Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Good,” he said with a nod. “I’m going to bed. Make sure to turn out the lights on yer way up.”
“Yes, Da,” I said demurely and watched him ascend the stairs as I leaned back against the door.
I waited, patiently counting to sixty twice after I heard his bedroom door close.
And quietly… so very quietly, I pushed off the door and crept through the kitchen. In the mudroom, I toed off my heels and jammed my stocking feet into my wellies. A mouse was never quieter when I snuck out the side door and into the night.
CHAPTER 8
Tommy
I sat perched on the top rail of the fence, one boot hooked on the lower rung, the other dangling freely as I took a slow sip. I studied the bottle of Powers Gold Label Irish whiskey. I’d bought it earlier this evening when I went into town for a meal and thought I’d give it a try. I’m from bourbon country and although I don’t drink a lot of it, I do like the taste.
I took another swig and let the warmth settle in my chest. It went down smoother than I’d expected—very different from the bourbon back home. Bourbon had a weight to it—flavors coated your tongue before the heat kicked in. This whiskey was sharper, had more spice and a little honey in the background, but it didn’t punch as hard.
Holding up the bottle, I tilted it left and right, watching the liquid catch the dim light from the barn behind me. Not bad at all and by the end of summer, I’d probably be used to it.
I stared across the dark landscape before me. A few hundred yards away, I saw the lights of Conlan Manor, but there was a whole lot of dark between me and the house. I didn’t find it creepy at all… the light mist that clung to the ground, curling around the fence posts and the worn path leading up to the barn. The air was damp and smelled of horses, leather and hay. Just like back home.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl bellowed a low, haunting call and I took another sip of the whiskey. I’d been here two full days and Ireland had quickly grown on me. Kentucky nights were warm this time of year, offering honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass on the breeze. Fireflies would light up the pastures and I wondered if Ireland had the glowing little bugs. I hadn’t seen any but maybe it was a geographical thing, or maybe it was just a little too chilly in the evenings.
Regardless, Glenhaven was a damn fine farm, I’d give it that.
I looked back to Conlan Manor and I waited for Fiona.
She’d come.
I saw the look on her face when they drove past, the way she watchd me in the dark, and I just knew. Fiona Conlan had endured a miserable night if her expression was any indication, and that pleased me more than it should have.
I lifted the bottle to her. Come drink with me, beautiful girl.
Yes, she was very pretty, but it was her sharp wit and spirit that intrigued me.
And admittedly, I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, and well… Fiona seemed to be mired in it.
I was definitely more interested in the puzzle of her. The way she was trapped, locked in a cage I couldn’t see but could damn well sense. A girl like her wasn’t meant to be tamed, yet here she was, fighting between duty and desire, between the life she wanted and the one being forced upon her.
I heard the crunch of gravel before I saw her and turned my head just as she came into view.
She was wearing a blue dress—presumably what she wore on her date—her fancy curls a little looser now, like she’d been running her hands through them in frustration. She had donned rainboots to walk across the meadow to the barn and it was completely at odds with the delicate dress and the proper way she’d been made up for the evening.
That shouldn’t have tightened my chest. But it did.
I tipped the bottle toward her. “Took you long enough.”
She slowed as she neared, eyeing me warily. “Didn’t say I was comin’.”
I smirked. “Didn’t have to.”
She huffed but didn’t deny it.
The wind had picked up, a damp bite in the air, and she shivered. Without thinking, I jumped down from the fence, shrugged out of my coat and held it out to her.
She hesitated but then took it, slipping it over her shoulders. It swallowed her up, and something about that settled warm in my gut.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s find somewhere warmer.”
I led her toward the barn, and we climbed up onto a stack of hay bales in the corner, nestled away from the drafty door. With our backs against a cinder block portion of wall, I handed her the bottle, and she took a small sip.