Sin Worth the Penance Page 7

  I couldn’t find my voice.

  “Are ya mad because I didn’t come to walk ya home? I’m sorry. I fell asleep.” He again drew me in, his mouth near my ear. “Come on. I’ll make it up to ya.”

  My traitorous body responded, but my heart overrode it. “Ya fell asleep?”

  “Aye.” His mouth traveled down my neck, and he tugged my top aside to cruise along my shoulder.

  “At Kitty Kennedy’s?”

  He slowly moved away. “Bridey, I can explain.”

  “I’m not interested in—” My voice broke. I swallowed and took a breath. “—I won’t let ya pull the wool over my eyes anymore, Flynn. I’ve had enough.” I didn’t want to lose it in front of him. I forced my feet to move and stepped around him, taking a few strides toward the house.

  “Bridey, please, I love ya.”

  I halted.

  He whirled about. “I can make this up to ya.”

  I spun on my heel. “Ya love me?”

  “Aye, I do. Ya know I do.”

  I closed the gap between us and pushed against his chest. “Did ya love me when you were in between the sheets with Kitty?”

  “It’s nothing, love. It means nothing to me. Not like you and I. I want—”

  I shoved him again, the tears spilling out now. “What do ya want? Huh? Ya want to have your damned cake and eat it, too.”

  “I—”

  I forced him backward again, nearly to the street. “Did ya think ya could lie to me then sweet talk your way out of it?” A sob escaped.

  “Bridey, honey, don’t cry.”

  I lost my head, driving him into the street. “Don’t tell me not to cry, ya sorry bastard. Ya frigging ripped my heart out and spit on it. I loved ya.” My voice pitched, and the energy seemed to drain out of me. “I loved ya, Flynn.” My gaze moved between his eyes, my vision blurred by my tears.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

  My spine became metal. “Save it.” I swung around and ran inside, leaving him in the middle of the street as the sun separated itself from the ocean and began its climb.

  I cried myself out and fell asleep. When I woke, my lunch shift at Murphey’s had already started. I hustled and got there in minutes, tying my apron on as I walked through the door.

  “Bridey,” Paddy called. “We thought ya weren’t coming.”

  “I’m sorry, Paddy. I’ll get to work right away.” I didn’t glance at him, or anyone else for that matter. I took a table’s order. Mechanically, I crossed to the bar. Paddy, Deirdre, and Killian stood in a huddle. “I need a mineral and an Irish coffee.”

  They glanced at each other and Deirdre took a step forward. “Bridey, honey. Are ya sick?”

  I struggled to find my voice. “No, I….”

  “Ya don’t look good, sugar. Your eyes are swollen. Is it because of your…attack? In the alley? Or—”

  “Can we not talk about it? Please?”

  Again, gazes were exchanged. “Aye. If that’s what ya want.”

  I clung to my composure. I delivered my drinks and trudged toward the kitchen to turn in the table’s food order. Paddy, Deir’, and Killian acted busy as I passed, but I could feel them watching me the whole way. As I walked through the short dark hallway to the kitchen, with each step forward, I became unraveled more. Like their concern was a nail I was caught on and I was pulling myself apart. By the time I hit the kitchen, tears were rolling down my cheeks and I was losing the fight to not sob. I managed to set my order where I should. I was aware of Tag asking, “Bridey, what’s wrong?” but couldn’t answer him. I went out the door Tag left open to welcome the breeze. Once in the alley I put my back to the brick wall of the building and brought my hands to cover my face. Wracked with sobs, I slid down the wall and wound my arms tightly around my legs, laying my head on my knees and forming a ball. I made as little noise as possible.

  Flynn didn’t love me at all. He was using me like all the rest.

  Hearing a mew, I lifted my gaze. I was surprised by how close Joe was. I picked him up and brought him to my chest and cried into his fur. He was unusually docile. I was like him. Lost, abandoned, unloved from the start. If my own da couldn’t love me, why would I believe anyone else could? My brothers…I told myself they left because of Da, but the truth is, they could have taken me with them. Instead, they left me, their discarded jetsam, lightening their load so they could sail across the sea. I thought they loved me until one morning I woke to find them gone, leaving not even a note in their wake. I didn’t blame ’em. We all did what we needed to do to survive. And perhaps they knew, even had they asked me, I would never leave Da alone, no matter how cruel he was. He needed someone to care for him. To take his shoes off when he returned drunk from the pub and put him to bed. To make his meals, clean his clothes, be around when he was heartsick and needed someone to beat on.

  I usually didn’t take to feeling sorry for myself. It did nothing but weaken one. But somehow, this latest blow from Flynn took my feet out from under me. I knew all I needed was a day or two to lock it away inside, but at the moment, I was incapable of doing that, totally undone.

  Hearing someone approaching, Joe spooked and leapt out of my arms, skittering under the dumpster. I scrambled up the wall and wiped at my face furiously as Killian stepped out into the alley.

  He looked me over, his hands in his pockets. Blinking, he shifted his weight. “Flynn told ya about her, didn’t he?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me about her. I saw them. I saw them.” Saying it made it seem more real somehow. It took a moment for his words to soak in, but when they did, the shock took my breath away. “Wait. Y-ya knew?”

  “Aye. I—”

  What happened next shocked us both. I stepped forward and slapped him across the face. The sound of it hung in the air, suspended in time for a moment.

  He worked his jaw. “I probably deserved that, but—”

  “You,” I spat, gesturing wildly. “You were supposed to be different. I-I believed you were a friend, but you…you—” Everything in my mind was topsy-turvy. “How many of ya knew? Everyone? Did everyone have a good laugh about how ol’ Bridey was being played for a fool? I-I can’t believe ya did—” I was so tongue-tied and furious…dizzy, sick, and disappointed. Ashamed, heartbroken…so many emotions tumbled about inside my noodle, I felt out of control. Crazy. Mad as a box of frogs. I raised my hand to strike him again but he caught my wrist.

  “Woman. I won’t be slapped again.”

  For the briefest moment I was shook. Scared of what he might do to me. We stared at each other. The air was charged with an odd energy. Paddy stepped out behind him. Killian quickly released me. I dropped my head, staring at the gravel beneath my feet. My gaze ping-ponged back and forth, my mind slow to wrap itself around what happened.

  I looked up, blinking as fat tears squeezed over the rims of my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. My chin quivered. “Paddy. I’m sorry. I—” I glanced to the side. “I don’t think I can do this today.”

  “That’s fine, Bridey. We’ll make do.”

  Before his words were even finished, I sprinted away down the alley.

  Killian

  I was going to take off after her, but Paddy grabbed my arm. “We need to let her be, son. Give her a day or two. Until she’s thinking straight.”

  I knew he was right, but it didn’t stop my heart from taking off after her. I rubbed my neck. Paddy went inside.

  She needs time to think. To sort through this mess.

  Her reality was altered in a heartbeat. A man she loved, whom she thought loved her, betrayed her, and she believed all of us did, too. And wasn’t she right? I gave that bum Flynn time to come clean, and he not only didn’t do that, he returned to that woman. I swear if he had walked into the alley at that moment, I would have taken his head off. As it was, I slammed my hand on top of the dumpster.

  “Damn it!”

  Tag looked out, but wisely stayed put.

  The rest of the day I was s
o distracted, I kept messing up orders and spilling things. When my shift ended, I thought of going to her house, but decided against it. I went up and took a shower instead, but I kept imagining her at her gaff, like I saw her the night previous, alone on the end of her bed, only now, heartbroken and alone.

  I pulled on a sweater and jeans. I made it as far as the pub’s front door before I heard Paddy’s voice in my mind.

  “We need to let her be, son. Give her a day or two. Until she’s thinking straight.”

  I sighed, closed the door and locked it, and stamped off to bed. I tossed and turned most of the night and ended up sleeping in ’til nine. I still had time for a short walk before I started at ten. But when I approached the door, I saw her head. She was sitting on the bench outside. My heart beat faster, but I took a deep breath before opening the door.

  She was working away at a block of wood, carving it into some figurine. A mound of shavings lay at her feet. She glanced up when the door opened then inhaled and looked away.

  I studied her, trying to determine my approach. “Oh, Lawd. She’s got a knife now.”

  A smile played on her lips and she peered at me. I grinned at her, and she exhaled out all the tension in her shoulders.

  “May I join ya?”

  “Please,” she said, scooting over to make room.

  I indicated her carving. “Whatcha at there?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just something I’ve done since I was small. It calms me.”

  I picked up what appeared to be a finished piece by her side. It was a bird in flight. Each feather was cleverly crafted, and the body, sleek, pleasing to the touch. The eyes, though, those are what made the piece come to life.

  “These are marvelous.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  I continued to examine it, turning it over in my palm. “No, in all honesty. Ya should sell these.”

  “Oh, tsk.” She waved me off, then changed the subject. “I should clean my mess.” But before she could stand, I took her hand.

  “Are ya still angry with me?”

  She stared at our hands. “Not hardly. More like embarrassed. And remorseful for what I did.”

  “The slap? No bother.” The next escaped my mouth without even so much as asking permission. “In fact, it was kinda hot.”

  She chuckled. “Now you’re trying to make me laugh.” She patted my arm and stood. “Thank you for that. I know I should be more forgiving. But apparently I’m not very good at that.” She looked at me sincerely. “I hope you’re better at it, because I’m mortally sorry. I can’t believe I did that. It was stupid and childish and—”

  “’It’s forgotten.”

  She kicked at the scraps of wood in front of the bench, steering them into the road. “I mean, of course ya would defend Flynn. He’s your cousin. I shouldn’t have expected otherwise.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Oh, I wasn’t defending him. I was trying to get him to come clean.”

  Her gaze flew to mine.

  “I don’t hold with what he’s done to ya. And I told him so. In fact,” I gestured beyont the bench, “I about put him through that wall.”

  She laughed. I was glad to hear it. “Oh, ya did, now?” She picked up her belongings.

  I stuck out my chest. “I did. And Paddy and Deir’ are quite put out with him, too. He’s replaced Connor as the black sheep of the family.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “He has, has he? Well now, that took some doing.”

  “They love ya, ya know. Like a daughter.”

  She looked down, swiping at one last stray wood scrap. “And I them.” She grasped the door handle and opened it.

  “What are ya doing? It’s not time for us to start yet.”

  “I know. But I owe Paddy after running out on him yesterday. I thought I’d do a bit of cleaning.”

  I took the handle and opened the door wider. “I’ll help ya then.”

  Chapter 7

  Killian

  We worked hard at dusting the shelves and liquor bottles, even giving half the chairs an extra wipe before our shift started. About two, I caught Bridey yawning for the hundredth time.

  “Why don’t ya go up to my room and throw yourself down for a bit? We won’t have another rush for a couple of hours.”

  She looked around, but the place was neat as a pin and only two tables were occupied. “Are ya certain?”

  I took hold of one of the ends of her apron strings and tugged. “I’m certain.”

  “I won’t deny needing it. I hardly slept a wink last night.” She worked her apron the rest of the way off and set it on the back bar. She gave me a hard stare. “Ya’ll wake me in half an hour, right?”

  “Thereabouts.”

  She was headed round the bar. She pointed at me. “Half an hour.”

  I trekked up the stairs to wake her an hour later. When my eyes were at floor level, I was already searching for her. Hungry for a glimpse. She lay on her side on top of the quilts, facing me, her hands together as if she was praying, tucked under her cheek. I felt a surge of tenderness. I walked quietly to the side of the bed and stood watching her for a moment before sitting on the mattress. I stroked her hair.

  “Bridey?”

  She took a deep breath and plopped on her back, her left hand falling onto the pillow. “Hmm?” Her eyes remained closed.

  Poor lamb was completely shattered. “It’s been an hour, honey. Do ya want a wee bit more?”

  “Hmm?” She looked like she was going to fall asleep again for a moment, but she stretched. Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright, nearly ramming our heads together. “Oh, my! I need to get going.”

  I touched her arm. “There’s plenty of time.” Her skin was like ice. “You’re freezing. Why didn’t ya get under the covers?”

  She glanced at the quilt. “Oh…well…I didn’t want to mess it up.”

  “Mess it up?” I yanked on it and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Don’t be silly. I’ll stoke the fire for ya.” I started to rise, but she grabbed me.

  “No. Don’t leave yet.”

  “All right,” I said, surprised by her insistence.

  “Just…I’ll get warmed up, then we can go down together.”

  I nodded, running my fingers along her far arm. Her gaze scanned my face, then flickered over my lips before meeting mine. It was only an instant, but I saw it, and my body reacted. I raised my hand to rest it on her shoulder. Her lips parted. I knew I shouldn’t. She was vulnerable. On the rebound. It would be wrong to take advantage of that. But even though it wasn’t long since our accidental kiss in the press, it seemed like I’d waited to kiss her again for a lifetime. I put my palm on her cheek, drinking her in. I leaned in slowly and gave her one soft kiss. Then another. She stroked the stubble along my jaw then held me still, looking at me intently. I thought she was going to push me away, but she whispered, “Damn,” and brought her lips to mine.

  Her kiss was electrifying, a definite precursor to more. Like that ancient, innate way Ireland called to me when I flew above it, her kiss awakened a need that deep and somehow familiar. Like I found my way home. I cupped the base of her neck, applying pressure so I could tilt her mouth up more, take the kiss deeper. I knew I should stop. Make sure it was right for her. But it was beyond my capabilities. Her hand slid to my nape, then to my chin, her fingers slipped between our searching mouths in a most erotic way, and then she was pushing me back.

  She laid her forehead on mine, eyes closed, panting. “Wait.” She tried to catch her breath. “Oh, Gawd, wait. This is wrong.”

  I wanted to respond with something intelligent, but all I got out was, “No. It’s not.” I took her lips again, once, twice. She clutched at my shoulders, straightened her arms and leaned away.

  She tilted her chin. “No. We’ll not be going there.”

  “Well, ya’ll excuse me for saying so, but we just went there.” I leaned forward again, but she ducked her head and worked her body out from under me. She retreated so quickly, in s
econds her rear was nearly against the bed board.

  “This is not a good idea.”

  “And why’s that?” I huffed.

  She scuttled backwards—to keep me in her sight, I guess—off the opposite side of the bed, looking like a crab retreating into a hole in the sand. “Just…Just ask anybody. They’ll tell ya I’m not good for ya.” She got to her feet and turned from me.

  I got up and strolled around the end of the bed. “I’m not asking anybody. I don’t care for their opinions. I want yours.”

  Her gaze snapped to mine when I approached, and she took a step in the other direction, almost toppling a lamp on a nightstand. “My opinion on what?”

  I enunciated my words, doing my damnedest to seduce her. “Are ya, Bridey? Are ya no good for me?”

  She had skirted the table, and her back was against the door frame leading into my bathroom. She crossed her arms, trying to come off as tough, but she was shaking. She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Ya know that saying about fire, Killian?”

  I took a step closer. “That ya’ll get burnt by it?”

  “Aye. That’s the one.” She licked her lips, avoiding eye contact. “Did ya know both St. Bridget and the pagan goddess Bridgid—the pair I’m named after—were both represented by fire?”

  I tilted my chin, taking another step toward her. “I recall the legends, aye.”

  She tossed her head. “So, if ya play with me, ya get burned.”

  “Oh?” I was within inches. “What if I like getting burnt?”

  She laughed, but she was searching the room for a means of escape. “Then you’re a freaking pyromaniac. Ya are.”

  “And I don’t intend to play with ya, Bridget.”

  “Ya don’t, now? What do ya plan to do with me, Killian?”

  I took her arms and drew her into an embrace. “I plan to tend to the fire.”

  She eyed me warily, not speaking.

  I slid my hand underneath her silky, electric blue shirt to the skin at the small of her back. “And stoke the fire.”

  “Mmm?” she tried to make a noise of condensation but failed miserably.