Lucky Like Love: The Fae Legacy #1 Read online

  “I say yes,” Grandfather declared. “You were holding the lump of coal and saying her name.”

  “That’s scant evidence,” Griffin said. “There are many women in Ireland named Clare.”

  “We’ve reviewed the video of your journey to the Otherworld,” Grandfather said. “You seemed surprised when you took out the stone and realized it was not the Heart of Brigid.”

  “Video? Why didn’t you show me earlier?” Griffin demanded.

  “You shall see it now.” Grandfather motioned him to a screen and pressed “Play.”

  Griffin watched with horror at the clip, captured by a security camera, of him loosening his shirt and taking out the lump of coal. His heart clenched at the horror written all over his face, followed by the desperate scribbling on the floor.

  He wanted to rush out to the garden and strangle the little witch. “What are we doing sitting here? Why aren’t we asking her where she hid the Heart of Brigid?”

  “Can’t do that.” Grandfather grimaced. “You must play along. Let her fall in love with you and give you the stone.”

  “Why can’t he take it from her?” Mack interrupted. “All this love stuff is for losers.”

  “You forget there’s fairy magic involved,” Grandfather said. “Once a woman possesses the Heart of Brigid, she can cast fairy illusion on you. You won’t be able to take it from her because the stone will hide from you, even if it’s right in front of your nose.”

  “I can think of a whole lot of places she can hide that stone,” Mack drawled. “And a whole lot of places I’d probe.”

  “I suppose the Quill of Niamh is in a safe place?” Griffin felt like punching the arrogant prizefighter and was pleased to see him squirm. “You worry about your treasure. This Clare person is my problem, and she has to willingly give me what’s mine.”

  “The stone is not yours,” Grandfather warned. “It belongs to Brigid, and we are the guardians to bestow it to our goddess and bring about her return to Ireland to reign and rule.”

  Flap. Flap. Flap. That was all his grandfather did. Flap his jaw while Griffin had to do all the work.

  “Thanks for the information,” Griffin said. “I better get back to the delightful lunch I’m sharing with my Brigid.”

  “You mean Clare Hart,” Pierce reminded. “If she produces a son for you, you’ll be off the hook.”

  “I don’t want to be off the hook,” Griffin said, glaring at his grandfather. Apparently, that was what his grandfather had done and then his father. They weren’t able to return the Heart of Brigid and bring the goddess back, so they passed the hot potato to their sons. “This ends here and now, with me and my Brigid. I will fulfill the prophecy and bring the Queen of Ireland back to save Ireland from all marauders, financial and environmental.”

  Every man raised their fist and shouted the rallying cry, “Éirinn go Brách.”

  Chapter 14

  Clare swirled the fragrant wine under her nose and inhaled the alluring scent of the bouquet. The entire castle grounds, or what she’d seen of it, held a magical air of luxury, charm, and natural beauty. If she didn’t know any better, Gallagher Castle could be the location for a first-class resort or the set for an epic movie series.

  She glanced toward the double French doors where Griffin had disappeared to take a phone call. From where she was sitting, she could see the curtains billowing from the second-floor windows. He’d excused himself when Pierce interrupted them about fifteen minutes ago, and she was starting to fret that he wasn’t coming back.

  Was someone watching her from the window? Or did he already suspect her? What if he was searching her rental car? Fortunately, she’d hidden the diamond, and he’d find nothing other than ordinary clothes, no wands or wings, and the usual makeup and toiletries a young lady carried.

  Still, she’d better be more careful and not get carried away by Griffin’s charming masculinity. She’d already purposely confused him by not keeping her story consistent. At first, she pretended to be Brigid, the fairy queen, claiming her domain. But once he let on that the Heart of Brigid was missing and the supposed Brigid hadn’t been seen since the twelfth century when she was imprisoned by the Norman conqueror, Clare figured she’d try a different tack.

  If his memory ever returned, he could possibly identify her as Clare Hart, who he’d decided was a witch or the Morrigan. She had to find his game plan and also figure out if there was any danger from the other guys who were after the Heart of Brigid.

  A gemstone so valuable had to have contenders.

  She looked around when a shadow fell on her from behind. Griffin was back, and he wore a friendly expression on his face.

  “I hope I haven’t been gone too long.” He sat down and motioned to the waiters to bring their food.

  “I’m having a delightful time,” she said, taking a sip of the wine and licking her lips. “Am I keeping you from important business?”

  She leaned back while the waiter placed a dish of white fish filets with a side of pear, pecan, and potato salad in front of her.

  “You’re not. I’m basically reviewing all of my notes and trying to piece together what happened to the fairy queen’s heart. It’s kind of strange that you have the same name.”

  “Why would that be strange?” Clare tasted the tender flakes of fresh fish. “Brigid is a very common name in these parts.”

  “True, but what are the chances that someone named Brigid who knows so much about fairies and the Otherworld should happen to visit me soon after I lost the Heart of Brigid?” He cut off a small piece of fish and dipped it in the butter pepper sauce, all the while staring at her for a reaction.

  “Spin the wheel.” Clare twirled her hand. “It’s fate. Are you saying you never have women visitors come up this way? I find that hard to believe.”

  “According to my records, no,” Griffin said. “No female companionship, thanks to the Heart of Brigid being lost.”

  “Am I supposed to believe that for all your lifetimes, you have no pictures, portraits, love letters of any women you might have dated?”

  He shook his head slowly, rubbing his chin. “I’m supposed to take better notes, but the annals have many gaps. It looks like I’ve been very unlucky in love. I might be a thousand-year virgin.”

  “Unbelievable.” She giggled as she speared a piece of pear. “I shouldn’t say, but you are a sexy man. I find it hard to believe you hide behind these castle walls without meeting anyone.”

  “I did go to America a few weeks back,” Griffin said. “Apparently, it was after a very long life.”

  “Then you must have had a girlfriend or at least one date. Unless you were a complete ass in that life.” Her mouth twitched, and she couldn’t keep a straight face, because the Griffin she met on the airplane was definitely an ass.

  “You know something about my most recent life?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Have we met?”

  Clare gulped and covered it by taking another sip of wine. “Do you have pictures on your phone? Selfies? Posts to social media?”

  “Only of my grandfather and Pierce,” Griffin said. “There’s also Seamus, Mack, and Eamon. According to my grandfather, we are the four guardian knights of Ireland.”

  “Did you say Seamus?” Clare’s fork bobbled, and she set it down.

  “Oh, yes, Seamus O’Toole,” Griffin said. “We call him O’Fool.”

  “He’s your buddy? When was the last time you saw him?”

  “It must have been the last life,” Griffin said. “I haven’t spoken to him yet, but he mailed me a phony copy of the Heart of Brigid. He must have suspected I’d lose my memory.”

  Griffin took a stone out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

  Clare narrowed her eyes and stared at the rock. It was shinier than the rough diamond which had an oily sheen. But it was the same size, with a similar color.

  “What if he stole the real stone and substituted this one?” Clare asked. “How do you know you can trust him?”
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  “I can’t,” Griffin said. “He’s a trickster at heart, but his family has also failed to guard the Irish legacy they were entrusted with.”

  “What is it?” Clare asked.

  A shadow lowered over Griffin’s brow, and he palmed the stone, covering it. “Certainly, you’re familiar with the four treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

  “The spear of Lúgh, the sword of Nuada, Dagda’s cauldron, and the stone of Fál,” Clare ticked them off. “But you’ve already messed it up. The Heart of Brigid is a stone, but it’s not the stone of Fál which sat up on the hill of Tara and determined the crowning of the high king.”

  “You are smart,” Griffin said. “These are the four treasures told in fairy tales. But when the Fae were defeated and relegated to the Otherworld, their magic changed into miniature versions which were more precious. The large standing stone became a diamond in the rough. The other items also turned smaller and more valuable.”

  “What are they?”

  “I cannot say,” Griffin said. “It is for each of the families to safeguard their treasure.”

  “Which, apparently, they’ve all lost.” Clare sniffed and picked at her salad. “Fat lot of good having guardian families do for Ireland.”

  The fact that Griffin knew Seamus bothered her. What if she were the one being set up to take the fall? But how could anyone predict she’d steal his trinket which turned out to be a valuable diamond? Unless Seamus was going to hook up with her later and snatch the diamond from her? It made sense then to mail Griffin a phony.

  She’d better proceed carefully. Hopefully, she hadn’t been followed to the abbey. But even then, so what? Seamus couldn’t get admittance past Abbess Aisling, since only females were allowed past the gate.

  Griffin snickered and broke her out of her musing. “You are an interesting creature. You claim you’ll help me find my treasure. How shall we start?”

  Clare glanced around to see if anyone was within hearing distance. The butler was standing at the rose arbor, speaking on his mobile phone, and a gardener clipped deadheads from the rosebushes.

  “Trust no one,” she said. “Not even your grandfather or Pierce. Tell them you met an interesting woman, me, and we’re taking a road trip through Ireland.”

  “Now you’re going cloak and dagger on me.” He chuckled, wiping his lips with a napkin. “Why should I trust you?”

  She put her hand over his and tickled the hairs on the backs of his fingers. “I saved one of your lives, didn’t I?”

  “You did, but you also deny you’re my Brigid. Could it be you’re an impersonator?”

  Why did he sound so suspicious? Or was she imagining it? It was getting hard for her to keep her story straight, since she’d changed it a few times already.

  She returned his gaze as levelly as she could. “This might sound strange, but I don’t know for sure who I am. I was an orphan raised in an abbey. I don’t know who my parents are. I get visions and hear voices, fairy music and whispers. There are places here, like up in the gallery, where the air feels thick like gelatin, and the dankness is like anointing oil, slick against my skin.”

  Okay, so she was exaggerating for his benefit, but that sexy vision was so hot and real, it was a miracle she didn’t fall off the castle wall.

  He leaned toward her, eyes wide and excited. “It means you are half in our world and half in the Otherworld. It may be that you are a changeling, or you’re the human vessel for Brigid to return.”

  Wouldn’t it be fantastic if it were so? What if she were indeed born of the spirit of Brigid? What a story that would be. Vistas of possibilities opened up like blooming flowers and budding leaves.

  She looked into Griffin’s eyes, mustering as much confidence as she could. “I must go back to the abbey to search for clues. If I am indeed the human vessel for Brigid or her changeling, I need to find the record of the day I was left at the abbey gate.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “We’ll need to tell your grandfather a story in order to get away.” Clare finished the wine with a tilt of her head. “We need to leave right away.”

  “Why can’t we tell them we’re searching for the Heart of Brigid?” Griffin looked perplexed as he wiped his hand over his hair.

  “Based on what you’re telling me, the lack of photos and large blanks in your thousand-year history, I suspect someone is hiding information from you,” Clare said. “Perhaps your grandfather and butler want to keep you in the dark.”

  “What for?”

  “To better control you. Don’t you get it? They’re using your memory loss to tell you anything they want.”

  “What else can I do? They’re the only link I have with my past lives.”

  “You must let go of the past. All you have is the present and the future you’re going to manifest. You have to believe you will do great and wonderful things. You must come with me, so I can teach you how to fend for yourself.”

  “Why would you do that for me?” His face was resolute, still resistant with a shadow of suspicion.

  Good.

  A man in his condition should not be so trusting.

  “To claim your wish for me while I show you the way to yours. I will get my love story written and turn it into a movie deal, and you will get your Brigid back.”

  “I don’t remember wishing a movie for you,” he said. “But then again, I don’t remember a lot of things.”

  She stood halfway and kissed him on the lips. “You will remember me. I promise.”

  Chapter 15

  Clare wasted no time helping Griffin pack. She turned down dessert, pushed from the table, and paraded with Griffin into his bedchamber.

  He pulled out a large suitcase and began stuffing papers, books, and clothes into it. She, meanwhile, examined the contents of his desk, looking for receipts, bills, and prescriptions. Anything that looked useful, she stuffed into a duffle bag.

  “Do you take any medication to control your seizures?” she asked as she packed his toiletries.

  “Pierce dispenses the medication,” Griffin said. “I’ll ring him. Why do we have to leave today?”

  “I need to get to the fairy mound at the abbey where I can pick up a message from my guardian fairy,” she improvised. “I go back to her whenever I have a puzzle I can’t figure out. Let’s bring the fake Heart of Brigid to give her something to compare with.”

  “Good idea.” Griffin opened the drawer of his nightstand and brought out a lump of coal. It was still attached to the lanyard he’d worn around his neck. “Do you know anything about this? When Pierce found me, I had this in my hand. I was also calling out a name, Clare.”

  Electric sparks jumped over her scalp. Clare gasped and recoiled from it. It was the piece of coal she’d swapped for Griffin’s rough diamond. Had he known all along that she wasn’t Brigid? That she was Clare Hart, the romance author with silly characters wearing fairy clothes?

  “I can see you have a reaction to the black stone,” Griffin said. “Perhaps it calls to you, or it’s a part of your magic.”

  “I have no idea why you’d waste my time with this piece of garbage.” Her positive thinking studies told her the best defense is a good offense. “Where did you get this?”

  “On my way home, I must have met an evil woman—a Morrigan, who exchanged my Heart of Brigid for this worthless chunk of carbon.”

  She held his gaze. “Do you or do you not want my help?”

  “Of course, I want your help, dear Brigid. To reward you, I’ll make sure you get that story you’re searching for and fund the movie you want.” He picked up a tendril of her hair and replaced it over her ear. He leaned closer and whispered, “We’ll both get our wishes, won’t we?”

  Clare’s jaw snapped shut, and she inhaled sharply. The gesture, which would have been tender and romantic in other circumstances, felt contrived and slightly threatening.

  But she was being overly paranoid. He’d offered her a reward, and he hadn’t imprisoned her or to
rtured her for the location of the stone. In fact, he had an expectant look on his face, as if she could provide answers.

  “Yes, we both will.” She lifted her chin and flashed him a confident smile. “Let’s get going. I assume you want me to drive?”

  “Pierce can return your rental car,” Griffin said. “I’ll take you on a tour of my garage so you can pick from my collection. You can drive, because I haven’t been taking my medication.”

  “Why not? I mean, why aren’t you taking your medication?”

  “I don’t particularly like what I came back to.” He let out a deep sigh. “Maybe if I died again, I can be reborn a hero. According to Grandfather, I’d almost completed my mission.”

  He dangled the coal in front of Clare’s face.

  “What do you mean?” Her jaw slackened, and she refused to look at her piece of coal. “Did you actually find Brigid?”

  “Yes. I made it to her bedchamber. I was so close to restoring her to life. When it was time for me to place her heart into her ribcage, what do you think I found?” His hand shook so hard it made the coal jitter and jump, almost hitting Clare on the nose.

  She stepped back, raising her hand to ward him off. Horror gushed to her throat, and adrenaline rushed through her veins. “What do you mean her ribcage? Metaphorically or literally?”

  “I’d gone back to the twelfth century. I was literally at the cusp of resurrecting my fairy queen.” His upper lip curled, exposing gritted teeth. “Instead, I apparently died writing Clare, Clare, Clare, Clare on the stone floor outside of the bedchamber.”

  “It must have been a dream.”

  “This piece of coal is real.” He grabbed Clare’s hand and pressed the coal into her palm. “Have you ever dreamt something so real it was like watching yourself in a movie?”

  Clare nodded as if she were hypnotized, unable to remove her gaze from the dark pools of Griffin’s eyes. “All the time. I get visions even when I’m awake. It’s like I stepped into one of my stories.”