Page 16

CHAPTER 15

“W hat the fuck was that?” Creed asked from his place beside the window.

Taryn exchanged a concerned glance with him.

On the bed, Narissa struggled to sit up, and a look of determination replaced her worried expression.

“Don’t even think about it, woman,” Creed growled, pushing her back down. “You’re not setting one foot out of that bed— goddamn it! ”

Wincing from the force of his anger over Narissa disregarding his command and teleporting anyway, Taryn met his furious gaze.

“Maybe she objected to the manhandling?” she suggested.

His glare said he didn’t find her funny.

Taryn laughed anyway.

“Send out a feeler, and we can teleport to the music room,” she said.

With a brisk nod, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and held out his hand. Mere seconds later, they were downstairs, with Creed charging for the door as he bellowed Narissa’s name. Brenna and Eoin came around the corner but quickly scrambled out of Creed’s way when they saw his thundercloud expression.

“We felt the ground rumble,” Taryn said. “Do you know what caused it? Was it your wards?”

“I don’t think so. This felt different somehow,” Brenna admitted. “Where’s Fintan and Narissa?”

“I’m not sure. A man named Noah arrived earlier, but I got the feeling he’s a friend of Fintan’s. Narissa disappeared from her bedroom less than a minute ago. Hence Creed’s rage.”

“Noah’s not a stranger to the place,” Eoin stated, easing Taryn’s concern. “He comes around for dinner when he needs to rabbit on about his brother tryin’ to control his life.”

“Brother?” It clicked, and Taryn gasped. “Oh, God, I’m an idiot. He practically said as much upstairs, but I don’t know why I never made the connection. He’s Noah Riley, Damian’s brother.”

Although Viv and Sabrina had mentioned him, Taryn had yet to meet the man at a family function. About six months ago, Noah had shown up at the Black Cat Inn—Eoin’s family’s establishment—looking for his on-again-off-again girlfriend, and the truth of his parentage came to light. Taryn couldn’t believe the resemblance didn’t register immediately. The guy was a rougher, taller version of Damian. Hotter, in her opinion, but her tastes ran to less polished, more earthy.

“Where would they have gone?” Taryn asked. An image of a dungeon-like room floated across her vision. “Never mind. Where is the place with the stone walls and pillar candles? It looks ancient, like it might be below the house.”

“The ceremony room?” Brenna asked Eoin.

“Aye, that’s the only one I can think of.”

Taryn shook her head. “This house is a damned maze. How do we get there?”

“It’s down the corridor. Come on.” Brenna led the charge, and they found Creed along the way, opening and closing doors with a litany of curses punctuating every slam.

“Follow us, fella.” Taryn tugged him along. “Brenna’s our Pied Piper.”

“I’m going to wring her neck,” he muttered.

Eoin took exception. “The feck you are!”

“He means Narissa,” Taryn soothed. “He’s mad because she didn’t do as he ordered and teleported away.”

Creed glared. “Whose side are you on, traitor?”

She squeezed his arm. “I’m on the side of truth. Now, hush.”

Two minutes later, they were inside a study that looked like it belonged in the Beast’s castle. Taryn half expected Mrs. Potts and her son, Chip, to cruise in and sing Tale As Old As Time.

“Wow! I’m in love,” she gushed, forgetting everything to stroke the gold velvet sofa and take in the majestic room with its dome ceiling and sparkling chandeliers. “Now I know why you never showed me this place, Brenna. Sorry, but I’m never leaving here again.”

She felt Fintan mere seconds before his arm wrapped around her waist.

“Aye, and I’d love nothin’ better, aoibhneas mo croí, ” he murmured in her ear.

“This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with this room,” she said pertly, peeling his arm away and facing him. “But if I have to sleep with you to get it, I will.”

His grin flashed. “It will require a daily shag.”

“It would definitely be worth it,” she breathed with another longing look around.

“I don’t mind if ya only want me for these books.”

Meeting his dancing eyes, she grinned. “Just so you’re okay with the knowledge.”

“Now that’s out of the way, can I snog ya, then?”

Mesmerized by his teasing light, she leaned into him.

Creed shoved the flat of his hand between them.

“Where the hell did Narissa go?” he snapped.

Taryn couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful for the interruption. All her objections and indignation about Fintan ghosting her had flown out the window. It was difficult to say which seduced her more: the library or his roguish charm.

She suspected the latter.

What the hell was wrong with her? Where was her spine?

Fintan opened his mouth, but Narissa stepped from a private room off to their left. Behind her was the “dungeon” Taryn had envisioned in her head.

“Calm yourself, sugar. There’s no need to get your boxers twisted up,” Narissa said, giving Creed an admonishing look.

“I don’t wear boxers, as you well know,” he growled.

The jaws of everyone present dropped, except the two bickering.

Brenna rushed over and tugged Taryn’s arm. “Did he just admit they were once lovers?”

“He did,” she replied in a low voice. “I’ve been waiting for this explosion.” She glanced up at Fintan. “Speaking of, what shook the house?”

“A spell gone awry.” He gave her a considering look. “I’ve an idea, and I’m hopin’ you’ll help me.”

“What do you need?”

“An introduction.”

* * *

After the mirror was repaired to Fintan’s satisfaction, he joined his family for dinner. Creed remained at the estate, grudgingly, to watch over Narissa, and a crowbar wouldn’t remove him. If one were inclined to believe he still cared for her, they might suspect it’s why he took the seat next to her, cockblocking flirty Noah.

Like Fintan, Creed remained quiet throughout their meal, speaking only when spoken to. Perhaps, like him, his friend was considering what had happened in the ceremony room earlier. Or maybe they were two sorry sods pining over women who didn’t want them.

Taryn sipped her wine, then placed the glass on the table before addressing him. “You said you wanted an introduction. To who?”

“Micha Forsyth.”

Her brows shot up as she picked up her silverware. “Why?”

“I’m after askin’ him some questions.”

Her inner dialogue said she wasn’t buying it, and Fintan hid a grin behind the rim of his pint glass.

“I can sense your amusement, you know,” she said dryly.

“Aye.”

“So, how about being more forthcoming?”

He grinned openly. “If you’ve a need to be forthcomin’, I’ll listen.”

The kick to his shin was unexpected, but he winked when he really wanted to rub his abused limb.

“Remind me to take away all your pointy-toed shoes, yeah?”

Taryn snorted and raised her glass for another sip.

Fintan laughed, appreciating the feck out of her temper. The feistier she became, the more she appealed to his inner beast. The thought sobered him. He had no wish to feed his monster’s desires. Protecting Taryn from his Siren, and eventually the Incubus he would become if left unchecked, was paramount.

Her hand closed around his, and she shook it to get his attention.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to save me from anything, Fintan. I’ve spent forty-something years doing that all on my own.”

“Sure, and how well did that work for you with Morcant?” he snapped.

Hurt flashed across her face, and she withdrew. Regret swamped him, and before she could pull away completely, he caught her hand. She hadn’t known the man was worse than the devil and ten times as deadly until it was too late. Fintan had no right to hold it against her.

“I’m sorry, Taryn-Taryn. I’m a proper arse, yeah?”

“You are,” she agreed coolly, tugging her hand.

He refused to relinquish it and kissed her knuckles instead. “Forgive me, aoibhneas mo croí. Insecurities and frustrations got the best of me, to be sure.”

She remained unmoved by his apology.

With a resigned sigh, he released her.

“I’ve been mad with jealousy, wantin’ to kill every man you’ve met since the moment I knew it wasn’t me you were meant to love,” he confessed. “My greatest fear was that you’d love someone else.”

Expression tight, she nodded and swallowed hard. “I get it, but you don’t need to be a dick about it. The past can’t be changed, Fintan.”

“Aye, and that’s the ugly truth of it, love, but I want to. I’ve a powerful need to go back and never let you out of my sight. To cling to ya from the time we met and remain holdin’ ya to me dyin’ day.”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head.

He didn’t know what she meant by the gesture. In her mind, she’d constructed a wall, blocking her thoughts, and on the outside, she masked her emotions with a tight smile. She was getting too bleeding good at shutting him out.

“Let’s get back to the subject we started before dinner. Why do you want me to introduce you to Micha Forsyth?”

Fintan hesitated as he considered how much he wanted to reveal. Directness could only help his situation, which Taryn required from friends and family. Still, tangling her up in his mess didn’t sit well.

“Just say it, Fintan. For fuck’s sake already,” she said, thoroughly exasperated.

Grinning, he picked up his utensils and cut into his steak.

“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked incredulously.

“Look, and I’ll be tellin’ ya, but when we are in private, yeah?”

Leaning forward, she glared. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not sleeping with you for your magnificent library.”

“Sure, that would be a feckin’ shame, and it’s understandable, it is.” He nodded sagely. “I’ve a mind to gift it to ya anyway, but I won’t.”

She snorted, and her mouth curled before remembering that she was supposed to be vexed with him. “Keep your stupid B&B library.”

“B&B?”

“Beauty and the Beast.”

He waited. Once Taryn warmed to a subject, she would spill the beans. It didn’t take long.

“I’ve always thought it was the perfect story,” she said with a wry smile. “And I’ve had library envy my entire life.”

“And if I said I’m not familiar with the tale, what would you be tellin’ me?”

Her luscious lips curled into a genuine grin, and a sparkle entered her eyes. “Are you saying you’ve never heard of it or seen the movies? I’ll call you a damned liar.”

Fintan laughed. “I want to see it from your eyes.”

“Hm, okay. It’s about a woman who’s sick of her life in a small village. She trades herself to the wicked beast to save her father, only to discover Beast, that’s his name, isn’t as fearsome as he pretends. In fact, he’s a cursed prince and the biggest softie who ever lived. He cares for everyone around him.” She gave him a pointed look before resuming. “Anyway, Belle and Beast fall in love, but the horrid man who covets her decides to kill Beast. A battle ensues.”

“And?”

“Beast is gravely wounded, banging on death’s door. Belle, realizing too late that he’s the one, sobs over his lifeless body, declaring her love. Her tears break the curse on the castle’s occupants, Beast included, and he returns to his handsome-prince form.”

Her dramatic retelling amused Fintan. It was the small things. The way she leaned into him as she warmed to her story. How her hand flitted, and she touched his arm when she spoke of love. Her enchantment with the tale was relayed in the cadence of her speech, as was her enthusiasm to convey it.

“And the horrid man?” he asked.

Taryn’s eyes flared wide as if ready to impart a secret. “Well, Gaston, the clueless hunter, is vanquished.”

“As every evil scoundrel should be,” he agreed. “So you were in love with Beast as much as puir Belle?”

“What wasn’t to love? I mean, sure, he was grumbly initially, but his kindness came through in small ways, and he provided her with everything she could ever desire. They started as enemies but soon fell in love with each other’s inner beauty.”

“Like us?” he asked softly.

She hesitated, and he held his breath.

“I’ve never been your enemy, Fintan,” she replied, equally as soft. “Not once, even after you hurt me.”

“I’d take it back if I could.”

“But you can’t.” She picked up the fork she had abandoned. “And we’re not in love. We never were. Whatever feelings we experienced a half a lifetime ago were lust-related urges by kids just out of their teens. So let’s leave it in the past, okay?”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do, Taryn-Taryn,” he said, praying to the Goddess he was right. Since deciding to tell the ancestors to go bugger themselves, he was all in and intended to spend the rest of his life making up for past mistakes if she’d let him.

“Micha Forsyth,” she said, changing the subject. “Who is he to you?”

“I can’t say for certain, but I’m thinkin’ he’s related to my da.”

“But your last name is Sullivan, I assumed…” Taryn waved a hand. “Never mind. Tell me.”

“My parents were never married. I’m a bastard by birth.”

“So your father’s surname is?”

“Forsyth.”

“Of course, it is,” she said darkly.