Magic Destiny: Dark Paranormal Romance (Irish Rogue Series Book 1)

by Kate Gellar

  But with that perk came great stress. With her duties split between caring for her ill mother and keeping up with assignments, Abby had dreamed about living on campus to forget about life for a while.

  This castle was a college dorm of sorts. Shared bathroom, shared kitchen. Own bedroom, thank God. She hated sharing her sleeping space. She loved her best friend, but Wendy’s snoring night after night had gotten out of hand. This arrangement would be easy. She could do this. It would take a little getting used to. That’s all.

  Abby slipped from the kitchen into the adjoining dining room with a large oak table and enough seats to accommodate all ten interns and their four hosts. The others followed with their breakfast choices, chatting away like they were old friends. Abby clearly had some catching up to do. At least she knew Sylvie. And the two blondes from the bathroom: Astrid and Emma. Well, their names. They weren’t very friendly.

  Sylvie sat down next to her and introduced the other eight girls at the table. Just ten people had received invitations to this program. For a castle this size, it surprised her to see so few people. Would her stay be similar to the Bachelor or Survivor, where the weakest gets voted out of the house? Girls could get competitive; she’d already sampled how much in the bathroom.

  The girls seemed nice, except for Astrid with the cat-like eyes and Emma who’d jumped in the shower after her. Everyone said where they came from. Of the ten girls, four came from the UK, three from the US, two from Sweden, and one came from France. Astrid hailed from Sweden. Emma and the brunette from the bathroom were both from the UK. Another girl, Noomi was also Swedish and dark haired. She seemed quieter than Astrid.

  As they all introduced themselves, it became evident that a geographical spread of nations sat around her. What surprised her more than being the only redhead at the table was the news that all the girls came from Irish families—Irish descendants to be precise, whose parentage left Ireland during the last century. Maybe the others had already discussed this fact in Abby’s absence. Except for Sylvie, she had barely spoken to anyone else since her arrival.

  Breakfast concluded, signalling the true start of their stay. Abby and the other girls filed out of the room and into the hall, following the signs to a room at the front of the castle opposite the living room. The door was set into a stone archway. A plaque sat next to the room that said “Great Hall”. Inside, the large space was a quarter-filled with chairs all facing the front. Brendan stood at the top of the room next to a laptop. A projector hung from the ceiling and pointed at a white screen. On screen in large black letters were the words: Welcome.

  Brendan, the flirt and Abercrombie model, watched the girls settle. He wore an easy smile and had a sparkle in his eye. Abby watched him check out each girl, trying not to read anything more into the set up at the castle. She must have been too out of it yesterday not to think it strange to be one of ten women to attend a summer history program run by four hot men. The more she watched Brendan ogle the room, the more obsessed with this man she became.

  This is all wrong.

  Brendan’s eyes landed on hers and it was like the energy in the room supercharged. Noises around her dropped away until it became the two of them. In this room. Staring at each other.

  She heard her name being called. Abby. Abby.

  Yet, Brendan’s lips never moved. He had locked her in his sights, like she was the prey and he was the hunter.

  But she didn’t feel like prey. Not in the traditional sense. A trickle of power warmed her insides fast and spread to her arms and legs.

  Brendan’s feral gaze on hers sent a shot straight to her heart, among other places. His eyes drew her in. She’d never experienced this attraction with anyone else. But she barely knew this guy. What was she doing?

  She shook her head to snap out of the staring competition, but her feeble efforts did nothing to break their connection. A strange energy within her forced her to her feet and to walk toward him.

  All around them had darkened but a light consumed Brendan. His eyes beckoned her close, but his balled fists indicated a stress she hadn’t noticed earlier.

  The force she could not fight inside her flashed brighter and urged her on. Her heart fluttered with each new step she made. Her face flushed and her nipples hardened under her thick sweater.

  She got close enough to Brendan to see the smile on his face was not a smile, but a grimace. The blue veins on his arms and neck bulged. With flared nostrils and wide eyes, he grunted hard when she neared him.

  She shook her head again, this time to break the weird connection between them. With two shakes, the power drawing her to him lessened.

  What the hell was she doing? She closed her eyes to fight against the jet lag she must be experiencing.

  When she opened her eyes she was back in her seat. Or maybe she’d never left it. A bout of dizziness hit her despite the noises in the room having returned to normal. The confusing energy—or whatever heaviness had forced her closer to Brendan—had dissipated. Her eyes shot to Brendan who checked something on the laptop and was paying her no attention.

  What the hell? Had she experienced a waking dream? Maybe it was this place, or maybe it was the lack of sleep. Her cheeks reddened and she looked around her, relieved to see none of the girls paid her any attention. She smiled at her stupidity and focused on the white screen. That’s when she saw Brendan’s eyes flick away from her to the laptop.

  The surprise on his face floored her, confirming she had imagined nothing.

  12

  Abby

  Half-way through Brendan’s presentation Abby’s eyes glazed over. Her head pounded from the warmth in the room and the tight feeling that accompanied it. Most of the women watched the man perform at the top of the room. A few girls smiled and sat up straight, while others looked bored.

  Brendan clicked a button on his laptop and produced a picture of Drumm castle from the early twentieth century on screen. It was a black and white photo she hadn’t seen before. This one showed the Alderdyce family posing outside the castle.

  “The castle has been in the Alderdyce family since the seventeenth century,” said Brendan in an accent that had an air of old world money to it. “The only time the Alderdyces didn’t live here was from 1922-1932, at the start of Ireland’s newfound independence, following eight hundred years under British rule. During this period, the Irish drove many English families out of Ireland. Even though the Alderdyces were loved and trusted by locals, their treatment at the hands of locals was no different. The castle passed to a local Irish family who cared for the castle until the Alderdyces could regain control ten years later.”

  Sam had mentioned the fire of 1932. Had that happened before or after they’d returned? Abby squinted against the brightness of the projector lights. She was a student with a major in European History, but Irish history had a special place in her heart and she guessed the girls had a similar interest. She studied the nine other faces, most of whom were stuck on Brendan’s every word while the rest checked their phones. It surprised Abby to see Sylvie next to her slouched in her chair, examining her nails.

  Abby elbowed her. “I thought you were interested in this stuff.”

  “Ah, I am, but I’m not feeling it today. Maybe when I settle in a bit more, cherie?” Even while slouching, Sylvie looked like a goddess. Abby vowed to get makeup tips from the French beauty.

  Abby tried to muster up the same interest in Brendan’s presentation as most of the others. But Brendan’s voice and the screen drifted in and out of focus. Whatever had made the room spin and for her to see Brendan in a new light, literally, had thrown her off kilter. Not just in a short term what-the-hell-happened way either, but in a longer lasting way. Her head continued to throb with a dull ache. She felt disconnected from reality.

  Jet lag. It had to be that. Nothing else could explain how out of sorts the room made her feel. The metal of her necklace felt hot against her skin, similar to the moment when Sam had driven the car through the gates of Dr
umm castle.

  Brendan wrapped up an hour-long talk on the history of the castle and Ireland, then produced a schedule of chores each invitee would be doing around the castle.

  “If this castle were a hotel, it would be buzzing with accommodation, bar, and kitchen staff,” said Brendan. He clicked to new photos of the interior of the castle. “But this is a working castle, and around here the work we do is essential to the upkeep of the property. The castle has twelve ground floor rooms of various sizes, but only five of them are in use. There are ten bedrooms on the first floor and five on the second floor. That’s a lot of rooms in this place.”

  He clicked to the next slide which showed an aerial view of the estate. Abby saw a separate building that looked like a livery connected to the castle. “There are outside tasks, too, like gardening. We also have stables and four horses on site. Sam and I have drawn up a rotation schedule so everyone will get a taste of all the jobs we do here.”

  Abby blinked and for the first time in an hour, her eyes focused on the slide for more than a minute. She found her name among the list that was broken down into one group of four and two groups of three. Brendan, Liam, and Murphy’s names were at the top of the groups.

  “We all pitch in around here. The grants don’t cover the cost of outside help. Everyone has their jobs to do, and we won’t tolerate any laziness, or those who leave the work to other people. Your help is payment for your free room and board. During your stay, you will also receive history lessons and take field trips to meet with local historians. We four are trustees of this castle without an owner and our role is to preserve it for the next generation.”

  Noomi put her hand up. “I thought the Alderdyce family owns this castle.”

  “It used to, but it hasn’t since the family returned to the castle in 1932,” said Brendan.

  Trustees. Abby liked that the castle didn’t belong to anyone. These four men were acting as caretakers until they could pass it on. Historians played a huge role in preserving knowledge and Abby saw a future for herself to follow in that tradition. She hoped to become a history teacher or an archivist.

  Brendan wrapped up the talk but left the last slide up. She searched for her name and that day, and found it under Liam’s name with the work assignment: Garden. The other two assignments were Livery and House and Grounds. Her home in Brooklyn had no front garden and a back garden the size of a postage stamp. Her father had put down paving stones while her mother decorated it with flower pots. That was the extent of her gardening knowledge or interest.

  “There are jackets and rubber boots in the mudroom off from the kitchen. Change into whatever you need when you’re working outside. The weather in Ireland has a habit of changing fast.” Brendan, who hadn’t looked at her for the entire presentation, suddenly locked eyes with her. Like before, his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Pinned beneath his gaze, the room started to spin again.

  A hand on her back snapped her out of her trance. “Are you all right?” Sylvie was leaning forward and staring into her eyes.

  Abby nodded and swallowed. “I’m feeling a little dizzy, that’s all. It’s too hot in here. I need to leave.”

  Sylvie escorted her out and into the kitchen. She steered her into a seat at the kitchen table, and poured her a glass of water. “You can probably get out of duties this morning if you’re not feeling well.”

  Abby drank a little water. Funny thing was she felt okay now. Maybe the room was the problem, not her. Or Brendan.

  Sam passed by the open door and backtracked. “Abby, are you okay? You look as white as a ghost.”

  “She was feeling dizzy during the presentation,” said Sylvie.

  Abby squirmed under the intensity of Sam’s gaze. “But I’m feeling much better now. I think I’m still jet lagged, that’s all.”

  Sam entered the room and gripped her shoulder. His touch felt warm and reassuring. “You’re on the roster to work in the garden with Liam this morning. I can take you off for the morning if you’d like to get some rest?”

  Abby shook her head. She refused to start her three months in Ireland by sleeping. “No, honestly I’ll be fine.”

  Sam reclaimed his hand. “If you’re sure. Liam will take good care of you.”

  He left the room, and both Abby and Sylvie watched him go. Abby drained the rest of her water and set the glass down on the table. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”

  Sylvie stood with her arms folded. She had a strange vacant look on her face. Abby snapped her fingers at her causing Sylvie to blink. “What?”

  “I said Sam, he’s nice.”

  Sylvie shook her head as if she was caught in a daydream. “Oh, yeah, I guess. I haven’t spoken to him much. Time will tell.”

  Abby caught the edge to her voice. “You don’t think so?”

  “I take a while to trust people, cherie.”

  “And yet you introduced yourself to me off the bat.”

  Sylvie arched an eyebrow and walked to the exit. “Yes, but who says I trust you?”

  Abby got up and entered the mudroom, a space no wider than a corridor with a window on one side and every inch of remaining space covered in hooks and outdoor wear. Underneath the hooks were slatted benches, underneath that, rubber boots. Wellington boots, or wellies as they called them on this side of the Atlantic.

  Abby sat down and checked for her boot size by measuring the sole against her stockinged foot. She found a pair of green boots that measured up and felt snug, but not too tight. In the narrow room, she perused several jackets and overalls hanging from the hooks. She grabbed a pair of overalls matching her boots that looked close to her size. She left her own shoes neatly tucked under one of the wooden benches.

  A rush of cool, crisp morning air hit her the second she opened the back door. The fresh air actually felt good and worked fast to dull her headache from before. Abby trekked farther into the gardens at the rear of the castle using the pebbled walkway. The grass was thick and green, but looked slick like it had a layer of moisture on it. Maybe in the afternoon when the sun had dried it out, she could grab one of her books during her break and find a quiet spot to read.

  A group of three standing near a collection of mature trees caught her eye. As she got closer to the group, the more equipment she noticed hidden behind the trees: a riding mower, a wheelbarrow, and several gardening tools. Finally taking in the girls, her heart took a nosedive when she saw it was Astrid and Emma chatting to Liam. Both vied for Liam’s attention. Liam, holding a giant rake in his hand, laughed at something Astrid said. When Abby neared, he turned his head and waved at her. She returned the gesture, ignoring the memory of the spark she’d felt when they’d shook hands. She liked Liam; there was something easy about him. Maybe the spark was a fluke, a little transfer of static electricity from the carpet. Or maybe there was more to it.

  Emma and Astrid stared at her like she was the last person they expected. Yep. This was like a damn episode of the Bachelor. Except instead of one hot man, there were four.

  Well, three. Abby hadn’t made up her mind about the grumpy Murphy yet.

  The girls’ hair was done to perfection, nails glistening with a fresh coat of paint. Most days, Abby couldn’t get her curly red hair to tame, so she’d pulled it into a low ponytail. Her fingernails were bare, and her skin a deathly white beside these gorgeous girls, one olive skinned, from two different parts of Europe.

  Liam grinned at Emma when she touched his arm, much to Abby’s annoyance. Both girls dazzled him with flirtatious smiles. Abby refused to compete for any guy’s attention. It was such a turn off when the guy got off on girls fighting over him. And the games that girls played to outmaneuver their female competition were ludicrous. Sometimes they pursued a man they had no interest in, to ruin another girl’s chance.

  It was all bullshit. Abby would take a real connection with just one guy over all that, any day.

  She kept her distance while the girls continued to flirt. Liam’s eyes found hers and with that one
look she felt that spark again. Her heart galloped all over the estate.

  “You ready to get to work?” His eyes drifted from her eyes to her boots and back again. “You look like you are.”

  Both girls looked her over and giggled. Abby glanced down at her overalls and rubber boots that contrasted the girls’ billowy summer dresses and flip flops.

  This country was too cold in the morning to wear anything else but overalls.

  “Ready, boss.” She saluted him to which he responded with a laugh.

  “I wish I was the boss. But that role is reserved for one.”

  “Who, Sam?”

  “Sure.” Liam flashed a friendly smile at her that she realized now was his trademark look. “Let’s get to it.”

  He handed out equipment to all three of them, and while Astrid and Emma were dressed for summer not work, they looked remarkably ready to handle the workload. Abby grabbed a rake and a wheelbarrow and set to clearing leaves out from under one of the oldest oak trees she’d ever seen. Liam showed the other two where to go.

  She caught sight of the glamour twins, Astrid and Emma, raking leaves from under another tree under Liam’s watchful eye. Even in their inappropriate outfits, they didn’t seem fazed by the hard work.

  Huh. Abby really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

  Liam returned to where she waited. “The trees on this property are over three hundred years old,” he said. His accent was different to Brendan’s posh one; more down to earth than his and not as harsh as Murphy’s.

  Abby looked up into the tree. “I’ve never seen one this old.”

  “Almost as old as your country.” Liam smiled.

  “Yeah, I hear that a lot from non-Americans. I’m lucky because I know both the history of Ireland and Europe from my studies, but I was drawn most to the difficult relationship between Ireland and the UK. Most Americans only study their own history, which is a newborn compared to the rest of the world.”