Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SELENE
It took less than ten minutes to drive from Cillian’s house to the entrance leading to Mystwood Castle. Dark clouds raced across the gray sky as I navigated Ireland’s narrow, winding roads. My hands tightened on the wheel, excitement and dread tangling so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart.
Restoring an ancient castle was a dream I’d never allowed myself to imagine.
My thoughts drifted inevitably to Bren. To the confusion that still hadn’t resolved itself. If not for that damned scar, I would have been positive meeting him in the grove had existed entirely in my mind.
The explanation that I’d seen it that night in the pub made perfect sense. I just wished it was enough to put me at ease.
I was mildly concerned he still might recognize me now that I was wearing clothes similar to what I’d worn to the pub. Maybe mild was an understatement. Still, weeks had passed since he’d rejected me.
All I could do was grin and bear it if he said something. From this point forward, I was a hired restoration specialist, and my actions would be strictly professional. We had a contract in place, and I’d give him no reason to break it.
The large rock archway, showing I’d reached my destination, startled me from my thoughts.
I slowed and turned into the driveway set in old stone.
The impressive manor house to my right immediately snagged my attention, long and low against the rolling green background, its pale limestone facade softened by ivy and rain-darkened slate.
The symmetry was deliberate, Georgian, the windows tall and evenly spaced, the entry framed by understated columns that spoke of inherited money rather than new wealth. It was beautiful in a restrained way. Polished, lived-in, and entirely separate from the castle.
Cillian had mentioned that the only way to access the old tower house was by using the home’s driveway. It felt weird to invade someone’s privacy, but Bren seemed like the type of man who would have requested permission beforehand.
The drive quickly turned to gravel as I left the manicured grounds and headed into a forested area. Mist drifting between the moss-covered trunks of sessile oak trees appeared mystical and somewhat eerie.
The trees thinned ahead, and I caught my first glimpse of Mystwood Castle. I slowed to a stop, staring through the front windshield of my car, allowing myself a moment to take it all in.
The castle rose from the mist, its stone darkened by the morning’s rain, narrow windows reflecting a sky the color of tarnished metal. For a long moment, I stared and shook my head in disbelief.
Someone had made a mistake. To give me access, to allow me to put my hands on and shape this ancient piece of history. It all seemed so impossible, and yet I couldn’t deny the impressive structure in front of me, solid and watchful and unapologetically old.
My heart thudded uncontrollably as I continued driving, finally coming to a stop near an older charcoal SUV and a white work truck with “MR Construction” painted on the door. I swallowed and stepped from my car.
Gravel shifted beneath my sturdy boots with a muted crunch. The air smelled of wet earth and yew, sharp and green and faintly metallic, and somewhere above me, unseen against the roofline, a hammer struck wood in a steady, reassuring rhythm.
I closed the door, the sound echoing against the massive stone structure. I’d read plenty about Mystwood Castle the previous night. It had first been constructed approximately six hundred years ago, and it boggled my mind how something so old could still be standing.
It had withstood several sieges, long-ago residents swearing it had been protected by the gods. It was almost enough to make me wonder if the old stories about protection weren’t entirely metaphorical. A faint smile curved my lips, knowing Maeve would love that I’d entertained that idea.
I strode forward, taking in the structure, the lines, and the way it still hummed with a presence after standing for centuries.
Signs of the building’s additions stood out, including slightly different colored stones on outcroppings and around the windows overhead.
The tower house had undergone several renovations before being abandoned nearly three hundred years ago.
I couldn’t imagine who could walk away from such a piece of art and architectural beauty, but I supposed it would have been impossible to keep it warm even with a good peat fire, and with most of the nation in poverty at the time, who could afford upkeep on such a place.
It was a shame, really. But also a reality.
My gaze drifted to the beautiful lake that spread out beyond the castle, and I followed the gently curving shoreline. Reeds and low grasses softened the boundary between water and land, and a soft breeze sent ripples wandering toward me.
A quiet shift in the air brushed against my skin. Goosebumps erupted on my arms as a sharp and unmistakable awareness hit me. I pulled my gaze from the lake, searching.
I found Bren leaning against the doorframe, the massive oak door open behind him. I couldn’t tell how long he’d been there, but it was long enough.
Heat climbed my neck before I could stop it.
I pasted on my professionally pleasant smile and strode forward.
Though I tried to keep my gaze on his face, I found it slipping as I took in worn jeans and the way his dark blue sweater clung to his chest and biceps.
He wore his hair differently, tousled instead of slicked back, falling forward in loose, dark strands, softened by the wind.
Like he had at the pub.
Like my dream man had in the grove.
I approached him and widened my smile, afraid to extend my hand to shake for fear of what I might experience again. My defenses against him were few, but if I refrained from getting too close or touching him, that would help me greatly. “Hello, Mr. McLoughlin. It’s a beautiful morning.”
He dipped his head, studying me with intense eyes. “Indeed it is, Ms. Sullivan.”
His gaze lingered long enough to make me wonder what he saw.
An awkward shiver rolled through me, so I lifted my gaze to the castle walls, using them as an excuse to look away from him. “I must say I’m enthralled by this project.”
I studied the details of the stone now that I was closer. From a distance, it had appeared charcoal-colored, but I could now see the rain had only darkened it to near umber. I returned my gaze to him with a raised brow. “Old Red Sandstone?”
A spark of interest flashed in his eyes, and he straightened. “I see you know your stones.”
A wistful smile curved my lips as my gaze followed the ivy climbing the wall. “I studied architecture at university, with an emphasis on historic preservation. I particularly loved old-world history, especially Irish architecture, though I never dreamed I’d have an opportunity like this.”
“Why Ireland?”
I turned to him with a bright look and shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe because my ancestors migrated from here to the States.”
He tilted his head, his gaze sharpening slightly. “Is that so?”
I gave him a matter-of-fact nod and gestured toward the castle, needing to move. “Are you ready to show me the inside? Cillian gave the scope of what our contract covers, but it’s helpful to see the spaces and have you tell me your priorities.”
I slipped my clipboard out of my bag. “I’ll take detailed notes and then work with our office to come up with line-item expenses. Cillian sent me a summary of our contract, but I realized this morning he’d failed to mention your budget. What target are you trying to hit?”
His gaze held mine, steady and unreadable. “I don’t believe preservation should be constrained by money.”
I blinked. “You mean…there isn’t one?”
The faintest hint of a smile touched his mouth. “Only your ability to execute the plan.”
My breath caught, just slightly. Hopefully not enough for him to notice. The council must have deep pockets, because what I had in mind wouldn’t be cheap.
I raised my brows and smiled. “Then I suppose I’ll have to make sure I’m very capable.”
Something flickered in his expression, though I couldn’t tell if it was approval or a challenge. “See that you are.”
He moved back and opened his hand wide, welcoming me into the building.
I stepped inside.
Behind me, the world felt like it had just…narrowed.