Wild Irish Rebel (10 page)

Chapter Twenty

Morgan found herself
humming the next morning as she stocked the display by the register with a new order of prints that had just arrived.

"Someone's in a good mood this morning," Aislinn commented as she came in from the back, her arms full of canvases.

"Here, let me help you," Morgan said, bypassing her comment.

She rushed to pull a few canvasses from Aislinn's arms, following her into the stock room and placing them on the shelves.

"Dodging the question." Aislinn turned to her as they left the stockroom.

Morgan blushed and Aislinn stopped, grabbing her arm.

"You had sex!"

"Oh my God," Morgan groaned and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head.

"Was it bad? Oh, if he messed this up, I swear that I will skin him alive," Aislinn muttered, pacing in front of Morgan. Morgan raised her hand weakly, torn between laughing or yelling at Aislinn.

"I did not have sex. What I did was have a first real date with a very kind, and sexy, man," Morgan said primly.

Aislinn narrowed her eyes at Morgan.

"We're talking about Patrick, right?"

"Yes!" Morgan exclaimed, swatting Aislinn with her hand. "Yes, oh, he's just so…I…" She found herself blushing again.

"Why, you're besotted," Aislinn said.

"I am certainly not," Morgan said stiffly, moving away from Aislinn with her nose in the air.

"Sure and I know what besotted looks like and from where I'm standing…you're besotted." Aislinn's steely voice followed Morgan into the showroom.

Morgan whirled and put her hands on her hips.

"And so what if I am?"

"Well, good for you. I encourage it," Aislinn said with an easy smile and Morgan laughed, the tension draining from her.

"We didn't sleep together. We just…" Morgan debated an appropriate way of discussing what they had done.

"Fooled around?" Aislinn offered.

Morgan pointed her finger at her boss, nodding.

"Yes, that. And it was lovely. And, he left like a gentleman, not trying to go any further. I…I've never felt like this before. Nervous, excited, scared," Morgan admitted.

Aislinn tucked her mass of curls over her shoulders and smiled at Morgan but she could see the worry in her boss's eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, I worry about you because I know how powerful a first love can be. Everyone must go through it once. It's good for you," Aislinn said with a smile.

"First love? I'm not in love," Morgan protested, raising an eyebrow at Aislinn.

Aislinn raised her hands in defense.

"Sorry, wrong word then," she said with a smile. "That being said, Patrick's a solid guy. You could do far worse."

Morgan nibbled at her lip as she considered Aislinn's words.

"He doesn't know about me…about my abilities," she blurted out.

"Ah," Aislinn said.

"What should I do?" Morgan asked, nervously straightening a painting of the cove.

"Well, I'm a bit different than Cait and Keelin. I told Baird about me immediately. It took him a while to believe it, but I accept that part of myself. I always have. So, ultimately, it comes down to your comfort level in sharing your gift."

"I don't know if I can," Morgan said nervously.

"Then don't. But, I suspect that he will find out along the way if you date him for a while, so keep that in mind," Aislinn cautioned.

"He knows about Cait's abilities. I'm not sure who else's."

"Patrick's lived here for a long time. Very little probably surprises him when it comes to that stuff," Aislinn said.

"So you think he'll be receptive?"

"I can't presume to know the answer to that, Morgan. I think the real question is, can you accept yourself enough to not hide who you are?"

On those words, Aislinn swept from the room, leaving Morgan with some deep self-reflection.

"It can never be easy, can it," she muttered to herself as she found her cup of tea and sipped it, her mind returning to her time with Patrick last night. It
had
been easy, between them, she thought.

And maybe Aislinn was right. If being honest about who she was would form the foundation of their relationship, then it would seem like a pretty hurtful thing to do to hide it from him.

Morgan thought back to all of the brief relationships that she had had growing up. She didn't want to be that person anymore, she realized. Flitting from relationship to relationship, never forming bonds with people. Granted, she'd had no choice when the foster homes had returned her to the nuns, but ever since she'd runaway and been on her own, Morgan had refused to form real bonds with anyone.

Until Grace's Cove.

She had friends now, even, maybe the beginning of a family, Morgan thought as Fiona flashed through her mind.

Telling Patrick about her abilities wouldn't be the hardest thing she'd gone through in her life, she thought. Aislinn was right. Morgan was finally coming into her own. She didn't need to hide herself from those closest to her in her life. Coming to a resolution, Morgan smiled grimly. Now she just needed to find the right time to tell him.

Later that day, Morgan grimaced.

She hadn't thought that time would present itself so soon, she thought as she stared in shock at Patrick sitting on the front step of her building.

"I hadn't expected to see you," Morgan said, a smile flitting across her face.

He looked wonderful. A button-down shirt complemented his broad chest and his hair was delightfully mussed in the way that made her want to run her hands through it. She couldn't seem to get enough of looking at him.

She smiled even more broadly as he pulled his hand from behind his back and held a shopping bag up to her.

"What's this?" She tilted her head and looked up at him in question.

"Let me in and I'll show you," Patrick said with a smile.

"Oh, okay," Morgan said, her heart rate picking up a notch. A smile crossed Patrick's face and he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. Morgan leaned into him, craving the heat and security he brought.

"Guess you aren't worried about the village anymore, are you?" Patrick said, pulling back and waving at a passerby.

Morgan groaned as heat flashed over her cheeks and she pulled the door to her building open.

"Upstairs before you start a scandal," Morgan ordered and Patrick laughed at her, holding the door open for her.

They made quick work of the stairs and moments later, Morgan had her back to her door like the night before while Patrick kissed her senseless.

Pulling back, he ran a thumb over her lips.

"I have to stop before I get too distracted. Here, open your gift," Patrick ordered.

Morgan smiled shyly at him and moved to where the shopping bag sat on the counter, Peeking in, she spied a stock pot. Turning she raised an eyebrow at him.

"A pot?"

"Take the lid off."

Morgan lifted the lid and gaped down at the Irish stew in the pot.

"Stew? You brought me stew?"

"I cooked it myself. If you like it, I'll teach you to make it. I even got my mum to bake some brown bread for you."

At the mention of his mother, Morgan felt her nerves kick in again. Blowing out a breath, she turned to him.

"This is really sweet of you. You didn't have to do that," she began.

Patrick shrugged.

"I noticed that your refrigerator was empty last night. Now you don't have to think about dinner for a couple days until I can take you out on Sunday," he said with a smile and Morgan's heart cracked open a bit.

"That's really incredibly kind of you. Seriously, thank you. Um, hey, do you have a minute?" Morgan rushed out, worried that she would go too far down the road with Patrick, meet his family, form bonds, and then have him turn his back on her when he found out her secrets. It was now or never.

"Sure, I can spare a few before work."

Morgan reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him to her loveseat so that he sat close to her. She needed to be near him so she could read his every reaction. If he lied to her…well, she was quite certain a piece of her would die.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked, reaching out to trace his hand over her cheek.

"Okay, I just…I'm just going to say it and then you need to tell me how you feel," Morgan said, taking a deep breath and keeping her eyes locked on his.

"You're scaring me."

"I, it's just…okay, here goes." Morgan blew out a breath. "I have abilities…like Cait does and Fiona does."

There, she'd done it. She couldn't be accused of lying. Morgan sat back and watched him, waiting for any indication.

"Wait…like Cait? You can read minds? You can heal? Are you…a descendant?" Patrick asked, his eyes boring into hers.

Swallowing, Morgan nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. The silence stretched between them.

"Far out," Patrick said finally and Morgan felt like her heart would explode in her chest.

"Far out?" Morgan exclaimed.

"Sure, it's pretty cool. So what's your super power?" Patrick asked, trailing his hand down her arm and Morgan felt tears spring unbidden to her eyes.

"Hey, don’t cry," Patrick said, leaning forward to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

"It's just, nobody's ever accepted me so easily before," Morgan gasped into his mouth, the tears coming faster, unable to stop the emotion that welled up inside of her.

"Shh, it's okay. As long as you aren't some dark arts crazy devil worshiper, I'm fairly certain that I can handle what you throw at me."

Morgan wondered how he would react if she lifted the couch they were sitting on. Nerves shot through her again and she decided that would be a secret that he didn't need to know. Now that she knew how to control that side of her, she never planned on using it again. Feeling comfortable with that decision, Morgan pulled back and cupped Patrick's face in her hands.

"You're a good man," she whispered.

"So, what can you do?" Patrick asked.

"A little bit of this…a little bit of that. I can kind of read minds, I'm sort of an empath, and I can kind of help with healing. I'm pretty much a mutt, actually," Morgan said.

"Cool, so what am I thinking right now?" Patrick said, leering at the V in her blouse. She laughed and swatted him lightly.

"I think that I could tell you that without having to read your mind."

Impulsively, she reached out and hugged him. Pressing her face into his neck, she mumbled, "Thank you."

"What's that?"

"Thank you. Thank you for sticking with me. For not freaking out about this, thank you," Morgan said, inhaling his scent as she wiped her tears away.

"I'm not going anywhere, Morgan," Patrick said.

Morgan leaned back and met his eyes.

"I think that I'm beginning to see that," she said softly.

"Good, don't forget it. Now, I have to go to work or Cait will fire me and I won't be able to buy you nice things and take you to fancy dinners," Patrick said with a smile and kissed her once more before rising.

Morgan lifted her chin.

"I don't need that stuff, Patrick," she said, knowing that he was probably on a bit of a budget as well.

"Yes, you do," Patrick said, stopping at her door to turn and wave. "And I'm the man to give it to you."

After the door closed, Morgan just stared at it for a while, knowing that she probably had a stupid grin across her face.

"Oh, dang it all. Besotted it is," she grumbled and stood up to put the soup in the fridge.

Aislinn was never wrong.

Chapter Twenty-One

The days until
Sunday passed in a blur for Morgan. With spring weather came tourists, and the gallery had been hopping. Between working extra hours for Aislinn and trying to help Flynn where she could, Sunday arrived before she knew it.

Morgan stood in front of her closet, contemplating what to wear. She looked down at the deep red silk of her matching bra and underwear. She'd been paid on Friday and had taken a quick trip to the next town over to invest in a few new items for herself.

It had been fun, she thought. To buy clothes knowing she would wear them for someone.

She fingered a silky blouse that she had picked up on impulse. The vibrant purple and red hues of the pattern had sung to her, reflecting her current mood. Pulling it out, Morgan reached for her gray skinny jeans and favorite black pumps. Simple, but sexy, and dressy enough for any place that he would take her in town. She'd braided her hair half back again and now, all she had to do was wait.

Patrick had stopped at the gallery yesterday to tell her that he'd be picking her up at six, but had given her no indication of where he was taking her. He'd even been deliberately thinking about her body when she'd scanned his mind to see if she could get a clue.

And hadn't he caught her at that? Morgan huffed out a small laugh remembering how Patrick had waved his finger at her and called her naughty. He must have known she would try reading his mind.

The buzz at her door made her jump and Morgan grabbed her small purse before clattering quickly down the wooden stairs.

"Hi," she said, beaming at him. Patrick smiled down at her, looking handsome in a plaid button-down and gray khakis. His shoes shone and his hair looked slightly more tamed than usual. Morgan wanted to reach and muss it up for him.

"You look great," Patrick said, leaning down to kiss her.

"Thanks, I hope it is fine for where we are going," she said shyly, following him to his compact sedan parked in front of her building. A rusty brown, the car had seen better days. Patrick shrugged sheepishly.

"Sorry about the car. It's all I can afford at the moment."

Morgan smiled up at him as she eased herself into the seat. "Hey, you're talking to a girl who drives a thirty-year-old van. I get it."

Patrick closed the door, the hinges protesting with a squeak and Morgan blew out a breath, feeling relieved. She wasn't sure if she could have handled a rich guy sweeping her off her feet. It was nice that she and Patrick were on the same level.

"It won't be a long drive. We're going to the best place in town for dinner," Patrick said as he pulled away from the curb. "How's work been?"

Morgan wondered if he was changing the subject but smiled at him anyway and began to tell him about her busy days.

"Ah, the pub's been packed too. It's been good craic as we've had some great music. The tourist season has begun," he said as he pulled in front of a house.

"Patrick, where are we?" Morgan asked, as she stared at the house. It was a lovely brick house, with a cheerful green trim and bright blue flower boxes.

"Sunday dinner with the family," Patrick said, turning to smile at her.

Morgan's mouth gaped open and she worked to breathe as panic slammed into her.

"Patrick, I can't, I can't do family stuff…" Morgan began.

"Sure you can. They're easy. Trust me, you'll be fine," Patrick said easily and got out of the car, rounding it and opening the door.

Morgan forced herself to breathe normally, trying to quell the anxiety that threatened to overtake her. Families just weren't her thing, she thought.

Patrick opened the door and looked down at her expectantly.

"Patrick. I'm not good at this stuff," she whispered to him, making one last attempt to stop him.

"That's okay. You'll learn," he said easily and grasped her hand, pulling her from the car. She stood stiffly next to him, not sure what to do, just knowing that she would feel like an outcast.

"They're going to hate me," she whispered to him.

"No they won't. They love everyone. Plus, they'll be too busy running after the kids to pay you much mind."

Morgan gulped and stood at the door with him, wishing she was elsewhere.

"Well it's about time he brought you." A round woman held the door open, cheerfulness vibrating from every inch of her. Despite her nervousness, Morgan couldn't help but smile. With her dark curls and laughing gray eyes, Morgan could see where Patrick got his looks from.

"Mrs. Kearney, so nice to meet you," Morgan said automatically, holding her hand out.

Morgan jolted as she was crushed into a hug, and she nervously patted the woman's back.

"Feel free to call me Agatha," Mrs. Kearney said, pulling back to smile at her. "And aren't you just a picture. I've been dying to get to the gallery and meet you, but I've been over my head with work lately."

"What do you do?" Morgan said politely.

"She makes some of the finest lace this side of Ireland," Patrick said proudly, leaning over to kiss his mother's cheek.

"Ah, go on you," Agatha said, swatting her son lightly and slipping her arm through Morgan's. "Come back, you must meet everyone."

Morgan stiffened as Agatha began to lead her towards the back of the house where it sounded like a small crowd was talking and laughing. Spying a pile of lace on a long worktable, Morgan stopped.

"Is that yours?"

"Aye, I'm a bit behind."

"Do you mind if I see it?"

"Of course," Agatha said warmly and moved towards her work. Morgan stood by the table, astounded at the masterful work that came from this motherly woman. Placemats, table runners, and doilies were in small piles, packaged in clear cellophane. The lace was intricate and Morgan imagined it was painstaking to create.

"These are lovely. Where do you sell through? I'd love to have some of this at the gallery," Morgan said, running her fingers over a napkin.

"Really? I usually ship them up to Dublin, but it would save me some hassle to sell them here," Agatha said, beaming up at Morgan.

Morgan found herself liking Agatha, and wanted to help her.

"Of course. I can't imagine that Aislinn would have a problem with it. We'll have to discuss price and what you'd be willing to sell, but I really see these selling well. In fact, we could maybe offer a few other items from town." Morgan tapped her lip as she scanned the table again. "It could almost be a one-stop shop for local artisan crafts," she mused.

Agatha blushed. "Go on now, I’m not a fancy artist like Aislinn."

Morgan lifted the intricate lace napkin and held it in front of Agatha.

"This is art. You're blind if you can't see that. I suspect you are probably undercharging as well. The Dublin shops probably triple what you sell it to them for."

Agatha's mouth dropped open.

"I'd never thought of that."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you charge what you're worth," Morgan said determinedly.

"Wow, Patrick, you've outdone yourself this time."

A booming voice from the back room brought her head up and Morgan blushed to see what looked like thirty people standing with their arms crossed, openly assessing her. Sweat broke out on her palms and she wiped them across her pants.

"Okay, enough everyone. Go back to getting dinner ready. You'll meet her one at a time," Patrick ordered and came to wrap his arm around Morgan's waist.

"She's shy, Mum," Patrick said, smiling down at Agatha.

"Of course, dear. Don't let the lot of them get to you. They all answer to me," Agatha said with a sniff before sweeping back to the kitchen. Morgan could hear her barking orders out to everyone and she grinned despite herself.

"Patrick, there are so many people. How will I remember their names?"

"Don't bother. You'll learn them eventually. For now, just relax and enjoy one of the best home-cooked meals you'll ever have," Patrick said and swept her along to the back room.

As people enveloped her, Morgan felt like the room around her was growing smaller. Heat licked up her spine and she tried to smile politely at all of the faces grinning at her.

This was going to be a nightmare, she thought.