‘I’m staying at Killorgally.’
‘You’re still trespassing.’
He gestured with the gun and came forward until the barrel actually touched her chest. An unpleasant smirk twisted his mouth.
‘I… I thought this was Killorgally land.’
‘Well, it’s not and this is my fence you’re climbing all over,’ he spat in his thick accent. ‘You’d better not have damaged it.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Her heart banged hard against her ribs. She could feel the press of metal against her stomach but she didn’t dare grasp the long stem of the barrel; the adrenaline that was sending her pulse racing also brought with it an outraged sense of indignation. ‘There’s no need to point a gun at me.’ Her voice came out considerably stronger and more authoritative than she felt and it made her a touch braver. She lifted her chin and said with a haughty stare, ‘I’m hardly a poacher or anything. I’m just going for a walk. I don’t think you have any right to threaten me.’ Actually, she had no idea. Was the law in Ireland the same as at home? She knew that landlords were allowed to ask people to leave but they weren’t allowed to use excessive force. A shotgun was definitely excessive. But maybe it was different here.
‘I’m a lawyer,’ she said more confidently than she sounded.
‘A lawyer?’ The expression on his face changed for a moment, his eyes sharpening. ‘Good for you. Law or no law, I can do what I like on my land.’ With that he pushed at her with the gun, a hard, sharp shove that had her involuntarily stepping back as much in fear as in surprise. Her heel caught on a tussock of grass and she went straight down onto her bottom, leaving her staring up at the two dark holes of the barrel of the gun. Fear gripped her stomach and her grazed hands grappled with the gravelly soil, trying to gain purchase.
The man smiled, grim and satisfied.
‘Get out of here.’ He waved the gun and she scrabbled backwards until she was able to get onto her feet, too scared to turn her back on him.
She held up both hands, desperately hoping a show of submission might make him lower the gun. ‘OK, OK, I’m going.’
Slowly she turned. Her breath caught painfully in her lungs and she walked on shaking legs back to the fence. It took all her strength to haul herself up over the top rail with wobbly arms and stinging hands. Virtually falling over the fence, she managed to stay upright, pressing her feet firmly into the ground with each step to reassure herself she could still move. She walked slowly and steadily up the slope, determined not to look back over her shoulder. Every nerve ending was hyper aware and had switched to red alert, and her heart banged so hard in her chest she feared she might be sick at any minute. Still she walked until she reached the lee of the hill, hating the fact that he stood watching her defeat.
At the top, sickened by her fear, fury boiling up that he’d had the power to do this to her, she turned. The man had gone. She took in a sharp, harsh breath. Thank God. The relief made her almost crumple as every part of her began to shake. For a moment she couldn’t do anything. Her teeth started to chatter so hard, and then some instinct made her run. Run to the safety of the cottage. Like some scarecrow with scant control over her limbs, she tore across the field to the little yellow building that shouted sanctuary.
She half ran and half stumbled through the gate, throwing herself through the front door and slamming it behind her. Shelter. Safety. She bolted it top and bottom and then sank to the floor, her back sliding down the door, her legs completely giving out. Hot, fast tears came as she rested her forehead on one knee and all the fear that she’d tried to contain came flooding out in one horrible rush of sobs and gasps. Reaction, that’s all it was. But even as she tried to tell herself it was a logical response, she relived the awful memory of being so powerless and the tears ran faster.
‘Hannah?’
Her heart tripped at the sound of the voice and when she lifted her head, through the blur of tears, she saw the outline of someone coming towards her.
Chapter Seven
She shrank back against the door as the lilting voice filled with gentle concern murmured her name again.
Oh no, not Conor. What was he doing here? She closed her eyes and dropped her head back on her knees.
‘Hey, hey.’
He sat down next to her, slid an arm along her shoulders, and pulled her into his chest. ‘Hey. It’s OK. You’re OK.’
A soothing hand rubbed circles along her shoulder blade, grounding strokes that brought her back up from the terror that had clouded everything, and with her limbs still shaken and rubbery, even though it went against the grain, she sank into the comfort he offered.
Concentrating on her breathing, she fought the sobs into submission and was able to lift her head to find him studying her with a bemused frown.
‘Come on, let’s get you up.’ He rose and gently pulled her up, leading her into the sitting room to sit on the sofa where he tugged one of the throws loose and tucked it around her, coming back to sit down next to her. She breathed in the subtle scent of his lemony aftershave, the smell of him familiar and comforting. Instinctively her body relaxed.
‘Want to tell me what’s wrong?’
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, still trying to gather her scrambled thoughts.
‘Leaking tap.’ He paused. ‘And an apology.’
She jerked her head up to look at him.
‘Mam told me that you had no idea who I was. With great satisfaction, I might add. And Granny Bridget did the same. And then my sister joined in. They all think it’s hilarious, although they don’t know what a dick I was.’
Hannah nodded, taking it all in.
