Page 158

I open my mouth and find, to my everlasting shame, that I’ve no defence that won’t make me sound like a complete bastard.

Róisín plants her fists on her hips. “How d’ya even manage that? How d’ya sleep with someone and not learn enough to know she belongs to somebody else?”

Something hot and bitter rises in me then, more at myself than at her. “She’s not a parcel, Róisín.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she huffs.

I go looking for the first memory of Charlotte and find her in scraps. Quick to catch my attention. A woman who stepped into a room and owned the air. I’d liked that and convinced myself I needed it. Something alive. Something easy. Someone who did not ask for more than I was willing to give.

I’d never asked more because I hadn’t wanted to know anything that might make me stop. All I cared about was how badly I needed the distraction.

Never more.

I scrub a hand over my mouth. “I honestly didn’t know.”

The anger leaves Róisín first. Not all of it, but enough for her face to change. Ellen’s does too, though hers leaves behind a hard bright line of disappointment that is worse than shouting.

James rubs the back of his neck, his expression pinched. “This is a bloody mess.”

“That,” Ellen says, “is an understatement.”

Róisín crosses her arms and fixes me with a look that promises pain if I lie. “How long?”

I draw my lips between my teeth.

“Robert,” she says.

I bite down hard enough to feel the sting, then spit the words out. “Since Bealtaine.”

Róisín lets out a long breath through her nose. Ellen mutters something under her breath that sounds like a prayer for patience.

The latch turns again.

All of us snap toward the door.

Mannie stands on the threshold, one hand still on the latch, his gaze moving over the room and taking in far too much, far too quickly.

He lifts his brows.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I’ve half a mind to say aye, several somethings.

Ellen sighs, then turns back to me. There’s sympathy in her face now, but no mercy.

“We’re not done talking about this,” she says, all promise.

“Aye,” I say. “I gathered that.”

I only have a moment to compose myself when a figure steps in from behind Mannie.

For one bewildering beat, I can only stare.

The pleasure of seeing her hits first, quick and clean. It’s like catching sight of home in a place it has no business being. For a moment, I am absurdly, fiercely glad she’s here.

Then the rest of it catches up with me.

Amelia Curran, standing beside Mannie, carrying whatever strange errand has brought her here out of my old world and straight into this one.