Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SELENE
Istood near the western wall of the great hall the following morning with my camera in hand.
One moment I was noting the subtle outward bow in the plaster line, and the next, my thoughts had drifted to a certain Irishman with unreadable dark eyes.
The way he’d looked at me the previous day when he’d brushed dust from my cheek had been… unsettling.
On the surface, his actions seemed normal. I did the same with my co-workers when they had dirt or ash on their faces. But something beneath the surface of the interaction bothered me. It was as if he’d expected something from me in return.
I inhaled a full breath tinged with the scents of dust and damp lime, and refocused on my work.
The bowing of the plaster line wasn’t the only issue in the room.
The ceiling rose higher than the exterior proportions suggested, which meant the load had redistributed over time in ways the original builders hadn’t anticipated.
I wouldn’t be able to correct such things.
A contractor would need to, but it was Bren’s call if he wanted to spend the money to correct it.
Doing so was ultimately the right thing, and he’d suggested he had the funds for such repairs, but the cost might be more than he’d expected.
If he chose not to, I’d do what I could to help the castle.
The mortar between the courses bore fine hairline fractures throughout. From a distance, those corrections appeared minor, but I’d need to be close enough to trace them with my finger before I could be certain. Luckily, those repairs fell into the category of things I could fix.
The constant, odd hum that was ever present in the room ticked up a beat.
I slid my gaze to the ornate circular inlay at the center of the floor.
The intricately placed stones in the shape of a Celtic knot remained undisturbed from the previous day, and the entire room remained settled. But I wasn’t.
Nora had been highly interested in the stonework, and Bren wouldn’t cross it. Those things meant something.
I couldn’t say exactly what had transpired when I shifted the stone back into place, but my instincts screamed that something had.
It wasn’t as if the calming sensations after adjusting something were new to me.
I experienced similar feelings repeatedly throughout my life.
I considered my ability to sense and correct spaces a special talent given to me at birth.
But this was something different.
I replayed the scene in my mind and cataloged each bit until I recalled Bren’s reaction.
That was what left me feeling the most unsettled.
At first, I thought I’d angered him by prying up the misaligned stone, by touching the beautiful art that had survived centuries.
But my gut told me that wasn’t exactly right either.
I abandoned the western wall and approached the center of the great hall, studying it with my eyes and my instincts.
I crouched to photograph a seam near the outer ring of the inlay where the lime mortar also needed repair.
My gaze slid to the diamond-shaped stone at the heart of it.
Darker and smoother, with no known reason to account for the differences. At least none known to me.
I sat back on my haunches and considered the oddity.
It definitely had been worn down by something.
But not by feet walking across it, or the wear would be more even across the surface of all the stones.
The only rationale I could come up with was that perhaps people had touched it repeatedly over the years.
If so, natural oils from their fingers would build up over time and could darken the stone.
But why? And why only the center?
The sound of booted footsteps coming from inside the castle caught my attention. I jumped to my feet and moved away from the inlay, turning my gaze upward to the ceiling. The surrounding air shifted in a now-familiar way, and I didn’t need to turn to know that Bren had entered the room.
I’d messaged him shortly after I’d begun work that day, asking if he could assist me after the guys on the construction crew had been too busy to help.
I would have preferred one of them. They were less awkward to be around.
But I didn’t want my buried embarrassment to be the thing that slowed me down.
“Good morning,” I called out as I turned and brushed the dust from my hands onto my jeans.
“Morning.” His voice carried easily through the hall, calm and unhurried, as though none of the oddness of this space affected him. “I didn’t realize you’d be at work so early.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked as he approached, struggling to force the tendrils of attraction back into the dark where they belonged.
He removed his leather jacket, revealing a plain gray t-shirt, and my gaze immediately fell to his exposed biceps as he set his coat on one of the wooden chairs.
I cursed my rogue heart, though it likely wasn’t that organ that sent heat racing through me.
I averted my gaze and moved to the southern archway and the ladder I’d positioned there.
Bren followed, stopping next to me, and I breathed a shallow breath, trying not to inhale too deeply, lest the woodsy scent of his soap steal my sanity.
He tested the ladder’s durability before glancing at me. “Is this where you need it?”
I gave him a quick nod and pointed upward. “I need a closer look at the courses to check those hairline cracks. I’m sorry to bother you, but no one else was available to steady the ladder. It’ll just take a minute.”
Bren held my gaze. “It’s not a problem. I’ll be onsite the rest of the day, and the last thing I’d want is for you to get hurt.”
His concern sent an unwanted shiver through me. I pushed it away with a bright smile. “Oh, great. If you have the time, there are a few other things I’d like to point out.”
He gave me a light shrug. “I’m all yours.”
As I ascended the ladder, Bren held it steady, and I silently begged the gods to crush the powerful attraction rushing through my veins. The man wasn’t interested in me other than what I could do for his castle, and my wayward reactions were becoming an unbearable hindrance.
I eased out a breath as I studied the lintel above the arch.
Several shallow cracks extended toward the ceiling joint.
It wasn’t a structural failure yet, but it was trending in that direction.
“It appears humidity has settled into the upper courses,” I said, without looking down.
“We’ll need to address the flashing before winter. ”
“Not a problem. I’ll arrange access to the roof.”
The timbre of his voice played over me, and I adjusted my footing to steady myself. The ladder shifted slightly, and his fingers tightened on my calf as if that would prevent me from falling. “Careful.”
His touch sent a shock wave through me. I tensed before I could shrug it off with light banter. “Don’t worry. This isn’t my first time on a ladder.”
I finished the measurement, took a few photos, and descended. He stepped back immediately, restoring the professional distance between us. I offered him a grateful smile. “I appreciate your help.”
For the next while, we fell into a working rhythm that I found, to my considerable relief, I could sustain.
We discussed phased stabilization and temporary bracing, and the work steadied me the way it always had.
I focused on measurable solutions and materials that responded to attention with evidence rather than ambiguity.
Stone did not misinterpret. Mortar did not flirt.
I tightened my grip on the measuring tape, intending to adopt his attitude.
Work first, with no thoughts of him that didn’t align with that.
I could manage any discomfort that lingered.
This project would be the highlight of my career, and if I allowed it, it would unfold as it should without issues.
The thought settled unexpectedly deep, because it was true and because it was a great deal safer than the thoughts that came before.
I tried to focus on marking seams with my chalk, but now that I refused to think of Bren, the inlay pulled at my attention. If I was a smarter woman, I would have ignored the hum, but the urge to understand it was relentless. And, in my defense, reading the castle was part of my job.
Bren didn’t glance up from the table where he worked when I stood, but I watched him from the corner of my eye as I moved toward the inlay. His gaze shot to me just as I stopped short of the outer ring.
The familiar low hum pressed upward through the stone into my soles, more insistent than before.
I crouched and traced the carved edge with the tip of my pencil through the air without touching the surface.
“This is such a unique piece of art. Did most tower houses built at the same time have similar decorative artwork?”
His gaze tightened on me. “I couldn’t say.”
Another nonanswer, but that wouldn’t deter me this time. “I noticed the center stone is darker and smoother than the others, as though it has been touched many times. Was it a place of worship?”
“No.”
I turned to him, wondering if I could read more from his expression than he was giving in words. “Then what? A compass? Something for alignment?”
His silence lasted half a beat too long. “It’s a boundary.”
He held my gaze, and something in his tone warned me not to dig too deep. I nodded slowly, as though I understood what he meant by boundary, and I decided it might be best to put that curiosity aside for now. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something he intended to explain.
Perhaps if I tried, I could get more information from Nora. She seemed a safer bet.
Boots sounded in the doorway, heavier than Bren’s, and I turned, wondering which construction worker had entered.
The person who appeared was someone far more dangerous.
I barely managed to swallow my surprised gasp and keep it from echoing throughout the spacious room as I stared.
The dark-haired man who’d been with Bren at the pub filled the doorway, his broad shoulders covered by a deep brown coat. He easily carried a wooden crate in his arms as he strode forward, sweeping the room with his gaze.
When he turned from Bren and looked at me, his eyes grew wide with shock. “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. It’s the pub girl. The one you ran into later in the forest, right?”
I barely registered Bren’s soft curse.
The one he’d run into in the forest?
That landed like a sledgehammer, and mortification froze me in place.
The man’s words hit and fractured my reality, everything tumbling like a wall of old bricks. It wrecked my emotional barriers and filled me with shame.
I’d practically accosted Bren that night.
And he’d let me.
And then he’d let me continue the ruse without acknowledgment. It was incomprehensible and…and…I had no further words.
I continued to stare at Bren’s friend, unable to move. The man’s expression quickly morphed into animated interest as he shifted his focus to Bren. “What’s she doing here?”
I gripped the chalk in my hand as if it was a lifeline. My instinct was to check Bren’s expression, but I couldn’t look at him. I just couldn’t.
Instead, I lowered my gaze to the floor, to the exquisite stone inlay, which seemed a much safer option than it had moments before.
To my utter shock, Bren’s response was calm and casual. “She’s working. What does it look like, you daft eejit?”
A choked laugh escaped his friend, and his reply spilled out with amusement. “Working? With you? Well, isn’t that a surprise?”
Good Lord. If the world swallowed me at that very moment, I wouldn’t complain. My instincts screamed for me to run, but I couldn’t. I was trapped, and unless the gods intervened, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do but sit silently as the dominoes fell.
A muted thud echoed from the doorway, causing me to jerk my gaze in that direction. The man gave me a sly look before returning his gaze to Bren. “Here are the old survey maps you asked for.” He nudged the crate with his boot. “For the western boundary.”
“Thank you, Cormac,” Bren replied, and then released a deep sigh as he stood. “Step out for a chat, will you?”
Cormac slid one more gaze to me, his lips curving in a grin, before he led the way out the massive oak door.