing.” He stopped pacing and looked at her knowingly. “I’m correct, aren’t I?”

  Mara barely nodded her head in acknowledgment. She held her breath, afraid to make a sound.

  “Mara! What in God’s name are you thinking?” he cried in anguish. His face was aghast with horror. “A married man?”

  Feeling faint, the entire room spun around her. She had not moved an inch from where she had stood with her back against the door, and now she pressed herself against it to keep herself upright. What on earth had brought Phillip to seek her out this evening? Why was he even in her room? How had this happened?

  “Who is he?” Phillip demanded, his eyes flashing angrily.

  Mara could not respond.

  “Do I know him?”

  Unable to stop herself from nodding her head, she cringed. Mara had never been a good liar. She could keep others’ secrets and she could easily remain silent, but she had a terrible time lying when it came to herself. Especially when asked a direct question.

  “Who is he?” Phillip repeated. His face grew red with outrage. “When I find out who he is, and believe me, Mara, I will find out, I shall kill him!”

  The threat of physical violence finally spurred Mara from her horrified stupor. She flung herself from the doorway. And once she started speaking, the words came out in an unstoppable torrent.

  “Stop! Please stop it, Phillip! I’m very sorry to have worried you. That was never my intention. But there is no need for you to kill anyone. I’m fine. I am safe. I’m not in any danger, nor have I ever been. I am a grown woman, not a child, if you haven’t noticed. I can think for myself and make my own decisions. No one is responsible for my actions but me. And what I happen to be doing with my life is of no concern to you. Yes. I’m involved with a gentleman, and yes, he happens to be married. I’m not going to tell you his name, only that there are extenuating circumstances to his marriage and that his wife lives hundreds of miles away. But I will tell you that it was an arranged marriage when he was very young. It’s a dreadful marriage. He has not ever lived with his wife and they haven’t any children.”

  Phillip was stunned into silence at her unexpected outburst and remained still while she spoke.

  Mara continued to explain, for she had no other choice but to defend herself. “Imagine that life for yourself, Phillip, before you pass judgment on him or me . . . Being forced to wed a girl you don’t even like because your parents made you, and you are then tied to her for the rest of your life, and you are miserable together. Yes, I’m quite aware that being with a married man goes against everything that is right and moral in our society, but that is something I have reconciled with myself. That he is married doesn’t matter to me. He is a gentleman. He’s wonderful and kind and caring. We are not hurting anyone. His wife doesn’t care. We are being very careful. He loves me and I love him very much, and unfortunately, this is the only way we can be together. No matter what you think of me, I shall continue to see him in secret and there is nothing you need to worry yourself about. What I am doing has nothing to do with you or anyone else. It only concerns him and me and we’ve worked out things between us. So I don’t need your help or your protection or your righteous anger. But I do know you love me, and out of that love for me, I would ask that you keep this information to yourself and not share it with your parents or mine.”

  Mara finally stopped to take a breath. Phillip stared at her with a look of utter disbelief on his face.

  “This is why you stayed in London, isn’t it? To be with him?” he asked calmly, her words having had a softening effect on him.

  Mara nodded.

  “It’s late,” said Phillip with a defeated sigh. “And I’m rather shocked and exhausted, but relieved to see that you are finally home safe.” He paused and shook his head before adding, “Well, I’m not quite sure if you’re safe. But we’ll not talk about it anymore tonight. However, know this . . . You’ve been like a younger sister to me, Mara, and I care very much about what happens to you. Even though I ought to tell your parents, I won’t tell anyone about what you’ve been doing, but I would caution you to rethink how you have been behaving.”

  Mara could hardly believe his benevolence. “You really won’t tell, Phillip?”

  Shaking his head wearily, he answered her with great reluctance. “No, I won’t tell. At least not for now. But I reserve the right to change my mind at any time.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. A wonderful sense of relief flooded her.

  “I’ll go, but before I do, I must say this.” Phillip stared at her with sadness in his eyes. “Be very careful. You could ruin your entire life, Mara. Good night.” He placed a kiss on her cheek and then Phillip left her bedroom.

  His parting words still haunted her. You could ruin your life, Mara.

  Phillip was quite right, of course. But he was also very wrong. She couldn’t ruin her life, for her life was already ruined. It was just that no one realized it yet but her. Mara was only trying to live and be happy while she was still able to. Was it wrong to grab love and happiness with both hands before it was too late for her?

  Since the night of his discovery of her affair with Foster, Mara had kept her distance from Phillip and tried to behave normally around him when she did see him. She wondered whether to tell Foster that her cousin had discovered that she had been sneaking out to see him at night.

  But as much as she worried about Phillip informing his parents and her parents about what she’d been doing, she was still more worried about Foster telling her that he was going to end his marriage. That saddened her most of all. She loved Foster and was honored that he wanted to marry her. She frankly wished with all her heart that she could marry him.

  But it was not to be. She could never marry Foster, even if he managed to end his marriage. He would want children. And that she just could not allow. Nor could she abide for Foster to watch her lose her mind little by little in the coming years. He didn’t deserve that.

  With a long sigh of regret, Mara made her way up the stairs of the bookshop, carrying the heavy accounting ledger in her hands. Suddenly the image of that strange woman came into her mind again. Something about her made Mara feel uncomfortable and quite sad. The woman had looked at her so intently with very troubled eyes.

  And then it started.

  It came on so quickly this time that Mara dropped the leather-bound ledger and sank to her knees on the steps. With one hand she gripped the railing, as she grew dizzier and dizzier.

  An icy, ti
ngling sensation slowly crept over her skin, and every nerve in her body became acutely aware. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her teeth clenched. She grew hot and yet she began shivering. Her heart thumped erratically against her chest. Mara closed her eyes and held her breath, pressing her fingers to her temples. Everything around her receded into a dark fog of silence. Small pinpricks of consciousness lit up inside of her, creating flashing sparks and light within her mind.

  Misty images began presenting themselves to her . . .

  Fire. Glints of flames. Blinding bursts of light. Shimmering walls of golden orange and brilliant yellow. Breathtaking, scorching heat. Trapped in the burning building, blazing embers and smoky ash filling the air, Mara didn’t know where to go or how to escape. Where was she? How was she to get out? Gut-wrenching, tormented screams echoed against the rush of flames. Someone was in great agony. A woman’s desperate cries pierced the smoke-filled air. But where was she? Mara could not see, did not know where to go. This place was unfamiliar to her. Her own panicked, terrified cries reverberated around her.

  Someone needed her help. A woman called to her, pleading with her, begging her. Through a break in the smoke, Mara glimpsed the face. The face of a woman with sad, troubled eyes filled with hatred, stared at her. The woman was trapped by the fire, her thin frame engulfed in orange and gold flames.

  Scalding tears, knowing it was her fault, knowing it was too late, Mara fled. Blinding heat and black smoke and swirling flames, the vicious sting of fear and the horrific smell of imminent death surrounded her. It was too late. Too late.

  Her death. She was going to die in this raging inferno. They were both going to die there.

  Swirling darkness. She gasped and fell to her knees. A short breath of blessedly cool air. She crawled forward, reaching for the hand that would save her. Foster grabbed her and lifted her into his arms. She was safe within his embrace. She could breathe again . . .

  “Mara! Are you all right?”

  Mara opened her eyes, feeling quite faint and dizzy. She was seated on the steps and Aunt Colette was sitting beside her.

  “You must have fallen,” Aunt Colette said, concern in her voice. “I heard a noise and looked down and there you were. Are you hurt?”

  “I tripped, that’s all. I’m fine.” Mara attempted a smile, as Aunt Colette helped her to her feet. “Just a little embarrassed.”

  But she was truly shaken. This premonition frightened her.

  It was now the fourth time she’d experienced the same premonition about a fire since she’d met Foster. But this one was quite different than the others in one respect. There was a third person in this vision. A woman.

  The very same woman who had visited the bookshop just a short time ago.

  Mara wasn’t sure what alarmed her more; the growing frequency and intensity of her visions, or the fact that a strange, sickly woman had so spooked her and then presented herself in the vision she’d been having for the last month.

  17

  Visions

  Paulette Hamilton Reeves reread the letter for the third time. Her heart sank and she knew something had to be done. Never one to put things off, she rose from the chair where she had been sitting at her little desk in her morning room and made her way into her husband’s large study within Cashelmore Manor.

  Cashelmore was a beautiful home and, as the Countess of Cashelmore, Paulette had worked hard over the years transforming it from a vast, overly ornate and uninviting house into a warm, beautiful, and more welcoming home for their little family. She had grown to love the house, the estate, and the rolling Irish hills that surrounded it.

  “Declan,” she called, after knocking briefly and opening the door to his study.

  He looked up as she came in and grinned happily when he saw her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of my wife’s company this morning?”

  After seventeen years together, Declan still managed to make Paulette’s heart skip a beat whenever she saw him. His handsome face had aged well, with few wrinkles around his green eyes. His dark hair had some sprinkles of gray, but his smile still made her weak-kneed. Their love for each other had only grown stronger over the years.

  “But from the look on your pretty face, I can tell something is wrong,” Declan continued, immediately rising from his seat and coming toward her.

  Paulette headed for the wide mahogany desk. “I think we should return to London.”

  Declan placed a sweet kiss on her lips before she handed him the letter she had received from London that morning,

  His dark brows drawing together in puzzlement, Declan took the letter from her and returned to his seat behind the desk. He gave her a pointed look before he began reading. Paulette stood by, watching the man she loved as he read, wondering how he would react to the news about his daughter. Their daughter. For Paulette loved Mara as if she were of her own flesh and blood.

  And the letter she had received from Jeffrey Eddington had raised her concern over their daughter’s welfare.

  With a heavy sigh, Declan put down the letter and turned to her, his eyes filled with doubt. “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “We should return home,” she insisted. “Aren’t you worried about her?”

  “I’ve always been worried about Mara. I didn’t wish to leave her alone in London in the first place, if you recall.” Declan shrugged. “But I don’t know that our going home now will change anything.”

  “But clearly Jeffrey is worried about her! He states that she seems distressed about something and he has concerns about her well-being,” Paulette pointed out. If anything happened to Mara while they were gone, Paulette would never forgive herself. “And I realize that I am totally to blame for allowing her to stay in London without us. I pushed you into agreeing with me, when you would have preferred that she come with us to Ireland.”

  Declan reached over and pulled his wife onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. “I’m not blaming you, my love. I admit that I was reluctant at first. But we made the decision together to let her stay there. I agreed with you, especially when you said that Mara never asks for anything and that it was important to her to stay. There was nothing wrong with Mara wanting that or for us to allow it. You were absolutely right. After everything the poor girl has been through in her life, I tend to be overprotective of her and she probably needed some time away from us. Especially me. She’s twenty-two years old and in the care of Colette and Lucien, who love her almost as much as we do . . . So there is no blame to be placed anywhere.” Declan kissed her cheek.

  “But Jeffrey’s letter,” Paulette protested.

  “There’s nothing in that letter to alarm us.” He attempted to calm her. “Jeffrey simply wanted us to be aware that he had spoken to Mara.”

  “Read between the lines, Declan! When was the last time we received a letter from Jeffrey? He’s almost as bad as Juliette when it comes to correspondence. I know he doesn’t blatantly write that he’s worried about her or that strange little ‘episode’ she had while she was with him. But it’s the reason why he has written to us. We should go back,” Paulette said, biting her lip.

  “To do what? If something were truly wrong with Mara, Jeffrey would have come right out and said so.”

  “It’s what he’s not saying that worries me.” Something in Jeffrey’s carefully worded letter didn’t sit right with Paulette. He was alluding to the fact that he was worried about Mara because she was distressed about something.

  “I think you’re reading too much into it, my love.”

  “Well, just what does he mean by episode?” Paulette rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling secure and loved in her husband’s embrace, as she always did.

  “I’m not entirely sure.” Declan ran his hand up and down Paulette’s arm, soothing her. He grew thoughtful. “I wonder if he means what I think he does . . . I suppose he may be referring to something that happened when Mara was quite young. She had an episode of s
orts then.”

  “Why do I not know about this?”

  “You do. I told you years ago when it happened, remember? Mara had a kind of premonition . . . I guess you could call it, about Thomas. I was walking with her in the gardens and she told me that she had ‘seen’ Thomas falling down the marble steps overlooking the garden and that we should take care not to let him out there. I thought she was being fanciful and brushed it aside. And not a week later, do you recall what happened?” he asked softly.

  “How could I forget that?” she cried. “Thomas escaped from his nanny and fell down those very steps and hit his head. I thought he was dead! And he very nearly was. That was a terrible day.”

  Paulette shuddered at the memory of finding their mischievous three-year-old son, lying motionless at the bottom of the marble steps. He had fully recovered, thank the heavens! But it had been a terrifying ordeal nonetheless. The doctor had been sent for and for days they had kept little Thomas in bed, which was no easy feat. Had Declan told her that Mara had a foreshadowing of Thomas’s fall? Paulette supposed he had, but she had been too preoccupied taking care of their son at the time to pay much attention to it.

  “It was a terrible day and Mara was more distraught than you were,” Declan recalled. “She kept crying, ‘I told you, I told you.’ She blamed herself for allowing Thomas’s fall to happen in the first place. I had quite a time calming her down and dissuading her from taking the blame. It was no one’s fault, just an accident. But she kept telling me she had seen it happening before it happened. A full week before Thomas fell, and it wasn’t as if Thomas ever played there.”

  “You’re saying Mara has the sight?” Paulette asked on a whisper.

  “Possibly. She never really talked to me about it again. I thought perhaps she’d grown out of it. But you know Mara, she always had her feelings about things and would often tell us what would happen before something did. I just believed her to be very observant and intuitive.”

  “Yes, that’s always been her way since she was a little girl,” Paulette agreed. “Mara is a deep thinker, a watcher and a feeler.”