Color had returned to his face and his chestnut brown hair fell all around it, adding a youthful spark of energy and vigor to his bright eyes and sharp cheekbones. His leathers wrapped his body to perfection and I had to divert my gaze.
Grania approached him like she was about to scold him further but he held his solid position in the doorway. She slowed as she reached the stone steps and looked up at him.
"You were right about the British. I fear they’re closer than we realized." Her lips pressed together. "They've got hold on our rival clan already. And threaten to use them against us."
"Aye. 'Tis how it begins." He nodded. "Come in. I'll tell ya all I know of their tactics."
Her head tipped as her eyes narrowed. "Why help us?"
"You, Grania. I want to help you."
Her eyebrows scrunched as she focused on his every move, evaluating his integrity.
He continued, "I’ve n’r seen a chieftain inspire men like you have me entire lifetime. Their loyalty to you is in their very breathing.” He studied her face. “I want to be a part of your resistance, Grania. To fight with you. To defend Rockfleet. And Gaelic Ireland."
She stared at him as I watched several layers of her defense peel away, exposing her true self. He saw it too, and wasted no time.
He reached for her hand. "Come inside. We have much to discuss."
Her initial flinch and jolt of fear softened from his touch and her eyes glued themselves to his form as she followed him into Rockfleet.
Chapter 6
I stared at the brooding door of Rockfleet, imagining the tales it could tell. Grania and Hugh had gone inside its fortress walls as the clansmen in the surrounding outbuildings prepared the castle for invasion.
My eyes absorbed the well-orchestrated busywork of the clansmen, like bees tending to a hive, each with their own duty crucial to the benefit of the overall colony.
Mules dragged heavy carts to the fields to gather additional crops and turf briquettes for the fires. Huge urns wobbled on flatbeds pulled by horses, heading to the river for surplus water stores. The women of the castle worked alongside the men, assisting in the organizing of supplies and the interior holds of the castle.
I wondered what to do with myself. I yearned to follow Grania and listen in on the planning with Hugh, but something about the look in her eye... and his too, told me to stay away.
My thoughts returned to Rí and a guilty smile spread across my face. I wanted to see him again.
It was a crazy feeling. And I knew I'd be tongue-tied if I saw him. It was a guarantee for me to make a fool of myself anytime I was near a cute boy. This would probably be no different. Worse actually.
But he wasn't like the boys back home. He seemed more grounded and, well, real. He was likely my same age, maybe a little younger, but already a man. It was the deep wisdom in the dark depths of his eyes that set him apart. And the gentle vulnerability in the smile lines up his cheeks.
He intrigued me.
I thought back to the boys at home, sheltered and entitled. Their protective bubble of sunscreen, parental controls, and groundings for the slightest infraction kept them from becoming true men. Their pampering now appeared as weakness, like thin skin, to me.
Here, Rí… he was strong, a fighter, ready to defend his family and his land and anything he cared for, no matter the cost or even the pain.
My lips pressed together and slid back out as I thought of him. A quiver ran through me, lighting me up with tingling energy.
I ran to the back of Rockfleet.
With no idea what I would say or do, I searched for him, hoping for one more encounter. One more chance to see if he was even real.
As I rounded the bend to where we had stood together before, eyes wide and searching, a hand landed gently on my shoulder.
"Maeve."
I turned with anticipation, and excitement shot through every nerve of my body.
"Maeve. What are you doing out here? It's early, loov."
The words echoed from a million miles away and I blinked into a haze of whirling colors.
No!
I resisted. I didn't want to cross back over. Now was the moment where I had the chance to fight it. To stay in this realm. In this time.
I turned away and looked behind me, continuing to search for Rí. If I could grab onto him…
The thick, pelting mist made it impossible to see.
My heart sank into the oblivion of the blinding fog.
I struggled again for clarity, focusing in one direction with precision, hoping to find a way to stay. It was too risky to leave now.
Risky in that I may never be able to return again. There was no guarantee. The thought turned my stomach.
And risky for Grania and Rockfleet. I could help them — my medicine and understanding of healing. My knowledge of history and…
"Maeve, loov."
My eyes blinked into Gram's face, lined with worry around her eyes and on her forehead.
My heart sank as I left Rockfleet far, far behind me in the mist. The ache buckled me over.
"Are ya alright, Maeve?" Gram's voice hit a pitch of alarm.
I forced myself upright, still on my knees, and looked into her face.
"Hi, Gram. I'm okay."
The morning sun crept over the top of the house, sending silver rays of dawn across the lawn.
I'd been out here all night.
I looked away from Gram, down at my hands, as I processed how long I'd actually been gone. I couldn't be sure, but it felt like several days at Rockfleet, maybe weeks, in just one night here.
I thought fast. "I wanted to see the garden at sunrise." I smiled at her with an innocent blink. "I woke early and thought I'd come out and enjoy the magic of it."
Gram's eyes brightened as her brow relaxed.
"Ach, sure, yer right. 'Tis a magical place this time of day." She looked around at the dew lifting from the leafy greens.
A shiver shot through me, threatening to explode my mind.
"Come in now, will ya? Fer a fine cuppa tea. Warm yer bones." Gram nodded toward the house and swung her dishtowel at me.
"Yeah, I'll be right up."
I wrapped my arms around myself, thinking of Rockfleet and how I would get back there. With no guarantees, I worried I wouldn't be able to cross over again.
Maybe it wouldn't work next time. Maybe it wasn’t even real.
The thought crushed me. I couldn't think that way.
My mind felt like a saturated sponge, as if I’d pulled an all-nighter with too much stimulation. My hand wrapped my forehead as I tried to think straight.
My knowledge of history…
That was my last thought in the mist!
My mouth fell open as I turned to the garden with my new revelation. I could research Gaelic Ireland and the pirate queen and help guide Grania through the maze of struggles. And the danger.
With a plan that would work.
My eyes widened with the epiphany. I had to return.
Incredible fatigue saturated me to my bones. It was as if I’d run a marathon with no food or sleep for weeks.
I dragged myself away from the garden toward the porch stairs. The smell of toast and bacon encouraged me and helped me separate from the magic of my travels to the return into my mundane existence.
Sadness weighed me down as I left the garden behind me. A sense of grief and profound loss tore at my soul. My eyes followed the lines of the house, anticipating the sheltered emptiness that waited within. The dullness of my setting squashed the vibrant energy that had still quivered in my veins from Rockfleet.
"You're in a good mood today," Gram commented as she placed an Irish breakfast in front of me; eggs, baked beans, bacon, fried tomato and toast.
I dug in like a famished animal to replenish my hollow insides, only to feel empty again at missing Grania and my clan.
Grania stood for something. Her mission mattered and I wanted to be a part of it more than anything. She was the heart of who
I was.
Gram watched me from the sink and hid her questioning gaze behind her mug of tea.
"Thanks Gram. This is awesome." I wiped breadcrumbs from my mouth with the back of my hand.
"That's grand. Eat up, dear. Paddy and Michael will be here shortly."
I choked on my bite. "What?"
"Sure, they're comin' to help yer grandfather rebuild the front stairs. I told ya that," Gram reminded me.
I forced my last bite down with a loud gulp. I'd forgotten about it. I looked at Gram with worry in my eyes.
"Sure he doesn't bite, Maeve." She swatted at me.
I'd had a crush on Michael since kindergarten. He was the nephew of Joey's best friend, Paddy, and came to visit any time there was a masonry job to be done or a soccer match on TV. I literally could not function around the boy.
My eyes looked over at the blank wall as my thoughts went back to Rí. The boys were nothing like each other but had an equal effect on shutting down my homeostasis and turning me to a bumbling idiot. My malfunctioning around boys had always been annoying and at this point in my life, it was downright frustrating.
I swallowed a gulp of tea and pushed my chair out.
"Done so soon?" Gram asked.
"I'm full, Gram. It was great. Thank you."
I scraped my plate and dropped it into the sink, practically sprinting to my room. I looked around to gather clothes to bring to the bathroom for my shower and disappointment washed over me like a heavy shadow. My clothing options were comfortable but held no true purpose. Their function was merely to cover me. And maybe even look fashionable.
I frowned. I missed my leathers and the intentional design of my attire at Rockfleet. It protected me from harm, kept me warm and offered an additional layer of strength. It held purpose.
I grabbed my favorite black yoga pants and hoodie and went to the bathroom.
The modern conveniences of the indoor plumbing and a warm shower made my head shake. There was very little physical discomfort in my world. No cold bathing in the sea, no threats of invasion at my front door, no death by fever. The discomforts of my modern world came from other places, like loneliness, exclusion and depression. It made sense that these things didn't exist at Rockfleet. Either there was no time for it, or the actual feeling of belonging to a clan and making a difference warded them off.
I yearned to go back.
By the time I was done showering, the doorbell was ringing and Paddy's booming voice filled the house with their arrival.
I edged my way into the kitchen without being seen and put the kettle on to boil.
Paddy's voice reverberated through the house, rattling the dishes. I gazed at the mugs, straining to hear Michael's voice. Just knowing he was in the house was usually enough to make me giddy, but it felt different today.
From day one, when I became aware of 'boys,' he was the one who made my heart flutter and made the rest of me shut down completely. It must have been his smile. Or maybe the way one eye shut more than the other when he smirked at me. Or maybe his lean athletic build. His dark chestnut hair and light blue eyes. His voice...
"Howya, Maeve?"
I spun around, like I was caught breaking and entering, and flipped the sugar bowl spoon. Millions of crystals of sugar snowed down the front of my hoodie, onto my feet and all over the floor.
"Oh, hi." I wiped the front of my sweatshirt, hoping there was some way to make the mess go unnoticed as I forced a smile. My face reddened like a tomato and the rising heat from my thoughts only made it worse.
"Watch it. Ya spilled a little somethin," he teased.
I huffed as my eyebrows shot up in uncertainty of what to say next. Michael stepped to the closet and pulled out the dustpan and broom and swept around my feet.
"Go on. No messin' in the kitchen when we've company." He laughed, mimicking Gram's voice with an exaggerated high pitch. His South Boston accent was laced with his uncle's Irish brogue and he had a clear talent for imitating each of our Irish family member’s dialect.
His smile warmed me and his easygoing nature relaxed my shoulders. "Thanks. I'm a klutz," I said as I stepped back and my shoes crunched on sugar crystals, then stuck to the floor with each step. "Ah jeez."
I kicked off my white converse and tip-toed to the edge of the kitchen.
Michael followed. "You're right. Best to just sneak out." And he crept after me as if leaving the scene of a crime.
"Michael!" Paddy's voice jolted us. "Where ya lad?"
Michael rolled his eyes at me. "Yup. What?" He leaned around the corner and peered into the living room where Paddy and my grandfather stood, planning.
"Time ta get a move on. Let's git at this." Paddy nodded for him to follow.
Michael looked back at me as if he had something more to say. Then back at his uncle.
He turned to me again. "Ya busy tonight, Maeve? I was thinking of heading into the city for the clam chowder festival. Ya wanna come?"
Terror stole my breath and my words. He was asking me to go out with him tonight. I’d dreamt of this moment for years.
But I froze.
Not from the fear of him taking a step closer to me, but from the terror of me taking a step further from Rockfleet.
I was changing. And I couldn’t stop it from happening.
Rí had stolen my attention, and my focus remained solidly on returning. Maybe even tonight. I couldn’t miss that chance.
His head tipped and he said, "What? You don't like chowder?"
"No. Well, yeah, I love chowder. I just can't. I'm sorry." I choked on my words. My scrambled mind paralyzed my thoughts and I couldn't come up with a sensible reason why not.
He looked down at his hands and picked at his cuticle, likely waiting for more. "Oh. Okay. Plans? No worries. Next time," he rambled and then turned to join the others.
My eyes moved over him as he looked away. The butterflies in my stomach beat their way around, searching for a way out.
"Yeah. I already made plans. Sorry," I stammered.
"No worries. As long as you're keeping busy, Maeve. It's good for you to get out now and again." His mouth lifted in a half smile. "You know. Enjoy life a bit."
His words hit me between the eyes. He knew I was trapped. Stuck here. And I couldn't move. Not even with an invitation out from Michael O'Brien.
My lips were either sewn shut or sealed with super glue and no matter how I tried, nothing would pry them open.
"Okay, well. Gotta go build some stairs," he huffed.
"Yeah, okay." I pushed through my mute trance.
Michael looked at me again, eyebrows pinched, and sent a warm half smile, then followed his uncle outside.
My eyes trailed after him as my mouth became unhinged, ready now to engage in the natural flow of conversation. But he was already gone.
I bit my lower lip, giving in to the tingling feeling he gave me all over. But within the same second, my mind shifted to Rí. Why was it I couldn’t shake him from my mind? I didn’t even know him. I’d hardly spoken to him. Though I wanted to, so badly. And to do other things too.
His lips distracted my thoughts. The wetness after he licked the bottom one...
My feet moved first and carried me to the back porch for a peek outside. The men had made their way to Joey's shed and Michael leaned against the outer wall, waiting while the others rooted around inside. Paddy passed a wooden shovel out to Michael and then a heavy bag of cement mix. Michael moved to the wheel barrow and dropped the fifty-pound bag into it and returned for the next one.
Spying again. Yup. That was me.
Was this how I was going to spend my life? Pining, and watching from afar? Never brave enough to just be myself. To let it flow naturally.
It was impossible for me. I was too awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin. Nothing felt right. I didn't belong here.
At Rockfleet, I didn’t have to try. I was solid in who I was there and how I fit in the clan. Grania accepted me without question, as one of the tribe. Act
ually, she held me closer in a way. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed I was more of a confidante. She always kept her eye on me and listened to every word I said.
I crept to the top of the porch stairs and looked down across the lawn.
The men continued working, stirring water into the cement mix with Joey's old shovel and gathering bricks to add to the pile.
I sat on the top stair and bumped down one step. Then another. Like a little kid, I snuck down each step, unnoticed, all the way to the concrete landing.
My lips pressed together as I contemplated my next move. To get closer to Michael?
His voice rose above the others. It was lighter and held a ring of youth in it that the older voices had whittled down to lower tones. Hearing his voice made my stomach twist. I wanted to join them. But I didn't know how. I couldn't just do it.
My eyes blurred with moisture as my throat constricted. Trapped in my own body. Trapped in this single-layer, monotone existence. My fists clenched along with my teeth.
I stared down the length of the lawn toward the lush garden. St. Brendan waited for me. Watching me.
As my eyes widened, I stood and moved across the blanket of thick green grass toward my spot by the statue. Without a care in the world of who might see or what they might think, I ran. With each stride, the joy in my heart grew bigger.
A wide smile spread across my face as my hair trailed behind me and my arms pounded forward to the rhythm of my feet hitting the grass. My mind cleared of its dark thoughts and jumbled efforts at explanations and reasoning. A clarity lit me up from within and opened my mind to new ideas and wonders.
Before reaching St. Brendan, my feet lifted as if taking flight. Weightless. It felt like becoming part of the wind.
Tears streamed back across my cheeks from the gusts and I squinted into the blur of colors. Blasts of jumbled sound whipped past and whirled around me until at once, the sounds came to one single point as I stopped with a jolt.
I rubbed my eyes and blinked.
"Maeve! Inside!"
I turned to the sound of my name and reeled back from the vision of her. Grania. My eyes darted in every direction. The castle. The sea. The green rolling hills.
Rockfleet (The Pirate Queen Book 0) Page 6
