Chapter Nine
“Egos of Men and Fae have been known to start wars.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Stepping once again inside the Seven Swans Pub, Conn surveyed the surroundings. There were customers at the bar chatting with the man he’d noticed with Ivy when he first entered the establishment. Seeing a booth in the far back, he made his way to the table. Removing his jacket, he dropped down against the soft cushions and sighed. Stretching out his legs, he glanced at the menu. In truth, he simply wanted to drink his meal away.
His senses were still reeling from the encounter with Miss Ivy O’Callaghan.
She may have whispered the words, ancient Celt, but they echoed loud within his mind. No one had referred to him as a Celt. No, they always assumed he was of Norse blood, or a damn Viking, intent on pillaging their town. The moment their gazes locked, he thought her to be the most adorable sprite he’d ever seen. Her short, wispy blonde hair only highlighted her vivid aqua-colored eyes, reminding him of the ocean on a calm day. Although Conn never cared for the current fashions, he found himself staring at her form of dress—her tartan mini skirt and tight sweater made his mouth dry. In addition, the boots she wore only accentuated her shapely long legs.
Tossing the menu aside, he rubbed vigorously at his eyes. “She’s only a woman. A human,” he muttered. By the hounds, he should have requested a visit to the Pleasure Gardens before he left for the human world. There he would have found release with one of his own.
“Having a difficult time deciding what you’ll be eating?” asked the woman who now stood before him.
Opening his eyes, he placed his hands on the table. “I’ll take a pint of your best Irish stout and the Vegetarian Shepherd’s Pie.”
The woman placed a coaster on the table. “Do you have a place to stay while you’re doing the repairs on Ivy’s place?”
He arched a brow and leaned back. “Yes. I’m staying with Sean Casey.”
“Good. I’m Erin O’Reilly, part owner of the Seven Swans. Let me go fetch your pint and put in your food order.”
As she walked away, Conn tried calming his restless spirit. Any other time, he would have enjoyed the solitude, but now, he would dearly welcome the counsel of a fellow warrior.
Erin returned and placed his pint on the table. She leaned against the other side of the booth. “Funny thing… I’ve never heard Sean mention anything about you, Conn MacRoich.”
Reaching for the glass, he guzzled deeply. “Ahh…perfect.” Gazing up at her, he replied, “Do you want to hear something funnier, Erin O’Reilly?”
She nodded, though a frown marred her features.
Conn leaned forward. “He’s never mentioned you either.”
Erin quickly recovered and straightened. “Well I guess we weren’t important enough for him to talk about.”
He lifted his glass and nodded in acknowledgement. “If you would be so kind, I’ll take another pint.”
She smiled fully. “Thirsty man. I’ll go see to your dinner.” Taking the empty glass with her, she quickly walked away.
As Conn waited for his pint and meal, his thoughts turned once again to Ivy and her lineage. After going through volumes regarding the O’Callaghan clan with Archie, he couldn’t fathom that one misstep in time would lead to such a miserable group of people. They often hid among the shadows, attempting to seclude themselves from others. Their gifts were extraordinary and they chose to squelch any within a family or clan that carried the gene. Centuries flowed, but the O’Callaghans retreated farther away from society.
He smacked his fist on the table. “Bloody fools,” he hissed.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Sean chuckled and dropped down in the booth across from him.
Conn tapped his fingers on the wood. “Did I invite you to share a meal with me?”
The man rubbed a hand over his chin. “Already had my supper. Thought I’d stop in for a pint.”
“Is there something you wish to discuss with me?”
Sean turned and waved at the man behind the bar. “I’ll take a pint and a shot of whiskey, Mac.” He focused his attention back toward Conn. “I can tell by your foul mood you have met Ivy Kathleen.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he replied, “My mood has nothing to do with the wee lass.”
Erin brought over their drinks, placing them on the table. “New or old friend, Sean?”
Smiling, the man pushed the dram of whiskey toward Conn. “Positively ancient.”
She rolled her eyes. “Exactly what Ivy stated. Would you like something to eat?”
“No thanks. The pint will be all.”
As the woman walked away from their table, Conn pointed to the dram. “What’s this for?”
Sean took a sip of his pint. “How long have we known each other?”
“From the day I saved your life in Kintale Bay, which would make that over fifty years.”
Closing his eyes, Sean remarked, “I was a foolish lad of only ten.” When he opened them, he added, “So I know you well.”
“From one encounter?” challenged Conn.
“You forget, Fae, the conversation we had that day on the shore.”
Conn leaned forward. “You dare to unleash my anger by calling me thusly? Do I call you human?”
Sean roared, causing several in the pub to glance their way. “Forgive me, and I have seen your anger. On the day you rescued me, your fury was evident. You were extremely pissed at the men who were supposed to be watching over me. They let the boat drift farther out into the sea as they drank on the shore. They were so drunk that the lashing you gave them has always haunted them. Sadly, both departed several years later.”
“Good riddance,” stated Conn. “Did they ever mention me to others?”
“And be scorned by the people of Glennamore? No, they kept quiet about the strange giant with silver eyes that blazed.”
Sighing, Conn lifted the dram and inhaled the peaty aroma. “You were wise then, Sean Casey, and wiser now. I’m happy to see that the Gods favored your life well.”
“Aye. Thanks to you, my friend.” Sean lifted his glass. “Sláinte.”
“Sláinte mhath.” Conn drained the glass and placed it on the table.
“Can you tell me why you are here? You mentioned it had to do with the O’Callaghan family, but why Ivy?”
Conn glanced at Erin as she approached with his meal, ignoring the man’s question. She set the steaming plate of food in front of him. “Would you care for anything else?”
He shook his head, reaching for a fork.
“Give a holler if you do,” she said, and walked away.
Scooping out a huge chunk of vegetables, he took a bite. Closing his eyes, Conn savored the intense flavors.
“They say Erin has a secret ingredient she puts in her Shepherd pies. Many have tried to weasel it out of her, but the lass is firm on keeping it private,” uttered Sean quietly.
Opening his eyes, he nodded. “Damn good. I believe she uses wild mushrooms and green garlic. There’s a mixture of spices I’m sure I can name, but I’ll keep her secret.”
Sean took a sip of his pint. “Sweet Brigid. She’d most likely have your head if she heard you mention one word.”
Shrugging, Conn took another mouthful. He had to admit the woman was an excellent cook. Reaching for his pint, he took a long swallow. Could he possibly share his reason for being here with Sean? Perhaps the man could assist him—help him see the real Ivy O’Callaghan. He placed the glass down. “To answer your previous question, I’m here to assist Ivy on a search for her true identity.”
Sean narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
Conn waved his fork in the air. “She is…gifted and hides behind a wall of her own secrets. Some are even in this village. No one can tell the lass why her parents left Ireland.”
“Then she carries the traits like her Uncle Thomas, who spoke to me about his sight of seeing things before they happened, or events of the past.” Sean drained his glass. “We spoke of this only once, but he never mentioned the discord between his brother. He was distraught over their leaving in the beginning. But when the first letter arrived with pictures, Thomas felt it was his duty to share everything about his niece living in America.”
Reaching for his pint, Conn drained the rest of his beer. “So there is no one in this village that can explain why her parents left?”
Sean frowned and scratched behind his ear. “He had many friends, but did not like to discuss the bad blood with his brother, Patrick.”
Conn concentrated on his meal, letting his thoughts settle on which direction to take with Ivy. He had no plan whatsoever. Nowhere to start and his gut soured. Shoving his meal aside, he concluded the path would eventually reveal itself. For now, he would work on the repairs at Ivy’s cottage.
Sean smacked his hand onto the table. “There might be one who could shed some light on the O’Callaghan brothers.”
Eyeing the man skeptically across from him, he replied, “Continue.”
He pointed a finger at Conn. “There was a lass who was fond of both brothers. However, when Patrick started seeing Sara, the woman turned her sights to Thomas. ’Tis a pity nothing more happened. She would visit the village a few times a year to visit relatives, but Thomas refused to see her again.”
Leaning forward, Conn placed his hands on the table. It was a small slice of information and he would gladly accept the morsel. “Where is this woman?”
“Anne Fahey is her name. She moved away after Patrick and Sara left for America. Bought a small place up north in Kindale.”
Conn smiled. “It’s a start.”
Turning sideways, Sean waved to the bartender. “Bring us two drams of your best single malt.”
****
The new dawn brought the promise of another clear day as Conn maneuvered his motorcycle down the path to Ivy’s cottage. After several more drams of whiskey last evening with Sean Casey, he had as much information as required. There was a mystery to the O’Callaghans and this woman, Anne. It niggled down his spine this sense of secrecy. Until he could meet with this woman, he pushed aside any further thoughts.
Turning off the engine, Conn got off the bike and made his way to the front door. Knocking several times, he waited. After several moments, he peered in the front window. Glancing up at the sky, Conn knew the hour, so he frowned in confusion. Was the lass prone to sleeping? Did she forget?
He walked around to the back of the house. Unprepared for the vision in the early morn’s sunlight, his steps faltered, and he froze. There in the garden stood Ivy, the light shimmering around her in a hazy glow. Today’s outfit was a flowered mini rose-colored dress, and he could make the outline of all her shapely curves. Smiling, he noticed she wore no shoes. Her hair blew in soft waves around her face, reminding him of those from his own Fae realm.
Conn stood in a trance watching her as she tilted her head up to let the sun’s warmth touch her face. Time slowed, the rhythm of the land pulsed all around them, and it frightened him. “Who are you, Ivy Kathleen O’Callaghan,” he whispered.
Her head turned toward him with eyes that blazed from another time and held his own—ancient and powerful. His sprite was in another time. Conn held out his hand, “Come back, Ivy,” he commanded softly.
She blinked in confusion, and placed a hand over her brow. “I’m…so…sorry.”
Ivy swayed, and Conn was there immediately, placing an arm around her waist. The mere contact blazed a path of longing throughout his body. Instantly closing off the emotion, he tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “Are you unwell?”
Her eyes grew wide from his touch. “Lost…track of time.”
Regretting his next move, Conn released his hold on her and took a step back. “I would imagine one would lose all sense of time coming into this stunning garden, especially in the early morn. Your beauty only enhances the place.”
She quickly turned away, but not before Conn caught a glimpse of the blush staining her cheeks. “You must think I’m foolish being out here without shoes, too,” she said moving toward the house.
“No. I find it enchanting. You can feel the heart of the land through your skin.”
Ivy paused and looked over her shoulder. Giving him a smile, she nodded. “I do it each morning and evening. Would you like a cup of tea before you start on the Aga?”
“Coffee?”
She laughed, the sound reminding Conn of bells. “Sorry. I don’t like the stuff. I was brought up on strong tea.”
Conn shrugged. “Then strong tea will do.”
Laughing once again, Ivy made her way into the cottage.
He hastily knelt on one knee and placed his palm upon the ground. “Where did the lass go?” He closed his eyes reaching out with his Fae senses. Trying to grasp a thread of where her essence traveled to, he blew out a frustrated breath when the vision refused to open for him.
Standing, he gazed at the garden. A profusion of flowers, herbs, and vegetables all grew in abundance. They were pleasing to the senses, and Conn marveled at the place. “Beauty everywhere.”
Making his way into the house, he stood in the arched entrance of the kitchen. Ivy had donned a pair of socks and she was busy preparing the tea and muffins.
She gestured him over to a chair. “I’ve bought some blueberry muffins. Would you like one?”
“Of course,” he replied taking a seat. The small chair creaked under his weight, and Conn feared this would be another project—fixing broken chairs.
She quickly set everything down in front of him. “If you need anything else, I’ll be at the store.”
He arched a brow. “You’re not eating?”
“Well, umm… I have tons to do, since I’m opening the store in a few days.” Ivy bustled about, and Conn watched her every movement. “I need to look at the inventory sheets, monetary ledgers, go to the bank, and—” She burst out in laughter.
Leaning forward in his chair, Conn folded his arms on the table. “Extremely humorous, I’m sure.”
“No, sorry.” Ivy leaned against the table. “Do you want to know a secret?”
By the hounds of Cuchulainn, Conn wanted to know all of her secrets and unravel those waiting to be whispered into his ear. “Do tell,” he encouraged in a low voice.
Ivy leaned closer. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”
Instinctively, Conn reached out and placed a hand over hers on the table. “Trust your inner guidance. And when chaos surrounds you…smile.”
Her rosy lips parted, inviting Conn to taste. The call of desire so potent, his vision blurred. Snatching his hand back, he stared into her aqua depths.
“Sage advice,” she whispered and moved away from him to grab a pair of boots. She quickly put them on and stood. “I checked your motorcycle and didn’t see any tools.”
“Sean told me that your uncle kept a shed full of the necessary items,” he replied, and then added, “I’ll make an initial inspection and determine what further supplies I will require.”
Ivy reached for a sweater from the back of one of the chairs and a muffin with her other hand. “Great! I sure hope you can get the Aga working.” His eyes followed her out of the kitchen. “I would love to start baking my own food.” Her voice trailed off as she left the cottage.
The moment the door closed, Conn’s shoulders slumped. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Why did a mere slip of a lass almost cause him to lose control? He gritted his teeth and then pounded his fist on the table, the result causing the chair to splinter beneath him.
His arse hit the ground hard. “Damn! Now you can add another repair to your list, sprite.”
Laughter bubbled up within Conn, and he roared with its release.