Page 23 of The Past

I looked back to Conlan Manor and I waited for Fiona.

She’d come.

I saw the look on her face when they drove past, the way she watchd me in the dark, and I just knew.Fiona Conlan had endured a miserable night if her expression was any indication, and that pleased me more than it should have.

I lifted the bottle to her.Come drink with me, beautiful girl.

Yes, she was very pretty, but it was her sharp wit and spirit that intrigued me.

And admittedly, I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, and well… Fiona seemed to be mired in it.

I was definitely more interested in the puzzle of her.The way she was trapped, locked in a cage I couldn’t see but could damn well sense.A girl like her wasn’t meant to be tamed, yet here she was, fighting between duty and desire, between the life she wanted and the one being forced upon her.

I heard the crunch of gravel before I saw her and turned my head just as she came into view.

She was wearing a blue dress—presumably what she wore on her date—her fancy curls a little looser now, like she’d been running her hands through them in frustration.She had donned rainboots to walk across the meadow to the barn and it was completely at odds with the delicate dress and the proper way she’d been made up for the evening.

That shouldn’t have tightened my chest.But it did.

I tipped the bottle toward her.“Took you long enough.”

She slowed as she neared, eyeing me warily.“Didn’t say I was comin’.”

I smirked.“Didn’t have to.”

She huffed but didn’t deny it.

The wind had picked up, a damp bite in the air, and she shivered.Without thinking, I jumped down from the fence, shrugged out of my coat and held it out to her.

She hesitated but then took it, slipping it over her shoulders.It swallowed her up, and something about that settled warm in my gut.

“Come on,” I said.“Let’s find somewhere warmer.”

I led her toward the barn, and we climbed up onto a stack of hay bales in the corner, nestled away from the drafty door.With our backs against a cinder block portion of wall, I handed her the bottle, and she took a small sip.

I was impressed that she neither grimaced nor coughed at the liquor.“You drink a lot?”I asked.

She shook her head, handing the bottle to me.“No, but I’ve had a wee nip here or there.”

I chuckled.“It definitely helps chase away the chill.”

She settled back, pulling my jacket tight around her and crossed one booted foot over the other.“Why were ye setting outside on the fence, drinking good ol’ Irish whiskey?”

I shook my head, gave her a sly smile.“That’s totally uninteresting.Tell me about your date instead.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said haughtily.

“Of course you do,” I replied, calling her bluff.“I can tell that your date was probably an insufferable bore.Go ahead and tell me all about it and I’ll gladly bash him up good for you.”

Fiona ducked her head and giggled.Not a girlish tinkle, but almost a nervous laugh of relief that I at least somewhat understood the silliness of her situation.“It was… insufferable,” she admitted, glancing at me.

That had me grinning.“That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she exclaimed, taking the bottle from my hand and tipping it to her mouth.I tried hard not to focus on those full lips and the tiny peek of tongue as the liquid passed into her mouth.

“Lemme guess,” I said as she shoved the bottle at me, but I didn’t take another drink.I wanted to keep my wits about me with this girl.“He talked about himself the whole time?”

She groaned dramatically.“Aye.The entire feckin’ time.Until he decided to inform me we were to be married.”

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