The Scarlet Deep
Page 12
Tom was right. He’d been acting like a child. Anne was her own woman and always had been.
“Murphy,” Terry said, amusement in his voice. “You sure you want Anne O’Dea at the summit for the good of all vampirekind, or do you have a personal motive?”
Both, but that was hardly Terry’s business.
“Just call Mary again,” he said. “Tell her you need her there. She’ll come or she’ll send her sister.”
“Fine. But if she hangs up on me again, I’m setting Gemma on you.”
Murphy couldn’t hold in the laugh. “Fair enough.”
TWO nights later, Brigid was back and silently accompanying Murphy to a dinner for some local business organization.
“What is wrong with you?” he muttered, leaning to her ear. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
“I hate these things.”
“I know, but Tom’s legs are crap and Declan is hopeless when it comes to accessorizing.”
He saw her bite back a smile. Murphy would never insist on it, but it did make it easier to have Brigid accompany him on necessary outings like this. If he took a human employee, Brigid would just have to arrange protection anyway. It made sense to have her be his date. Brigid wore a ring, so if anyone asked, Murphy introduced her as his cousin. And to be honest, she made an amusing dinner companion. Usually her commentary on the social elite of Dublin had him in quiet stitches all night, and her brightly colored hair always drew the most amusing attention.
But ever since Brigid had come back from Galway, she’d been… off.
“How was Galway?”
“Fine.”
“Or should I ask about Kinvara specifically?”
She paused. “You know Anne and I are close.”
“Oh, I do.” He leaned down again. “Any interesting topics of conversation?”
If she could have blushed, the look on her face said she would have.
“We talked about painting.”
Ah, that damned painting. He knew he should have rid himself of it years ago.
“Finally figured us out, did you?”
Her silence said it all.
“You know, if you were curious, you could have just asked me about our prior relationship.”
“Nope. Fairly sure I got a much more detailed story from Anne.”
Murphy froze. “How detailed?”
She nodded, a smile touching her lips. “Impressively detailed.”
“She did not.”
“No, but the look on your face speaks volumes.” She elbowed him. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew we were friends. I thought we were friends.”
“It was a long time ago. It’s not something I talk about.”
“Funny, but she said almost exactly the same thing. I find it curious that it was oh so long ago, and yet both of you are still so touchy about talking about it. You and Angie joke about old stories all the time.”
“It’s different.”
“Oh? How exactly?”
Murphy didn’t want to tell her, so he pulled her up and back from their table, making quiet excuses to the host at the back of the room before they left. Brigid was standing out in the cold and he was handing her off to the driver within minutes.
“You’re off for the rest of the night,” he said. “Go home and bother your husband.”
“Someone’s feeling tetchy, eh? Not my fault, and you never answered my question.” Brigid looked a little irritated.
“And I’m not going to. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going hunting.”
Her face lost all the irritation and turned professional again. “Murphy—”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Please tell me you’re heading out of town or going fishing.”
“Fish blood is vile.”
“Murphy!”
“You’re not my mam, Brigid. You’re my employee.”
“And you’re an asshole.” She got into the car, a glare on her face. “I’m calling Tom.”
“Fine. At least he doesn’t bother me with questions that are none of his bloody business.”
Which was completely untrue, but Brigid didn’t need to know that.
He was hungry. Murphy hated not being able to hunt as he wished.
He walked toward Merrion Road and headed north, back toward the Grand Canal. He cut through back alleys and skirted humans who were out for a Friday-night stroll. It was early evening still and he made a game of it, stalking a group of humans and getting within a few feet without their seeing him before he melted into the shadows and pursued someone else.
He was almost back to his building when he saw her. Straight dark hair fell down to the middle of her back. Her waist flared out to generous hips that swayed in the formfitting black dress she’d donned that night. Soft, pale arms gestured as she laughed with a friend. Her hair was pinned on the sides to reveal a graceful, plump neck. She held herself proudly, shoulders thrown back as she walked under the canopy of trees that shadowed the path.
He followed them, the dark-haired girl bringing his hunger to a boiling point. She would be luscious. Sweet. He rarely fed from girls who looked like Anne. It was too problematic. But that night, maybe he’d make an exception.
And she would want him. Murphy had little doubt he could seduce the woman, even without the benefit of amnis. She would look on him with lust and desire and welcome him with open arms. He could lose himself in her body. Take her blood. Forget…
“Murphy,” Terry said, amusement in his voice. “You sure you want Anne O’Dea at the summit for the good of all vampirekind, or do you have a personal motive?”
Both, but that was hardly Terry’s business.
“Just call Mary again,” he said. “Tell her you need her there. She’ll come or she’ll send her sister.”
“Fine. But if she hangs up on me again, I’m setting Gemma on you.”
Murphy couldn’t hold in the laugh. “Fair enough.”
TWO nights later, Brigid was back and silently accompanying Murphy to a dinner for some local business organization.
“What is wrong with you?” he muttered, leaning to her ear. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
“I hate these things.”
“I know, but Tom’s legs are crap and Declan is hopeless when it comes to accessorizing.”
He saw her bite back a smile. Murphy would never insist on it, but it did make it easier to have Brigid accompany him on necessary outings like this. If he took a human employee, Brigid would just have to arrange protection anyway. It made sense to have her be his date. Brigid wore a ring, so if anyone asked, Murphy introduced her as his cousin. And to be honest, she made an amusing dinner companion. Usually her commentary on the social elite of Dublin had him in quiet stitches all night, and her brightly colored hair always drew the most amusing attention.
But ever since Brigid had come back from Galway, she’d been… off.
“How was Galway?”
“Fine.”
“Or should I ask about Kinvara specifically?”
She paused. “You know Anne and I are close.”
“Oh, I do.” He leaned down again. “Any interesting topics of conversation?”
If she could have blushed, the look on her face said she would have.
“We talked about painting.”
Ah, that damned painting. He knew he should have rid himself of it years ago.
“Finally figured us out, did you?”
Her silence said it all.
“You know, if you were curious, you could have just asked me about our prior relationship.”
“Nope. Fairly sure I got a much more detailed story from Anne.”
Murphy froze. “How detailed?”
She nodded, a smile touching her lips. “Impressively detailed.”
“She did not.”
“No, but the look on your face speaks volumes.” She elbowed him. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew we were friends. I thought we were friends.”
“It was a long time ago. It’s not something I talk about.”
“Funny, but she said almost exactly the same thing. I find it curious that it was oh so long ago, and yet both of you are still so touchy about talking about it. You and Angie joke about old stories all the time.”
“It’s different.”
“Oh? How exactly?”
Murphy didn’t want to tell her, so he pulled her up and back from their table, making quiet excuses to the host at the back of the room before they left. Brigid was standing out in the cold and he was handing her off to the driver within minutes.
“You’re off for the rest of the night,” he said. “Go home and bother your husband.”
“Someone’s feeling tetchy, eh? Not my fault, and you never answered my question.” Brigid looked a little irritated.
“And I’m not going to. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going hunting.”
Her face lost all the irritation and turned professional again. “Murphy—”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Please tell me you’re heading out of town or going fishing.”
“Fish blood is vile.”
“Murphy!”
“You’re not my mam, Brigid. You’re my employee.”
“And you’re an asshole.” She got into the car, a glare on her face. “I’m calling Tom.”
“Fine. At least he doesn’t bother me with questions that are none of his bloody business.”
Which was completely untrue, but Brigid didn’t need to know that.
He was hungry. Murphy hated not being able to hunt as he wished.
He walked toward Merrion Road and headed north, back toward the Grand Canal. He cut through back alleys and skirted humans who were out for a Friday-night stroll. It was early evening still and he made a game of it, stalking a group of humans and getting within a few feet without their seeing him before he melted into the shadows and pursued someone else.
He was almost back to his building when he saw her. Straight dark hair fell down to the middle of her back. Her waist flared out to generous hips that swayed in the formfitting black dress she’d donned that night. Soft, pale arms gestured as she laughed with a friend. Her hair was pinned on the sides to reveal a graceful, plump neck. She held herself proudly, shoulders thrown back as she walked under the canopy of trees that shadowed the path.
He followed them, the dark-haired girl bringing his hunger to a boiling point. She would be luscious. Sweet. He rarely fed from girls who looked like Anne. It was too problematic. But that night, maybe he’d make an exception.
And she would want him. Murphy had little doubt he could seduce the woman, even without the benefit of amnis. She would look on him with lust and desire and welcome him with open arms. He could lose himself in her body. Take her blood. Forget…
