Authors: Doreen Owens Malek
“
Slainte
,” he toasted her, touching her glass with his.
“
Slainte go soaghal agat
,” she replied.
Con took a sip, grinning, and rattled off a sentence in unfathomable Erse.
“Oh, shut up,” Linn said, annoyed. “You’re perfectly aware that the toast is the only phrase I know.” She drank deeply, enjoying it.
Con set his glass on one of the night tables. “Then I must teach you,” he said, taking her glass from her hand and putting it next to his.
Linn looked longingly after it but was distracted as Con picked up one end of her sheet and started peeling it away from her.
“Don’t you want the wine?” she asked.
“I’d rather have you,” he replied, tossing the sheet aside. He dropped next to her and began to caress her lightly.
“We’ll lose the bubbles,” Linn protested faintly, unable to muster up any real concern about it.
“That is a shame,” he murmured, nibbling her earlobe.
“I like it better flat,” Linn said, and pulled him down to her.
* * * *
Linn awoke to a delicious sensation. She was face down on the bed, pale dawn light filtering into the room, and Con was leaving a trail of kisses along her spine. She stirred, sighing contentedly.
“Good morning, my lady,” he murmured. “Lie still now. Don’t move.”
Linn did as he said, remaining motionless as he crouched next to her and slowly kissed every inch of her body, from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers, until her whole frame of reference was limited to the velvety sensation of his lips against her skin. He continued with deliberate precision until she was squirming restlessly. She tried to turn over but he held her fast, tightly enough to stay her but not tightly enough to hurt.
“No,” he said urgently. “I want you this way.” He moved onto her, easing his weight down slowly on his arms. He slipped his hands under her and found her breasts. Linn raised her arms above her head and arched against his fingers eagerly, luxuriating in the hard fullness of his manhood pressing into the backs of her thighs.
Con slipped his hands down her body, molding her to him, impelling her upward and backward into his encompassing warmth and strength. He gently moved her legs apart, pushing her knees up to allow him access. When he entered her Linn cried out softly with the sweetness of it, the sudden union with him and the tactile pleasure of his body against her back. She felt enveloped by his love for her, as if it were a shield to protect her from all harm. I could get pregnant, Linn mused briefly; it would be so beautiful. Then all thought fled.
“Always so ready for me,” he said in her ear, sweeping aside her hair to kiss the back of her neck. “I love you so much.”
Linn met and matched his ardor, surging with him to a quick and satisfying completion. Con rolled to the side, pulling her with him and gathering her into his arms. With her eyes still closed Linn pressed her face against his chest, not trusting herself to speak. His heartbeat slowed and steadied beneath her ear.
“I’ll think about going to America, Aislinn, if you want it,” he said quietly. “I’m not promising anything, mind, but if it means that much to you I have to consider it.”
Linn moved to look up at him, settling the back of her head into the curve of his arm. “Are you sure, Con? Could you be away from Ireland so much of the time? It’s your home.”
He lifted her to kiss her lips tenderly. “My home is where you are, Aislinn,” he said. “You’re my home.”
Con settled back into the pillows with Linn folded against him, and they both fell asleep again as the sun rose.
* * * *
Several hours later they had a leisurely breakfast in the Ashford dining room before Con drove back to Ballykinnon. He had several appointments in town that day, including what promised to be a long one with Larry Fitzgibbon, who was negotiating the foreign rights to one of Con’s books. Linn had also been nagging Con about getting Neil McCarthy to take a final look at his leg, so he promised to stop by the doctor’s office and get it checked before he returned. Linn dropped him off at the lawyer’s office and Con said that he would get a ride back to Ildathach with Neil. It looked like Con would be occupied most of the day so Linn took his car back home.
Driving Con’s Bentley was an adventure in itself. Not only was the steering wheel on what Linn thought of as the wrong side of the car, but everyone drove on the wrong side of the road. The first time she was behind the wheel in Ireland she had the unsettling feeling that all the other drivers were aiming at her. She was getting better at dealing with the reversed situation on the road, but nothing could improve the quality of the local drivers. Irishmen drove cars the way they rode horses: like lunatics. Irish roads are for the most part narrow and winding but that didn’t slow the drivers down at all. Passing on two wheels on a curve was a favorite maneuver, along with riding the shoulder and using the horn for an armrest.
Linn arrived back at the main house to find a note from Bridie telling her that Father Daly had called on her and requested that she get back to him. This was not as surprising as it seemed; Bridie had doubtless put a flea in his ear about a potential wedding. It wouldn’t hurt to see him and perhaps get some of the preparations under way. Linn put the note down, smiling at the penmanship. Bridie still wrote like the parochial school fourth-grader she had once been, with uniformly spaced letters and carefully drawn loops. A postscript indicated that she had gone grocery shopping and would be back later with Terry.
Linn looked up the telephone number of Saint Michael’s rectory and went through the usual song and dance to get through to the priest’s home. The only thing worse than Irish “telefon” service was Irish plumbing; all the showers dribbled cold water and the toilets gurgled menacingly with every flush. Despite such inconveniences Linn was madly in love with the place. So much for Yankee materialism.
She drummed her fingers impatiently while waiting for an answer and finally was greeted by the voice of the housekeeper. Father Daly came on the line at once when he heard who was calling.
“Miss Pierce, I wonder if you could give me some time today,” the priest began without ceremony. “There is something I must discuss with you.”
Linn frowned at his tone. He didn’t sound as though he were getting ready to talk about a wedding.
“Is something wrong, father?” she asked.
There was a pause. Then, “I would rather discuss this subject in person, Miss Pierce. Do you think you could come over to the rectory?”
“Now?”
“If it’s convenient.”
“Why, yes. I can if you think it’s necessary.”
“I do. I’ll expect you directly, then. Goodbye.” The line went dead.
Linn stood staring at the receiver in her hand, wondering what was going on. Had something happened to Karen or Anne, one of her friends at home? But no, she would have been notified at the house. Feeling vaguely alarmed, Linn picked up Con’s keys and went back outside to the car.
Linn drove back to the town she had just left, passing Larry’s office on the way. She could see the top of Con’s dark head through the window, above the lower frosted portion. He was sitting in the client’s chair facing Fitz’s desk. He didn’t see Linn go by in his car.
Linn parked outside the rectory and rang the bell. She was received by a gray haired lady wearing a lace apron, who led the way inside after Linn had announced herself. She was left in a spare, very clean sitting room while the housekeeper went to get the priest.
Father Daly was prompt. He arrived seconds later, walking over to shake Linn’s hand as she stood to greet him.
“Miss Pierce, sit down. Alice, would you get us some tea, please?” he asked the other woman, who had returned with him.
The housekeeper nodded and departed in silence.
“I came as quickly as I could, father,” Linn began.
The priest sat across from her and folded his hands in his lap. He looked like a man about to perform an unpleasant but necessary duty.
“Miss Pierce, this will be a difficult interview,” he said slowly. “I have something to tell you that I think will upset you greatly.”
“What is it?” Linn replied, her uneasiness escalating into alarm at his manner.
Father Daly sighed heavily. “I have been observing your relationship with Connor Clay and have heard the talk in the town. I generally disregard such gossip but I saw for myself your attraction to the man at the Fleadh.”
Linn stared at him, baffled. Was this going to be a morals lecture?
Father Daly was stalled.
“Go on,” Linn said sharply.
The priest closed his eyes. “There is no easy way to say this, Miss Pierce.”
Linn waited apprehensively.
Father Daly opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Connor Clay is your brother.”
Chapter 10
Father Daly’s voice seemed to be coming from a distance.
“Are you going to faint, Miss Pierce?”
Linn shook her head, unable to speak.
The housekeeper came through the door with the tea tray and the priest said to her quickly, “Bring Miss Pierce a glass of water.”
The woman set down the tray and left, then returned from the back of the house with a tumbler of water. Father Daly turned to offer it to Linn and then thought better of it. He went to a mahogany roll top desk which stood in a corner of the room and removed a bottle of Napoleon brandy from a drawer. He added a healthy slug of the liquor to the water and then held the glass out to Linn, signaling for Alice to leave.
Linn turned her head away.
“Take it, girl,” he urged. “You need it. You’re as white as boiled rice.”
Linn accepted the drink mechanically, swallowing some of the burning liquid. She licked her lips and whispered, “It isn’t true.”
Father Daly examined her sadly, looking suddenly very old, the lines in his kindly middle aged face seeming more pronounced. “It is true, more’s the pity. Kevin Pierce, your father, was Con’s father as well. I did not interfere before this because of promises I made long ago when I was a young man. But when I saw the serious turn events were taking I knew I had to speak up to prevent a tragedy.”
Linn had a hysterical urge to laugh.
Prevent
a tragedy? This man, with one sentence, had just ruined her life.
“How?” she asked dully. “How did it happen?”
“Kevin got Con’s mother pregnant before he left for the States,” the priest answered simply. “Her marriage to Trevor Clay was made in order to cover her condition and give the child a father.”
Linn looked up sharply, feeling a wild surge of hope. “Con told me he was born ten months after his mother and Clay were married,” she said rapidly. “He knew that his mother had been in love with Kevin; he said she had never gotten over it. But Trevor Clay was his father.”
Father Daly shook his head slowly, clearly unhappy to be dashing her argument. “No, lass. He thinks he was born ten months after the marriage because that’s what he was told. Everyone here believes it too. He was born in England where Trevor supervised the mines, and when he and Mary came back to Ildathach they said the baby was three months younger than he actually was. A discrepancy of three months is easy to hide in an infant. The size of babes under a year varies so much.” He dropped his eyes from Linn’s and turned away. “I’m the only one left who knows the truth,” he added quietly.
“Tell me,” Linn said evenly. “Tell me about it.” She was amazed at her own control. While one part of her wanted to run screaming into the street, another part wanted to hear the chain of events that had conspired to separate her from Con before they’d ever met. Even the pain of listening to the story would be preferable to the numbness that seemed to be engulfing her. The Ice Princess, freed from her cold prison by Con’s love, was being enclosed again in a wall of frost.
Father Daly sat again and folded his hands in his lap. “If there is a villain in this piece,” he began, “it was your grandfather Dermot. A hard man, very hard. Con can be like him in that way, stubborn and unyielding. Dermot kept those two from having the life together that they should have had. He’s paying for it now, I’ll warrant, getting his just desserts from a higher judge.”
Linn listened, her eyes fastened on the priest’s face.
“Mary Drennan worked at the house. She was a lovely girl. You have no idea how beautiful she was. Con doesn’t resemble her much, except in the eyes. Hers were green, not blue, but they had that same light and the beautiful, full lashes. She was a sight to behold at twenty-one: slim, with a quick, graceful step and soft hair the color of honey.”
Father Daly smiled at the memory, and Linn thought he sounded as if he’d been half in love with Mary himself.
“Kevin fell in love with her and she with him. They were able to keep the affair secret for a while, but your grandfather had ways of finding out everything that went on about him. He was furious that his son was consorting with a servant—not up to standard, you see. Dermot was an awful snob. He packed Kevin off to the States on business, and while he was gone Dermot discovered that Mary was pregnant. He scared that poor girl half to death, let me tell you. You can’t imagine what a terrible thing it was for a woman to be with child and unmarried thirty years ago, especially in this country. Dermot told Mary that Kevin would not be back, that he’d left the country expressly to be rid of her. Dermot persuaded Mary to marry Trevor Clay, an employee of his who had met Mary during a visit to Ildathach and admired her. Clay was a mining supervisor from England who looked after some interests Dermot had there. As I said he liked Mary, and a few words from Dermot about the future of his position convinced him that he should marry her. So Mary was sent to Derbyshire and the child was born there. After a while when Dermot considered it safe, he brought the couple and the little boy back to the estate so he could keep an eye on his unacknowledged grandchild. Dermot gave the Clays the gatehouse, rent free, to live in all their lives. When Con reached college age he paid for his education anonymously under the guise of a parish scholarship.”