“Ah, here we are,” Niall said, steering into place by the dock. “It’s a good day’s work you put in today. I’m glad to have you aboard.”
And with that the conversation ended. But for Sean, the questions only multiplied until he couldn’t think anymore.
Chapter Twenty-nine
C
ATHÁN looked startled and a little annoyed to see his children perched on the stools in front of Danni. He tried to mask it with feigned indifference, but the result was a twisted smile and hard eyes. To cover her own apprehension, Danni scooped flour into her measuring cup and spread it over the potatoes. She’d already added too much flour, she was sure of it, and Bronagh’s dire warning to mind the ingredients came rushing back. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She ran her finger down the list to the next item, watching Cathán from the corner of her eye as she did.
The children remained silent when their father shifted his attention from their faces to Danni’s and back. No doubt he’d heard the furious whispers when he opened the door—seen their hands clasped together across the counter—and the sudden cessation of conversation didn’t sit well with him. Danni couldn’t fault his instincts. She was a stranger having secretive discussions with his young twins. He should be suspicious.
“What’s going on?” he asked, almost managing to sound unconcerned. “Are you two bothering lovely Danni?”
The two heads shook in unison. “She said we could keep her company,” Rory told him.
“I did,” Danni offered, smiling. “They are great company. You must be very proud of them.”
“Of course I am. They are quite remarkable children. However, I must pry them away from your captivating presence. Birthday or no, it’s time for their riding lessons.” He gave the twins a mild look. “Unless you want me to cancel?”
“No,” they both exclaimed in unison.
Riding lessons.
Danni didn’t remember those either, but apparently she’d enjoyed them. The twins seemed happy as they scooted from their stools and started for the door.
“Wait a minute,” Cathán said, stopping them. “Where is your mother? I was looking for her as well.”
“She had errands,” Dáirinn said.
Cathán nodded and made a “go on” motion with his hands. The twins left quickly, but Danni caught their curious glance back as the door swung shut behind them.
“Hard at work again, Mrs. Danni Ballagh?”
The name caused her heart to miss a beat. “Yes. I’m afraid I’m not doing Bronagh’s potato casserole justice, though.”
“I never liked it anyway,” he said.
The timer on the oven chose that moment to go off. Danni pulled Bronagh’s golden cobbler out and set it to cool. All the while, her father moved around the kitchen, looking over her shoulder. It made her nervous having her back to him, but she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was her own sense of guilt for trying to pry information out of his kids. This was her father, a man who’d obviously loved her as a child, a man devoted to his wife, even though Fia didn’t return the sentiment. There was no reason for Danni to be uptight around him.
She returned to the counter and finished slicing a stalk of celery to add to the casserole.
“Where is your husband this morning?” Cathán asked, and she realized he’d moved to stand behind her.
“He’s working on the boat with Niall,” she said, wishing he wouldn’t get into her space. He seemed blithely unaware of personal boundaries, though, and she tried not to be weird about it.
“Industrious people, you Ballaghs.”
“I suppose.”
He shifted and she could feel the heat of him on her back. Something brushed against the skin at her nape where her hair was pulled up, and she jumped, bumping into him as she spun around. He didn’t step away, and she found herself boxed in between the
L
-shape of the counter and his body.
“Why don’t I think you’re really married to him?” Cathán asked darkly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You don’t wear a ring.”
“I had to sell it,” she said, amazed at how quickly the lie came to her lips. “For food and rent. We’ve been through hard times.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right that such a beautiful woman should be married to a man who can’t even keep a ring on her finger.”
That damned nervous titter escaped Danni’s lips.
“What were you doing with my children, Danni?” he said, watching her with a narrowed gaze.
“I—nothing. We were just talking.”
“Whispering,” he said.
She shook her head, but the anger she saw sparkling in his eyes made her pause. Her father wanted to protect his children—of course he did. And lying to him would only increase his distrust of her. But she couldn’t tell him the truth, could she?
She considered that. If he knew what was going to happen tonight, he would move heaven and earth to stop it. Danni could certainly use an ally in all this and maybe, just maybe, her overprotective father might be the answer. She couldn’t tell everything—certainly not about her and Sean—but if she could hint that there might be danger awaiting his family tonight . . .
Mentally she rolled her eyes. Was she nuts? If she told him that, he’d assume
she
was the danger. And who would blame him for thinking it?
So what could she do?
She hadn’t seen her father in that first vision, but the article she’d read on the Internet said he’d been there, in the cavern. That he’d witnessed Niall’s attack—apparently arriving too late to prevent it. But if she could just get him there sooner, maybe it would tip the balance and enable him to make a difference,
She wasn’t naïve enough to think it would save his marriage, but it could save Sean’s life. Fia would probably still run off with Niall, but Sean would be alive. He’d have a chance.
Still, there was the matter of the Book of Fennore and the visions she’d seen of it. Her mother had been in both. Danni couldn’t guess what had happened between the time she’d seen Edel use the Book and now, but it stood to reason that once Edel disappeared, Fia’s mother had forced Fia to take her place. Did that mean that Fia had it now? Was she using it? Or was there another possibility?
What if Fia was trying to get rid of it? She had a thing with Niall, was having his baby, and she wanted to go to America. That much Danni knew. If she sold the Book of Fennore, Fia would take care of two critical issues. First, she’d have the means to leave and live elsewhere, and second, she’d no longer carry the burden of owning such a terrible thing.
The idea took root in Danni’s mind and grew. Perhaps she’d tried to set it up for tonight, but the buyer would double-cross Fia. Maybe he was the unseen man from the vision. If he’d threatened to kill Fia and her children, if he’d already killed Sean . . . That would be reason for Fia to run away and hide. It would explain why she’d never returned to Ballyfionúir. Why she’d changed her name . . .
“You’re thinking very hard, Danni. Is it such a difficult question? Why were you whispering with my children?”
Cathán’s voice snapped her back to the kitchen. He was still watching her with that cold suspicion. There was no way she could tell her father any of this. It was all supposition—theories based on little more than a hunch. He’d have no reason to believe her and every reason to doubt her.
His gaze glittered over her face to her throat, to the necklace that lay against the agitated rise and fall of her chest.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And don’t tell me you’re Ballagh’s wife because I don’t believe it. You’re lying about it. I’ve known it from the first moment. You pretend to befriend my wife and children, but you want something. What is it you’re after?”
“Nothing, Mr. MacGrath. I’m just doing my job. If you’d prefer I didn’t speak to your children again, I won’t. But we were only talking.”
“That’s not true. You were holding hands. I saw it. Is it a fool you take me for? You think I haven’t seen how they read each other? You think I don’t know what they can do with just a touch?”
She swallowed hard, hearing the undeniable threat in his tone. He took a step closer, intimidating her with both his size and the cutting gleam in his eyes.
“What did they tell you? About the Book of Fennore perhaps?”
Danni couldn’t stop the sharp breath she sucked in. “Do you know where it is?” she blurted before she could stop herself.
He moved quickly then, grabbing her by her arms and jerking her up to his face. “Why do you want it?”
“I don’t,” she lied, but he was beyond listening anyway.
“You were going to use them, weren’t you?” he said, his voice deceptively low. “You know how to use them.”
“Use them? No, I wasn’t—”
He shook her hard, making her bite her tongue as her head slammed back. “How?” he demanded. “Are they strong enough to control it? Is that it?”
Danni wasn’t answering any more questions. She tried to wrench herself free of his grasp, but he had her pinned between the corner of the counter and his body. Then he took her chin between his fingers, forcing her to meet the cold ice of his eyes. Yesterday there’d been humor mixed with the hard sparkle, and earlier she’d thought anger brought the glitter to them. But now, looking into those frosty depths, she realized it wasn’t right, wasn’t natural how the light bounced off them. Like diamonds. Hard and faceted. She’d seen eyes like that before. In the vision, when Fia’s sister, Edel, had touched the Book. Edel’s eyes had gleamed and glittered just like Cathán’s did now.
“
You’re
using it,” she breathed, her voice filled with horror. Renewed panic hit her, and she struggled anew to free herself. “Let me go,” she shouted, bringing her knee up. But he was too close, had her pinned too tightly, and she couldn’t get leverage. She was trapped.
The idea of it—the reality of it—sparked its own fire within her. She began twisting wildly, but he was bigger, stronger. He grabbed her wrists and wrenched them behind her back until she arched with pain. Then he captured both her hands with one of his and held her that way while he brought his free hand to her throat.
“Tell me what you know of the Book,” he said, fingers tightening around her neck, just enough to let her know he would hurt her.
Danni slammed her head forward, hoping to connect with his nose. But he was too tall, and she only managed to crack her forehead against his mouth. Pain shot through her skull, making her woozy. But her attack had caught him by surprise, and he loosened his hold enough for her to squirm free. She ran for the door, but he reached, managed to get a fistful of her hair and yanked her back, almost pulling her off her feet. She staggered into him, and he caught her from behind, holding her arms crossed over her chest like a straitjacket. His mouth at her ear.
“It’s mine, Danni Ballagh. I’ll kill you before I let you have it.”
A part of her mind rebelled, refused to grasp the threat that still shivered over her skin. This was her father. This was her
father
.
“Please let me go,” she said in a rush, hating the pleading note. “I don’t want the Book. I’m afraid of it.” Sensing he believed that much, she pressed. “I’m too weak to use it.”
“The lust for power has a way of destroying weakness,” he said, giving her hands a vicious jerk.
What he planned next Danni would never know. For just then, Bronagh’s sharp voice came from the kitchen doorway. “Mr. MacGrath! What are you doing to the poor girl?”
Cathán released Danni so suddenly she sagged against the counter. Then she moved quickly, circling to the other side before he could grab her again. Her chest heaved, but she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her arms hurt; her head ached. Unshed tears of fury and fear burned her eyes as she stared at Bronagh’s fierce expression.
“I caught her stealing,” Cathán said in a cool tone.
Before Danni could sputter out a denial, Fia walked in just behind Bronagh. For a moment, no one spoke as they each looked from one to another. Danni saw Fia’s eyes linger on Cathán’s split lip.
“Mrs. Ballagh,” Bronagh said to Danni with stilted formality. “Is this true? Are you stealing?”
Cathán’s sound of outrage stifled Danni’s response. “You’ll do well not to question my word, Bronagh. Is it more than a servant you think you are? If I said she is, she is.”
Bronagh paled. “Yes, sir.” She glanced guiltily at Danni before asking him, “Do you want me to call the authorities?”
Cathán wet a towel and dabbed at his face. His mouth was bleeding and it would swell. “No. Just get her out of here. I don’t want her in my house again.”
“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t look Danni in the eye as she said, “Mrs. Ballagh, please take yourself elsewhere. I will send your wages by way of Colleen.”
“No wages,” Cathán said. “Christ knows what she’s stolen already.”
Fia said nothing as she stared from her husband to Danni. But Danni sensed she had some glimmer of understanding that what they’d interrupted was not a thief being caught red-handed. She wouldn’t go against Cathán, though, that much was clear. Danni thought of the bruises she’d seen on her mother’s body and now the cause of them seemed brutally clear. Her father . . .
Stiffly, Danni untied her apron and left it on the counter. Without a word she fled.
Outside, the air felt cool against her skin, and she took deep breaths, trying to banish the nightmare of the last few minutes. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. Her shame felt like a scarlet shroud. The sound of tires crunching gravel moved her forward. She couldn’t face anyone, not now. With her emotions clashing, she raced across the paddock, down the path she’d seen yesterday to the rocky shore. There she picked her way carefully to the cove and the shadowed entrance to the cavern beneath the ruins.
Inside it was cool and quiet, and she drew a strange, inexplicable comfort from the endless spiral patterns on the walls surrounding her, from the rhythmic lap of the tide against the stones. Finally, Danni let her tears fall. She cried for the child inside her, so disillusioned that she wanted to scream her anguish, feel it echo against the rough stone walls and dark pool. All her life she’d dreamed of finding her family, of learning they’d loved her, searched for her, wanted to embrace her now. She’d pictured them impoverished but devoted to one another. Or wealthy, though grief-stricken from the loss of their child. She’d dreamed every scenario imaginable, but nothing had ever come close to the reality.