Page 82 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

“And you say you’re an impartial arbiter of the law,” Donal bandied back as reporters recorded the incident. “I won’t say whose pocket you’re in, but he left not too long ago.”

She jolted. Had Malcolm Coveney been at the press conference?

“Go home, slut,” one of the female protesters shouted, “and take your filthy mind with you.”

Her stomach trembled at the hate filling the air behind her. She wouldn’t turn around. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“Enough of that, Mary Kincaid,” Donal called out. “You’re allowed to protest but not to harass anyone.”

Except she’d shown up and done it at Sophie’s door.

“Like you’d know what was right or decent anymore, Donal O’Dwyer,” the vicious woman shot back.

“Shacking up with Betsy O’Hanlon ruined you, Donal,” another woman called out. “And now this new artist is ruining—”

“Stop it, Orla!” Donal interrupted harshly. “For the love of God, keep your hate-filled opinions to yourself.”

“If we’re all done,” Sophie said to the eagerly listening reporters, keeping her back to the protesters, “I’m headed back to the arts center for some tea if you have any more questions. Again, thanks so much for coming.”

Jamie took her hand as she started walking, her entire body gripped with malaise. “You did grand,mo chroí.”

“I really need to work on not taking things personally,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “I feel covered in slime.”

“If you weren’t bothered by people’s cruelty, you wouldn’t be who you are,” Jamie told her. “They had no cause to call things out. Their signs were bad enough.”

Yeah, she thought. They were. “Was Malcolm Coveney at our press conference?”

His face fell before he nodded. “Yes, Linc told me he saw him inside. He must have borrowed a local reporter’s press badge, as people had to show them at the door. He meant to intimidate, I imagine, but he left after you announced we’d filed the police complaint. You did good. Made him tuck his tail, I’d be hoping.”

She fought a chill. “Yeah, I’ll be hoping too.”

Ghislaine materialized at her side after wrapping up her conversation with another reporter. “Ignore those spiteful women and focus on the positives. The sheep were an unscripted delight. And that idiot policeman doesn’t seem to understand he’s now been videoed misusing his power by trying to fine that sheep farmer.”

“Or he doesn’t think he can do any wrong given who’s protecting him,” Jamie muttered with a frown.

Her diaphragm tightened. God, she hadn’t thought of that. Then again, Malcolm had shown up under false pretenses.

“That’s not my department, Jamie,” Ghislaine responded, although her mouth tightened. “We’ve exceeded all my goals, and we’ve got a three-dimensional human interest story with terrific pictures. The photos and videos of the sheep milling with the protesters are already going viral. This is going to be big!”

Sophie wanted to feel a sense of elation. Would she ever? “My best news was hearing from Eoghan this morning about his gallery showing.”

“And all because the gallery owner saw the article inLe Monde.” Ghislaine put her arm around Sophie. “Publicity at its best. I have a few more people I want to check on before they take off. Expect good things to come of this, Sophie.”

“Miracles love company,” she repeated out loud, trying to keep upbeat.

“Exactly.” Jamie opened the front door of the arts center for her and ushered her back inside, where it was mostly quiet. “Let’s grab you a cup of tea.”

“You looked pretty good out there, surrounded by sheep,” Bets cried out as she hurried over to them.

Linc took his time sauntering over. “They might have stolen the show in the best way possible. Now that’s the kind of village support we’re talking about. Even the sheep are behind you.”

She smiled ruefully. “It was nice of Keegan to do it. Now, I need some tea and some time to gather myself. That was exhausting.”

“Being ‘on’ has that effect on some people,” Linc commented. “But the reporters seem to have what they need and are starting to take off. Why don’t you two go on and head out? We’ll take care of the rest here with Ghislaine.”

“Are you sure?” She imagined they were as tired as she was.

“You bet,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Turn your phone off for a while. Both of you. We’ll talk later.”

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