Chapter Seventeen

Ronan

“I’m comin’!”

Another knock sounds even after I shout out my displeasure. Whoever’s on the other side of that door is going to get a dressing down. I can only move so fast. If it’s Cos again, dumping his ballsch on my doorstep and offending Savie, I’m going to smack that neddy.

I swing the door open only to find a bespectacled and flustered Declan Bleigh on the other side.

“Sorry to bother yer, Ronan. Is Ms. Starr here?”

I step back and make a sweeping gesture with my arm so the man isn’t left standing out on the front porch in the cold. “Nay, she’s in town with Caris. My sister hoodwinked her into helpin’ with the festival. Since Savie…Savannah is bored out here, she agreed to go into town for dinner at the pub and some female chit chat. Why?”

The man glances around the room as if my words are nothing but lies. What the feck?

“’Tis of a sensitive nature.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Declan, yer a mechanic. Exactly what do yer ‘av to tell Savannah that’s of a sensitive nature? Did yer use the wrong wrench to tighten her lug nuts?”

He tries to smile but it comes across as a grimace of agony. “’Tis not a message for her, ‘tis a message about her. For yer. Somethin’ yer need to know.”

In the space of a second, my heart begins to race. I can’t even imagine what Declan thinks I would need to know about my current house guest. Is she some kind of criminal? I imagine her lush body moving underneath mine, taking every single thing I give her…and more. The memory is a strange kind of thing, given to exaggeration and glorification. What if mine is all wrong? Nay, that can’t be true. I’ve had my cock balls deep in many women since I lost my virginity at thirteen, but I’ve never had the feeling of completeness that I enjoy with Savie.

Not once.

“What about her?” I ask. Declan blows right by me to land in the middle of my kitchen. He paces back and forth, practically wearing a path into my hardwood floors. I stand there, confused and with rising ire.

He reaches inside the waistband of his pants like he’s going to show me his langer, and I get the impression something is about to go horribly wrong. I wave a hand through the air, staying him. All of a sudden, I don’t want to know. Whatever it is, it’s bringing up lingering emotions from my past, when women have betrayed me and blown my world into the depths of hell. Even if Savie’s about to do the same, I still want her with a passion that’s mindless, careless, and devoid of all sanity.

“Yer ‘av to know this, Ronan.”

I feckin’ give up.

“Well, what is it? And don’t tell me yer need to pull yer manky scunders down to do it!”

Before I can protest again, Declan produces a worn magazine with the picture of a smiling Savie on the front cover. I barely recognize her. Layers of makeup cover every fragile feature of her face. She’s wearing another one of those star-spangled getups she wears on the stage that look like glorified knickers. Costumes, she calls them. I like her without all the trappings of fame that shout in my face that she’s not the lass for me.

I stare at the magazine, wanting to fall into the shadows of her eyes, wanting to replay the past and create a different ending for myself. One where a woman’s betrayal doesn’t slice into my soul. One where I get the family I’ve always wanted.

After a few tortured moments, I read the headline:

Pop superstar, Savannah Starr, pregnant with guitarist Jet Master’s love child.

Declan takes a few steps backward after I lurch forward and grab the offensive pages. After staring a few more seconds, my anger snakes up my spine, threatening to choke me. Like storm clouds in an early spring sky, shrouds of grey steal the blue from the winter horizon. They roll and thunder, but beneath their darkness, I see one ray of light. Now that I know Savie’s carrying another man’s baby while she’s fecking me like some kind of slapper, it takes any tortured decision I might have had about sending her away from me.

With the strength of one midnight confessional, I’m free. So why do I feel like I’m trapped in a cage of my own making?

She’s not the one. She’s not the one from the ritual. This magazine is proof.

“I don’t think ‘tis a good idea for yer to get too close to this molly,” Declan says, backing up in the face of the heat radiating off me in waves. I probably look like I’m going to throttle him when in fact, the only person worthy of my raging anger is myself.

Savie is so alien to me, so exotic compared to the other women I’ve known throughout the years. When I stumbled across her during the blizzard, stranded in her monstrosity of a bombardier, she’d seemed to need saving. Now, I’m the one who needs saving.

From her.

“Don’t go gettin’ yer knickers in a wad, Declan. I’m not gettin’ close to her. In any way. Where did yer get this publication?” I ask the question as if knowing its origin is going to make the information any more palatable. My stomach flips over, and I struggle to keep breathing so I can fire more questions at him.

“Yesterday, I be walkin’ from the garage to the pub to get a pint and one of those delicious roast beef sandwiches that Caris makes, so I was. Right in the middle of the street, Mary Murphy flags me down, using this here magazine. Yer know how she gets. She be wantin’ us to throw Miss Starr out of Wintervale on her arse. Like I’d ever do that to a pregnant lass.”

“Where did Mary get it?”

This isn’t the type of material anyone reads around here. Most days, Caris doesn’t even want anyone reading the local paper. Wants everyone communicating face to face. Personal contact and all that other female stuff that no man ever needs or wants.

Declan makes a face. “I’ve nair an idea. She probably picked it up at the library. She’s always there with a stack of books and her nose right in ‘em. Sometimes, I think that woman does too much learnin’. And yer encourage her, Ronan, including her in all the important rituals. Especially, the rituals that only require one other besides yerself.”

I look at the magazine again. “Well, if ‘tis from the library, it must be true.”

Declan reaches out and touches my arm in silent male solidarity and consolation. My sister must have been shooting her yap off again about the ritual and the calling in of the one. Except… Savie’s not the one. I no longer fecking believe in the Cailleach Beare, either. I’ll always love Sal, but I’ll never believe her again.

I walk away from Declan and peer out the window, focusing on the sunshine dancing across the remaining dots of sparkling white snow instead of the way my heart feels as if it’s been ripped from my chest cavity.

The feeling is ridiculous, I know. But it’s there.

“When a musician pulls a note out of thin air, some people see the travel of fingers across the instrument. Others see only the magic. I used to see it, but I’ve had years of female betrayal leadin’ to skepticism and disbelief. And the written proof is right in front of my still denyin’ eyes.”

Declan nods in sympathy. “If ‘tis any consolation, the part to the bus arrives tomorrow. She won’t be here much longer. I know the big star is itchin’ to flee our town and get back to her big city roots. And to the father of her unborn child, so I would say.”

“I wish Caris was here right now,” I say, continuing to stare outside. My face grows hot under the weight of my negative emotions and it would feel good to step out into the fresh air and clear my head. But that would be rude, and I’m not going to shove Declan out of my cottage for my own comfort when he came here with good intentions.

“Why?”

“’Cause a man could use a Guinness right about now.”

He sighs. “’Tis true.”

The sound of a car’s tires scrunching down the gravel drive yanks me back to the present. Caris must be bringing Savie back home from the festival preparations.

No, not home. This is my home. Never will it be hers.

“Shove that feckin’ thing back down yer cacks!” I snap, not wanting any evidence of my new knowledge to come into the light of day until I have a chance to digest it alone.

Declan jumps to attention and complies just as the front door swings open and the girls breeze through it, all giggles and feminine energy. For a tortured second, I wish for more than what I have after my newfound knowledge. I want it all. I want to be the da of Savie’s baby.

She moves to stand near me, and I can feel the magnetic pull coming off her in pulses that are hard to ignore. She tosses her hair away from her face and looks at me, her eyes glittering with something I can’t articulate.

“Did yer ladies ‘av a good time?” I want to break the crackling silence with a subject that can’t be misconstrued as controversial.

“Aye, that we did,” Caris says, sliding into a dining chair and looking at me with expectant eyes that demand an invitation. If she thinks I’m going to just brew her a cup of scaldy as easy as you please, she needs to reconsider.

“We did,” Savie adds. Unconsciously, I take a step toward her, overcome with the need to touch her, feel her body pressed against mine just one last time.

But I don’t.

I watch her sit down and feel her loss instead. Even though she’s still here in my home, the moment I found out about her deception, she drifted so far away that she might as well be back in America. I wonder what she had been thinking, wonder why she gave herself to me when someone else clearly stood between us. Is that how women outside of my small circle live?

Running my hands over my newly barbered face, I know in an instant that it’s going to be difficult to move forward until I resolve this issue within myself. I need to ask her about this situation. Once I have closure, maybe I’ll be able to let her go without malice and only hope for her happiness.

“Yer part is scheduled to arrive on the morrow,” Declan says, and I pretend not to notice how Savie’s eyes light up with pleasure. The expression is similar to the pure and honest pleasure I’ve seen when she’s strumming her guitar.

Caris reaches across the table and grabs Savie’s hand. “I’m really goin’ to miss yer, Savie.”

“Me too.” There’s actually a touch of emotion behind her flippant words. Mayhaps she is a good actress in addition to having the voice of a bird.

The thought strengthens my resolve.

Come tomorrow, Savie Starr will reside only as a ghost of a memory from my past. Holding on to my anger like a badge of honor will stiffen my backbone and prevent me from reaching out to her, as I refuse to give in to the desperate needs of my body. I fear giving in might destroy me.

Somehow, I’d placed the weight of saving her squarely on my own shoulders just like I’d placed the health and happiness of my community on that broad width. As their Bard, I hold part of their very souls in the palm of my hand, and I won’t let them down. I will rise up to meet any and all challenges head on.

Declan lifts a brow. “I’ll see yer tomorrow then?”

Savie nods in agreement, the relief clear on her face. “Yes, tomorrow.”

Caris looks from me to Savannah. “Well, at least yer get to sing in the festival, so yer do.”

Savie’s eyes flash on Declan. “Won’t the bus be fixed tomorrow?”

He shakes his head. “Nay. ‘Tis a detailed and time-consumin’ repair. The parts don’t come in ‘til the afternoon, and I don’t work weekends. Especially not the weekend of the festival. Otherwise, I might ‘av been talked into it. If I don’t play my part to her approval, the missus might cut off me knackers.”

I expect the spoiled songstress to begin to wail at the inconvenience. Instead, she looks at Caris and shrugs. “Okay. I guess Wintervale, Ireland is an extra special stop on my world tour.” Then she turns to me. “On one condition.”

All eyes turn on me, and I swallow. “What’s that?”

Savie grins. “You have to play with me.”

Shite.