Hot Whispers of an Irishman (7 page)

Vi woke abruptly. She sat up and rubbed the side of her face, which was numb from having been pressed against the desk’s wood surface. She wasn’t quite sure what had snapped her from her dream—the first she’d had in months.

“Rog?” she called, thinking perhaps he’d been whining to get out. But then she spotted the little dog sleeping fat-belly-up on a bit of carpet to the room’s far left.

Something had brought her from that place of lush beauty back to the everyday, and it wasn’t just the ferocious growling of her stomach. Vi pushed away from the desk and surveyed the cluttered room. It was exactly as unattended as she’d left it.

As she glanced past the window, a bit of black caught her attention. Vi moved closer. It was a car parked at the back of the property…the same black car that yesterday she’d seen hung up on a rock. In the field beyond, a figure appeared from behind the car, walking a steady line parallel to the house.

Image traveled from eyes to brain, and Vi felt so muzzy-headed that she began to doubt she’d awakened at all. If this were the old days, Liam would be a farmer out to plow his field and she would be his love. Except neither this land nor she were his, and that was no plow he wielded. It was a modern thing, a flat black rectangular box growing off him in a most absurd way. She assumed that it must have some sort of screen, the way he was down peering at it.

“You were right about the man,” she said to Roger, who’d awakened and come to stand at her side. “Nothing with a Rafferty is ever as it seems, now is it?”

What, exactly, the reality was remained to be learned. Fueled by the anger that came from being trespassed against, Vi stalked out the front door, Roger on her heels. Having Liam briefly out of sight did nothing to dissipate the feeling. Vi clenched her hands, and her blunt-cut nails nipped at her palms.

She rounded to the back of the house. As she walked, her trousers’ legs brushed against the lavender that bordered what was once Nan’s cutting garden. The plants were spent, their stalks now more silver than green and their long and slender flower heads gone to seed. Still, their perfume wafted into the cool air as she passed.

Nan would have told her that the scent was for meditative relaxing, and she would have been right to a degree. At the moment, Vi would have to roll about in a mound higher than Nan’s house to relax.

Vi hurried her pace, preferring to meet Liam head-on while temper gripped her. He had seen her and was frozen like a mad bit of statuary midfield.

“I don’t suppose you’re divining for water, now are you?” she asked as she approached.

His mouth curved into a brief smile that she’d call embarrassed if she didn’t know its owner. Nothing in life had ever embarrassed Liam Rafferty, not even when they’d been discovered naked by German tourists in Castle Duneen.

“Actually, I’m looking for Rafferty’s gold.”

Well now, perhaps he’d found something sufficiently ripe to match that smile. She hesitated before speaking, waiting to see if he’d say it was a joke and that he was…

She frowned at the rig he wore. God knew what else he could be doing. Perhaps God also knew how she could be finding Liam Rafferty handsome when he looked half a lunatic.

“Really, Vi, this is ground-penetrating radar. I’m treasure seeking.”

It was a blessing that she’d chosen not to view this man as more than a potential source of long overdue sexual gratification. “I’ll give you credit for honesty, if not a brain working full-time.”

“The legend’s real. I’m sure of it.”

She knew the legend as well as she did her own name. When young, she’d heard the story from Liam’s grandda, and a rather more female-centric version of it from her nan. Either way the tale was told, it had been the sort of thing to pique a young girl’s fancy. She and Liam were like history’s legendary Deirdre and Naoise, star-crossed Irish lovers attached to opposing factions.

No matter that the Raffertys weren’t overtly warring with her nan over treasure no one had ever actually seen. And while Vi had loved Liam with a passion that frightened her, she’d hardly have dashed her brains out on a rock for the loss of him the way woeful Deirdre had for Naoise. It had been enough to know that destiny held a hand in Vi and Liam’s romance. Or so that naïve, lust-addled teenager had thought.

Vi pulled herself back to a rather confusing present. “And this from a man whose mother would have done better to name him Thomas, with all the time you’ve doubted the tale?” she asked. “Why the change?”

“I didn’t have proof before.”

“And you do now?”

“Yes.” He hesitated, and Vi watched as a muscle in his jaw flexed as though he were gritting his teeth. “At least it’s the closest I’ve seen.”

“Care to tell me about it?”

“I don’t.”

“No? You’re walking my land, looking for treasure that’s more mine than yours, and you don’t intend to tell me what brought you into the realm of believers? I’m thinking you don’t grasp our respective positions, here.”

He settled his hands on his hips, a position that added little to his believability with that thing poking out before him. “I meant no, I don’t care to talk proof now, in the middle of this field. And I’ll tell you what I
am
grasping. I’m grasping that the gold is called Rafferty’s gold for a reason.”

She laughed. “Aye, so your family could feel begrudged over bloody nothing but their own bad behavior for generations.”

Liam’s blue eyes narrowed, not that Vi was feeling especially concerned. He switched off his radar-thing and began walking toward his car. Vi stayed even with him, stride after stride over the uneven ground, even though the effort was making her dizzy. She should have drunk more of Da’s wretched juice.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Liam was saying. “Had you not shown up in Duncarraig, you’d know nothing of what I’m doing.”

For once in her life, timing had been her friend.

“Odd how that worked out, isn’t it?” she asked, giving him her pet “the spirits like me better than you” smile.

She got a scowl in return for her comment before he picked up his pace. Roger trotted along just fine, but Vi began to falter. Liam started lecturing her about something or another, and she couldn’t seem to focus on the words.

Stars and tiny comets danced in front of her eyes. She blinked, then blinked again. It was no help. Her knees grew weak, and she sat on the damp earth before she would fall.

“Vi?” she heard Liam or perhaps the rock nearest to him asking.

“Head between knees,” she managed to say, then slumped forward, doing her best to make action follow words.

Bloody damn hell, she was not a woman who fainted.

Until now.

The traveler has tales to tell.

—I
RISH
P
ROVERB

N
ever before had a woman gone unconscious at Liam’s feet. He might have fantasized about it once or twice, but definitely not with the participants clothed. Neither had his fantasies included this level of alarm.

“Vi?” he asked over the slamming of his heart.

He bent down to get to her, but his newest appendage prevented him from reaching the ground. Her little dog was trotting back and forth above her head, worry on his face, to the degree a dog could look worried.

“Stinking pot of boiled sheep shite,” Liam muttered as he unbuckled, unhooked, and wrenched off the GPR unit that stood between him and Vi. He knew little of where she’d been or if she’d been well these past years. It was a hard fist to the stomach to think even for a moment that she was ill. By the time he was kneeling beside her, though, she had begun to stir. Liam wasn’t sure who was more relieved, himself or Vi’s dog.

Because she was ever-invincible Vi, she began to scramble to her feet. Liam grasped her by the upper arms and stilled her. “Slow now or you’ll be out again.”

“I don’t faint.”

She’d spoken with such dignity that he scarcely managed to quell his smile. “Then you’d best give me warning before you nap again.”

Her exhaled breath was nearly a laugh.

Liam looked for signs of color returning beneath her skin, but she remained too pale for his comfort. He’d take her in his arms if he didn’t think he’d end up with them broken for the effort. Instead, he reached out to smooth a lock of hair back from her forehead, but the obvious warning in her green eyes stopped him.

“You’d best not. I’m not through being angry,” she said.

Vi and anger were things not to be trifled with, even when she was at less than her best. He dropped his hand to his side. Knowing Vi’s inattention to matters mundane as food, he asked a logical question.

“So tell me, she who does not faint, when did you last eat?”

“Yesterday.”

“At my parents’ house?”

She nodded.

“You didn’t eat. You chased a carrot round your plate.”

“Close enough.”

“Not when the carrot wins.”

“It’s grand to see the years haven’t robbed you of your sense of humor,” she said quite dryly. “My father will be here soon with some food.”

“Define soon.”

She rubbed at her temples with long-fingered hands. “By teatime.”

Liam glanced at his watch. “Nowhere near good enough. I’ll run you and your dog—”

“Roger,” she corrected.

“Fine, then,
Roger
—into town and get some food in you.”

“I can wait for Da.”

A faint tinge of pink had crept under her skin, making Liam feel better, too.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, knowing he’d have a better chance in asking fire not to burn. “You can’t live on less than a meal a day.”

“I can and have,” she replied. “But I suppose you can take me to town.” She ran her hands through her hair and then began brushing off her right shoulder and hip, which had been in close contact with the ground.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with all the grace she was refusing to show.

He stood, then held out a hand to her. She hesitated.

“For God’s sake, Vi, I’m helping you up from the ground. You can shred me alive for trespassing after you’ve eaten.”

She gripped his hand and rose. “Don’t think I’ll be forgetting.”

Liam knew better than to even think that.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He shook his head as she marched shoulders back and head high in the direction of the house. He took a moment more to gather his gear. Vi had returned with a patchwork bag made of a mad jumble of fabric by the time he was saving the data he’d captured. She and her dog got into the car while he stowed the equipment. When he went to get in the driver’s side, the dog was sitting in his seat.

“To the back,” he said to Roger.

“I don’t know,” said Vi. “He could do no worse than you did yesterday.”

A diplomat, the dog hopped in back.

“Don’t be discussing driving or I’ll remind you of your first time behind the wheel,” Liam said once he’d climbed in and closed the door.

That settled her into silence for a few minutes. He supposed it would have done the same to him, had he ended up going the wrong way round and round and round a rotary with a
Garda
hot on his tail. It had been ugly enough sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Vi wasn’t daunted for long. “About being on my nan’s property…”

“Yes?”

Her hand shot out, and she plucked a few hairs from his head. Liam yelped and swerved, then rubbed at his scalp once he’d put the car back on course.

“Jesus, Vi! Has no one ever taught you to leave the driver alone?”

She smiled as she tucked the hairs into a smaller velvet bag that she’d pulled from her patchwork sack. “I will…now.”

He shot her a baleful look. “What have you in mind, a voodoo doll?”

She laughed. “An Irish voodoo doll? Never! It’s Nan’s recipes I’m thinking of. Somewhere in her writings is one fit for curing a trespasser. Something with tar to make you stick where you should be. A bit into your food or drink when you’re not looking and my problem will be gone.”

Liam grimaced. “As would be my gut. I’ve run across her ‘recipes’ before.”

Vi nodded. “Good, then. This one has done its job already, and you know not to wander.”

A fine threat indeed from a woman who’d been in a faint not long before. Liam would have to weigh the risks of actually letting her get to full strength.

“Pull in there,” she said when they were just down the street from his family’s pub. “That’s my car, which means Da must be near.”

Liam did as asked. Once parked, he came round to her side of the car and opened the door for her, earning a surprised sounding “thank you.” Her dog hopped out and waited next to her on the curb as she slung her bag—and Liam’s pirated hairs—over her shoulder.

“Did your father have any plans?” Liam asked.

“Just to catch up on life in Duncarraig,” Vi said.

“Then he’s sure to be in the pub.”

When they were all inside, including Roger, Jamie came round the bar with a speed that could make him the first Irishman to win track and field gold at the Olympics.

“Welcome to my pub, Vi,” he said, placing himself squarely in front of her and subtly nudging Liam aside.

“Yours and Da’s,” Liam muttered while his brother kissed her on the cheek.

Vi shot him an arch look. It wasn’t jealousy he was feeling, so much as what he usually did when in Duncarraig—that his place in the world was being trampled flat by others.

He beat his brother to a table and pulled out a chair for Vi, who thanked him again. Thinking he must not have had the same manners fifteen years ago, Liam sat opposite her.

“Vi’s in need of a meal,” he said to his brother, who lingered at her right hand.

“We’ve a ginger carrot soup today,” Jamie said. “Would you like to start with that?”

“Since I can catch them pureed, I will,” she replied, brows raised in Liam’s direction. Then she sent a sunny smile to Jamie. “After the soup, I think a toasted cheese sandwich. And have you some lettuce and tomato slices? No mayonnaise, though. Liam here was saying that I’ve put on weight.”

He’d said no bloody such thing and was about to point that out when he saw the laughter in her eyes. Threats of being snuck one of Nan’s recipes weren’t to be his sole punishment.

“He’s got no eye for beauty, then,” Jamie said.

“I always did like you best,” Vi nearly purred.

Liam was sure his brother’s tongue was going to be spiked with splinters from the wood of the floor by the time he rolled it back into his mouth.

“Anything for your dog?” Jamie managed to stammer with a nod toward Roger, who had curled up in front of the fireplace.

This time, Vi’s smile was enough to light the town for a week. “No, but it’s fine of you to have asked. I can tell you’re the sort of man who likes dogs. Unlike some,” she added, with a nod toward Liam.

Grand, now he was a dog hater. Next she’d have him defrauding aged nuns. Wait…that had been great-grandda Seamus’s special talent.

“I’d like a bowl of the soup, too, if you don’t mind,” Liam said to his brother with the thought of moving him along.

“You know where the kitchen is,” Jamie replied, never taking his gaze from Vi. “So tell me, Vi, do you plan to be visiting Duncarraig more often?”

Unwilling to listen to this exercise in flirtation any longer, Liam got himself a cup of soup, and one for Vi, too, so long as he was there. He and Jamie crossed paths as Liam returned to his seat. Jamie’s smug smile was a hard one to take.

Once Liam had resettled at the table, Vi spoke. “Jamie says that my father has gone with yours to visit a bit.”

Liam smiled. “My father’s idea of visiting a bit is like saying that it rains a bit hereabouts. He’ll be gone for hours yet.”

“Then I’d say we have time for a chat,” Vi said. “Are you going to tell me now what proof you have of Rafferty’s gold?”

Liam gave a quick look around to see who might be listening. “When we’re someplace with less ears, if you don’t mind.” He wanted his family as far out of his business as he could have them. Granted, when in the same town it wasn’t far, but a man could always hope. “After we eat, would you come back to my house?”

“Would it be just the two of us?”

The question confused him. “Your dog can chaperone if you’re worried about appearances.”

She laughed. “They’ve never worried me overmuch.”

With that, she lifted her spoon and made short work of her soup. Liam had nearly finished his when Jamie reappeared with the rest of Vi’s meal. After he’d set down the food, he pulled out the chair next to Liam as though he intended to stay. Liam hooked his foot round the chair’s leg and drew it flush to the table. Jamie called Liam a word that he’d not heard since childhood and walked off.

“He’s grown up handsome,” Vi said.

“And spoilt, too,” Liam replied, then softened his admittedly ill-tempered words. “But he’s always been here for our parents, so he deserves what they’ve given him. Even Cullen and Nora left town for a few years, but never Jamie.”

She nibbled at her sandwich before asking, “And would you ever come back to stay?”

“No,” he said automatically, until he recalled that he had little other place to be. “I don’t know.” He paused. “It’s too far from the sea, I’m thinking.”

“The sea,” she echoed, and her smile stirred things in him that weren’t purely physical. “I love that about my home in Ballymuir. I’m never far from the water.”

“You’re more beautiful now than you were at seventeen,” he blurted, not really intending the thought to escape.

She laughed. “Flattery works better when there’s a seed of truth, Rafferty.”

There was a full forest of truth in what he’d said, but she had never taken praise well. Instead of unsettling her more, he asked her if she’d gone to art school in Cork as she’d always intended. He was surprised to hear that she hadn’t. They talked a bit about his college experience in America, then Liam let her finish her meal in peace. She was almost done when Jamie came skulking back over.

“Have you nothing better to do?” Liam asked.

“No, but you do. I just took a call behind the bar. Meghan’s complaining of a headache, and the school needs you to come take her home.”

She no more had a headache than he did a family that respected his privacy, but there was nothing to be done for it.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Vi. “Would you mind coming with me to gather her up?”

“Or you could stay here,” Jamie offered.

“Go ’way, Jamie,” Liam directed.

His brother shrugged. “Just offering a more pleasant alternative.”

Vi stepped into the discussion. “Liam and I have some catching up to do, but thank you for the offer, Jamie.”

“Might I at least keep your dog for you?”

“That would be grand, actually.”

Jamie puffed like an overproud bantam rooster. “My pleasure.”

“Oh, and do you think you could give a ring to Liam’s house when my father reappears?” Vi asked while folding her napkin and putting it in the center of a plate that otherwise now held only a few crumbs.

“On the second, as it will get you back to me all the sooner,” Jamie said.

Vi laughed, and Liam worked on keeping down his soup. Wee toady of a brother.

“Well then, my family’s fully tended. Shall we see to yours?” she asked Liam.

“Let’s.” Liam stood and waited while Vi threw some quick praise Jamie’s way about the fine meal he’d provided. Liam reached into his pocket and smacked a small handful of crumpled euros on the table.

“If it’s not enough, let me know,” he said.

Jamie picked up the money and without counting it replied, “It should be enough, that with the five I borrowed from your jacket pocket yesterday. It’s not safe leaving money lying about like that. You never know where it might end up.”