Page 13 of The Wandering Season

“You’re a genius, you know that?”

I tried to keep my words from slurring as Niall pulled the car up to the entrance of Blackthorn.

“Because I insisted you eat chips once you started in on your third pint?”

He was wiser than I and stopped at two, asking the waitress to switch him over to club soda with a twist of lime. A trick I used at parties all the time myself.

“Exactly. You all make amazing French fries here.”

“Let it never be said the Irish don’t know their way around a potato. You’ll be even gladder that I talked you out of the curry ones if tomorrow morning goes as I suspect it will for you.”

“Like I said. Genius.”

He met me at the car door, ready to assist me out, but I didn’t struggle as much with my footing as he expected me to.

“I’m really fine,”

I protested, as he gently took hold of my elbow. “Like not okay to drive, but I can walk.”

“I’d rather stay close until you’re up the stairs. I don’t care to test out the castle’s insurance policy.”

He stayed close by my side, and I loved the feel of the warmth of him on my hip as we walked.

True to his word, he stayed with me until we’d made the climb up the stairs, and I was grateful I didn’t do anything to make his presence necessary.

We paused at the door to my room. “Thank you. You’re a proper gentleman.”

I kissed his cheek in thanks, and his hand rose reflexively to the spot where my lips had been. “It’s okay, I wasn’t wearing lipstick.”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t worried about that.”

“What were you worried about, then?”

The four pints of cider hadn’t completely dismantled my filter, but they’d done a great job at lowering it.

“You just went through a breakup . . .”

“Oh, big news on that front. Apparently he’s upgraded already.”

I pulled the phone from my pocket, opened my text app, and found the photo Stephanie had sent. “See? She’s beautiful and they look so happy.”

Niall glanced at the phone for a moment before he handed it back. “He’s a fool, Veronica. You’re well rid of him.”

“It’s my fault.”

I rested my head against his chest, glad to have its solid warmth to lean on. “I could have tried harder.”

“So could he. But he didn’t. You deserve better.”

His arms circled around me, and I let myself melt into his embrace.

“You’re wonderful.”

I should have been embarrassed by my lack of inhibition, but in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“As are you, mo stór. Let’s get you to bed.”

I pulled my head back and widened my eyes in surprise. I wanted to say something, but the words were a lump of cement in my throat.

A feline smile tugged at his lips. “You dubbed me a proper gentleman not three minutes ago, remember? A gentleman doesn’t take advantage of ladies who’ve had more cider than is wise.”

Relief and disappointment tugged in almost equal measure, but I followed as he opened the door to my room, and he ushered me to the bed. He pulled back the covers and urged me to sit. He deftly pulled off my boots and tucked me under the heavy blankets.

“Thank you.”

The words were groggy, but I kept a grip on his hand. “You didn’t have to be so nice, but you were.”

He stroked the side of my face with his free hand. “You deserve nothing less.”

My eyes met his and I saw an irresistible tenderness there. “I wish—”

I struggled with the words I was too timid to speak. I wish I hadn’t drunk like a barfly so he wouldn’t object to kissing me. In my current state I couldn’t think of any less stupid way to put it.

“I know. I do too. But not like this, mo chroí.”

His voice was a wisp of down as he spoke. “I won’t have you regretting your time here.”

Even in my hazy state, I knew he was right. “I’m glad my sister found this place for me. Found you.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, lowered his lips to my forehead, and pressed them gently against my skin. Tenderly. Reverently. I fought the urge to run my fingers through his thick black hair and ask him to kiss me properly, but I chose to linger in the sweetness of what he offered me. My heartbeat quickened and I willed time to stand still so I could live in this moment.

His voice rasped when he raised his lips away. “Sleep well, lovely.”

He stood and let his finger lazily trace the side of my face one last time. “I’m going to sleep in the room next door in case you need me.”

“Thanks.”

I watched with bleary eyes until the door shut behind him.

* * *

I awoke at some ungodly hour the next morning as the sun was struggling to crest over the horizon. My head wasn’t too thick from drink, though heaven knew why I’d been spared the well-deserved discomfort of a hangover. I said silent thanks that I hadn’t had need of the red plastic sand pail Niall had apparently left on the bedside table in the middle of the night.

Had he checked on me? I normally would have been horrified at the thought of a man I barely knew coming into the room while I slept, but this didn’t bother me in the least. He’d been worried about me. He’d nurtured me. I felt a sting in my throat as I considered the gleaming red bucket, even as I knew the gesture wasn’t entirely selfless on his part.

I found myself drawn to the fresh air, so I threw on some fresh clothes and headed out for a ramble on the grounds. I’d heard no sign of Niall in the castle, so I wandered toward the outbuildings. He might be gathering up some eggs for more of his amazing omelets.

A short jaunt later, and I was standing in the barn on the castle grounds. A haze enveloped me, much as it had the other night. One moment I could see the barn, a utilitarian space mostly devoted to chickens and tools. At once it transformed into a thriving, active part of the estate. The horses were brushed to gleaming and the tack was polished and supple, ready to ride in a moment’s notice should the lord of the manor or any of the family require it.

Aoife, looking resolved, strode into the barn with a confidence I envied to my marrow. The sort I longed to feel at least once in my life.

A groom emerged, as if from the ether. He was of middling height, but his profession had chiseled the muscle into him. His hair was under a cap but was a deep brown that glinted red in the beams of sunlight that streaked the barn through its high, narrow windows. “Will you be riding today, milady? I’ll saddle Bradaigh straightaway.”

“I came to talk to you, Tadgh. Not to ride.”

Aoife stood, arms akimbo like she expected something else from the groom. “And you can dispense with the ‘milady’ nonsense. I thought we were long past all that.”

He paused, his hazel eyes locked on her green ones for just a moment before he broke his gaze and turned back to the massive black saddle he was polishing. Judging from the embossed seal, it belonged to Aoife’s father and merited special attention. “I’m afraid I’ve too much work to stop and chat, milady. Perhaps another time.”

“There won’t be another time. I’ve taken my mother’s best jewels from my trousseau—the ones that cow didn’t get her hands on anyway—and I’m going to America.”

Tadgh froze with the polish rag still in his hands. “I heard your father was going to announce your match soon.”

“The two events aren’t unrelated.”

She tried to keep her tone measured but wasn’t entirely successful.

“You don’t like him then?”

“Catching on, are you?”

She threw her hands in the air and huffed. “He’s the worst sort of horse’s arse. No offense to your charges.”

“I thought once your father introduced you to some fancy man, you’d be off planning your wedding.”

“Do you really think I’m that fickle, Tadgh Callahan? Do you think I’d trade a decent man like you for a louse like Declan Tierney? Do you think the time we spent together means nothing to me? The long rides out in the countryside? The quiet moments by the stream where none can see us?”

Her voice was both feral and pleading.

I half expected her to grow claws and fangs to eviscerate Tadgh for the insult to her integrity. But she approached him and placed her hand on his arm. It was a forward gesture for an unmarried woman in these times and felt more significant than if she’d embraced him.

He looked down at her hand with ill-disguised longing. “I didn’t figure you’d have much choice.”

He raised his eyes and returned to the saddle.

Her voice softened. “There is always choice. It may not always be the choices we hoped for, but there is always choice, Tadgh.”

“Maybe for fine ladies, but not for apprentice stable hands like me.”

The defeat in his tone laced the barn air like a freezing fog.

She put a hand on each of his biceps and forced him to face her. The pleading in her eyes was potent, but she didn’t allow her voice to waver. “Come to America with me, Tadgh. The famine is eating away at the soul of this country, and I don’t want to stand by idly and watch.”

“And what will happen to my family, Aoife? My da can’t find work enough to put food on the table. Ma’s expecting another wean by Christmas. My brothers and sisters are half starved. If it weren’t for my wages and the food you’re able to sneak from your father’s kitchen, there’d be no ‘half’ about it.”

“Convince them all to come. I plan to leverage my mother’s family for my dowry before I leave the county. She left it in trust to them when she fell ill. I thought it odd at the time, but now it makes sense. She knew Da might well fall in with a harpy, and so he’s done. Just think, Mairéad will be furious, and we’ll be able to gloat about it from Boston. We’ll be able to provide for all of them far better in America than we can here.”

“Da was stubborn before, but he’s been obstinate since he fell from the castle rafters. He’d rather be hanged than leave Ireland.”

“If he gets caught in my father’s henhouse again, the MacWilliam men just might arrange it, no matter how long your family has been in service to mine. It’s lucky I happened on them and fed Father’s men a line of malarkey to get them to unhand him.”

Tadgh flung aside his saddle brush with a clatter. “Da is foolish and thinking of his own empty belly rather than sparing any concern for damaging my prospects here. He can’t get it through his addled brain that if I don’t stay on here, the rest of the family will suffer for it. Especially since he isn’t fit to work anymore.”

Aoife softened a bit and leaned closer to him. “Can’t you at least try? I know your father hasn’t been right since the accident, but can’t you or your mother persuade him? It would mean a new life for all of you.”

Tadgh shook his head slowly. “It’s of no use.”

She placed a hand on his to still his deft movements with the bridle. “I matter so little to you, then? You won’t even ask them?”

He finally dared to meet her eyes. “It’s no use wasting breath on it. I promise you the answer wouldn’t change if I begged. The old man won’t budge.”

“So we strap him to the bow of the ship like a Viking maiden. We won’t be able to hear his protests from the cabins.”

He looked like he wanted to smile but wasn’t able. “I’m sorry, Aoife. Ma won’t defy him, even now that he’s not in his right mind. She’s of the old sort who won’t contradict a word he has to say. Especially in front of any of his children.”

The color drained from her face as the fire rose in her eyes. “Fine, Tadgh Callahan. You stay and watch as this green rock crumbles to dust. I won’t give up on my own future so easily. Saddle my horse. And if you ever felt anything like love for me, you won’t tell them where I’ve gone. A lady has no call to disclose her comings and goings with a stable hand, so they should well believe I didn’t burden you with the truth.”

Wordlessly, Tadgh complied. Within moments, she rode off down the path toward town, presumably to make her way to Cork where she could buy her passage to Boston. She didn’t spare a backward glance as her fine bay mare cantered down the road. And she never heard the sound of Tadgh’s weeping for his lost love.