Page 68 of A Very Irish Christmas
‘That’s all for the good – bet it can get pretty boring up there, what with all that perfection. Right. Come on. Next stop.’
Our crawl goes on, taking in live music, singers, and even a poetry reading. By the time we reach our fifth stop, the Mutton Lane Inn, I am feeling much better about life. In fact, I’m feeling great about it. We are settled into a cosy corner seat in the dimly lit pub, and I stare around at the pictures on the walls, realising that I can’t quite read them clearly.
‘I think the walls might be moving,’ I announce solemnly. ‘Could be an earthquake – should we get under a table?’
He laughs, and says: ‘I think we should probably get you back to your hotel after this one. You’re scuttered.’
‘I am? What does that mean?’
‘It means you’re ossified. Blathered. Stocious. Completely battered.’
‘Wow, you guys have a lot of words for “drunk”, don’t you?’
‘We do. Part of our rich cultural heritage. Now come on, let’s be on our way.’
I consider protesting, because I don’t really want this to end. I haven’t thought about anything bad for the whole session – and Nanna Nora would be proud of the way I’ve concentrated on living in the moment, I think. But I know he’s right – I’m not usually a heavy drinker, and I am starting to feel the call of my bed.
We make our way back onto the street, and it’s deliciously full of people in a similar state to me. I call out hellos, and make new friends, and giggle when I slip on a patch of snow. We come across a busker singing alone with a little keyboard on a stand, and I immediately decide that it’s a good idea to start dancing. I jig around, catching strangers by the arms and taking them for a spin, loving every moment of it.
When Ryan finally takes hold of me, putting his arm around my shoulders and steering me away, I protest: ‘Why do we have to leave? What’s wrong with having a little jig?’
‘Nothing at all, darlin’ – it’s just that the fella there was singing a ballad. “My Heart Will Go On” fromTitanic, as it happens.’
‘Oh. Yeah. That’s not a very jiggy song, is it? Was he annoyed with me for spoiling his Celine moment?’
‘I left him a few euro to make up for it. I’m sure his art will go on.’
I laugh way more than this joke deserves, and we make our way through the busy streets towards my hotel by the river. Once we’re inside, Ryan snags some candy bars and a can of soda from the bar, and accompanies me upstairs.
He lays them on my bedside cabinet, as though he thinks I might need them in the morning. He may be right, I think, slightly dizzy. I might wake up tomorrow with a case of Martin Byrne’s ‘fear’. I tip the contents of my purse out on the bed, smoosh everything around, and finally find what I’m looking for – a strip of painkillers. I add them to the supplies, feeling quite pleased with myself for being such a Girl Scout.
‘Excellent idea,’ he says, grinning.
‘Well, I’m a details person! Wow. I’ve had an amazing night. So much fun. I didn’t think I’d ever smile again after hearing that story about Nanna Nora. Thank you, Ryan, for taking such good care of me. You’re a lot nicer than you pretend to be.’
‘Keep that a secret, now, won’t you? I have a reputation to protect.’
‘Ha! You and your reputation… you know, you can’t bethatmuch of a playboy. I’ve been here for weeks and although you’ve flirted, you’ve never once made a move on me. It’s enough to give a girl a complex.’
I’m being playful, but I’m also standing close to him, looking up into that gorgeous face. Looking at that thick, dark hair, and wondering what it would be like to bury my hands in it. Admiring his muscular arms, and imagining what it might be like to be held in them. Remembering the sight of him back at Bancroft Manor, wearing only a white towel slung low on his hips.
That single image is enough to make me blush, and I suddenly feel a little out of control. Like the booze has unleashed something inside of me that has been lurking there all along.
I reach up, run my fingers along his cheekbone, entwine them in his hair. He leans into my touch, and I see the change in his eyes – the humour is gone, replaced by something darker. Something wilder.
‘Be careful now, Cassie,’ he says, his voice low. ‘I’m only human.’
‘So am I. And isn’t this the most human thing in the world? Wanting somebody?’
He makes a noise that is half growl, and tugs me towards him. I fall into his body, feeling his arms go around me, his hands on the small of my back. I wind my hands around his neck, holding on tight, refusing to break the eye contact.
One of his hands runs up my body, twines into my hair. He holds me there, and I know I should pull away. I know I should end this before it begins, but I can’t. I stare at his lips, and want them on mine.
When he finally leans down and kisses me, it is electric. Every cell in my body responds to him, every part of me comes alive. I mould myself into him, losing my senses as the kiss deepens, as my hands roam, as all thought disappears. My knees literally go weak in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I cling on to him, lost in the sensations of having him close, of the touch of his fingers and his mouth. If what I’d felt with Charles was a spark, this is a full-on forest fire, and I am happy to burn alive.
When he eventually pulls away, I can almost hear my heart thudding, and feel abandoned as he sighs and shakes his head.
