Page 73 of The Scald Crow
“Would you like to see the selections?” He chuckled and then passed the menu board to me.
“Sure. What would you recommend?” I scanned the listed entrees while Colm’s gaze consumed me.
“Lady? What would you like?” The server, a burly man with a heavily accented voice, interrupted our romantic interlude.
“Water, please.” I smiled into his broad face.
“Tap or sparkling?” He scribbled on his pad.
“Tap is fine. With ice, lots of ice.” I grinned.
“Anything else?” He nodded at the menu.
“How are the oysters served?” I leaned against the high back of the booth, taking in the ambiance of the same castle design…stone floors, stone walls, and cross-hatched timbers beaming the ceiling.
“Raw.” His eyes wide, he spat his answer.
I wondered what journey brought this man to O’Donnell’s Lair.
“Yes, but what are they served with? Horseradish? Mignonette?” I expected a response but received none.
“Lemon and a dash of hot sauce are all you’ll likely find in these parts.” Colm’s textured locks caught the light, glowing every shade of gold. All I could think about was his soft lips brushing against mine.
“Sure, sounds great. I’ll have the Gweebarra Bay oysters. Please and thank you.” I nodded toward the server. I couldn’t ignore the full-body quiver running from my toes to the top of my head.
The lights dimmed and then shut off, plunging us into shadowed darkness. Voices rose, and glass shattered before a generator kicked in, lighting up the aisles. Colm hadn’t moved a muscle, unaffected by the surrounding pandemonium.
“And you?” The server remained where he was. He jutted his chin toward Colm.
“Fish and chips and a pint.” He ordered, sending me a quiet smile.
The server turned his back and strutted away.
“How is this going to work, Colm? You and me?” I wiggled on the bench seat, unable to ignore the heat striking my core.
“Let’s eat, and then we’ll talk. I need you healthy.” His mouth quirked into a mischievous smile.
“Healthy? For what? Chopping down trees?” I considered my options. He knew more about me than any human alive. That thought made my heart thrum. Our lives had become so intertwined so quickly. Or were they? I studied him, wanting to believe his intentions were genuine. Was there more to that equation than met the eye?
“What is it?” He pinched his brows together, sensing my hesitation.
“I’m worried about Saoirse. She truly believes I can find Ciarán. I’m worried about you, too.” Should I share my most recent vision with him, the young chieftain of the O’Donnell clan? The resemblance was uncanny—the set of his jaw, the copper locks swept back from his face. I rested my hands on the table’s edge, deciding against it. How much crazy could one man cope with? I was a lot, too much for most, in a league of my own. I sighed through my nose.
“You don’t need to worry about me,mo grhá.” His voice sent fiery arrows straight for my heart.
“Am I a means to an end, Colm? Is that what I am to you?” I popped the question, nagging my every thought. Why did I care? He made me hot. Was that not enough? I planted my palms onto the wooden table, freeing my mind of haunting concerns.
His silence sent needles of doubt prickling down my spine.
“No.” He clasped my hands, dragging my elbows across the table until we were face-to-face.
“I’m not naïve. You’ve been all over me about Ciarán. About this whole ‘Other Crowd,’” I whispered, my voice hollow. My stomach fluttered, and not in a good way. Finvarra’s image floated through my mind. And what of the crazy visions? Some would have locked me up a long time ago.
“You don’t believe Orlaith? That you’re Finvarra’s daughter. That you have sisters.” He opened my palm, tracing the long lifeline. “Look at this vein, Calla. I do not doubt you’re the glitterati.” He circled the birthmark, marring the heel of my hand, a port wine blemish prowling under my skin.
“Trust me, O’Donnell, I bleed red just like you.” How could I deny what I knew to be true? To say it out loud scared the shit out of me. What should I do with that knowledge? “It’s not every day you find out you’re ‘not of this world.’ Why are you looking at me like that? Like you’ve seen a ghost?”
He twined his fingers with mine. “What do you see when you look into my eyes? Do you see a scoundrel? A rogue? Please do not doubt my intentions,mo grhá. I would give anything to have Ciarán back. He’s my brother. My blood. But if finding him meant losing you…that’s not an acceptable option. Not now. Not ever.” His voice hitched with an emotion he had never shared before.
