Authors: Doreen Owens Malek
It was Kate, speaking up from her position next to Con. Con shot her a deadly glance, which she ignored. She was determined to put Linn on the spot.
Linn’s first instinct was to decline but then she recognized Kate’s overture for what it was: a challenge. She was trying to make Linn look bad, either by forcing her to back down or by making her sing and perform badly. Either way, Kate would win. Only by accepting and doing well could Linn beat her at her own game. The gauntlet had been thrown at her feet. She looked around at the expectant group. Well, she was Dermot’s granddaughter, and she wasn’t going to turn tail and run away. She would pick up the glove and compete.
Linn smiled with forced brightness. “I’ll give it a try.” She walked over to one of the musicians, who was playing an instrument that resembled a guitar. “Would you strum the chords for me?” she asked. “It goes like this.” She hummed a few bars and the boy was able to pick out the chords. Linn nodded. “Good enough.”
She turned to face the villagers and heard a murmur of appreciation run through the crowd. Irishmen loved courage better than anything; whatever else one could say about the Pierce girl, she had guts.
Linn began to sing softly, and then her voice got stronger as she gathered momentum. She had chosen one of her favorites, very meaningful but easy to sing.
‘‘And I love you so, the people ask me how,
How I’ve lived ‘til now, I tell them I don’t know...”
Linn walked around the circle, her accompanist following, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to stop in front of Con. She gazed into his eyes and sang only for him.
“I guess they understand, how lonely life has been,
But life began again, the day you took my
hand...”
Con didn’t move but the look on his face said everything. Without uttering a word, he encouraged her and gave her the strength to continue. Give them hell, Aislinn, his expression said. Show them your stuff.
Linn moved into the chorus. She reached for the scarf around her neck and untied it. As she sang she lifted her hands. Con’s lashes drifted downward as he bent his head. Like a lady bestowing a favor on her champion, Linn knotted the scarf around his neck. When Con raised his head, his eyes blazed into hers with such ardor that she almost stumbled over her words. Oh, Con, she thought as she struggled to go on, there’s a look to take my breath away.
“And yes, I know how lonely life has been,
The shadows follow me,
And the night won’t set me free,
But I don’t let the evening get me down,
Now that you’re around me.”
The onlookers were riveted, unable to believe what they were seeing: the Pierce girl making love to Connor Clay with a song. Linn’s voice sounded loud in the hush, but she was beyond noticing anything but the man to whom she was singing. She went on to the last verse.
“And you love me too, your thoughts are just for me,
You set my spirit free, I’m happy that you do.
The book of life is brief, and once a page is read,
All but love is dead. That is my belief.”
Linn couldn’t bear not touching him any longer. She swayed toward him and he caught her about the waist to steady her. Linn put her palms flat against his chest and finished the song, repeating the chorus. She lingered on the last line, almost whispering, “Now that you’re around me.” As the last notes faded away she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
For just an instant Con’s mouth remained still under hers, and then as she began to move away he pulled her close, kissing her deeply. His hands moved in her hair, binding her to him. When he finally released her she was reeling.
There was no applause for this performance. The villagers remained in stunned silence. Linn looked at Kate Costello; she was staring ahead at a point in space, unable to meet Linn’s eyes. Linn felt a stab of triumph. You can’t pull that number on me, sweetheart, Linn thought. You see what you’ll get for it. Linn had taken a situation earmarked for defeat and turned it into victory.
She did not feel particularly victorious, however. She was trembling from head to foot and, as she walked away from the crowd and into the field, was beginning to realize what she had done. If the people in town had been in any doubt about her feelings for Con they speculated no longer. Skywriting would have been as subtle as her torch song. She leaned against a tombstone and pressed her cold hands to her burning face. You’ve done it this time, Linny, she thought. She was embarrassed, chagrined, and yet proud in the same moment. She would doubtless be drowned in tears of mortification at her own behavior in the morning, but the impression that overpowered all the others was the desire in Con’s eyes. He had wanted her, right there in front of everybody, and he hadn’t been ashamed to show it.
Bridie stepped into her path. “You’re coming with me,” she stated in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’ve already told Seaneen we’re taking you home.”
“Bridie...”
“Be still. He didn’t object, poor boy; but then how could he, after that spectacle you just made of yourself? Saints preserve us, what a night.”
She was dragging Linn by the hand toward the road. Linn noticed Sean’s lightning transition from “blatherskite” to “poor boy” but decided not to mention it. No one had ever accused Bridie of being consistent.
“You were the one who told me to go after Con,” she said meekly to Bridie, who was now flagging down her husband.
Bridie turned on her. “I said to go after him, not assault him in public. And him undressing you with his eyes the whole time. I’ve never seen the like of it. Father Daly watched the entire thing; I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack.”
“You heard what Kate said. What was I supposed to do?”
“Sing ‘God Bless America’ or ‘Home on the Range.’ I’ll tell you one thing true: Dermot Pierce is revolving in his grave this night.”
“Come off it, Bridie. I didn’t do a striptease. All I did was sing.”
“Holy mother. All you did was sing indeed. That lad was one blink away from tossing you over his shoulder and well you know it.” She addressed her husband. “Jack, go and get Terry to take Miss Pierce home, will you? I can’t find that boy anywhere.”
Mr. Cleary went to search. “Why couldn’t I go home with Sean?” Linn asked reasonably.
“Are you daft, girl? I was trying to spare you both that painful trip. Can you imagine how he feels?”
Linn imagined it and felt pretty bad herself. An apology to Sean was definitely in order. Linn kept her eyes down, feeling crestfallen.
They were standing waiting for Terry when Father Daly walked past. He looked at Linn with an odd expression; he showed not the disapproval she’d expected, but alarm, almost fear. It shook her, and she stood in thoughtful silence until Terry roared up on his bike.
“Go on now,” Bridie said to her. “Get yourself home.”
Linn paused, looking at the older woman. “Bridie, do you know where Con went? I haven’t seen him anywhere.”
“He’s crawled into a hole if he has any shame. Now will you forget that lad and go home to bed?”
Linn stared at her, waiting for an answer.
Bridie sighed. “He left when you did and I haven’t seen him since. Be off with you.”
Linn climbed on behind Terry and he shot off down the road.
All the way back to Ildathach she replayed the scene with Con in her mind. Bridie was right; it must have looked bad to the people watching her. Linn had been so caught up in the man and the moment that she had disregarded everything else.
Terry stopped in front of the house and watched Linn as she disembarked. “Shall I come in for a while?” he asked.
Linn glanced at him sharply. “What?”
“I thought you might be wanting some company.”
Linn sagged against the stone balustrade, dumbfounded. This teenage lothario had witnessed her performance with Con and it had given him ideas about his passenger. She wanted to smack him.
“Now you listen to me, sonny. I know what you saw tonight, but that was a very special situation with a very special man. I have no interest in you or anybody else. Go home and drink your milk, and if you’re a nice little boy I may not tell your mother about this. Do you get my drift?”
Terry got her drift. Undaunted, he flashed her another thousand watt smile and gunned his motor, sailing forth into the night in search of easier game.
Linn let herself into the house, profoundly depressed. Terry’s reaction painted all too clear a picture of the effect her behavior had created. While it could be argued that Terry required only minimal encouragement, it was still plain that she had given the impression she was some sort of femme fatale. Nothing could be further from the truth. She just wanted Con so badly that she forgot everything else in his presence. While she had been singing to him she hadn’t even remembered that the others were there.
Linn trudged wearily into the bathroom and headed for the tub. It was laughable, in a way. The Ice Princess who’d been running from men for five years was now regarded as a shameless temptress, the Delilah of County Clare. It could only happen to Aislinn Pierce.
Ned was asleep in the bathtub. He blinked groggily as Linn lifted him and transported him to the bed, where he stretched out, rolled over and conked out again.
As Linn passed the dresser she saw the letter she had received from her godmother, Karen Walker, who’d been her mother’s best friend. When Linn’s mother died in childbirth, Karen had stepped in as unofficial aunt and quasi stepmother, serving as Linn’s adviser and friend all her life. The letter was chatty and full of news of home, but in Linn’s current emotional state it had seemed frivolous. She longed to call Karen and tell her what was happening, but it was hardly the subject for a transatlantic phone call. Linn sighed and reminded herself to answer the letter in the morning. She would say something bright and cheerful that would successfully conceal the true state of her beleaguered heart.
She returned to the tub and turned on the taps. This antique was one of the few original appointments in the house that Linn liked. Most of the other fixtures were out-of-date and hopelessly inefficient, but the tub, deep and wide, afforded the opportunity for a good soak and ample reflection. You practically needed a ladder to climb into it, but Linn made do with standing on a footstool. She stripped and sprinkled bath salts liberally over the water and under the gushing flow from the taps. The powder foamed like the crest of a wave, enriching the air with its delicate scent. Linn waited for the tub to fill, remembering that Con had liked this blend of aromatics. “I could find you in the dark, my lady.” She closed her eyes, the pleasant smelling steam rising about her, reminding her of that night at Cool Na Grena. Con’s mouth had been so hot, and his touch so deft, so skilled, reducing her to a river of sensation. She sobbed in frustration and swayed, gripping the edge of the tub. This would never, never do. She climbed into the tub and sank into the warm water, letting the bubbles rise to her chin. Through the small window set above the vanity she could see the rising moon. She looked at it and wondered, as she often did, what Con was doing right then.
Would he walk tonight? Would he be restless and tormented, unable to sleep, as Linn certainly was?
Linn sat bolt upright, creating a swell that cascaded onto the floor. He would be in the glen tonight. She was certain of it, in a secret part of herself that knew things by intuition and not by reason. He would be drawn there by the memory of a barefoot girl in a dressing gown, the same girl who had kissed him in front of the townspeople at the end of her song.
Linn’s heart began to pound. She rinsed off quickly and stepped from the tub, drying on the curious Irish towels that felt like lint free dishcloths, flat and ribbed. She padded to the open shutters and looked out across the fields.
Was he there or on his way? Could she be so wrong? Maybe. But she knew she had to find out soon.
Her mind made up, Linn went to the closet and took out a thin robe of Chinese silk, a gift from her father on her last birthday. It was a lovely salmon color, exquisitely made, just the thing she wanted. She slipped it on over her naked body and belted it at the waist.
She picked up her hairbrush with trembling fingers and drew it methodically through her hair. One part of her couldn’t believe what she was doing, preparing to meet a lover who might not even keep the unplanned rendezvous, but another part accepted her actions as perfectly sane. If she knew her man—and she thought she did—he would be there.
Linn picked up her cologne bottle and splashed some of the fragrant liquid on her wrists and throat. The crystal flagon flew out of her hands and smashed on the floor. She sighed, pressing her fingertips to her temples. Calm, calm, she had to be calm. But the thought of what might await her sent her blood pulsing like a torrent through her veins. She glanced at the night sky visible beyond the wooden louvers and picked out a star. A half forgotten rhyme from childhood surfaced in her mind. She recited it to herself, concluding with, “I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
Then she squared her shoulders and strode from the room.