Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Fiona
I paced my bedroom, my socked feet soundless against the wooden floor, my arms crossed tight against my chest as I checked my watch for what had to be the hundredth time: 11:59 p.
m.
My pulse hammered, a mix of excitement and nerves tangling in my stomach.
The house was silent, the heavy stillness of the late hour pressing against the walls, broken only by the occasional creak of old wood settling in the night air.
I had promised Tommy I’d meet him tonight.
It was clandestine, scary and the most exciting thing to ever happen to me.
It happened earlier in the day when I’d wandered over to the training center, knowing full well I had no reason to be there.
I told myself I was just stretching my legs, going to check on Brannagh, but I wasn’t fooling anyone.
Least of all myself because I’d wanted to see him.
Couldn’t stop thinking about the handsome Yank and besides, he made me promise last night that I’d try.
Tommy was mucking out stalls when I arrived, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with sweat and dirt, moving with the kind of ease that said he was used to hard labor despite coming from wealth.
He worked without complaint, tossing straw and old bedding into a wheelbarrow, chatting occasionally with the other stable hands.
I took the moment and watched him, wondering why someone as beautiful as he was would even be interested in a wee Irish lass like me.
Even though I hadn’t moved a muscle, I think he sensed my presence.
Tommy looked up, eyes locating and locking onto me.
“Hard at work?” I asked, forcing myself to sound casual, as if I’d barely noticed him.
He leaned against the stall door, wiping his forearm across his brow, his smirk lazy and knowing.
“Something like that.”
I lingered longer than I should have, pretending to be interested in the horses, making idle conversation about the weather, the farm, anything but the real reason I was there.
He didn’t call me on it, but I could feel it in the way he watched me.
And then, when no one else was paying attention, he set the muck rake aside and closed the space between us.
He didn’t touch me—he didn’t have to.
He leaned in, his voice low and teasing, his breath warm against my ear.
“You came.”
I gave a slight shrug.
“I didn’t have anything better to do.”
Tommy laughed and glanced around.
“I can’t break away today. One of the hands called out sick. But let’s do something tonight.”
“I can’t—”
“I’m going to be outside your house at midnight. Come join me.”
Midnight?
My da would resort to murder if he caught me.
I shivered, heat spreading down my spine, but I lifted my chin in defiance.
“I can’t.”
His mouth twitched.
“I bet you will.”
And then he turned away, went right back to shoveling straw as if the moment had never happened, as if he hadn’t just sent my heart into a tailspin.
That had been hours ago.
Now it was one minute after midnight and I was still pacing, trying to talk myself out of it, but my pulse was already quickening with anticipation.
I wanted to see him.
I wanted his hands on me again, wanted that feeling I’d had in the barn when he kissed me—the reckless, breathless, limitless feeling of being free.
I grabbed my warmest coat, shrugging it over my thick knit sweater, then pulled on a scarf and gloves.
My boots were by the door, and I picked them up, needing the stealth of my socks to get down the stairs.
I took just a moment to imagine what would happen if my father caught me sneaking out and it should have been terrifying enough to keep me indoors, but I was more afraid of missing out on something with Tommy than my da’s wrath.
Holding my breath, I cracked open my bedroom door and stepped into the darkened hallway.
I had made it barely two steps when—
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” I gasped, nearly swallowing my own tongue.
Siobhan stood right in front of me, eyes wide with shock, her nightgown pooling around her ankles.
I snatched her by the arm, dragging her back into my room and shutting the door quietly behind us.
She took me in…
coat, scarf, boots in hand.
“Where in feck’s name are ye goin’ at this hour?”
I pressed a finger to my lips.
“Shhh.”
She looked me up and down, glaring at me with suspicion, then suddenly lit up like the feckin’ sunrise.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, her voice rising with excitement.
“Yer meetin’ Brian, aren’t ye?”
I clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the delighted squeal that threatened to break the entire house’s slumber.
“For the love of all things holy, be quiet. And no, I’m not meeting Brian. Now will ye calm down?”
She nodded rapidly beneath my palm, bouncing on her toes like an overexcited filly.
I sighed.
“Ye have to keep this a secret.”
She pulled back, pressing a hand over her heart as if offended.
“Fiona. I am the very soul of discretion.”
I rolled my eyes, but I decided to tell her the full truth.
She might have been a couple years younger than me, but she would always have my back.
“I’m meeting Tommy.”
Siobhan gasped and her mouth sagged open in shock before a twinkle started deep in her irises.
Her lips curved into a wicked grin.
“Yer not?”
“I am,” I said breathlessly, feeling the excitement creep back in.
“Ye cannot tell anyone.”
“Soul of discretion,” she repeated earnestly and then motioned toward the door.
“What are ye waitin’ for, then? Go.”
I exhaled deeply, bracing myself before slipping out the door once more.
On impulse, I threw my arms around her and she squeezed me tight.
“Be safe, but have fun,” she whispered.
I made it downstairs quietly and slipped out the side door before donning my boots.
The night air bit at my cheeks as I walked around to the front of the house, the gravel crunching underfoot.
A mist had settled over the farm, clinging to the ground like wisps of smoke that shimmered in the security lights on all the barns and outbuildings.
For a moment, I didn’t see him.
Perhaps he didn’t wait, although it’s only about five minutes after midnight.
My heart plummeted, but then—movement from the shadows.
Tommy emerged from the darkness, a thick wool blanket slung over one shoulder.
His grin was slow and smug, giving me a once over as if he’d never doubted for a second that I’d come.
“You’re late,” he teased.
“Ye waited,” I replied primly.
He chuckled.
“Was hopin’ you’d know a place to go.”
I bit my lip, glancing toward the rolling hills beyond the farm.
“Aye,” I said softly.
“I know just the place if yer up for a walk.”
His grin widened.
“Then lead the way, darlin’.”
And I did.
I took his hand and led him into the night.
?
The air was crisp, the scent of damp earth and thick summer grass heavy in the air as Tommy and I made our way up the narrow path leading to the hilltop grove.
He had brought an electric torch to pick his way across the field between his steading cottage and my house, and it helped shine the way to our destination.
The farm stretched behind us, more visible than normal because of a cloudless night and a nearly full moon.
It wasn’t far, but the incline was steep, and with every step, the lights of the city of Clonmel became clearer beyond the horizon.
Tommy walked beside me in easy silence, the beam of light bouncing just ahead of us.
I felt his curiosity burning, but I told him nothing about where we were going—only to follow and trust me.
I glanced up at him, catching the way he studied our surroundings.
“Yer quiet,” I mused.
His mouth quirked up at the corner.
“I’m takin’ it in. I used to think Kentucky was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen, but this is giving it a run for its money.”
The hawthorn grove stood ahead, a tangled cluster of ancient trees, their gnarled trunks thick and twisted from decades of wind battering this hillside.
I knew every inch of this place—had spent countless hours beneath these branches, tucked away from the rest of the world, hidden but never truly trapped.
I glanced back at Tommy, my fingers tightening around his.
“Just wait until ye see where I’m takin’ ye.”
Stepping off the narrow path, I led him beneath the trees, where the air grew still, sheltered from the night breeze by the dense canopy above.
The ground was uneven beneath my boots, soft with fallen petals and dry leaves, and I could still smell the last traces of the hawthorn blossoms clinging stubbornly to the branches.
Most of the flowers had already begun to carpet the ground, indicating that spring had gone and summer was here.
The grove wasn’t large—maybe fifteen, twenty trees at most—but the way they grew, their trunks bent and their limbs twisted together made the space feel enclosed, almost sacred.
Some of the trees stood close, their branches arching toward one another like old friends whispering secrets, while others stretched wider, leaving open patches where the moonlight spilled through in pale, silvery streaks.
The wind barely reached us here, just the occasional breath of cool air rustling through the leaves.
The hush of the night wrapped around us, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
I stopped in a clearing where the trees thinned just enough to reveal the rolling valley below, Clonmel spread out in golden specks of light against the dark silhouette of Slievenamon Mountain.
The sight never failed to steal my breath, the contrast between the quiet solitude of the grove and the distant hum of life below.
Tommy let out a low whistle beside me.
“Damn,” he murmured.
“That’s something else.”
I smiled, watching his face as he took it all in.
“Told ye it was worth the walk.”
It was the first time I’d ever brought someone here—my own hidden place, where I’d come to think, to dream, to escape.
And now, standing here beside Tommy, his fingers still laced with mine, it didn’t feel like running away.
It felt like finding something I hadn’t known I was missing.
I took the blanket from Tommy, startling him, and spread it out.
We sank down onto it, side by side with our attention on the view of the town in the distance.
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
“That’s Clonmel,” I said, nodding toward the lights.
“Largest town in the county. The River Suir runs through it, and beyond that, ye can see the outline of Slievenamon Mountain.”
Tommy exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air.
“Hell of a view. It’s crazy how all those lights from the town sort of make the entire area glow.”
“They say that mountain is enchanted,” I murmured.
“A fairy mountain, home to the sidhe .”
“She?” he asked curiously.
“Spelled s-i-d-h-e, but yes… it’s pronounced shee . Irish for fairies. And inside the mountain, supernatural women live—temptresses who lure men away with their beauty and magic, never to be seen again.” I gave him a sly smile.
“Ye should be careful, Yank. If ye hear a woman callin’ yer name from the slopes, best not to follow.”
Tommy smirked, leaning in just enough to make my breath hitch.
“Too late, darlin’,” he drawled.
“Pretty sure I’ve already fallen under a spell.” He lifted a hand to tuck a stray curl behind my ear, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper.
“Though I don’t think it’s the sidhe I need to be worried about.”
My heart stumbled as his fingers lingered at my jaw, the warmth of his touch spreading through me, and I no longer felt the chill.
“No?” I asked breathlessly.
Tommy grinned, mischief written all over his face.
“Nah. I think the real danger’s sittin’ right in front of me.”
His hand dropped away without so much as a kiss, and I’m pretty sure that was intentional.
He had me on the line and I wasn’t twisting to get off.
“This place is pretty magical,” he murmured, looking back out over the twinkling valley.
I smiled.
“Aye, it is. I used to come here as a child and sit for what felt like hours, pretending I was a queen overlooking my kingdom.”
He chuckled.
“Sounds about right.”
I nudged his shoulder playfully before continuing.
“Clonmel’s a town of history. It was a trade town centuries ago—livestock, butter, cider, all of it moved through there.”
“Cider, huh?” Tommy mused.
I smirked.
“Aye. Bulmers Cider—best in Ireland. Made right there in Clonmel.”
Tommy rubbed his chin, still peering down over the town.
“Sounds like I oughta take a trip over there.”
I hesitated for a second before speaking, then forced the words out.
“Ye should.”
He turned his head to look at me fully, his shimmering eyes searching mine in the dim light.
“Then you take me.”
The way he said it—so simple, so sure—sent a shiver down my spine.
I knew what he meant, even if he didn’t say it outright.
This wasn’t just about Clonmel.
It was about freedom, about stepping beyond what was expected of me, even if only for an afternoon.
But could I really let this be something I wasn’t sure I could hold on to?
I swallowed and nodded.
“All right. I’ll take ye. That’s what friends are for.”
Tommy shook his head, a smirk on his face.
“Not like friends. It would be a date.”
“A date, huh?”
“Yes, a date.”
“Okay, then.”
It pleased me more than it should have—the planning of a date with a handsome boy.
A gust of wind rustled the hawthorn branches but the new leaves buffered us well.
I trembled, more from the moment than the cold.
Tommy noticed and shifted, draping the edge of his coat over my shoulders.
I cleared my throat, focusing back on the trees.
“Do ye know about hawthorns?”
He shook his head.
“Tell me.”
I traced a finger along the rough bark of the nearest tree.
“They’re sacred in Ireland. Some say they belong to the fairies, and if ye cut one down, ye’ll have terrible luck.” I tilted my head, giving him a teasing look.
“I wouldn’t test it, if I were ye.”
He held up his hands in surrender.
“I’ll leave ’em alone, I promise.”
I smirked, but my voice turned more serious.
“People still respect them. Ye’ll see them standing alone in fields, untouched even when the surrounding land is cleared. My grandmother used to say that if ye make a wish beneath a hawthorn tree on the right night, it might just come true.”
“You ever made one?”
I hesitated, then admitted, “Once or twice.”
“Any of ’em come true?”
I thought about that, letting the silence stretch between us.
“Not yet.”
He watches me for a moment.
“Maybe you weren’t wishing hard enough.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach dip, but I shook my head, shoving the feeling aside.
“Or maybe the fairies don’t like me.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm in the night air.
“Nah. I reckon they do.” He reached over, took my hand.
“I think both Kentucky and Ireland are beautiful, but your country is so old and there’s so much history and lore. I think that lends to the magic. Tell me more about the sidhe.”
We sat there for a long while, just watching the lights, and I told him stories of magic and supernatural creatures.
I told him about the Race for Fionn’s Hand and Legends of Eremon.
He listened attentively, asked questions and laughed at the antics of the ancient people.
“I wish I’d had stories like that growing up,” he said, his thumb rubbing over the back of my hand.
“They’re meant to be passed down the generations.”
Tommy’s head swiveled my way.
“I can see you, sitting on the edge of your children’s beds, telling them… inspiring their imaginations.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning a little.
The thought of children and marriage and adulthood had repetitively been something I’d avoided ever since my father had been trying to pawn me off on Brian.
But with Tommy…
he was the type of man I could see spending my life with.
Except…
my father would never let that happen.
And besides, Tommy would be leaving to go back to Kentucky.
“You didn’t get in trouble last night coming in late, did you?” he asked, the change in subject a welcome relief.
I shook my head.
“Me da was already asleep.”
“Guess I don’t need to stage a rescue, then.” His voice was light, teasing, but I didn’t smile.
“No,” I whispered, voice tight.
“But this morning, he wanted to know when I’d be goin’ out with Brian again.”
Tommy stiffened beside me.
I laugh bitterly, plucking at a stray thread on my coat sleeve.
“Apparently, Brian called for me last night.”
The muscles in Tommy’s jaw jumped, but he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.
“Da said Brian suggested we go to the summer festival in Fethard this weekend,” I went on, voice hollow.
“And it wasn’t really a suggestion.”
Tommy sat up straighter, his entire posture shifting, as if he was ready to march straight to my father and start swinging.
“He ordered me to call Brian and invite him to go,” I finished, wrapping my arms tighter around myself.
“I didn’t. I couldn’t. But the expectation is there.”
“Don’t do it.”
His voice was sharp, uncompromising, and I turned to him with an exasperated laugh.
“Oh, just like that?”
“Yes.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Ye don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand,” he shot back.
“Because from where I’m sitting, you have two options—you either let your dad keep controlling you or you don’t.”
I shook my head, heat rising in my chest.
“It’s easy for ye to say that, but I don’t have the luxury of choices. My da won’t just let me say no.”
Tommy leaned toward me, his frustration apparent.
“Then what, Fiona? You just let them push you into this until one day you wake up married to a man you can’t stand?”
I flinched.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
“Damn it, I didn’t mean—”
“No,” I snapped, cutting him off.
“Ye’re right. That’s exactly what will happen.” My throat tightened, and I hated the sting of tears, the way my voice wavered.
“But what choice do I have? If I refuse, my father will kick me out, Tommy.”
“Good,” he bit out.
“You don’t belong in that house anyway.”
My head jerked up, anger flashing hot through my veins.
“And where the hell do ye expect me to go?”
His jaw clenched, but he had no answer.
I scoffed, shaking my head.
“It must be nice, being so sure of everything,” I muttered.
“Ye, with yer big farm and loving parents and a safety net under ye no matter what ye do. But I don’t have that. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have a way to support myself. I’m not even eighteen.”
Tommy sighed, his expression softening as he reached for me, pulling me into his arms.
“I know, darlin’,” he murmured.
“I know.”
I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the scent of his leather jacket and spicy soap wrapped around me like a comforting shield against the cold.
I let my forehead rest against his chest, let myself feel safe, just for a moment.
His voice rumbled against me.
“We’ll figure it out.”
A hollow laugh escaped my lips.
“And how do ye propose we do that?”
He hesitated, then half joked, “I could arrange for Brian to have an untimely accident.”
I snorted, lifting my head to look up at him.
“Ye can’t kill him, Tommy.”
His lips curved into a slow, wicked grin.
“No,” he said, “but I can make him scared enough to stay the hell away from you.”
I exhaled a laugh, some of the tension breaking in my chest.
“And how exactly would ye do that?”
He leaned in, his breath warm against my lips.
“I’ve got my ways.”
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering as I stared up at him.
“Ye’re trouble.”
His grin widened.
“The very best kind.”
And then, he kissed me.
Not the slow, teasing kiss from before.
This was deeper, hungrier, laced with something neither of us wanted to name yet.
His hands slid up my back, fingers threading into my hair, tilting my head so he could kiss me properly.
Heat coiled low in my stomach, my entire body awakening to the feel of him.
I pressed closer, my hands gripping the front of his coat, pulling him against me.
I wanted more.
And then, just as quickly as the kiss had deepened, Tommy broke away, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine.
“Damn,” he muttered, voice rough.
I blinked up at him, dazed, lips still tingling.
“Why’d ye stop?”
He exhaled a ragged laugh, cupping my cheek, his thumb tracing my jawline.
“Because, sweetheart, if I don’t, we’re gonna be in a world of trouble.”
I bit my lip, still flushed and breathless.
He smirked, running his fingers through my hair one last time before settling back against the blanket, pulling me into his side.
“Promise me something.”
I sighed, letting my head rest against his shoulder.
“What now?”
“Promise me you won’t call him.”
It wasn’t that simple.
It never had been.
But lying here, wrapped up in Tommy, feeling more alive than I ever had before…
“I’ll try,” I whispered.
And for now, that was enough.