“That tickles.”
“Sorry.” I went back to his hair.
“You don’t have to stop. It’s nice.”
I held him in silence, wishing there were something more I could do to help.
The light in the room grew brighter as we edged toward dawn. When my eyelashes became too heavy to lift, I let them fall closed. “What are you going to do about your curse?” I asked, fighting a yawn.
“I can either wait for Fiadh,” he said, the words fading to a whisper. His hair tickled my chin when he nestled closer. “Or beg you to stay married to me.”
Beg you to stay married to me.
Wait. What?
My eyes flew open.
“What do you mean stay married?” I poked his tanned shoulder. “Tadhg? Wake up. Tadhg.”
The only response was a soft snore followed by a murmured, “I love you too.”
25
The bed was empty.
Tadhg was gone.
I would’ve believed last night had just been a strange, beautiful dream if it wasn’t for the purple hydrangea on the pillow next to me.
My stomach tightened at the memory of Tadhg’s whispered confessions.
I love you too.
Tadhg didn’t love me.
Tadhg couldn’t lie.
He couldn’t lie, but he could’ve been speaking to someone in his dreams. His mother, perhaps. Or some former lover.
Tadhg did not love me.
I chose the mourning dress with the lowest collar. Having no desire to pin my hair, I asked Daisy to leave it unbound. The strands swayed when I walked, reminding me of my night with the faeries. She told me Robert wasn’t awake yet and asked if I wanted breakfast now or preferred to wait. If my stomach hadn’t been howling with hunger, I would’ve waited.
It was such a fine morning, I asked to have breakfast in the back garden, and Daisy promised to arrange it.
The air smelled crisp and salty. The hedges and grass still glistened from last night’s storm. Although the faint breeze had a wintry bite, the sun rising in the cloudless sky seeped into my black dress, warming me straight to my core.
A servant came out with an armful of tea towels to wipe down the ornate iron table on the sandstone patio. Daisy followed him, carrying a tray of tea, toast, butter, and homemade blackberry jam.
Robert joined me a short time later, a rolled-up newspaper beneath his arm. His clothes, as always, were impeccable. When he saw me, he stopped and frowned. “You’re wearing your hair down.”
What an odd greeting. “Yes, I am.”
“I prefer it up.” He continued to the free chair and tossed the paper next to the teapot. “Down makes you look too young.”
I was too young now? That was a new one. “I wasn’t aware my hair was any of your concern.” I smeared another spoonful of jam onto my toast. The seeds stuck between my teeth when I took a bite.
Robert poured himself a cup of tea from the porcelain kettle, his mouth pinched. “It’s just that you always seem so put together and proper.” No sugar, only a drop of milk. “And down is too unruly.”
“When you’ve been sticking pins in your scalp for nineteen years, you can weigh in on my hairstyle choices. Until then, I will wear my hair how I like.”
“Someone’s in a mood this morning,” he muttered.
“I’m not the one in a mood.” I grabbed another slice of cold toast and slathered on a thick layer of butter and jam.
“Then why are you rage-spreading the butter?”
“Because I like butter.”
Robert’s eyebrows lifted as he selected a slice of toast from the bottom of the basket. For some reason, the thin layer of butter he scraped on top annoyed me.
Perhaps I was in a mood.
I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled my irritation. If Robert and I were going to be together, we would have to get used to each other’s quirks and habits. He didn’t like my hair down, and I didn’t like the way he nibbled his toast like a mouse. Small irritations in the grand scheme of forever.
“What’s your plan for the day?” I asked, cleaning my fingers on the serviette spread across my lap. “Do you need to go into the office?”
“Yes, but only for a few hours.” He slurped his tea when he sipped. Had he always done that? Surely I would’ve noticed. “Would you like to come with me? We could visit the pier afterwards since we couldn’t fit it in yesterday.”
“That sounds lovely.”
Robert smiled. He didn’t know the main reason I agreed was because I wanted to find Tadhg. I needed to know what he meant by those final words uttered before he passed out.
I could beg you to stay married.
He didn’t want to be married to me. There had to be some other explanation, something that had to do with his curses.
I love you too.
That had been a drunken mistake.
“You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve been invited to a party Friday night for Lady Alva Lynch.”
Why would that news please me? Lady Alva was a year younger than me, and her family was obscenely rich, with houses and estates across the country. The handful of times I’d met her at their seaside mansion in Graystones, she’d come off as an entitled brat.
“I wasn’t aware that you and Lady Alva were close.” I poured myself another cup of tea and added an extra lump of sugar when I caught Robert’s judgemental stare.
“We aren’t. Her youngest brother Gary and I went to university together. It’s her eighteenth birthday this weekend, and her parents invited the local gentry to their manor to celebrate.”
“That sounds like fun,” I lied. It sounded awful.
“I was hoping you’d say that, because I want you to accompany me.”
A late night Friday would lead to a late start on Saturday when Tadhg and I left for Tearmann. Unless Tadhg came with us, and we left straight from the estate.
“Can Tadhg come?”
Robert choked on the bite of toast he’d taken and swiped for his teacup. After a gulp, he set it down and popped the top button on his collar. “You want Tadhg to come to one of our parties?”
“Why not?” At least he’d be sure to liven it up a bit.
“Why would you want him there? I thought that your dealings with one another were through,” he said pointedly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop and narrowing his eyes.
“I need him to bring me to Tearmann, remember?”
“If you are to be my wife, you cannot go off gallivanting with monsters like him.”
“If I am to be your wife, then I will gallivant with whomever I like.” I balled up the serviette and tossed it onto the table. “Need I remind you that this”—I gestured between us—“is not set in stone. You haven’t asked me to marry you, and I have not agreed.”
“Bloody hell, Keelynn, calm down. If it will make you happy, I will speak to Lord Lynch on Tadhg’s behalf,” he said, “but I cannot guarantee a positive outcome.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my teacup and took a sip.
“'Not in a mood’ my arse,” Robert mumbled under his breath.
The Arches pub was a grandiose establishment with a dry stacked-stone exterior and a bold red sign that read Everyone Welcome.
It was strange—and refreshing—to see a business take such an inclusive stance toward Airren’s native population.
Humans and Danú packed the tables inside, separated, not mixing. Instead of being one big room, the pub had been chopped into multiple, more intimate spaces. I made my way through each one, but there was no sign of Tadhg. Was it any wonder? This was one of an infinite number of places he could be.
A bartender with short black hair and yellow eyes approached me from behind the bar. He looked like a pooka, but when he smiled, there were no fangs. “You look lost,” he said, his accent lilting like Tadhg’s. He must’ve been from Tearmann as well.
“Not lost. Just looking for someone.” I searched the sea of faces being served by two pretty barmaids with
iridescent scales.
Shelves on the back wall displayed bottles of all colors and row after row of different types of glasses.
“Perhaps I can help.” The barman dragged a cloth from over his shoulder and started wiping the drink-splattered bar. “What’s her name?”
“His name is Tadhg.”
The bartender’s hand stilled. “Another pretty human looking for Tadhg,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he rinsed the cloth in a bucket behind the bar. “He’s one lucky bastard, I’ll tell ya that.” He nodded his chin toward a green door between two paintings of ships at sea. “He came in an hour ago. If he’s still here, he’d be in there.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like a drink before you go in? We’re famous for our witch’s brews.”
The thought of drinking before lunch made my stomach ache. I hadn’t been sick this morning and I wanted to keep it that way. “Maybe next time.”
He nodded, wrung out the rag, and went back to cleaning the bar.
People nodded as I passed. No one tried to speak to me, but I felt their eyes burning into my back as I approached the green door. The room on the other side smelled of pipe smoke and perfume.
The windowless space had been painted black, making it impossible to know if it was night or day. Perhaps that was the point. This looked like the type of room where people came to forget the world and time existed.
The only light came from the candles stuck into the tops of wine bottles, dripping colourful wax down the glass.
Tadhg was playing a round of draughts with Ruairi in his human form. A blue-skinned faerie balanced on Ruairi’s knee, and a woman slept on the floor, curled around Tadhg’s boots.
There were other people scattered around the carpet-covered booths, most of them guzzling pints or passed out on the tables.
Tadhg didn’t bother acknowledging me when I stopped next to him.
Ruairi shoved the faerie off his lap and stumbled to his feet. The faerie glared at Ruairi, then at me.
“Lady Keelynn. What a pleasant surprise,” he rushed, scrubbing his hands down his thighs to straighten his breeches. “We weren’t expecting ye.”
“I can see that.”
So much for Tadhg loving me. And he’d had the gall to give me hell about Robert.
“Who the hell is she?” the faerie hissed in a grating, nasally voice.
“She’s um . . .” Ruairi glanced at Tadhg for assistance. Tadhg kept staring at the board. “She’s no one.”
No one? I wasn’t no one.
When I stepped forward, I accidentally kicked the sleeping woman’s tatty slipper. “Pardon me,” I muttered.
Tadhg moved one of the black pawns to a different green square. “She can’t hear you. She’s dead.”
“She’s what?” I stumbled, my feet caught in my skirts, and I fell on my backside next to the woman’s body. Sightless blue eyes stared at the specks of dirt covering the floor. Short red curls framed the gray skin of her face. Blackness devoured her lips, spreading like onyx veins down her chin and across her cheeks.
Just like Aveen.
The woman would be alive in a year and a day. But right now, she was dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
The reality of Tadhg’s curse left me heaving. “Why’d you kiss her?” I gasped.
“I didn’t kiss her,” he said without a hint of remorse. “She kissed me. I told her not to, but she didn’t listen. And now she’s dead, and her children will starve because her husband is a worthless drunk who spends more time drinking in the pub than working at the mill.”
Ruairi offered me a hand up, his expression grave as he scowled at Tadhg. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing what appeared to be rouge stains beneath. “Ye must excuse Tadhg this morning. He’s in a foul humor.”
“Oh, she’s one of his,” the faerie said with a knowing smirk. When she shifted her weight, her sparkling blue dress flickered in the candlelight.
“Do us all a favor, Giselle,” Tadhg drawled, tapping one of the pawns against the edge of the table, “and slither back to the hole you crawled out of.”
The faerie reached for Ruairi’s hand; he shrugged her off and told her to go away. With her hands fisted at her sides, she stomped out of the room.
My gaze dropped again to the poor woman on the floor. “You can’t let her children starve. This is your fault. You have to fix it.”
Ruairi slumped onto his chair and nudged one of the green pieces forward.
Tadhg snorted, keeping his focus on the black and green board. “What would you have me do?”
I would have him not have kissed the woman in the first place. But since that wasn’t an option, “Give them money.”
“So their father can use it to buy drink? Not a feckin’ hope. There are too many of you humans on this island anyway. You procreate like feckin’ rabbits.”
Ruairi kicked him in the shin. Tadhg swore and glared at his friend as he massaged his sore leg.
I understood why he could be so callous toward humans. We treated the Danú with the same disregard. But we were discussing innocent children. “Where do they live?”
Tadhg finally looked at me, but there was no sign of the sweet, giggling man who had stumbled into my room last night. “In a cottage by the sea.”
“Take me there.”
“No.” He went back to the board and moved another pawn. “Now, tell me why you’re here or leave me alone.”
From the stiffness in his shoulders and the muscles pulsing in his jaw, it was clear I wouldn’t be able to sway him. Perhaps Robert knew this woman and where she lived. If I could find the cottage, I could at least give the children something to get them by for a little while until their mother returned.
But all of that would have to wait until I was back with Robert.
“You said something before you passed out last night, and I wanted clarification.”
Ruairi’s dark eyebrows flicked up; a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Tadhg’s hand stilled halfway to his pint. “What did I say?”
“You don’t remember?”
Tadhg grimaced.
“You said that you wanted to stay married to me.”
Tadhg flicked his wrist. Ruairi’s mouth moved like he was speaking, and a barman knocked over one of the open stools, but there was no noise.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Tadhg scowled at me through black eyes. His voice echoed like we were in an invisible closet. “I don’t need everyone in the feckin’ pub knowing my business.”
None of this was my fault. It was his. Every part of this bloody nightmare was his fault.
“I never said I wanted to stay married,” he went on. “This isn’t a matter of wanting anything. It’s a matter of accidentally discovering a loophole in my curse.”
I really must be losing my mind. I knew he didn’t want to be married to me. And I didn’t want to be married to him either. I wanted to marry Robert. I loved Robert.
“What loophole?” I asked.
He glanced at me, then looked away. “Have you listened to wedding vows?”
Wedding vows? What sort of question was that?
“Of course I have. I was married, remember?”
Tadhg grabbed both my hands and yanked me forward. “To you, I pledge my body and soul,” he said, staring me dead in the eye. “All that I am and all that I have is yours.”
Body and soul.
Yours.
“What are you doing?” I tried to pull away. He held firm. Ruairi stood and stalked toward us.
“I bind myself to you and you alone, forsaking all others.”
“Stop talking. Let me go.”
“In giving you my hands, I give you my life, to have and to cherish until death do us part.”
Give you my life.
Until death do us part.
Ruairi pounded on the barrier, his face a mask of fury.
Tadhg let go, and I fel
l back against the invisible wall. “What the hell has gotten into you? What was that?”
“That’s what I promised when I saved your life.” He shoved his sleeves to his elbows and dropped his head into his hands. “That ring cannot save me from this curse, but you can.”
The jumbled mess of vows pounded through my skull. None of this made any sense.
“How does being married help you lie?”
“I don’t give a shit about lying.” He raked his hands through his hair, leaving the dark strands standing on end. “And I no longer care that death lives on my lips. Anyone foolish enough to kiss me despite the consequences deserves to die.”
My eyes flashed to the body on the floor. A year of life wasted for a kiss.
“But I am done being used. I am the crown prince of Tearmann and I cannot even turn down an ancient feckin’ scullery maid looking for a ride. All a woman has to do is say she wants me, and my body, my magic, responds. I am powerless to stop it. Or at least I was powerless”—his eyes met mine—“until I married you.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I bind myself to you and you alone,” Tadhg repeated, emphasizing each word, “forsaking all others.”
Vows were promises—sacred covenants.
And for Tadhg to say the words aloud, he had to mean them.
Holy hell.
“Because you made that vow to me, you’re free to make your own choices,” I whispered.
“I will never be free. But at least I don’t have to go off with anyone else for as long as we are wed.”
He was right. Being tied to me wasn’t the same as being free. And it wasn’t going to last forever. “We’re getting an annulment in two days.”
Tadhg winced and scratched his ear. “And this is where the begging comes in.”
Ruairi watched us, his arms folded across his broad chest. The other people in the room were watching as well.
“You know who I am,” Tadhg said, opening his hands and letting them fall into his lap. “You know what I’m capable of.” He nodded toward the dead woman at his feet. “And yet you seem to hold me in some regard. Last night, you said you didn’t hate me. But you used to. You hated me so much I could taste it. And if you can go from hating me to caring enough to give me that ring in only a matter of days, imagine what could happen in a month—in a year. All I’m asking for is a chance, for a respite from the burdens I’ve carried for so long.”
A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1) Page 24
