Haunting Desire (15 page)

“What is your last name, Jamie?” Shealy asked softly.

“Redman.”

It meant nothing to her but she hadn’t expected that it would. Gaze fixed on the big, kind of scary-looking man, she asked, “How did
you
get here? I know about Tiarnan and Liam . . . but what were you doing on the Isle of Fennore?”

Jamie drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out. With the air of a man burdened with a terrible secret, he said, “My dad died when I was eight. Cancer. He fought it for years before it took him. I don’t have any memories of him before he was sick. I’m not even sure that I remember what he looked like really, except for pictures.”

Shealy could relate to that. She’d been seventeen when her mother had been snatched away—not by death, she now knew, but gone just the same. She remembered her clearly, and yet there were days when she had to dig out her photo album to make sure that she could still picture her features, the way her eyes had sparkled, the tilt of her smile. . . .

“He left a journal, though,” Jamie went on in that serious tone.

Shealy watched him, feeling the revelation coming but still unsure of what it would reveal. Her dad kept a journal, too.

“My mom gave it to me a few years back. When I first read it, I thought he must have been crazy. Being sick had rotted his mind.”

“Why?” she asked, although an idea had already begun to take shape.

“He wrote about the Book of Fennore.”

“He thought he was a Keeper,” she breathed.

“Yes.”

“
What
?” Tiarnan exclaimed, stepping forward with an anger that startled them both. “Yer father was a
Keeper
and y’ never thought to mention it?”

If possible for such a big, militant man, Jamie looked shamefaced. “I didn’t believe it was true, T. Not until . . .” He nodded at Shealy.

“How could y’ come to this world and doubt anything after that?” Tiarnan asked with obvious disbelief.

“The journal read like a lunatic had written it. He talked about evil entities and Druids and ceremonies to
seal the fucking Book
should it ever be opened. You’d have to see it with your own eyes to get what I’m talking about. It was crazy shit.”

Tiarnan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aye. I can see yer point.”

“But you believed whatever it said enough to travel from Detroit to Ireland, to the Isle of Fennore?” Shealy insisted.

“I was stationed in the UK. Me, Zac, and Reyes. We got leave and hopped over. I just wanted to see it.”

“Well that y’ did,” Tiarnan said with a wry glance.

Jamie shuffled his feet in a gesture so uncharacteristic that Shealy gaped at him. She said, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but . . . Well in all that bullshit I read, there was something that stuck out. He said there were three Keepers. That’s what the symbol stood for—the mark of a Keeper. He listed names. Leary was one of them.”

“That makes sense,” Shealy agreed.

“To who?” Jamie demanded.

“Last night Tiarnan told me of three men in his time who knew about the Book of Fennore.”

“Leary, Red Amir, and Mahon Snakeface,” Tiarnan said.

“Red Amir,” Jamie said softly. “Redman.”

Tiarnan paled at that but said nothing.

“Before our accident,” Shealy said, “my dad was searching for other Keepers. I never knew their names, but I do know the men he sought were Irish, not soldiers from Detroit.”

Jamie scratched his head, as if unsure which of the facts he’d just learned struck him as the most bizarre. Then at last he gave a shrug and a sour smile. “I’m all out of answers,” he said, “I guess your dad and I will have a lot to talk about when we find him, though, won’t we?”

With that he strode away, tension etched in every line of him. He was not a man who liked mystery. Shealy already understood that about him. His stringent rules must be the only thing that kept him sane in a place like this, where nothing made sense. Zac and Reyes, the two other soldiers, went after him, ready to take orders, and Shealy let out a breath of relief when they were gone.

Tiarnan did not follow. For a moment they stood silent, wary as they eyed one another. Shealy was caught between the need to keep strict boundaries between them, and the desire to throw herself into his arms and let his kisses convince her that he could keep her safe. She didn’t know how she could think of him as both a threat and a sanctuary, but she did and the flashing memories of the night before, of the intimacy that had caught her off guard and made what they did so much more than just sex only added to the confounding mix of her emotions. Her agitation filled the empty space between them and became a spiked barrier, keeping them apart.

The rules had changed, and
safe
was too nebulous a concept when she looked at all that hard muscle and those beautiful eyes. Yet he’d protected her—continued to protect her even as he undermined all her resolve and security. The men she’d known in the past had never made her feel this way—as if she’d offered free passage into her head when she’d let him into her body.

That enigmatic golden brown gaze moved over her face, and she knew he’d heard her thoughts and now the glow of them held something knowing, pleased,
possessive
. Disconcerted, she walked on stiff legs to the log where they’d sat earlier. Tiarnan moved quickly for such a large man and helped her ease to a sit without waking Ellie . . . her sister. It seemed she couldn’t stop repeating that to herself. She had a sister.
A sister.

“She looks like y’,” he said.

“Not so much. Just the eyes. She looks a great deal like our mother, though.” And once, before the accident, before the surgeries, Shealy had looked like her, too.

She ducked her chin, hiding the pain in her eyes, refusing to share that part of herself with him. Before he could pry into her secrets, she stopped him with a question of her own. “Why did you seem so surprised when Jamie said he and the others would come with us to find my father?”

A tiny flinch, then shutters came down over his eyes. He shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

“Liar. I saw your face.”

Her bluntness shocked him—she saw that clearly and she wondered if he’d refuse to talk to her now. She’d seen that reaction in men before, the way they closed themselves up rather than share. But Tiaran surprised her once again. Slowly he lowered his big frame next to her and rested his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them. For a moment, the quiet stretched tautly, but then at last he said, “Before Inis Brandubh, I was the leader of my people.”

“Like, you were the captain or you were the king?”

His lips quirked. “My father was a king. I was just a man trying to walk in his footsteps.”

Her mouth fell open. She’d been teasing when she’d said
king,
but Tiarnan spoke the word with a grave reverence that told her it was no joke.

“We were at war with Cathán, had been for many years, since I was Liam’s age. Maybe younger,” he went on, voice deep and solemn. “I made decisions that cost us dearly. Even my own brother lost faith and turned his back on me.”

“Liam?” she said, stunned. She’d only seen absolute loyalty from Liam.

“No, lass. Not Liam. Eamonn. He was the next eldest, next in line should I die. He thought he knew better how to rule.”

“Did he?” she asked and then wished she could call the words back as soon as they were out. He kept his eyes downcast but she felt the anguish move through him and it wounded her.

Looking at his linked hands, he shrugged, reseating that heavy weight he carried on those strong, broad shoulders.

“I cannot say if he would have made better choices. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’ll never know because he turned traitor rather than follow me.”

“He betrayed you?” she blurted, wondering what kind of fool this Eamonn must have been to do such a thing. Look up
honor
and
courage
in the dictionary and Shealy was certain there’d be a picture of Tiarnan.

“Yes,” he answered stoically. “He betrayed me.”

The pain in his voice rasped against her sensitive nerves and incited a burst of anger at this unknown brother who had caused it. “If he’s a traitor, then why are you still beating yourself up over what
he
thought?”

Tiarnan turned his head, meeting her steady gaze. “I’m not.”

“Sure you are. You don’t think you deserve their loyalty, Jamie and the rest, because your brother betrayed you. That’s on him, Tiarnan. Not you. Obviously you deserve the faith that Jamie and the others have in you.”

“Obviously?” he repeated, brows arching. “What makes y’ say that?”

“You saved all of our lives today. I saw. You were
unbelievable
. You were like five men. And I swear you looked ten feet tall. If you hadn’t come between me and that
thing
it would have done to me what it did to my mother.”

Her voice cracked and she lowered her eyes to the sleeping girl in her arms.

“It would have killed us both. I’ve never met anyone like you before. If you made some wrong decisions in your past, then it’s probably because there weren’t any right ones to make.”

“Look at me,” he said so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

Warily she lifted her gaze from Ellie and raised it to meet his, found herself captured by the golden sheen, the burning emotion behind their glow. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, never closing his eyes, never looking away. The moment seemed to stretch out unending as Shealy’s heart raced to catch up with her pounding pulse.

He paused just before his mouth closed over hers, and Shealy found she couldn’t breathe at all as she waited, yearning. In this world of peril, letting herself
feel
seemed the stupidest thing to do. And yet she leaned forward, bridging that gap between them.

At her surrender, he made a sound in his throat that burned her inside out. Only Ellie, still sleeping against her, kept her from throwing her arms around him and giving herself over to the sensations coiling tight in her stomach. He smelled of the wild wind and the dark mysteries of a man tested and proven. His taste was a sensory explosion, filled with color and velvet textures, passion and sizzling heat. He slid his fingers into her hair, cupping her head so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue soft and seductive, enticing her to open and let him in, reminding her of how his body had felt last night, heavy and hot beside her, silken steel above her, hard and demanding moving within her. . . .

She wanted him. More than she’d wanted anything in a very, very long time.

And that terrified her.

Reluctantly she pulled away, fighting her own desire as well as his. His eyes flashed with regret, yet his crooked smile promised another time, told her she would not always be able to run from this thing between them.

She thought he might say something, tell her what he thought, what he wanted. Tell her that she had thrown him as off balance as he had her. But all he said was, “While everyone is getting ready, y’ should take the chance to wash the blood off. There’s a pool on the eastern side y’ can use.”

He spoke in a cool voice, but those eyes were hot and they told her his thoughts had been traveling the same dangerous road as her own, and getting away from her was not the route they’d taken. Despite herself, she was pleased.

“The water’s cold,” he said calmly, his words contradicting the riot of heat inside her. “We used to have baths, but they were destroyed.” He glanced past her at the rubble that littered the small islet. “Still, a cold wash will be better than nothing. Isn’t that right, lass?”

She nodded, not even certain if they were talking about baths or something more important. He smiled again and her heart thumped in her chest.

“I think I’ll go wash up as well.” He glanced down at his bloodstained body and clothes and then at hers.

Blood, gore, and mud caked the sundress she’d worn to dinner with her father. More of the same splattered her arms and legs, her hair. She felt the stiffness of it on her chest and throat. Well, she supposed she didn’t have to worry about the scars showing beneath all that, did she?

The foul muck covered Ellie as well. The only part of the toddler that the filth didn’t layer was the thumb that she’d had jammed in her mouth since Shealy had scooped her up.

“Ellie,” she said softly. The child woke with a start at her name and looked at Shealy with wide, shocked eyes. “Shhhh,” she murmured. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

The little girl sat up and peered at Tiarnan. He smiled at her and touched her silky cheek with a finger.

“How does an ice-cold bath sound to you, little sister?” Shealy asked. “Sounds like heaven to me.” Ellie stopped sucking her thumb for a moment and then squirmed until she got a tighter grip on Shealy, making it known that wherever Shealy went, Ellie would go, too. Something deep within her heart ached at the trusting, desperate gesture. Her sister had seen atrocities that an adult mind couldn’t cope with. She’d been nearly eaten, orphaned, and now she was stuck with Shealy, who’d never even had a dog to care for. She knew next to nothing about children and zilch about young ones. But she would learn. She vowed she would take care of this small being with her big eyes and elfin features. But Ellie was defenseless, and Shealy shied from the enormity of the task. How could she protect her newfound little sister in this strange and terrifying place?

Tiarnan’s eyes seemed to follow her every move, and again she felt like he’d tracked her thoughts.

“Y’ saved her life,” he said.

“I could have just as easily put her in more danger. You were right. Those things were after me. It was all so terrifying, I didn’t even know what I was doing. It’s lucky I didn’t get her killed.”

“Are y’ always so hard on yerself, Shealy O’Leary?”

She caught her hand rising to cover her scars just as she noted his gaze trailing the movement. Blushing, she forced the hand to casually drop to her side and stared at him challengingly, daring him to say something. A part of her hoped he would. Just one wrong word, and then maybe she could gather her protective cloak around her once more and shut him out as she’d done to others before him. Put him at arm’s length instead of feeling like he’d already slipped beneath her skin. She’d never felt so naked, so vulnerable as she did with this big warrior.