Page 33 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“It is,” he answered, resting on his haunches beside her, pointing to the very spot. “That’s a fairy fort. You’ll also hear locals call them raths or lios. People believe fairies live there, so those spots are left to themselves. Only the animals graze upon them, and some aren’t even touched by beasts, depending on how jealous the fairies are about sharing their home. There’s a lot of superstitions about them, but then again, there are a lot of superstitions in Ireland period.”
She had a half smile on her face, like she was amused. He realized she didn’t wear makeup, and his eyes took in more of her features. Her mouth was lush, he already knew, but her eyebrows were also strong. Not plucked and waxed into a thin line like on some of the women he knew. Then there were her eyes, shining brown with flecks of gold and green. Beautiful eyes, they were.
How could she not think she was pretty? Oh, women! They were so hard on themselves.
“You were talking about superstitions,” she said, clearing her throat.
“What?” he asked, startled out of his study of her. “Right. Has anyone told you to wear your jacket inside out on the way home from the pub so the fairies won’t recognize you and mess with you as you walk?”
Her smile crested across her face before she covered it with her hand. “No, but I’ll keep that in mind. Only… Wouldn’t wearing a hat better disguise you?”
“You have the way of it,” Carrick said, smiling in return. “The forts are in circles, Sorcha used to say, because the fairies run circles around any person they find disagreeable.”
Rather like Sorcha herself.
“Those circles would turn into the center of a storm, and soon the person would disappear from sight. Never to be seen again. Only their true love could call them back, and only then on the night of a full moon. But if the fairies like you… Well, that particular fairy fort has seen many a secret rendezvous between local couples growing up around here. With three sides of gorse, it’s mostly protected from human eyes.”
“An outside love nest? I love it!”
He laughed again. “Sorcha fancied them romantic fairies—ones who keep watch for the couple in love. Getting caught fooling around isn’t always easy on the woman, especially for those from my mother’s generation. They like to help couples in love.”
“Have you been up at that particular fairy fort?” she asked boldly.
He met her gaze and had a flash of them wrapped around each other with the white light of the full moon streaming over her naked body. “I have, yes.”
She turned her head away. “I’ll have to stay far away then. I’m on the no-sex-for-decades plan. Or at least until I start painting like a master again.”
“Decades.”He whistled. “That’s a long time, Yank. You must have some willpower.”
“No comment.” She started to pack up. “This conversation is veering out of the friend zone.”
Indeed. “I’ll be leaving you then. You should stay and see what other inspiration strikes you. There’s no rain to interrupt you after the heavens had their way last night, according to the weatherman. Have a good first class, Angie.”
It was the first time he’d said her given name, and the power of it surprised him.
She gaped at him like a prize salmon. “Ah, thank you. That’s…nice and unexpected.”
Yes, he definitely needed to leave, but there was one final nugget he felt compelled to impart. “Don’t be surprised if you have spectators show up. Even some in the village who have no interest in painting themselves might want to watch this first turnout.”
Should he tell her about the buzz in the village? From what he’d heard, people had been betting whether the painting class would involve nudes. No, if he said that, his mum and likely others would kill him.
“Thanks, Carrick.” She reached for the red-splashed paintbrush, her mouth already twisting as if it were torture to begin again.
He wanted to help assuage the torture and reassure her, but it wasn’t for him. She had to find it herself. “Good luck, Angie,” he said, wanting to feel her name on his lips as much as hear it on the wind.
As he headed off, he sighted two sheep with another message.Surprise. Hero.
He shook his head. Sorcha was wrong. He was no one’s hero. Not anymore.
Chapter Ten
Cars lined the driveway up to the manor house when Angie left for her first class.
She liked punctuality in her students, but the class didn’t start for another thirty minutes. Carrick had cautioned her about spectators. How many could there be? Was Caisleán really that hard up for something new and different? She’d walked its charming streets, and while it was small, the town had a fun, vibrant vibe that she looked forward to exploring further.
“Aunt Angie!” Ollie called out, racing after her. “I want to come with you. Liam said it was going to be something to see.”
She stopped to wait for him and righted the rigid bun she’d pinned on her head, which had been twirled around like a Tilt-A-Whirl by a strong gust of wind. Wild strands escaped and blew in her face. No amount of tucking would right the damage. The wind clearly had ideas about her looking professional for her class.
