Mulligan Stew (37 page)

He'd likely catch a chill, but if it cooled him off a bit, it would be well worth it. Without thinking about his destination, he walked across the meadow.
Oíche
nickered as he passed the stable, but Riley kept going.

No moon lit the night—only clouds and mist and fog. The top of the tower was lost in the swirling dampness, but he didn't need to see it to find it.

Tomorrow, he would call on Brady. He would have his answers or lose what remained of his sanity. All his life, he'd lived on this farm without ever believing the Curse of
Caisleán Dubh
was anything more or less than what his da had told him. Of course, his da had learned what his da and those who'd come before them all had shared. But the Mulligans had told only their side of the story, as Brady claimed. Bronagh's story brought another dimension to the tale.

And, perhaps, it brought hope.

Riley felt it in his gut—the shift to his thinking, his beliefs. He walked around the castle to the entrance and shoved his hands into his pockets. His hair and clothes were damp and he shivered. The night was cool for June.

The whispering circled him and he drew a deep breath. If only the castle could talk—what a tale it would tell. He shoved his fingers through his hair, feeling like a caged beast seeking freedom.
Aye, a horny one.

He almost laughed at himself but couldn't. All he could do was pace and stare. And listen. "Talk to me," he whispered. "Tell me your bloody secrets.
Tell me
."

But the whispering remained unintelligible. With a sigh, Riley approached the opening beside the double doors. The urge to enter the castle burned within him, but he froze, staring into the blackness as he had the day his da had died.

He would never forget, though he'd tried. Jaysus, how he'd tried. Riley drew a deep breath and knew what he had to do.

He opened the vault door and set the past free.

"Da," he'd called, his small body trembling. He'd never ventured this close to
Caisleán Dubh
. The curse was a bad thing. A frightening thing.

Why had Da entered the forbidden castle?

Riley called again, hearing his own small voice echo back to him in desperation. "Where are you, Da?"

He heard nothing but the surf pounding the cliffs below. No sound came from inside, though he'd
seen
his da enter
Caisleán Dubh
with his own two eyes.

After several minutes of waiting, Riley squeezed his eyes closed in prayer. He had to disobey his da's orders to never set foot inside the castle. He had no choice.

"Da?" he tried once more, and heard no reply.

Holding his breath, he slid through the wide gap easily and stood within the forbidden tomb-like structure. His heart battered his rib-cage as if seeking freedom, and his knees quaked. "Da?"

The only light filtered in around the shuttered windows and through the opening at his back. The tower was sealed, allowing no light to filter down from there. All Riley could do was search this main room as best he could. If he didn't find Da, he'd have to go for help.

Fear clawed at him as he remembered the countless stories of Mulligan tragedies he'd been told since birth. Centuries of Mulligans had died, been maimed, had watched their loved ones die. One after another after another. Only after the family moved into the cottage did the tragedies cease. Hadn't Riley's own family been blessed with joy?

"Da?" He walked slowly across the blackness, scanning the floor for anything he might fall into or trip over. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and he made out large shapes. A staircase in the corner wound its way up into the castle.

He shuddered, praying his da hadn't gone up there. The maiden had flung herself from the top of the tower. That was the tragedy that had started the curse. At least, that's what they'd told him, and being a good lad, Riley believed everything his da said.

Why had Da entered the cursed castle? Why?

"Da, it's Riley," he said. "I've come to fetch you home now."

Silence.

Riley's eyes burned, but he scrubbed them furiously. He wouldn't cry. Ten-year-olds didn't cry. Culley could cry, being younger than Riley, and Maggie cried all the time. Of course, she was a baby who still wore nappies.

As the eldest, it was Riley's duty to find his da. He squared his shoulders and made a circle about the entire room, then again. He slowly made his circle smaller, venturing toward the room's center, calling intermittently and praying almost constantly.

When his foot bumped against something solid and warm, he screamed and ran a few steps toward the exit. However, a sense of dread settled in his stomach and his heart flipped over in his chest. "Da?" he asked, his voice quivering.

He knew before he reached the object on the floor that he would find his da. What he didn't know—couldn't have known—was that his da was dead.

Riley shook him, but there was no response. He grabbed his tall, strapping da beneath both arms and dragged him slowly toward the opening. The entire time, he spoke to him, begged him to wake up.

In the end, after he had da outside in the sunlight, he wept, knowing there was no medicine powerful enough to bring Da back. He was dead. Riley cursed the castle, using words he knew he'd have to go to confession for using. It didn't help. Nothing did.

Riley sat there beside his da's still form, listening to the crashing waves for a long time before he could fully grasp his loss. Like the waves, his acceptance came in harsh curses, followed by quiet understanding.

Finally, exhausted and trembling, he knelt beside his da and prayed. "Dear Jaysus, help me do what needs doing. I'm small, but I'll grow. Help me make me... me Da proud, and to do for my family what he always did." He removed Da's rosary from his pocket and put it in his own. It was his now, and so were all the responsibilities that had been Da's.

Including making sure no one ever entered the cursed castle again. No one...

"I'll make it right, Da," he'd promised. "I'll take care of them all."

Now Riley dragged in a breath and shook himself. He wiped the dampness from his cheeks. The memories he'd kept locked away in his heart and soul for so many years were free now. He was free to accept what had happened. Free to grieve.

Free to live.

Chapter 18

Bridget was just passing by the door when the knock sounded. It was early for visitors, so she peeked out the window. Seeing Brady with a bulging pouch, she immediately opened the front door and showed him into the parlor.

"Here, Brady, let me help you." She reached for the pouch, but Brady clutched it close, shaking his head.

"No, but thank you kindly, lass." He looked around the room. "Would Riley be about, or is he off in the fields already this morn'?"

"He's just finishing breakfast." She motioned Brady toward the kitchen. "The kettle's warm. I'll fix you a cup of—"

Brady shook his head. "If it's all the same to you, lass, I'll wait here." At least a day's growth of beard covered his face. "I have personal business with Riley."

Bewildered, Bridget made sure Brady was comfortable and went to the kitchen, where Riley lingered over his third cup of tea. She hadn't seen him this relaxed since her arrival. He looked younger, somehow. The sight of his unruly black hair falling across his forehead made her burn to push it back and kiss the newly exposed skin.

Mercy.
She'd dreamed again last night. A flood of heat rushed through her and she drew a shaky breath. However, her dream lover was no longer anonymous, and knowing his identity made her want him all the more.

But she wanted to be awake for
that
.

Mustering her self-control, she cleared her throat. Riley looked up from his woolgathering and smiled. He actually
smiled
without any coaxing. The sight left her speechless for a few seconds.

Finally, she said, "Riley, Brady is here to see you."

His smile vanished immediately and an anxious expression replaced it. "Thank you." He rose immediately, leaving his tea and his smile behind.

Guiltily, Bridget glanced around the room. She should be upstairs with Fiona and Jacob, packing for their visit to Kilarney.

Bridget should accompany them, but she couldn't bring herself to leave
Caisleán Dubh
just now. Besides, it would do Jacob good to spend some time alone with his aunt and new granny, so they could all get to know each other better.

Though all her rationalizations were true, Bridget couldn't deny her guilty secret. She wanted some time alone with Riley. Her feelings for him had escalated from lust to something terrifying.

Dare she even think it again? The thought had crossed her mind already, but she'd buried it. Denied it.

Do you love him?

"I wish Granny was here." Bridget drew a shaky breath, summoning Culley's smiling face. Was he looking down from heaven with a blessing, or disapproval? She shook her head. Somehow, she couldn't believe he would disapprove. The Culley she'd loved believed in love and happiness. He would want her to be happy. And he would want their son to be raised right here.

She would have a frank discussion with Riley, because they'd already admitted their mutual attraction.

Now
there's
an understatement.

At any rate, it was no longer her secret, though—thank heavens—he didn't know about her dreams. She fanned herself, remembering how close she'd come last night to fulfillment. Right on the brink, she'd awakened again, quivering with the powerful cravings spiraling through her body. Knowing Riley was her dream lover hadn't helped any, and she was ashamed to admit that the thought of creeping downstairs to his room had crossed her mind.

More than once.

Now that she and Jacob would definitely be staying in Ireland—Bridget had to hug herself at the thought—the need to come to some kind of understanding with Riley became more urgent. She couldn't continue with these sleepless nights, or the constant hunger pulsing through her. She wanted him something fierce, and she knew he shared her desire.

Somehow, the constant wanting had to end.

Or... they had to follow through to the logical conclusion.

The mere thought of sleeping with Riley made her pulse quicken and her blood warm. She rubbed her arms and gazed out the window at the tower. The sun broke through the clouds, bathing the castle in light. The blackness of the stones appeared almost golden now.

Bridget touched the windowsill, her breath hitching. She watched the play of light and shadow as the clouds drifted between the sun and
Caisleán Dubh
. Soon, she would have her restaurant.

She was here for a reason. How could she deny that after all she'd experienced? The castle's whispering, the dreams, the powerful response she'd had upon touching the banister... Her destiny was here in County Clare.

Caisleán Dubh
was part of it.

And, heaven help her, she couldn't deny that the other part of her destiny might very well be a tall, dark-haired Irishman with eyes of Mulligan blue.

Dragging herself away from the window and her musings, she cleared the table and did the breakfast dishes. Once or twice, she thought of offering Riley and Brady tea, but she'd sensed their need for privacy and would respect it.

The dishes done, the table and counters wiped, Bridget climbed the back staircase to help Jacob finish packing. He was shoving items into his backpack she knew he wouldn't need on his short trip. With a smile, she helped him decide what he could and couldn't live without for three whole days, but drew the line when his toothbrush and toothpaste went into the leave behind pile.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, ruffling his hair.

He rewarded her with a hug that melted her heart. "I'm a big boy now, Momma," he said. "And an Irishman takes care of his kin, so I gotta go meet my great-
mamó
."

"My, but don't you sound grown up?"
And more than a little like your Uncle Riley.
Bridget studied her son for several seconds while he sorted through his collection of coloring books and eliminated all but one.