Chapter 5 #2
Ugh. “I’m getting changed. You need to behave.”
“No promises.” Aisling’s words chased her up the stairs.
* * *
For a woman who’d said she didn’t like him, Rory Fairall was doing a good job at hiding it.
He guessed he was who she’d meant, when he’d heard her “I don’t like the man” comment float up the stairs behind him.
And to be fair, he suspected the sister might’ve goaded a little too far, so he couldn’t blame her.
But he wasn’t above making the most of Miss Aurora’s attempts to show that she hadn’t meant what she said before.
Such as when they’d returned to the foyer, and she’d tossed her sister a look then told him she’d be happy to drive him.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obliged to spend time with someone you don’t like.”
Her head had whipped around to face him, her eyes stricken. “You heard that?”
He felt bad for a moment, having meant that as tease, and was about to answer when she touched his arm.
“I’m sorry. I open my mouth sometimes and it’s like both feet go in. My sister was provoking—”
“Hey!” Aisling called.
“Come on.” Rory hurried outside, and he followed, catching Aisling’s wink.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she teased. “Or maybe don’t do anything I would!”
Her laughter chased him out the door, and he found Rory dodging puddles as she neared a red car. A small hatchback of a car, that looked like it wouldn’t fit his tall frame.
“Are you sure that will fit me?”
“I can put the seat back.”
“Okay,” he said doubtfully.
She did indeed put the front passenger seat back, and he found enough room for his knees to not knock the dash. Some of these European vehicles seemed designed for smaller men who hadn’t grown up eating eight Weetbix each morning.
She glanced across at him, her skin holding a silvery sheen from the overhead light. “All comfy?”
He swallowed a smile at her phrase. He liked the expressions she used. Well, except for the “I don’t like the man” one. “Extremely comfy,” he confirmed.
Her smile flashed, and he again felt a thud in the middle of his chest. She was always pretty, but when she smiled like that she was beautiful.
Her smile faded as she reversed then steered down the long drive. “I’m sorry about my sister. She’s a little mischievous at times.”
“Really?”
She seemed to recognise his sarcasm as her smile gleamed again. “But anyway, I’m glad you’re staying.”
So was he. “As long as you don’t dislike me.”
“No! Of course not. Quite the opposite.”
His heart quickened. Really?
“Anyway, I hope you find tonight interesting,” she hurried on, as if her earlier admission was TMI. “Mary knows so much about local history, and her Story Circles are always fascinating.”
Her words fell like a rock into the murky waters of before, reminding him just why he was here.
The Fairall family might have their pluses, but their ancestors had certainly left his at a disadvantage.
Mary’s words earlier today had been enough to convince him of that.
Suddenly he wondered about the wisdom of having Rory along.
He peered across at her. Her profile held an elegance, her bright hair muted in the shadows, tied back in a ponytail.
His mind flicked back to earlier, when he helped release her hair from the zipper.
He’d found it hard to concentrate, the red tendrils holding a softness as appealing as the subtle perfume she wore, enticing him to do wild and crazy things, like run his hands through her hair while testing to see if her lips were as soft as they appeared.
See? Wild and crazy. And given the circumstances of why he was actually here, he certainly didn’t need to be adding to the wild and crazy of his life. Life was crazy enough back home, anyway.
The lights of the village gleamed through the darkness, even though it would still normally be light. She slowed, then stopped outside a pub with its lights out.
“I didn’t expect to see a pub with no lights on,” he said. “At the risk of sounding like I’m engaging in Irish stereotypes, it seems most un-Irish to me.”
She unclipped her seatbelt, opened the door. “The pubs here each take a turn during the week to be closed. But this is not the place for the meeting.”
“Then why are we here?”
She pointed to the long row of cars and the lights of a pub that definitely was open, judging from the music spilling each time the door was opened. “It’s the best spot nearest O’Shea’s that still has good lighting.”
Fair enough. He closed his door and she locked it, and they travelled along the footpath past shops with names like “Ring of Kerry Giftware” and “Quills Woollen Market” and “O’Sullivan’s Music” and “Kelly Butchers.” His lips lifted. He was definitely in Ireland now.
She hurried beside him, her hands shoved in her coat pockets, her heeled ankle boots tapping each hasty step.
He might have longer legs, but he had to lengthen his stride to keep up.
For some reason she seemed anxious to be there, something which increased his own anticipation.
Would tonight see some of the answers to those questions that had plagued his family for years?
They reached the doors and Aidan opened it, just as a shorter man stumbled out.
“Why thank you, my good man,” he said, before his eyes latched onto Rory. “And hello to you, my dear.” He lurched closer, and she straightened, distaste on her face.
Protectiveness surged, and Aidan hastened to her side. “Ready for dinner, Miss Aurora?”
She glanced at him and nodded, ignoring the drunk man’s complaints, and they entered into a chaos of beer smells, clatter, and loud conversations.
Their entry caused a brief pause, as eyes swung their way, then there was a “Rory! Who’s your fella?
” from the barmaid which caused her to laugh and shake her head and draw him away.
She was clearly popular, as not a few others smiled and winked and teased as they went past, down a hall to a private room labelled “Snug.”
Inside there was finally another face he recognised, Mary, and some others all perusing menus, while a selection of books and other reading material lay on the table.
“You came!” Mary beamed at him. “Welcome.”
“Thanks.”
“And it’s good to see you too,” she said to Rory, before introducing him to the others.
Names rolled past his ears: Niamh, David, James, Jane.
They all seemed at least two decades older than him, but they were friendly enough.
And sure enough, as soon as they learned he was Australian, each mentioned a relative of theirs who lived there, and asked if Aidan knew them.
Rory collected two menus then indicated a couple of chairs and sank into the one further away, which put him next to Mary. “We need to order our meals before the kitchen closes,” she murmured, and he perused the menu. Then smiled.
“I don’t think there is any option but to try the pie and Guinness special.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?”
“Nope.”
She huffed, but he caught a glimpse of a smile she tried to obscure behind the menu.
The door opened and a middle-aged waitress appeared, took their orders, and disappeared. Which seemed to be the prompt to get the night’s proceedings underway.
“So, for tonight’s Story Circle, we’re fortunate indeed to have a special visitor join us who is all the way from Australia,” Mary said. “Welcome, Aidan.”
They all clapped, Rory included, her lips forming a half curve. Oh, he’d love to know why she was looking at him like that.
“Thank you for having me.”
“Perhaps you’d like to tell us a little about why you’ve come all this way and are now here in the neighbourhood,” Mary continued.
Here went nothing, then. He glanced at Rory, who had propped her chin on her hand, half smile affixed, her bright eyes never leaving his face. How long would that smile last…
“My grandmother always told me a story about a family castle, and I never really believed it. It seems that there are lots of people who claim a heritage that involves royalty or a castle somewhere, so I never thought it could be true. And then one day, my sister and I were looking at some old photo albums that belonged to my grandmother, humouring her, and a chart of an old family tree fell out that dated back seven generations. And when I looked at it, I realised there were some names I didn’t recognise, so I started to research.
I’m a solicitor, so researching legalities is something I’m quite familiar with.
And when I discovered that the Quinns had an association with this part of the world I delved a little deeper. ”
He didn’t miss how some of the others glanced at each other, then at Rory. She was now staring at the table, her ponytail swinging forward and hiding her face.
In some ways he wished he could have said this to her more privately, but it was what it was.
There was no point coming here to find out about his ancestral roots and then not asking the hard questions.
“So my hope is to discover more about my family, about where they lived, and what they did, and take this information back to my grandmother before she dies.”