FIC- The Hathaways (Merripens)
Title: Pursuing Happiness (And Safe Harbor)
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 3,839
Summary: Their life was here...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: My fourth contribution to my schmoop_bingo card found here. This prompt was 'nightmares'. This...is veering into original fiction territory.
It was Win’s favorite time of day. When the world was quiet and she was laying in bed with her Kev, safe in his arms. No matter how long they had been together, it was still wonderful to be held by Kev. He was stroking a hand down her back as he spoke of the goings-on at the estate (though they were both starting to fall asleep), when they heard a timid scratching at their door. It was Kev who rose from their bed to open the door to see their youngest child, Brenna, looking up at her father with tear-stained eyes, clutching the worn baby quilt that Win had made when she was pregnant with Jado, and it had been passed down through the ranks of the Merripen children.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” Kev said softly. She reached out her short little arms and her papa lifted her against his broad chest, carrying her to the bed to lay next to her mother.
“The bl-blue dog,” Brenna sobbed, cuddling between her parents, and Win exchanged a look with Kev over their daughter’s head. The blue dog nightmare had been a problem since they’d returned from the Christmas Holiday in Hampshire. Win suspected one of her older cousins had told her a scary story, probably not knowing what affect it would have on the ‘littlest Hathaway’. Every night, Brenna would run to their room for shelter, and all they could discern from the dream was that a great blue dog was chasing her and she was frightened that he would eat her.
This was especially surprising after the way Brenna had cooed and adored the new litter of puppies Beatrix had brought with her to Ramsay House for Christmas. And Brenna had always loved the animals on their own estate, Fairwall. But the blue dog dream persisted and Kev and Win only hoped that this phase would soon pass.
Brenna had been a surprise to Kev and Win. Soon after the birth of their second son, Tamas, Win began to think about having another, specifically having another girl. “A matched set,” she had said, eyes twinkling, and Kev had laughed and pulled her to him, intent on beginning the process that very moment. Nine months later came their son, Mihai (known as Michael in the gadjo world), who was so funny and loving and joyful that Win didn’t press for a fifth child. She had already been blessed beyond her wildest dreams. But then, a few years later, there was Brenna, tiny and dark and beautiful. She was named for a fairy in a story that their children’s nanny, Grainne, had told them and Mirela especially loved.
As Kev rocked his youngest, her sobs subsided. “What would make you feel better, sweet?” he whispered against her soft hair.
Brenna turned to face her mother. “Three kisses?” she asked, looking so adorable that Win had to suppress a smile.
“Yes, three kisses from your mother is a powerful medicine indeed,” Kev agreed solemnly.
“Then I shall make them my very best kisses,” Win said, with equal seriousness. Gently clasping her daughter’s face, Win pressed a kiss to both cheeks and her forehead. “How’s that dear?”
“Much, much better,” Brenna answered, after a moment’s reflection.
“Shall I bring you back to bed with your sister?” Kev asked, adding his own kiss for good measure.
“She’s not there,” Brenna replied.
Kev cocked a dark eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“She was out of her bed when the blue...” Brenna’s lip trembled in terror and Win softly soothed her.
“No, no, darling, you sleep with Mama and Papa here tonight in the big bed,” Win deftly tucked her under the covers, curling a finger around Brenna’s silky dark hair. She glanced at her husband, whose dark eyes were worried.
“Yes, but what about Mirela?”
“In the kitchen for a snack, I’m sure,” Win said with a quick smile. “You know how our daughter loves her sweets.”
Kev seemed satisfied with this answer, or completely exhausted by the day’s work. Soon he and Brenna were both sleeping soundly and Win crept out of bed. She first went to the large room that her daughters shared and eased the door open. Just as she had suspected, both beds were rumpled and empty. Just as she’d feared.
Turning quickly to the furthest room down the long hallway, she knocked quietly. Jado, her eldest, answered after a moment, pulling a dressing gown over his large frame. At just barely short of nineteen, he was nearly as big as his father and was his spitting image. “Yes Mother, what’s wrong?” he asked, his dark eyes alert.
“Jado, do you know where your sister is?” Win asked.
“Mirela? She’s probably in the kitchen for a snack,” he answered mildly.
Win fixed her son with her best mother’s look. “Jado.” Jado sighed and Win could see that he was struggling with whether or not to break a sibling’s confidence. Win looked him in the eye. “If you know where to find her, I suggest you help her return to her bed, where she belongs.”
***
Mirela ran through the wet grass towards the stables, wishing she had thought to put on something sturdier than her slippers and a dressing gown for her midnight outing. But there had been no time. As soon as she was sure Brenna was asleep (and she prayed that her poor baby sister wouldn’t have another nightmare tonight), she’d fled from the safety of her bed, silently making her way through the house and outside. Though she knew the grounds like the back of her hand, in the dark, everything seemed a bit more foreboding.
Reaching the stables, she pulled open the heavy door. It swung in a loud creak and Mirela glanced over her shoulder, wondering if it could be heard from the house. All was still quiet and dark. The barn was pitch black and Mirela’s heart sank. A nervous huffing went through the horses as they sensed an intruder.
“Shh, shh, it’s all right, boy,” Mirela said, going to her favorite, a large brown stallion named West. He calmed at her voice, and the rest of the horses settled down, too. It had taken a long time for her papa to allow her to ride West. He was too big for her, and the horse could be wild at times. But he was unfailingly gentle and obedient to Mirela. She truly did have a touch for him.
“Mirela?”
She gave a startled gasp at the low voice. She thought she had been too late. Turning without a word, she flung herself in Kian’s strong arms. “I thought you had left, I thought you...Oh, you wouldn’t leave me, will you? Oh, Kian, I lo-”
“Hush, hush, don’t say such things,” the boy answered, but he held her tight, running his hands up and down her back, cradling her head to his shoulder. “Oh darling, you’re shaking like a leaf in a storm.” And he drew off his warm brown coat, wrapping it around her. “Silly girl in that silly thin nightdress. You’ll catch your death.”
But Mirela was warm, burning up in his arms. Her head fit neatly under his chin and she pressed her face against his chest, drinking in the scent of him. Horses and sunshine and a hint of the stout beer brewed locally. Oh, she loved Cian Ryder.
He’d worked for her family for six years, the nephew of the groundskeeper, and for six years, she had adored him with every fiber of her being. In the beginning, it was a child’s infatuation, but it grew over time into an intensity of emotion that overtook her, day and night. Over Christmas, while her family rejoiced at being together (as it was usually only twice a year that they were all in the same place at the same time), Mirela pasted on a bright smile every day but cried herself to sleep every night, craving and missing Kian. And at the time, she’d thought everything she felt was one-sided.
No one in the family knew much about Cian before he came to live with his Uncle Daniel and work at Fairhill. He’d been a surly boy at first, but he’d gentled under the guidance of the Merripen family. Mirela’s mother taught him to read, and he developed a friendship with Jado. They were quite a sight together as lads, with Jado tall and dark and Cian with wheat-golden hair and his true Irish complexion, always working side by side. He’d always been just a hair out of Mirela’s reach. He was three years older than her, so that was quite a distance for a while, but he was also quieter, more guarded when she was around. And sometimes she would see glimpses of the surly, wild boy he once was. The first time she’d tried to ride West and was thrown, just as her father and brother had predicted, Cian had taken her by the shoulders and shook her. “You stupid girl, what were you thinking!”
It was the first time she had stood so close to him and that was all that could go through her mind at first. He continued manhandling her, checking for injuries. “That beast of a stallion, I should shoot him!”
“Oh no!” Mirela’s wits came back to her. “Please don’t, he didn’t mean it,” she said very fast, and indeed, West was loping over, quite conciliatory, and gently nuzzling her shoulder in apology. But Kian was still far too angry.
“Away with you!” He shouted at the horse, who reared back in surprise, and Cian snatched Mirela to him again, pulling her from harm’s way and holding her tight against him, and for Mirela, time stopped. She leaned against his chest and closed her eyes and got acquainted with that wonderful scent of his for the first time. The only sounds in the world were his harsh breathing over her ear and the pounding of her own heart. He still didn’t move when he finally spoke but his voice was all barely contained rage. “What has got in your head that you can ride an animal like that? You could have broken your sweet neck.”
Mirela forced herself to speak. “No, please, West understands me-”
“You’re far too fine to be rolling in the dirt like this!”
The proclamation struck her and he finally released her and when she turned to face him, he looked as startled as she felt. “I mean... The daughter of Cavan has no place in the paddock. Go back to your mother in the house.” He walked away from her, ending the conversation before she could protest, striding towards West, and Mirela held her breath, afraid he would strike the animal- she’d never seen him so angry- but he was gentle and soothing. “There’s a lad, shh, shh,” she heard his voice.
That had been last fall, before the family left for Hampshire for the holiday, and Mirela was left with a more acute longing than she’d ever known. And it had all come to a head that afternoon. When the family gathered for tea, her mother had brought up that they were going back to England in March for her cousins’ coming out ball, and staying for most of the season. Mirela almost dropped her cup. “Why?”
Her mother looked at her quizzically. “I thought you would be excited, you were so enthralled with their plans before we left Ramsay House after New Year.” Win paused. “Do you not want to go, dear?”
Mirela had always idolized her older cousins Elizabeth and Emmaline. Their lives were so different from her own; they lived in London most of the year, and when Mirela saw them, they had countless stories of balls, soirees and town gossip. Quite a contrast from Mirela’s quiet country existence in County Down. And she had been enchanted with the idea of the ball Uncle Harry was planning for them- it sounded utterly magnificent, the queen herself could not do better.
But the thought of leaving Fairhill again, so soon... Her life was here. Cian was here. “But Papa hates the city,” Mirela tried to deflect.
Win smiled ruefully. “I know he does. But he must spend more time at Parliament, if we’re to do more for our people.” And Mirela knew she was right. Her papa was one of the most loved earls in Ireland, for the way he cared for his people. Everyone was family; it was the Roma way when two men worked together, side by side. There was not a job on the grounds that Kev would not offer to put a hand to himself. But they needed a voice in London. Many English people considered Irish to be hardly human and as much as he could help them work their lands, what he really needed to be for them was the Earl of Cavan at Parliament.
After tea, Mirela went to the stables to take West for a long run. As usual, West stood patient and still even though Mirela was fumbling with the tack. She wasn’t supposed to saddle him herself, she was supposed to wait for a groom but she was too impatient today and didn’t want to chat pleasantly while she waited. “You’re putting it too far forward,” she turned at the voice. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, much less him.
Cian’s cheeks were ruddy and she could feel the chill from outside as he took the saddle from her. “It’s going to pinch him and he’ll toss you right off.” Mirela stepped aside and he took over, moving quickly and with expertise. He turned to face her. “Why didn’t you wait for someone to come down?”
Mirela was quite for a long time, looking up into his blue-grey eyes. Such a serious boy, she rarely ever saw him smile. And yet he was always somehow right by her side, helping her to step over a rough patch of ground, watching from a distance when she was dressed to go to a dance with her family- always watching her. “Why are you always telling me what I can’t do, Cian?”
He stopped what he was doing and for the first time, she could see that she had unsettled him. His hand tightened on the bridle, and West knickered. He really only could tolerate Mirela’s touch and she soothed him quietly, continuing to stare at him in question. She was so afraid he would turn away from her curtly as he usually did, and then...
“You’re...Cavan’s daughter, and...” his voice trailed off and Mirela’s heart sank. Daughter of Cavan. All she would ever be. She didn’t know that tears had sprung to her eyes until he reached to brush one away. He pulled his hand back before he could touch her.
His voice gentled and he looked at her as he never had before. “Please...please, Mirela, don’t cry.” He had never said her name before, and nobody apart from her family called her Mirela. To the outside world, she was Lady Mary. It was such a lovely, bittersweet sound to hear it from him.
Her eyes blurred with tears, and she laid a hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his skin through his shirt, and he hissed, as if in pain. “Cian...don’t you know how I feel about you?”
He was looking down at where she touched him and he raised his eyes to meet her. “Aye.”
“And...” Mirela rose onto the tips of her toes, searching to press a kiss to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, but he put his arms around her and hushed her, cradling her head to his shoulder.
“Don’t, don’t please,” there was a strange catch in his throat, almost as if he were on the verge of tears, but that couldn’t be. He was holding her so tight that she was immobile, but she never would have wanted to leave his arms.
“Please kiss me, Cian,” she whispered desperately. “Just once. I will never ask you for another thing again, just please give me this.”
“I can...I can never have you, I can never have you,” he murmured, and Mirela didn’t know if he was trying to tell her or himself. She tried to say ‘please’ one more time, but he was tilting her head back, holding her securely with one hand. He didn’t put his mouth to hers, though, instead, finding the sensitive spot under her jaw where her pulse hammered wildly under the thin skin, and Mirela felt his lips move against it, so gently, and then...he pressed his tongue to her skin, and she gasped at the sensation. She didn’t know that such a thing was done.
He was crushing her to him, suspending the moment in time, when all of a sudden, he pushed her away abruptly and she would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed on to West’s stall door to steady herself. She was about to burst into tears when her brother Jado strode into the stables. Cian was facing away, adjusting the saddle across West’s back, and Mirela could do nothing but keep herself breathing. “Mirela, is everything all right?” Jado asked in concern, looking back and forth at his sister and best friend.
Mirela nodded imperceptibly.
Jado turned back to Cian. “I hope you’ve thought further on what we were speaking of this morning. There’s no need for you to leave the estate. You have a spot here for as long as you want one, and work is not easy to find in the county these days.”
Mirela’s head sprang up. Cian leaving?
But he was looking away from her. “I...I have to go, it’s time I set out on my own. And maybe I won’t be looking in the county, maybe it’s time for me to really find my way in the world.” He looked back at Mirela, squarely in the eye. “There is nothing here for me.”
Mirela had turned and fled without any explanation, even though her brother called after her. She ran down to her favorite corner of the estate, on top of a small hill and cried, sobbing her pain out to the heavens. She avoided Jado’s eyes at dinner, and hid from him afterwards, not knowing how she would begin to explain what he had seen- or not seen. And she laid awake listening to the sounds of Brenna breathing until she could escape and come back down here to try to stop Kian.
And now she was in his arms again, and any speech that she had been planning was rapidly gone from her head. “Cian...please don’t leave Fairhill. I couldn’t bear it.” It was so good to be pressed against him like this, with his large hands running up and down her back, trying to give her warmth.
He laughed bitterly and she cringed. “Darling, you’ll be leaving soon enough, for London and fancy parties and...and you’ll soon forget me.”
“No!” The desperation in her voice was embarrassing, but Mirela was beyond caring.
“You have to forget me, Mirela,” Cian said harshly, drawing his head back to look her in the eye, but keeping his arms locked around her back. “Go to London, don’t come back, and find a gentleman who will care for you. You have to forget me.”
“Cian...please,” Mirela’s voice broke on a sob, but before she could cry out, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was not the gentle kiss she’d dreamt of since she was a young girl, and it was not the kiss he’d intended to give her, but Mirela’s breath was caught and she gasped in surprise when she felt his tongue enter her mouth in hot, hungry strokes. Too shy and inexperienced to know how to respond, she sucked it in further, and he groaned, pulling her tighter against him, and lifting her against his chest. She clung to his shoulders, and her feet dangled off the ground, and Mirela marveled at the feel of him tight against her from shoulder to hip.
When he finally pulled away, gasping for breath, and let her slide down his body to let her feet rest on the floor, she trembled and swayed against him. After she had caught her breath for a moment, she spoke very quietly. “It doesn’t matter how far I go, or you go. I will always be yours.” Anguish crossed his face, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.
Neither noticed the door to the stable creak open an inch, and then quickly close.
***
Jado stood at the side entrance of the estate house, and counted the minutes until he saw Mirela walking back from the stables, looking as if each step she put forward weighted her a thousand stone. If she’d waited any longer, he would have broken into the barn and murdered the best friend he’d had since he was a boy. As soon as she was making her way across the grounds, he bolted back inside the house, up to their parents bedroom, and quietly opened the door. His mother was still awake.
“Jado?” She whispered. “Is everything all right?”
“Shh, shh, yes, yilo ov isi,” he answered, being sure to keep his voice low. He reached past his mother for his baby sister, who was sleeping like a log next to her papa. “Let me put this little one back in bed with her sister.”
Win’s face was etched in concern. “Is Mirela all right? Shall I go to-”
“No Mother,” Jado answered firmly. “Everything is fine.” Without another word, he tucked Brenna against his shoulder, and she curled into him. He smiled down at her protectively. Having sisters was the most sure way to make certain that a man would know what it meant to worry over a girl. Thank God there was still time for this little fairy.
Easing back into the girls’ bedroom, he gently laid Brenna back in her bed. She wouldn’t question this in the morning, as their father often placed her back when she was sleeping soundly again. When she was safely tucked back in, he darted back to his own room, watching through the doorjam. A moment later, Mirela was back through the hallway, head drooped down, gait slow and defeated. He could see she’d been crying.
When he heard the bedroom door close down the hallway, Jado slipped back into his own bed. He had told his mother that there was heart here, but for his first, dear sister, he was afraid the heart was broken.
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 3,839
Summary: Their life was here...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: My fourth contribution to my schmoop_bingo card found here. This prompt was 'nightmares'. This...is veering into original fiction territory.
It was Win’s favorite time of day. When the world was quiet and she was laying in bed with her Kev, safe in his arms. No matter how long they had been together, it was still wonderful to be held by Kev. He was stroking a hand down her back as he spoke of the goings-on at the estate (though they were both starting to fall asleep), when they heard a timid scratching at their door. It was Kev who rose from their bed to open the door to see their youngest child, Brenna, looking up at her father with tear-stained eyes, clutching the worn baby quilt that Win had made when she was pregnant with Jado, and it had been passed down through the ranks of the Merripen children.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” Kev said softly. She reached out her short little arms and her papa lifted her against his broad chest, carrying her to the bed to lay next to her mother.
“The bl-blue dog,” Brenna sobbed, cuddling between her parents, and Win exchanged a look with Kev over their daughter’s head. The blue dog nightmare had been a problem since they’d returned from the Christmas Holiday in Hampshire. Win suspected one of her older cousins had told her a scary story, probably not knowing what affect it would have on the ‘littlest Hathaway’. Every night, Brenna would run to their room for shelter, and all they could discern from the dream was that a great blue dog was chasing her and she was frightened that he would eat her.
This was especially surprising after the way Brenna had cooed and adored the new litter of puppies Beatrix had brought with her to Ramsay House for Christmas. And Brenna had always loved the animals on their own estate, Fairwall. But the blue dog dream persisted and Kev and Win only hoped that this phase would soon pass.
Brenna had been a surprise to Kev and Win. Soon after the birth of their second son, Tamas, Win began to think about having another, specifically having another girl. “A matched set,” she had said, eyes twinkling, and Kev had laughed and pulled her to him, intent on beginning the process that very moment. Nine months later came their son, Mihai (known as Michael in the gadjo world), who was so funny and loving and joyful that Win didn’t press for a fifth child. She had already been blessed beyond her wildest dreams. But then, a few years later, there was Brenna, tiny and dark and beautiful. She was named for a fairy in a story that their children’s nanny, Grainne, had told them and Mirela especially loved.
As Kev rocked his youngest, her sobs subsided. “What would make you feel better, sweet?” he whispered against her soft hair.
Brenna turned to face her mother. “Three kisses?” she asked, looking so adorable that Win had to suppress a smile.
“Yes, three kisses from your mother is a powerful medicine indeed,” Kev agreed solemnly.
“Then I shall make them my very best kisses,” Win said, with equal seriousness. Gently clasping her daughter’s face, Win pressed a kiss to both cheeks and her forehead. “How’s that dear?”
“Much, much better,” Brenna answered, after a moment’s reflection.
“Shall I bring you back to bed with your sister?” Kev asked, adding his own kiss for good measure.
“She’s not there,” Brenna replied.
Kev cocked a dark eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“She was out of her bed when the blue...” Brenna’s lip trembled in terror and Win softly soothed her.
“No, no, darling, you sleep with Mama and Papa here tonight in the big bed,” Win deftly tucked her under the covers, curling a finger around Brenna’s silky dark hair. She glanced at her husband, whose dark eyes were worried.
“Yes, but what about Mirela?”
“In the kitchen for a snack, I’m sure,” Win said with a quick smile. “You know how our daughter loves her sweets.”
Kev seemed satisfied with this answer, or completely exhausted by the day’s work. Soon he and Brenna were both sleeping soundly and Win crept out of bed. She first went to the large room that her daughters shared and eased the door open. Just as she had suspected, both beds were rumpled and empty. Just as she’d feared.
Turning quickly to the furthest room down the long hallway, she knocked quietly. Jado, her eldest, answered after a moment, pulling a dressing gown over his large frame. At just barely short of nineteen, he was nearly as big as his father and was his spitting image. “Yes Mother, what’s wrong?” he asked, his dark eyes alert.
“Jado, do you know where your sister is?” Win asked.
“Mirela? She’s probably in the kitchen for a snack,” he answered mildly.
Win fixed her son with her best mother’s look. “Jado.” Jado sighed and Win could see that he was struggling with whether or not to break a sibling’s confidence. Win looked him in the eye. “If you know where to find her, I suggest you help her return to her bed, where she belongs.”
***
Mirela ran through the wet grass towards the stables, wishing she had thought to put on something sturdier than her slippers and a dressing gown for her midnight outing. But there had been no time. As soon as she was sure Brenna was asleep (and she prayed that her poor baby sister wouldn’t have another nightmare tonight), she’d fled from the safety of her bed, silently making her way through the house and outside. Though she knew the grounds like the back of her hand, in the dark, everything seemed a bit more foreboding.
Reaching the stables, she pulled open the heavy door. It swung in a loud creak and Mirela glanced over her shoulder, wondering if it could be heard from the house. All was still quiet and dark. The barn was pitch black and Mirela’s heart sank. A nervous huffing went through the horses as they sensed an intruder.
“Shh, shh, it’s all right, boy,” Mirela said, going to her favorite, a large brown stallion named West. He calmed at her voice, and the rest of the horses settled down, too. It had taken a long time for her papa to allow her to ride West. He was too big for her, and the horse could be wild at times. But he was unfailingly gentle and obedient to Mirela. She truly did have a touch for him.
“Mirela?”
She gave a startled gasp at the low voice. She thought she had been too late. Turning without a word, she flung herself in Kian’s strong arms. “I thought you had left, I thought you...Oh, you wouldn’t leave me, will you? Oh, Kian, I lo-”
“Hush, hush, don’t say such things,” the boy answered, but he held her tight, running his hands up and down her back, cradling her head to his shoulder. “Oh darling, you’re shaking like a leaf in a storm.” And he drew off his warm brown coat, wrapping it around her. “Silly girl in that silly thin nightdress. You’ll catch your death.”
But Mirela was warm, burning up in his arms. Her head fit neatly under his chin and she pressed her face against his chest, drinking in the scent of him. Horses and sunshine and a hint of the stout beer brewed locally. Oh, she loved Cian Ryder.
He’d worked for her family for six years, the nephew of the groundskeeper, and for six years, she had adored him with every fiber of her being. In the beginning, it was a child’s infatuation, but it grew over time into an intensity of emotion that overtook her, day and night. Over Christmas, while her family rejoiced at being together (as it was usually only twice a year that they were all in the same place at the same time), Mirela pasted on a bright smile every day but cried herself to sleep every night, craving and missing Kian. And at the time, she’d thought everything she felt was one-sided.
No one in the family knew much about Cian before he came to live with his Uncle Daniel and work at Fairhill. He’d been a surly boy at first, but he’d gentled under the guidance of the Merripen family. Mirela’s mother taught him to read, and he developed a friendship with Jado. They were quite a sight together as lads, with Jado tall and dark and Cian with wheat-golden hair and his true Irish complexion, always working side by side. He’d always been just a hair out of Mirela’s reach. He was three years older than her, so that was quite a distance for a while, but he was also quieter, more guarded when she was around. And sometimes she would see glimpses of the surly, wild boy he once was. The first time she’d tried to ride West and was thrown, just as her father and brother had predicted, Cian had taken her by the shoulders and shook her. “You stupid girl, what were you thinking!”
It was the first time she had stood so close to him and that was all that could go through her mind at first. He continued manhandling her, checking for injuries. “That beast of a stallion, I should shoot him!”
“Oh no!” Mirela’s wits came back to her. “Please don’t, he didn’t mean it,” she said very fast, and indeed, West was loping over, quite conciliatory, and gently nuzzling her shoulder in apology. But Kian was still far too angry.
“Away with you!” He shouted at the horse, who reared back in surprise, and Cian snatched Mirela to him again, pulling her from harm’s way and holding her tight against him, and for Mirela, time stopped. She leaned against his chest and closed her eyes and got acquainted with that wonderful scent of his for the first time. The only sounds in the world were his harsh breathing over her ear and the pounding of her own heart. He still didn’t move when he finally spoke but his voice was all barely contained rage. “What has got in your head that you can ride an animal like that? You could have broken your sweet neck.”
Mirela forced herself to speak. “No, please, West understands me-”
“You’re far too fine to be rolling in the dirt like this!”
The proclamation struck her and he finally released her and when she turned to face him, he looked as startled as she felt. “I mean... The daughter of Cavan has no place in the paddock. Go back to your mother in the house.” He walked away from her, ending the conversation before she could protest, striding towards West, and Mirela held her breath, afraid he would strike the animal- she’d never seen him so angry- but he was gentle and soothing. “There’s a lad, shh, shh,” she heard his voice.
That had been last fall, before the family left for Hampshire for the holiday, and Mirela was left with a more acute longing than she’d ever known. And it had all come to a head that afternoon. When the family gathered for tea, her mother had brought up that they were going back to England in March for her cousins’ coming out ball, and staying for most of the season. Mirela almost dropped her cup. “Why?”
Her mother looked at her quizzically. “I thought you would be excited, you were so enthralled with their plans before we left Ramsay House after New Year.” Win paused. “Do you not want to go, dear?”
Mirela had always idolized her older cousins Elizabeth and Emmaline. Their lives were so different from her own; they lived in London most of the year, and when Mirela saw them, they had countless stories of balls, soirees and town gossip. Quite a contrast from Mirela’s quiet country existence in County Down. And she had been enchanted with the idea of the ball Uncle Harry was planning for them- it sounded utterly magnificent, the queen herself could not do better.
But the thought of leaving Fairhill again, so soon... Her life was here. Cian was here. “But Papa hates the city,” Mirela tried to deflect.
Win smiled ruefully. “I know he does. But he must spend more time at Parliament, if we’re to do more for our people.” And Mirela knew she was right. Her papa was one of the most loved earls in Ireland, for the way he cared for his people. Everyone was family; it was the Roma way when two men worked together, side by side. There was not a job on the grounds that Kev would not offer to put a hand to himself. But they needed a voice in London. Many English people considered Irish to be hardly human and as much as he could help them work their lands, what he really needed to be for them was the Earl of Cavan at Parliament.
After tea, Mirela went to the stables to take West for a long run. As usual, West stood patient and still even though Mirela was fumbling with the tack. She wasn’t supposed to saddle him herself, she was supposed to wait for a groom but she was too impatient today and didn’t want to chat pleasantly while she waited. “You’re putting it too far forward,” she turned at the voice. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, much less him.
Cian’s cheeks were ruddy and she could feel the chill from outside as he took the saddle from her. “It’s going to pinch him and he’ll toss you right off.” Mirela stepped aside and he took over, moving quickly and with expertise. He turned to face her. “Why didn’t you wait for someone to come down?”
Mirela was quite for a long time, looking up into his blue-grey eyes. Such a serious boy, she rarely ever saw him smile. And yet he was always somehow right by her side, helping her to step over a rough patch of ground, watching from a distance when she was dressed to go to a dance with her family- always watching her. “Why are you always telling me what I can’t do, Cian?”
He stopped what he was doing and for the first time, she could see that she had unsettled him. His hand tightened on the bridle, and West knickered. He really only could tolerate Mirela’s touch and she soothed him quietly, continuing to stare at him in question. She was so afraid he would turn away from her curtly as he usually did, and then...
“You’re...Cavan’s daughter, and...” his voice trailed off and Mirela’s heart sank. Daughter of Cavan. All she would ever be. She didn’t know that tears had sprung to her eyes until he reached to brush one away. He pulled his hand back before he could touch her.
His voice gentled and he looked at her as he never had before. “Please...please, Mirela, don’t cry.” He had never said her name before, and nobody apart from her family called her Mirela. To the outside world, she was Lady Mary. It was such a lovely, bittersweet sound to hear it from him.
Her eyes blurred with tears, and she laid a hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his skin through his shirt, and he hissed, as if in pain. “Cian...don’t you know how I feel about you?”
He was looking down at where she touched him and he raised his eyes to meet her. “Aye.”
“And...” Mirela rose onto the tips of her toes, searching to press a kiss to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, but he put his arms around her and hushed her, cradling her head to his shoulder.
“Don’t, don’t please,” there was a strange catch in his throat, almost as if he were on the verge of tears, but that couldn’t be. He was holding her so tight that she was immobile, but she never would have wanted to leave his arms.
“Please kiss me, Cian,” she whispered desperately. “Just once. I will never ask you for another thing again, just please give me this.”
“I can...I can never have you, I can never have you,” he murmured, and Mirela didn’t know if he was trying to tell her or himself. She tried to say ‘please’ one more time, but he was tilting her head back, holding her securely with one hand. He didn’t put his mouth to hers, though, instead, finding the sensitive spot under her jaw where her pulse hammered wildly under the thin skin, and Mirela felt his lips move against it, so gently, and then...he pressed his tongue to her skin, and she gasped at the sensation. She didn’t know that such a thing was done.
He was crushing her to him, suspending the moment in time, when all of a sudden, he pushed her away abruptly and she would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed on to West’s stall door to steady herself. She was about to burst into tears when her brother Jado strode into the stables. Cian was facing away, adjusting the saddle across West’s back, and Mirela could do nothing but keep herself breathing. “Mirela, is everything all right?” Jado asked in concern, looking back and forth at his sister and best friend.
Mirela nodded imperceptibly.
Jado turned back to Cian. “I hope you’ve thought further on what we were speaking of this morning. There’s no need for you to leave the estate. You have a spot here for as long as you want one, and work is not easy to find in the county these days.”
Mirela’s head sprang up. Cian leaving?
But he was looking away from her. “I...I have to go, it’s time I set out on my own. And maybe I won’t be looking in the county, maybe it’s time for me to really find my way in the world.” He looked back at Mirela, squarely in the eye. “There is nothing here for me.”
Mirela had turned and fled without any explanation, even though her brother called after her. She ran down to her favorite corner of the estate, on top of a small hill and cried, sobbing her pain out to the heavens. She avoided Jado’s eyes at dinner, and hid from him afterwards, not knowing how she would begin to explain what he had seen- or not seen. And she laid awake listening to the sounds of Brenna breathing until she could escape and come back down here to try to stop Kian.
And now she was in his arms again, and any speech that she had been planning was rapidly gone from her head. “Cian...please don’t leave Fairhill. I couldn’t bear it.” It was so good to be pressed against him like this, with his large hands running up and down her back, trying to give her warmth.
He laughed bitterly and she cringed. “Darling, you’ll be leaving soon enough, for London and fancy parties and...and you’ll soon forget me.”
“No!” The desperation in her voice was embarrassing, but Mirela was beyond caring.
“You have to forget me, Mirela,” Cian said harshly, drawing his head back to look her in the eye, but keeping his arms locked around her back. “Go to London, don’t come back, and find a gentleman who will care for you. You have to forget me.”
“Cian...please,” Mirela’s voice broke on a sob, but before she could cry out, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was not the gentle kiss she’d dreamt of since she was a young girl, and it was not the kiss he’d intended to give her, but Mirela’s breath was caught and she gasped in surprise when she felt his tongue enter her mouth in hot, hungry strokes. Too shy and inexperienced to know how to respond, she sucked it in further, and he groaned, pulling her tighter against him, and lifting her against his chest. She clung to his shoulders, and her feet dangled off the ground, and Mirela marveled at the feel of him tight against her from shoulder to hip.
When he finally pulled away, gasping for breath, and let her slide down his body to let her feet rest on the floor, she trembled and swayed against him. After she had caught her breath for a moment, she spoke very quietly. “It doesn’t matter how far I go, or you go. I will always be yours.” Anguish crossed his face, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.
Neither noticed the door to the stable creak open an inch, and then quickly close.
***
Jado stood at the side entrance of the estate house, and counted the minutes until he saw Mirela walking back from the stables, looking as if each step she put forward weighted her a thousand stone. If she’d waited any longer, he would have broken into the barn and murdered the best friend he’d had since he was a boy. As soon as she was making her way across the grounds, he bolted back inside the house, up to their parents bedroom, and quietly opened the door. His mother was still awake.
“Jado?” She whispered. “Is everything all right?”
“Shh, shh, yes, yilo ov isi,” he answered, being sure to keep his voice low. He reached past his mother for his baby sister, who was sleeping like a log next to her papa. “Let me put this little one back in bed with her sister.”
Win’s face was etched in concern. “Is Mirela all right? Shall I go to-”
“No Mother,” Jado answered firmly. “Everything is fine.” Without another word, he tucked Brenna against his shoulder, and she curled into him. He smiled down at her protectively. Having sisters was the most sure way to make certain that a man would know what it meant to worry over a girl. Thank God there was still time for this little fairy.
Easing back into the girls’ bedroom, he gently laid Brenna back in her bed. She wouldn’t question this in the morning, as their father often placed her back when she was sleeping soundly again. When she was safely tucked back in, he darted back to his own room, watching through the doorjam. A moment later, Mirela was back through the hallway, head drooped down, gait slow and defeated. He could see she’d been crying.
When he heard the bedroom door close down the hallway, Jado slipped back into his own bed. He had told his mother that there was heart here, but for his first, dear sister, he was afraid the heart was broken.