Chapter Twenty-eight
Leif put on his happy face as he entered Tí Joe Watty’s with his brother, smiling gratefully at each happy birthday wish thrown his way. Many shook his hand or patted him on the back, making jests about his climbing age. All in good fun, he forced a laugh or two until he reached the safety of the bar.
Kristoff flagged down the bartender and lifted two fingers, denoting the number of pints he wanted. Leaning on the bar, he looked around the crowded room, smiling and waving here and there, while he spoke in a voice only Leif could hear. “Did you see the woman standing next to Flanagan as we came in?”
Catching the pint glass the bartender slid his way, Leif took a large drink, downing half of it. He knew the red-head Kristoff mentioned was the woman his brother had a torrid one night affair with a few months back. He also knew she was the same woman who had run back to Flanagan, sparking another fire of competition between the two. “Of course, I saw her.”
“Did you see the look she gave me?”
“It was congenial smile, nothing more. You’d do well to stay away from her.”
Kristoff chuckled to himself, Leif’s warning barely registering. “Funny how Flanagan chose this night to bring her out, knowing I’d be here. He’s goading me.”
“Exactly. So, don’t give him the satisfaction.”
His brother glanced over his shoulder, offering a wink in the red-head’s direction. “I mean it, Kristoff. If you instigate anything tonight, you’re on your own.”
Downing his Guinness, Leif felt another hard slap at his back. Turning his head, he saw Dr. O’Donnell and his wife.
“There’s the birthday boyo!”
“Dr. O’Donnell,” Leif nodded in reply. “How are you this evening?”
“Well enough,” he replied, glancing at his wife. “How’s Ms. O’Connor?”
Leif was quick to notice the slight implication on Lorraine’s condition. He’d endured the most difficult day of his life without her at his side and knowing this wouldn’t be last time someone asked about her, he settled in for the long haul. “She’s fine. Thanks.”
“Where is she? I figured the lass would be with you to celebrate this grand occasion.”
Kristoff jumped in and saved him. “She couldn’t make it tonight. But we’ll let her know you asked about her. Can I buy you and Mrs. O’Donnell a drink?”
“Nah, we were just heading out.” Taking his wife by the hand, he nodded toward the brothers. “Stay out of trouble.”
Leif sighed as he watched them weave through the crowd. “I believe his words of caution were directed toward you.”
Kristoff laughed. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but I’m not the one who woke him up in the wee hours of the night this week.”
It didn’t take much to make Leif’s mind wander back to Lorraine. For most of the day, he had sat in his bedroom, staring at the chest, ruminating over her preposterous claims of it being a gift he once gave her in a previous life. Sure, he couldn’t help but feel the chest had called to him, leading him to that very spot beneath his porch. But to accept that it was tied to him through physical means was more than he could fathom.
As much as he wanted to forget Lorraine and everything she’d said, he couldn’t. His heart wouldn’t let him. He had fallen so hard for her, so quickly, that he barely had time to recover. He was wounded, bleeding from the inside, and if he didn’t find a way to remove the talons she had sunk into him, he knew he’d never heal. Even as he was surrounded by the distraction of smiling faces and joyous birthday wishes, the hole she left in his heart was too great to fill.
Kristoff waved his hand in front of Leif’s face. “You still in there?”
He shook away his morose thoughts and grabbed the other pint at the bar. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“That’s your problem. You think too much. Come on,” Kristoff encouraged with a short jerk of his head. “Let’s go find a table.”
Wishing he was anywhere but here, he followed Kristoff toward a table near the stage. Upon seeing a few familiar faces, Leif forced himself to appear excited. If his brother hadn’t gone to so much trouble inviting friends from all across the planet, he wouldn’t have come in the first place. He’d be rude if he didn’t show some gratitude.
With a few firm handshakes, he greeted Willie and Mícheál first, accepting their over-the-hill jokes with a smile. It had been a long time since he’d seen the two witty Irishmen and tried his best to look thrilled they had come.
“Look at you, you handsome devil,” Catharina complimented warmly as she cupped Leif’s face. “Happy birthday.”
Leif wrapped his arms around her and reciprocated the welcome. “Thank you, Catharina. And you’re as ravishing as ever.”
“Watch it, Leif,” Mícheál advised with a wink. “It may well be ye birthday but I’m not appalled to blackening yer eye, if ye be needin’ it.”
“Don’t listen to Mick,” Catharina waved. “He couldn’t blacken a Cajun dish with a handful of cayenne peppers. You can compliment me anytime you want.”
Kristoff elbowed Willie. “Looks like the kilted man brought his feelings with him. He should’ve known better. Couldn’t you have left those at the door, Mick, along with those white legs you’re showing off?”
Laughter erupted. It was like old times, jests and jibes flying off at every turn. Despite Leif’s heart longing for Lorraine, he was beginning to enjoy himself.
Gazing at the other end of the table, he took notice of Karen, Willie’s wife, sitting quietly as the men continued to berate each other. He took a seat beside her and smiled. “Thank you, Karen, for coming. It’s a lovely surprise to see you and your husband again.”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” Karen replied, holding up her bottle of Smithwick’s. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“So, where’s this woman of yours? Kristoff said we’d get to meet her tonight.”
Leif cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid my brother has jumped the gun again. She won’t be here.”
“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to meeting her. It’s not every day a woman tames the heart of a lion.”
Leif looked at her askance. “Who said she tamed me?”
“I can look at you and see it.” Karen leaned forward, bringing her voice closer to him. “You’re only here because you have to be. I know you’d rather be where she is. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Leif shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with how easily Willie’s wife saw through his façade. Before he could deny her statement, a hardy male voice came over the loud speaker. “Tonight, we are all here to celebrate the birthday of Leif Dæganssen.”
Leif looked over his shoulder to see his good friend and musician, John Tracey, at the microphone, holding a pint of Guinness in his hand and a Maton guitar strapped to his body. Preparing himself for the announcement to come, he smiled as a collective silence filtered across the crowd.
“On behalf of Fretwear, our little two-man band, and all the good people of Tí Joe Watty’s Bar, it gives me great pleasure to dedicate the first song to the man of the hour. It’s a song Kevy and I wrote together called Women, Whiskey, and Beers, and from the look of this place, there’s plenty of that afoot here. Breithlá sona duit, a Leif a fhir!”
A strong salute of cheers and toasts rose up around him as John strummed the first few bars of the song. Between the picking talents of John’s fingers lighting up the frets of his Tommy Emmanuel autographed flat box and Kevin’s soulful voice, the bluesy music catered specifically to Leif’s mood. Karen was right. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted nothing more than to be in Lorraine’s arms, hearing her erotic dulcet voice.
Song after song, he sat at the table, smiling at the jests and conversations flittering by, pretending to listen intently. When all the while, he thought of how he’d hurt Lorraine. If he could go back in time, he’d assuredly do things differently.
Therein, lay the problem.
> Going back in time was not possible, just as it wasn’t likely he’d lived a previous life with Lorraine as a Norse warrior. He recalled how fervent she’d been upon seeing the chest, the level of excitement in her voice as she explained how he’d gifted her with the relic in a time of which he had no recollection. Obviously, she felt she was speaking the truth for he could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to win him over with outlandish tales of chivalry and heroism. She did, however, stay true to history, marking a moment when the chest was offered as a gift in an alliance. She quoted names from the past, prominent men in history whom he knew played a part in his ancestor’s world. That alone held him riveted. If she’d spouted romantic things about marriage and happily ever after love, he could dismiss her as a desperate woman hell-bent on conning the first available man to the alter. But she gave details so explicit only a fellow archaeologist or historian would know.
“In the days of Harold ‘the Fairhair’ and Niall Glundubh, you and I had fallen in love during a time a great upheaval. I was a princess of Connacht and you were a mighty warrior chieftain of Norway, two very different people who should have never found love in each other. But we did. To protect me, you brought me here to Inis Mór and we married, securing an alliance between the Irish natives of the island and your Norse family. You needed this alliance so you weren’t forced to uproot your family again.”
It was true. From what he’d gathered in all his research, his ancestors moved from Hladir to the Aran Islands, for reasons he had yet to uncover. But how could Lorraine know his family had relocated from a land in which they had deep roots? Then upon hearing her describe the parameters of a longhouse, with its adjoining bed chambers and central hearth, it floored him. A bartender from Kentucky should not be privy to this kind of knowledge unless…
Unless she lived through it.
Even now, when he had time to mull it over with a clear head, it was hard to believe. Yet by the same token, it made sense.
If she were reincarnated, it seemed logical she would know about the king and the chest in precise detail. If she once lived in the tenth century, she’d be able to describe the look and feel of a Scandinavian longhouse without blinking an eye. If she were indeed a Connacht princess, the chances of her Irish father marrying her to a Northman during that time were more than likely. Leif knew that marriages between noble Irish daughters and clever audacious Norwegian chieftains had happened many times, though most were not for love. As history had revealed, the Irish attempted to be ingratiatingly friendly with the first-to-arrive Norwegians, hoping to keep the vicious Danes from their doors.
Leif’s head pounded as his thoughts raced through fact and fiction. He wanted to trust that Lorraine had told him the truth. But if he believed her, then he’d also have to consider his part in her story. It wasn’t that she declared she’d lived a previous life. It was that she lived that life married to him.
“…and you, Leif Dæganssen, from the day I laid eyes on you, had my heart.”
Lorraine’s words echoed in his head. He couldn’t lie. Before he’d shown her the chest, she had his heart as well. He’d felt it when they first kissed and he felt it every time he touched her thereafter. From the moment he saw her at the cliffs of Dún Aonghasa, he felt a pull toward her as if they’d shared a past. Could that past be more than a thousand years ago?
He glanced at his empty glass sitting on the table. He’d lost count of how much he’d drank this night and after looking at his watch, he realized how much time had passed.
As he looked around him, he saw his friends dancing together in pairs, swaying to the quiet rhythm of John’s moving instrumental. To his astonishment, he also noticed his brother embracing a certain red-head on the dance floor, her face buried in his neck.
Shit.
As always, Kristoff did whatever he wanted, despite Leif’s advice. Looking around for Flanagan, he quickly caught sight of the Irishman storming through the pub in his brother’s direction.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Here we go… As Leif stood, he noted the fury on the Irishman’s face and decided to cut the man off, keeping distance between Flanagan and his unaware brother. Flanagan halted, peering over Leif’s shoulder. He half expected the man to throw an immediate punch, by the rage flushing his face, but Flanagan only glared.
“Keep your womanizing brother away from my sister!”
Leif couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, he heard wrong. “Your sister?” he asked, crossing his arms. All this time, Kristoff had assumed the woman was Flanagan’s girlfriend since she’d run back to him after their one-night affair. If Kristoff found out she was only a sibling, there’d be no stopping him.
“Yes, my sister,” Flanagan bit out. “If he thinks he’s going to weasel his sorry arse into Maggie’s bed again, he’s got another thing coming.”
Leif grabbed Flanagan by the arm as the man tried to move around him, pulling him back.
“Take your hands off me, Dæganssen.”
“It doesn’t have to go down like this, Flanagan. I can understand how you feel when it comes to my brother and his reputation, but he’s only dancing with her. There’s no harm in that. When the song is over, I’ll kindly split them up and you can be on your way.”
“I don’t need your assistance,” Flanagan sneered, jerking his arm free.
Stepping in front of him, Leif looked the Irishman in the eye. “Then at least take my advice. Don’t let Kristoff know she’s your sister.”
For a second, a wave of realization washed over Flanagan, but it didn’t harbor his emotions. Barreling past Leif, he stomped through the crowd and yanked the woman from Kristoff’s arms. The noise of the room kept Leif from hearing the words being exchanged. To his relief, Kristoff stood there as Flanagan led the woman out the door.
Kristoff fisted his hands, his pride taking the brunt of it, and after a few awkward glances from the people who witnessed the scene, he bolted straight for the bar. By the time Leif caught up to him, he had already ordered a double shot of Jameson.
Leif leaned against the bar, knowing what his brother battled in his head. “Do you really think you need that right now?” he asked, gesturing toward the caramel-colored fluid brimming the glass.
Kristoff picked it up and threw it back in his throat without so much as looking at Leif. Slamming the empty glass on the bar, he ordered another. “Did you do this?”
“Do what?”
“I saw you talking to Flanagan. Did you—”
“No. I didn’t. But I did stop him from knocking your teeth out.”
Kristoff laughed cynically. “I’d like to see Flanagan try. And I’d like you to stay out of my business.”
“You’re my brother. You are my business.”
This time a scoff erupted from Kristoff’s lips before he tossed back the second shot. “What happened to the ‘if you instigate anything tonight, you’re on your own’ mentality?”
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me now?”
Kristoff shrugged in a heated sigh. “No, I’m not picking a fight with you. I’m—”
“Everything all right?” Willie asked as the four approached the bar.
Leif smiled and patted his brother’s back. “Everything’s fine. Kristoff just needs to go home and sleep it off.”
“Looks like someone else forgot to leave their feelings at the door,” Mícheál jibed.
“Something like that,” Leif concluded as he eyed Kristoff’s eyes glazing over. “I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice. It was great to see you again.” Leif thumbed toward the door. “You need a lift to where you’re staying for the night?”
Willie wrapped his arm around Karen. “I suspect we’re going to stay for a few more songs and then we’ll catch a cab. Thanks for the offer though.”
Leif hugged his friends goodbye and when he got to Karen, he whispered, “Thanks for the talk.”
“Don’t let her get away,” she whispered back.
He nodded
once and grabbed Kristoff by the shirt, dragging him toward the door. “You staying at my place tonight?”
“Yeah, why not.”
Leif held the door for his dispirited brother. As soon as they stepped outside, a shrill scream broke through the brisk night air. Leif looked at Kristoff, and knew immediately that he’d not imagined the feminine cry for help. Without a word, the two ran toward the sound past the beer garden and around the darkened corner of the pub. In the dimly lit area beside the trees, they saw two men scuffling with a woman pinned against the wall.
“Maggie!” Kristoff exclaimed, running straight to her.
Leif heard the woman try to answer, but her voice was muffled. Sprinting to her aid, he watched Kristoff grab one of the men and punch him soundly in the face. Falling, the man righted himself quickly and made haste to counter his brother’s attack.
Leif joined the brawl and sent his fist into the same guy’s gut, doubling him over. His plan to help his brother came too late. The sound of the man’s fist clocking Kristoff resounded through the fracas of shuffling feet. Kristoff tumbled to the ground. As the man swung his leg to kick his brother in the ribs, Leif tackled him around the waist, toppling him to the ground. Being the bigger man, Leif was able to sit upon him and rain down a few punches to his face. Adrenaline surging, he continued to beat the man beneath him. The only thing that stopped him from beating the guy to a pulp was Maggie’s voice screaming Kristoff’s name.
Distracted, the man sent his fist across Leif’s jaw and squirmed from underneath him, escaping into the night. Shaking off the pain, Leif searched in the dark for Kristoff. In the shadows, he saw his brother jerk the remaining mugger up by his shirt and slam him into the wall.
“You piece of shit! Get your fuckin’ arse out of here!”
The man scurried away, tripping over his feet as he streaked across the lawn. Breathless, Kristoff dropped to his knees and Maggie ran to him. “Are you all right, Kristoff?”
The Emerald Isle Trilogy Boxed Set Page 88
