Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears (Exit Unicorns Series) (40 page)

“Granted, that would be fairly effective for keeping me in my place, but not nearly so enjoyable,” she said stretching blissfully, every muscle and bone feeling like melted butter.

“I don’t mean to be such a brute, ye know, it’s only that I still have my moments of disbelief that yer mine to keep. On the day we married I kept waitin’ for ye to bolt, an’ mutterin’ a little prayer to God, sayin’ if ye’d taken leave of yer senses altogether could He see His way to keepin’ ye in that state for a bit.”

“I’ve no intention,” she tilted her head back and kissed the soft skin under his jaw, “of coming to my senses where you’re concerned.”

“Good,” he replied, and returned her kiss with a thorough one of his own.

“Now are you going to tell me why you were with Joe Doherty tonight?” she asked.

He sighed melodically. “Where have my cigarettes gone? I’ve a feelin’ I’m goin’ to need them.” He sat up on the bed, reaching for his coat, the pinkish glow from the window catching his torso and left arm.

“Casey Riordan,” she said in tones of shock, “what the hell have you done to your arm?”

He froze in place, hand in the pocket of his coat, the line of his back and arm bold against the fuzzy light.

“Um, well, I’ve gotten a tattoo,” he said as if uncertain as to how said tattoo had found its way onto his arm.

“I can see that.” She leaned forward to have a better look at the dark band that encircled the girth of his upper bicep. “Is that writing? Turn the light on.”

“Now darlin’—” Casey began in protest, as she reached across the bed for the little bead-fringed night light.

She flicked the light on, eyes narrowing in disbelief, “
Erin Go Bragh
?
ERIN GO BRAGH
?!”

“Aye, it means
Ireland Forever
.” Casey flicked the light back off.

“I know what it means,” she said, “what I’m rather more interested in is why you’ve decided to have it permanently carved into your arm.”

“Well…” Casey drew the word out rather reluctantly, “it was on a bit of a dare actually.”

“A dare?” she said, eyebrows arched in inquiry.

“Robin dared me, I think he was tryin’ to see how far I’d go before I backed down.” Casey looked down at his arm, where a Celtic band with interlocking weave spanned a fair two inches of arm, the words Erin Go Bragh, artistically woven within the band. He grinned suddenly. “It could be worse darlin’, Robin’s got
Up the Republic
an’ it’s nowhere near his arm.”

“Robin was there too?”

“Aye,” Casey said reluctantly, clearly aware that the presence of Robin wasn’t going to be in his favor.

“A pissing match then, that’s what all this is about, who’s got the thicker skull and the least amount of common sense?”

“It’s only a silly, wee tattoo—” Casey began, a slight edge of defensiveness in his voice.

“A silly wee tattoo is it? Should I inspect the rest of your body for signs of male ritual bonding? A bone through the upper lip, a ring through the nose? Just what the hell happened tonight, Casey? You tell me I’m supposed to avoid the man at all costs, that he’s dangerous, and then you go out and get matching tattoos with him?”

Casey shifted uncomfortably and she could feel him trying to form the thoughts in his head into some form of coherency. The soft pinkish glow from the snow-drained sky fell across his back, turning old scars the color of new pearls. She touched his back and he shivered slightly, his skin responding with expectation even at her merest touch.

“Just tell me,” she said gently, fingers resting at the top of his spine, where the first of the cervical vertebrae met with the occipital crest. One of the most fragile places on the human body and the point just below where the primitive brain sat. She could feel, as if through transparent material, the pulse of his blood and the rhythm of his heart.

“It’ll seem foolish in the tellin’,” he said, head tilted down like that of a small boy suddenly ashamed of his actions.

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, for suddenly here in the half-light, the scent of their two bodies still heavy on the sheets and the feel of Casey’s skin under her hand, it didn’t matter. Only that he was here and safe.

“Ye see,” he began tentatively, hand rubbing over the stubble that coated his chin darkly, “the whole evenin’ was designed as a sort of test, for Joe to take my measure an’ test my mettle so that he might best decide how to solve the problem of me.”

“The problem of you?” she echoed, an uneasy thrum settling low in her stomach.

“Aye,” he cast her a quick grin over one scarred shoulder, “I thought ye might be able to sympathize with the sentiment, if not the method.”

She merely arched an eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat before resuming his story.

“Well, Bobbie had come to me some days ago, askin’ would I meet with Joe, somewhere that might be considered neutral ground, for he desired to have a wee chat with me. ”He paused to take a deep breath. “I didn’t like the sound of it, but I didn’t think Bobbie’d lead me into a trap, at least not willingly, so I agreed.”

“You knew about this for
days
?”

“Aye an’ before ye give me both sides of yer tongue woman, I want ye to know that I felt sick with guilt over not tellin’ ye, but I also knew ye’d be upset an’ worry yerself needlessly over this meetin’ or maybe even try to prevent me from goin’. But, not growin’ up in this city, nor in my neighborhood, there’ll be some things that ye don’t understand. If I’d not faced the man it’d be taken as pure bad manners an’ a challenge to his authority.”

“Yes, heaven forbid that we should appear to have bad manners towards Joe Doherty,” she said acidly, “though I believe even in Ireland politeness doesn’t extend to having to end an evening in the tattoo parlor.”

“Well how that happened is a tad bit more complicated.” Casey, having located his cigarettes, blew out a steady stream of smoke with his words.

“How complicated exactly?”

“Well it began with a game of darts, if ye can believe it,” he said, tone apologetic.

“I can believe it,” she replied grimly, thinking little was out of the range of possibility where her husband was concerned.

“I let him have the first three games but then my ego got the best of me an’ I had enough of the drink in me to start feelin’ slightly competitive. So I suggested we move on to the Republican club where they’ve the pool tables.”

“Did you then?” she asked, thinking of the ruby earrings he’d bought her one Christmas, paid for entirely by hustling men with too much drink and too little sense in them. If he ever wanted a change of career he could have tried out for Olympic billiards.

“Well ye know I’m a dab hand with the pool cue, so I couldn’t let the man have his way altogether.”

“How many games did you let him win first?” she asked, sternly suppressing a smile.

“Five,” Casey said, not bothering to suppress his own grin. “An’ then I took him down nice an’ slow in the sixth game, vain bastard didn’t even see it comin’, took twenty pounds off him as well.”

“Casey, do you think that was wise?”

“Likely not, but when is a man wise when his pride’s at stake?”

“Never in the recorded history of mankind, apparently,” she said tartly, “now can we move along to the part where you found yourself in a tattoo parlor?”

“Alright,” he said, turning to the side to stub out his cigarette, “it’s likely ye won’t want to hear the bit about the prostitutes anyway.”

“What?”
She snatched her hand away from the nape of his neck, as if it had suddenly become a flaming coal.

Casey sighed. “Aye, must be my Catholic upbringin’ but I’m feelin’ the need to confess all. Are ye certain ye weren’t a priest in a former life, darlin’?”

She pulled the sheets up to her neck, aware that it was a little late for such measures, and treated him to an icy green glare. “You’ll think I ran the Inquisition single-handedly if you don’t explain yourself quickly.”

“Now darlin’, don’t go jumpin’ to any conclusions, Joe had invited a couple of ladies to join us for the evenin’, an’ I suppose if I’d proved to be susceptible to their charms, it would have been somethin’ to use against me later.”

“Ladies?” Pamela said acidly, determined to stick to what she saw as the salient point.

“Aye well, admittedly I’m applyin’ the term loosely, no pun intended,” he added, seeing the thunderclouds gathering on her brow.

She sniffed the air delicately, eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring as she picked up a thread of cheap perfume. “Just how unsusceptible were you?” she asked, striving for a light tone and failing miserably.

Casey turned sideways, to face her fully, eye to eye.

“I’m a man, an’ I’ve the weaknesses of the flesh as certain as any other, but I made marriage vows to ye, woman, an’ I’ve never broken them.”

“But you’ve wanted to?” she said tersely, feeling an unpleasant throbbing start in her temples.

He gave her a hard look and she was uncomfortably aware of his nakedness and her own. “If I tell ye that I’ve felt base lust for another woman, but not in any way that matters to what there is between the two of us, will ye understand it?”

“No,” she said, knowing even as she said it that her answer was purely reactionary, for she did understand what he meant. Desire was a thing of little space, and when it had no basis other than the purely physical its fire was quickly doused. At present, however, she found herself in no mood to give him the benefit of the philosophical doubt.

“Do ye think so little of me then?” He asked, his own anger quick to rise and darken his face. “That I’d lust after anything in a skirt?”

“Would you?”

“What would ye like me to say,” he asked, grabbing her firmly by the upper arm, “that I feel no desire for any but you?”

She made a vain effort to twist herself out of his grasp but he only hung on tighter.

“Not if it’s a lie,” she gasped angrily, casting a narrow glance at his more vulnerable parts and judging the distance between them and her free hand.

“Don’t even think it,” he said firmly. “I’d have ye flat on yer arse before ye could get yer hand on them.”

“You’ve already had me there once tonight,” she said.

“I’m thinkin’,” he said ominously, “ye’ll not enjoy the method I’ve in mind this time.” He was breathing heavily through his nose, eyes narrowed and lit with a pure black flame. “My da’ always used to say that people who live in glass houses ought not to throw stones.” His voice was mild as fresh-combed honey, but having heard the tone before, she knew it meant he was beyond fury and was feeling calmly homicidal.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She was tight in the grip of a seething fury herself.

“There’s a mighty big glass house up on the hill an’ even a blind man can see through some walls. Can ye say ye haven’t desired him?”

The air between them was so deeply charged that it seemed as if every atom were separate and visible, proton and electron doing their age-old dance limned in blue fire. In that turbulent whirl there seemed no space for lies.

“No, I’ll not say I haven’t,” she said, holding his eyes steady, though a hot flush crept along her cheekbones.

Casey flinched, his grip on her arm loosening considerably.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “but you did ask.”

“Aye, I asked,” he agreed wearily and took his hand from her altogether, the anger between them swiftly deflating. “But it’s one thing to think it an’ quite another to have it boldly stated to ye.”

“So I guess,” she said, hand tentatively touching his forearm, “we’ve established that we’re both human.”

“Can’t say I’m thrilled with the results of that conclusion,” Casey said, though he didn’t make any effort to dislodge her hand from his arm.

“Casey,” she said, voice tight around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, “do you regret marrying me?”

He closed his eyes and took a breath, face tight with emotion. “How can ye even ask such a question, Pamela?”

“It’s only that I know it’s—I can be difficult.”

He shook his head, opening his eyes to search her face and, she suspected, her heart. There was nothing, it seemed, that the damn man didn’t see when he really looked. And then, gently, he spoke.

“Do ye not know what a wonder ye are to me woman? That ye should love me the way that ye do, that ye should forgive as ye have time an’ again. When ye come to me without reservation an’ lie in my arms it’s like holdin’ a miracle. It restores my faith just to be allowed to love you. There’s not a thing in this world that I’d risk that for. Not a thing, d’ye understand?”

She nodded, unable to speak, feeling as thin-skinned and fragile as a soap bubble.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said, voice suddenly weary, “ye may not be so difficult but ye do wear a man out at times.” He rubbed his temples with both hands and sighed. “I’m goin’ to have a powerful hangover in the mornin’, an’ I’ve a feelin’,” he smiled ruefully, “I’m goin’ to get very little sympathy in the matter.”

She leaned over kissing him gently on each temple before sliding down between the crumpled sheets, realizing just how exhausted she was herself. “I’ll bring you tea and aspirin first thing in the morning,” she promised, “and I won’t look reprovingly at you once.”

“Don’t be after makin’ promises ye can’t keep, Jewel,” he said, pulling the quilt up over the both of them as he settled against her spoon-fashion, skin to skin, his warmth radiating out over her immediately, cocooning her against the chill of the room.

“Casey,” she said softly, “you don’t have to worry about Jamie.”

“Aye well,” he said sleepily, left arm firm around her, “ye know what they say.”

“No what do they say?” she asked quietly, watching the soft pink light lay its glow on their entwined hands, the two silver bands, Casey’s slightly wider, side by side. Outside the snow had begun to fall again, flakes of it hissed softly against the window, melting into translucence at once.

“That possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

Mine
, he had said,
mine
and had meant it.

A SAGGING, UNUSED LITTLE GATE HUNG between two elm trees. From there the land dropped sharply away from the main road, with steps cut into the hillside leading down to a small hollow.