Chapter 23
Griffin sat back and slurped his noodles while watching Clare amble to the ladies’ room. As soon as she disappeared behind the restroom door, he pulled out his phone and called his grandfather.
“Where the heck did you go with that woman?” Grandfather barked.
“I have to keep her close. She hasn’t told me which fairy mound she’s hidden the Heart of Brigid in.”
“Then you must make her fall in love with you,” Grandfather said. “A woman will do anything for a man she loves. How is that coming along?”
“She cares about me. Wants me to have the surgery for my memory lapses.”
Grandfather sighed loudly over the phone line. “You’removing too slowly. Ask her to marry you. Every minute she keeps the Heart of Brigid from you is a minute too long. We need to restore old Ireland before climate change raises the sea level and sinks our fair isle into the ocean depths.”
“I’ve already asked her to be my bride tonight,” Griffin reassured. “I’m planning on taking her to The Four Hallows after the wedding.”
“That’s myboy,” Grandfather said approvingly. “I shall call the O’Munsters and make sure you have the proper reception. When will you two be there?”
“We’re finishing up in Dublin and should be there by eight or nine.” Griffin looked up from the table and spotted Clare staring at the floor as she walked back and forth near the back of the pub. She had a scowl on her face, and she was pawing throughher purse frantically. “I think I’d better nab her before she takes off.”
He hung up and left several large euro notes on the table to cover the tab.
“Looking for something?” he said smoothly as he sidled up next to her. She looked as skittery as a spooked pony.
“No, nothing.” She clamped her purse shut and pinched it under her arm. “Let’s call it a night. I have to go backto the apartment, and I’m sure you’re missed at the castle.”
“You promised to take me to Bronagh Abbey to find my family treasure.” He took hold of her by the elbow. “After we’re married, it will belong to you, too, and you would be the lady at Gallagher Castle and share in my wealth.”
“This is too much, too fast,” Clare said. Two spots of red splotched over her cheeks. “I want tobe your Brigid but only in pretend.”
“Who said I’m not pretending?” he asked, steering her toward the bright-red doors of the pub and onto the sidewalk. “Where’s your spirit of adventure? Your zest for the unreal? Your imaginative muse?”
“I, uh.” She hesitated, her eyes large and round. “If I give you the Heart of Brigid back, will you let me go and forget about everything that happened?”
“Even the movie deal you wanted?”
“I might get the money another way,” she stuttered, and her eyes darted toward a bus lumbering down the street.
Griffin’s gut tightened at the realization she was trying to double-cross him despite her affirmations and fake concern over his health.
He also tightened his grip on her arm. “Why wouldn’t you want to stick around with meand see how the story turns out?”
She gulped, her head jerking back, and blinked fast. “I might not like the ending.”
“There will be no ending.” He flashed her a reassuring smile he hoped wasn’t too creepy-looking. “Only the present, and the present, and more of the present. Come with me, my love, and see how your life unfolds.”
Or not.
Clare felt like a too-stupid-to-live heroine.
Here she was, sitting inside Griffin Gallagher’s Ashton Martin DB11Volante convertible, this time with the top up and her in the passenger seat. Because of his medication, he wasn’t supposed to drive, but how could she stop him when it was his car?
She was trussed up in a low-cut evening gown sparkling with white sequins, wearing a tiara festooned with cubic zirconia crystals, with the purplish-red Heart of Brigid replica on a chain over her cleavage—theperfect image of the Brigid Bride Barbie.
Griffin, on the other hand, looked dashingly handsome and Roaring Twenties wealthy—like an Irish Jay Gatsby, complete with a windowpane wool vest, watch chain, a gold silk pocket square, driving gloves, and two-tone brown-and-white vintage wingtip shoes.
Clare was still worried about losing Griffin’s Green Notebook. She could have lost itat the doctor’s office or at the tattoo parlor where she’d placed it underneath the artist’s workstation. There was also her episode of being carsick on the ride to the Gaol where she’d dug in her purse for an airsickness bag. She couldn’t recall if it had been there then or not.
Why hadn’t she tossed that dastardly thing in the trash when she had the chance? What was wrong with her?
