by Sierra Rose
“You had more faith in me than my brothers,” Roarke snorted, sighing. “Mac spent the night trying to hurt me, but I think Ryan got me drunk and then knocked me out.”
“I trusted you because…I...I love you,” she murmured, seeing his eyes start at those words and trying to move, but pain seared.
Moving quickly and without thinking, Roarke eased an arm under her to help lift her slightly so she was leaning against pillows, but was surprised when her hands slid around to try to hold onto him.
“Easy.” He wanted this contact but didn’t want to hurt or scare her, then he felt her lean into him, burying her face against his neck and felt the first shudder. “Sshh, go ahead, luv,” he whispered, easing his arms around Jessica to support her when the shields she’d placed on the fear started to crack.
Jessica’s arms were shaking as she clung to Roarke, feeling his hand gently rubbing her back when the tears began to burn. “Don’t let go?”
Shaking his head slowly, Roarke turned his face into her hair in an effort to reassure them both. “No, luv, it’s fine. I’m not letting go,” he promised softly, slowly starting to rock her in his arms when he heard the sob. “I love you, Jessica,” he told her, hoping he could take the pain and fear as she had once for him. “I’ll make it up somehow or let Ryan beat the crap out of me or…”
Roarke knew he was talking non-stop but it helped to keep him calm while he held his friend as she cried, but knew he had to control her emotions so she didn’t tear the stitches until they could be healed.
“What?” Slowly Jessica’s tears had calmed along with the fears and she knew deep down that Roarke had been easing both, but right then something he had said finally gelled. “Roarke, I don’t blame you. It’s… just hard…”
“I know,” he replied grimly, slowly easing her back on the pillows but keeping his hand on her face while his other slowly hovered where he knew the bullet had struck. “Jessie, let me take the pain.”
Still wary, the girl bit her lip. “It would hurt you.” This she knew since she had always known her friend didn’t open himself like that for that reason.
“How many times have you done it for me, a gra?” he countered, still watching when her fingers slowly reached for the nightshirt buttons, but he stopped her. “I’ll do it.”
Accepting the risks, Roarke slowly eased the shirt open enough to see the soft colored T-shirt with a scoop neck that showed the bandage on her chest.
“Roarke, it’s not…” Jessica had been watching his eyes and saw the smoky gray darken as he looked lower and thought of whatever else she’d had done to her. “Don’t, please.”
“I should have done more to him for what he did to you.” Roarke’s eyes lifted back to hers. “How can I expect you to be able to let me ever touch you after what he did?”
Tired and still jumpy, Jessica considered that and knew her friend would never fully be at ease. “It wasn’t you.”
“You didn’t know that at first,” he argued bitterly, dragging his fingers through his hair in a motion that was of pure frustration. “I know what he did and…”
Slowly, she took his hand and placed it on her chest, over her heart. “I trust you more than anyone except maybe Cam,” Jessica spoke slowly, tired and in pain but knowing she had to make her friend understand this as she eased his hand down lower so it was just on the swell of one breast.
“No, wait…” Roarke frowned, seeing her eyes were wary but calm, though he hesitated when her hand moved his and on instinct, it cupped the breast through the T-shirt. “Jessica, you’re hurt and…”
“I’m not afraid of you, Roarke, and I don’t want you to be scared of me over what he did,” she told him quietly, keeping her hand over his. “Sebastian hurt when he touched here but you won’t.”
Understanding what she was saying, the Irishman knew that might not always be the case. “I love you with all my heart but Jess, I can’t promise to always be as gentle as you need,” he replied, needing that to be clear but as he was talking, his thumb was gently rubbing over the tip of her breast.
“Not asking you to be, mate,” Jessica countered, surprised that she wasn’t scared when he gently kneaded. “Take away what he did?”
“Some but the mental stuff he did will take longer,” Roarke declared, not aware when his native accent got stronger as he was suddenly very aware of how close he was to her but also saw the need she wasn’t speaking. “Trust me, luv, and I’ll take the pain,” he promised, leaning closer to move his hand back over the wound but was caught off guard when, despite being weak and hurt, the girl moved slightly to kiss him.
Nearly freezing at this, Roarke almost pulled back when he caught the emotions, the desire and need and knew if he did, then Sebastian will have won.
The kiss was awkward and uneasy as if she wasn’t sure if he would accept it and was gauging his own feelings when Roarke gently cupped the back of her neck and returned the kiss slowly, deeply.
“You know, my brothers could say I’m taking advantage of your shock,” he mused upon breaking the kiss, tracing her mouth with his thumb but keeping eye contact. “Tell me, Jessica. I need you to say it.”
“He wanted me to be scared of you, Roarke,” Jessica still felt the kiss and could feel his eyes on her. “I’m not and I…I want you to make love to me.”
Roarke’s eyes were steady despite the hammering of his heart as he let his hand continue to lightly touch and stroke. “The fact you can say that to me means so much, and if I didn’t know what we’ve both been through in the past twenty-four hours then I would but…” he paused long enough to hold her eyes. “When we make love I want to be sure it’s for the right reasons, you’re fully alright and I know I’m in control.”
Waiting until Jessica nodded in understanding, he gently brought her hand up so he could kiss her hand lightly. “Now, do you trust me to heal you?”
“Yeah but I don’t want you to hurt…” Jessica started to say but a soft kiss stopped the words.
“How much did you get hurt by taking what you did for me in Athens?” he felt her tense slightly and could see her running that over in her mind until she began muttering.
“Ryan took most of that,” she muttered. “I mainly just sat and talked to you.”
Nodding, his hand caressed her face. “We’ll talk about you not telling me my brother was around then later,” he told her, gently easing her up again so she was leaning against his chest. “Just close your eyes and listen for the music.”
Suddenly tired, Jessica didn’t argue as she laid her head against his chest so she could hear his heart while slipping her arms around him. “What music?” she asked through a yawn, feeling the chest wound pull slightly.
“This was my parents’ room and it’s said that if you listen close enough and you believe, you can hear the fairies singing from the fairy hill outside,” he replied softly, gently holding her, and began to let his powers build up slowly.
Roarke was concentrating on the girl in his arms so much that he failed to see the candles around the room were lighting themselves and in addition, how the fireplace glow seemed to flicker.
It had never been a question that of the five of them, Kerry and Mac got the stronger empathic and healing abilities even though all of them could do both acts.
“‘You must always be cautious when using those powers, my son,’” Roarke recalled his father’s words when he was a child. “‘Never open yourself fully because it’s too dangerous to leave yourself that vulnerable unless it’s with someone you trust explicitly.’”
Knowing that and accepting the dangers, he knew that was exactly what he’d have to do in order to do what he needed for his friend.
“Just listen, luv,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair before closing his eyes and letting the powers flow out of him, around her and back.
He felt the pain and emotion but pushed them down as he soothed her softly, beginning to rock her and sing a quiet Irish song that he hadn’t considered
since he’d toured with his brothers.
Jessica had fallen into an almost half-sleep as she listened to his heart, to the lilting Irish accent as he sang and to something that seemed to be coming from the room itself.
Unknown to either of them, the girl’s hands that lay on his back seemed to shimmer as she snuggled closer to his chest.
The flame in the fireplace seemed to shoot higher as Roarke struggled to contain the pains, fears and emotional wounds when he wasn’t up to full strength yet, when he almost felt the light touch on his shoulder; as if someone was saying it was time to stop.
He hesitated until he felt Jessica murmur sleepily as her body seemed to relax against him. “Sleep now, a gra,” he whispered, laying her back on the bed so she could sleep peacefully, but he made sure the room was safe before kissing her forehead and stepping out of the room to go get coffee or something to remind him he was alive. “Be back in a second, luv.”
Deirdre O’Connor had long ago gotten out of the habit of preparing breakfast in a kitchen filled with people, yet she decided it was time to get back into that habit since it appeared as her young Lords preferred the kitchen to bicker than the dining room.
“Ignore anything that demented old devil says, Mary Margaret,” Mac was saying after having spent a good portion of his time convincing Lorcan Kerrigan to go see the horses.
“I think your Grandda is a dear old man,” Maggie countered, rolling her eyes. “Once I figured out he wasn’t really a leprechaun.”
Ian was choosing a topping for his pancakes when he saw his brother in the door. About to make a joke, the youngest Fitzgerald frowned upon seeing how pale he looked. “Roarke, you okay?” he asked.
Ryan’s smirk toward Mac turned to a frown when he looked to the door and saw his younger brother.
“I’m…” Roarke started to say ‘fine’ but didn’t get the chance when he felt his legs start to buckle under him.
“Roarke!” Kerry turned from the kitchen cabinet but stopped when he saw Ryan already grabbing their brother as he fell forward.
Mac shoved a chair out and helped Roarke onto it, knowing by how clammy his skin was, the paleness and weakness, what he must have done.
“Dammit, Roarke, why didn’t you wait for one of us?” he demanded, kneeling next to the chair and laying a hand on his arm.
“Thanks,” Roarke took the glass of water Maggie had quickly gotten and sipped before dipping his fingers into the icy water and flipping in onto his face.
Kerry accepted the cold cloth from Deirdre and placed it on his brother’s neck, fingers slowly rubbing his neck and felt what Mac had. “You aren’t strong enough yet to have taken her wounds, Roarke.”
“I just eased her pain and leveled the fears,” the younger man spoke, leaning his forehead on his arms, which were lying on the table. “She still trusts me, Kerry. That was my bloody biggest fear was that she wouldn’t be able to trust me or…”
“Jessica loves you, brat. Of course she still trusts you.” Ryan rolled his eyes and lightly slapped his brother’s head. “Now sit up so Mac can look at you.”
Ian finished his pancakes and slid a glass of orange juice across the table. “Drink this,” he urged, blinking as he noticed something. “Mac, look at his arms.”
Roarke’s t-shirt showed the scars usually on his arms, yet as Ian had suddenly noticed, they didn’t seem as bad.
“What the bloody hell?” Mac gently eased his brother’s shirt up and was quick to hold him still when he felt the first movement. “Stay still.”
The sharp tone made Roarke sit still, but still didn’t like having his brothers see them.
Mac knew what he should see but as he lifted the shirt up, his eyes narrowed upon seeing only a few scars, the deeper ones, still visible to the naked eye.
Looking up, he lifted an eyebrow at Kerry, who frowned while Ryan knelt down to look for himself.
“Roarke, what happened when you healed Jessica?” Kerry asked curiously, moving around to sit across from his brother and seeing him pause to consider.
“Just held her and listened to the music from the fairies,” he shrugged, looking down at his arms, then pulled his shirt off to look down. “Why… where’d they go?”
Mac placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder and saw the images of what occurred upstairs and he frowned as he saw the candles light themselves, the fireplace flames changing and actually heard the music of the fairies.
“Get him to drink the juice and eat something,” he told Ryan quietly while shooting Kerry a look to come across the kitchen with him. “Something happened between them when he used his powers.”
“It could be their link, her trust and the fact they’ve both accepted the feelings they share, caused his feelings of guilt and shame to ease. It was enough that while he was healing her, Jessica’s own powers took some of his,” Kerry mused while looking back to see Ryan’s hand was lightly rubbing his brother’s back while Ian and Maggie worked on getting him to eat.
Picking at the steak and eggs that Deirdre had placed in front of him, Roarke didn’t seem to mind Ryan being so close. “Will they stay gone or come back?” he wondered, handing Ian a piece of bacon he didn’t want.
“It may depend on your moods or stuff,” Ryan shrugged, not feeling the same emotion from the scars that remained as he had earlier in the week. “Are you alright, brat?”
Looking over at him curiously, Roarke honestly thought about that. “I think I am, Ryan,” he nodded, easing back in his seat to meet eyes that were like his own. “So, should I thank you for Athens?”
“I didn’t do anything but make sure the lass didn’t starve herself while sitting with you,” Ryan wanted off this subject or his image would suffer. “You take too many bloody dumb chances most of the time.”
“That’s what I do for a living,” Roarke shrugged, looking at his brother fully. “She’s not out of danger, is she?”
Ryan knew what he thought but wasn’t ready to answer that. “Does one of you care to tackle that?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Not if I had a choice,” Mac threw back, retaking his seat and feeling Maggie’s hand on his shoulder. “Kerry?”
Shooting both brothers a dark look, Kerry sighed as he looked at his younger brother’s hopeful gaze. “Sebastian will never be able to do what he did this time, but until we deal with him fully, Jessica could be used against you.”
Seeing that news sink in, Kerry gripped a clenched fist. “You aren’t alone, Roarke, and neither is Jessica, but you have to accept help and let us in,” he declared.
“I know that,” Roarke sighed, thinking of something. “Is the attic room still the same?”
“Yes,” Kerry looked harder and saw what his brother was thinking. “I think the tower room would suit your idea better.”
Both Mac and Ryan knew that room had been their father’s sole sanctuary, and none of them had ever entered it.
Roarke also knew that and stared at Kerry. “We never went in to Da’s room.”
“True, but I doubt if he’d mind in this case,” Kerry replied easily. “You want to reassure yourself that Jessica will be safe, and you’ll need their energy.”
“Can you check on her?” Roarke asked, standing slowly but not feeling as weak as he had. “I don’t want her to be alone if she wakes up.”
Maggie lifted a hand. “I’ll go sit with her until you get done with whatever you’re doing.”
“Thanks.” He looked deeper at the red headed reporter, then shifted a look toward Mac and smiled.
“Shut up, Roarke,” Mac warned, catching the thought.
As their brother left the kitchen, Ian sent a look toward Kerry. “Can he protect her?”
“Not totally, no,” Kerry replied grimly, reaching for his coffee. “What he wants is to give her some type of protection. Like a talisman or something, like the Trinity medals we wear.”
“He needs both his charms,” Ryan frowned, seeing Kerry nod. “You still have it, give it to him.�
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Their brother knew what he meant. “I was going to but wanted to be sure it was alright.”
Mac snorted, knowing Ian was confused. “Mum had a necklace, a rose quartz heart, that Roarke bought her one year on her birthday,” he explained before looking back at their older brother. “Give it to him while I go make sure Gramps isn’t letting the horses loose or planning another tale of my life to spin to Maggie.”
“When will he see it?” Ian asked Ryan after they were alone in the kitchen.
“Mac can be a bit dense about some things.” Ryan finished his drink before deciding to go upstairs to check on things himself. “Besides, sometimes having deep feelings or being in love just leaves you open to pain,” his eyes seemed to go cold as he added while walking out. “I should know.”
Ian frowned, wondering if he’d ever understand everything he should, and once again wished his memories were as clear as his brothers.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The tower room of the Fitzgerald Manor had always been off limits and Roarke still was wary as he stepped inside, surprised that it still felt as if his father had just been there.
It was a nice-sized room that Toryn had made special so he’d have a private room to do spells or other things he felt he’d need solitude to do. In the center of the room sat a handcrafted table, the tools and wands laid out passed down through generations.
Letting his fingers run over the chalice that was sitting on the shelf, Roarke knew he was no longer alone even before he felt the breeze.
“Hello, Da,” he was proud that his voice remained steady but he didn’t turn to look behind him yet. “Kerry said it was alright to come up here.”
A thin shimmering glow was around his six-foot plus frame as Toryn Fitzgerald leaned casually against the mantle of the black obsidian fireplace across from his fourth born son.
“Your brother would know the right time for things,” he finally spoke, his deep voice still heavy with the Irish brogue he’d had when alive. “He knew it was time to send you up here, didn’t he?”
