Wild Irish Witch Read online

  Fiona shook her head. Here she was thinking glum thoughts, when tomorrow she was to be married to her love. She couldn’t wait to marry him and see what his surprise was for her. She had a small surprise of her own to give him, Fiona thought with a small smile as she stepped into the local goldsmith’s shop.

  “Hello there, David, how are things today?” Fiona called as she stepped into the small shop. With one glass window and a single counter that divided the shop from the workshop, it wasn’t much by way of a shop. But Fiona knew David to be a master in his craft, so she had commissioned him to a make a small wedding band for John to wear.

  She wondered how he would feel about wearing a band. Not all men in the village did. But she promised herself she wouldn’t be offended if he chose not to wear one.

  “Looking forward to a fun day tomorrow, that’s for sure. I’m closing up the shop and everything,” David beamed at her, coming forward to wipe his hands on a small cloth tucked in his waistband. A bristly auburn beard concealed much of his jovial face and kind eyes looked down at her.

  “I’m sure it’s going to be great fun. I’ll be looking forward to the planning being done, that’s for sure,” Fiona said with a smile.

  “I’ve the ring right here. It was great fun to design the warrior’s shield onto a ring,” David admitted, unfolding a small velvet cloth to reveal the ring.

  “Oh, David. It’s perfect,” Fiona breathed, picking up the ring and examining the craftsmanship. “The O’Briens are descended from great warriors. This is stunning.”

  “Tis pleased I am to be making something of that nature for you.” David bobbed his head and grinned at her.

  “It’s perfect. Truly. Thank you again,” Fiona gushed, then looked at the small watch on her wrist. “I must be going. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  “Best wishes,” David called after her as Fiona hurried out, breezing past people on the street as she made her way to the seamstress’ shop. She had her final fitting for the dress that she and Bridget had found at a little shop a few hours away in another town.

  “Caren, I’m here,” Fiona called, pushing her way into the shop to find Bridget and Caren already waiting for her.

  “Sure and you’re running late then,” Bridget said, raising an eyebrow at her.

  “I’m sorry. I was helping Dr. Collins with a tonic and then I had to stop and get John’s ring and― oh. Oh my. Is that my dress?” Fiona breathed, standing in awe before the dress on the dress form.

  “It is. It’s turned out beautifully, don’t you think? Highly unusual dress,” Caren commented, crossing her arms as she studied it.

  “Fiona’s not your usual woman,” Bridget pointed out.

  “No she’s not. This is going to just shine on her too,” Caren agreed.

  It was a lace and chiffon dress with short lace sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and then beneath the bust it just fell away in loose waves of chiffon. It was airy, ethereal, and impossibly lovely. Beading under the bust and at the shoulders added a touch of sparkle.

  And it was pink.

  A beautifully dyed, blush pink, that was just this shade of unusual without being scandalous. The tone would suit Fiona’s coloring perfectly and she could already imagine the looks of surprise on her guest’s faces when she walked outside in this dress.

  “It’s perfect,” Fiona breathed.

  “Well now, off with your clothes. We can’t have the most talked about event of the season not have a bride wearing a perfectly fitted dress. At least not on my watch,” Caren murmured around the pins in her mouth and Fiona smiled at her.

  “It really is going to be the event of the season, isn’t it?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “You look beautiful,” Bridget breathed.

  They were standing in an upstairs bedroom at the O’Brien farm. After careful negotiation, they had all agreed to hold the ceremony on the small hill above the O’Brien’s farm where the view of the ocean was unobstructed. Almost as good as getting married by the cove, but Fiona hadn’t pushed for that spot. She was trying to follow through on the “choose your battles” mantra she had recited to herself when she had first met Celeste.

  It didn’t matter to her― not really. All that mattered was that she got to wear a pretty dress and marry the man she loved.

  Tonight she would be Fiona O’Brien. She shivered at the thought, already anticipating some of her new wifely duties. No matter how long she had John for, she was determined to be the best wife she could be.

  She hadn’t forgotten about her talk with Bridget in the soft light of the peat fire that night. But she’d pushed it low in her mind, refusing to give the thought of losing John too much credence. It would be easy to fall glum and worry about something that had yet to happen. Instead, she was choosing to celebrate the moment.

  Fiona turned to the mirror and studied herself.

  The blush pink dress fit like a glove― managing to show her shape and yet still flow in soft waves around her. Her mother had braided her hair back from the crown and entwined blush pink roses in the braid. Her hair then fell in loose curls over her shoulder and down her back. Small pearl droplets hung at her ears and a tiny seed pearl necklace― given to her by her mother― was all the jewelry she wore.

  Her mother had shadowed her eyes and added mascara so they looked deeper, larger and more knowing somehow. No blush was needed as a healthy flush tinged her cheeks. A swipe of lipstick, and Fiona was a beautiful, ethereal bride.

  “I feel like a goddess or something,” Fiona whispered.

  “You look like one too. Just wait until the villagers get a sight of you. You’re going to be the talk of the town. Nobody is going to want a fussy wedding dress after they see yours.”

  “Are you ready then, Fiona?” Celeste called up the stairs.

  “Aye, I am.”

  “Let’s go, love,” Bridget said, her eyes shining with happiness. She looked smart in a pretty lavender dress with mother-of-pearl buttons. Her hair was tightly coiled against her head, and pearls ringed her throat as well.

  Together, they descended the narrow stairs with Bridget behind Fiona, carrying the short train of her dress so it wouldn’t trail on the floor. They stepped into the foyer where Celeste, Henry, and Fiona’s father waited.

  “Oh. Oh my. I wasn’t expecting this,” Celeste said, her eyes trailing over Fiona from her feet all the way up to her hair.

  “My baby. So beautiful,” Fiona’s father stepped forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek. The smell of whiskey on his breath blasted her and she gritted her teeth.

  “Thank you,” Fiona said demurely and then looked past him to the O’Briens where Henry waited to see how Celeste would respond.

  Celeste pursed her lips as she considered Fiona’s choice of gown. The silence drew out between them as they waited and Fiona shifted uncomfortably.

  “You’re stunning. You’re going to set a new trend for all the brides in town,” Celeste finally decided, as though decreeing a judgment over the land, and Fiona blew out a sigh of relief.

  “I said the same thing, Celeste,” Bridget said.

  “My son is a lucky man,” Henry boomed out.

  They all left the front room, leaving from the front of the house so Fiona could pile into the wedding carriage Henry had designed. Two horses draped in roses stood at attention at the front of a wagon that had similarly been draped in pink roses and crushed velvet. Fiona was helped up into the carriage and the rest of the family piled in, with Henry on the front seat driving the horses.

  Fiona clutched Bridget’s hand as the horses ambled off, the carriage rocking back and forth gently as they plodded up the hill behind the farm towards the spot where row upon row of hay had been stacked and covered with blankets to form a makeshift aisle. Fiona’s heart clutched as John came into view, standing in his Sunday best at the front, smiling broadly at her in the carriage.

  The villagers all began to murmur to each other, and Fiona knew they were commenting on th
e color of her dress. Just wait until they saw the whole thing, she thought with a smile.

  A few of the town’s favorite musicians struck up a jaunty song, as Fiona had instructed them she didn’t want anything traditional. Henry pulled the carriage to a stop at the end of the aisle and got out, first holding his hand out to Celeste and then to Bridget. He turned and smiled at the crowd, escorting both women to their seats and Fiona waited for her father to help her down from the carriage.

  The crowd gasped as he stumbled from the carriage, almost slipping and hitting his head on the step up. Fiona closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again, pasting a smile on her face.

  “Sorry about that, love. I’ve got you now.”

  Fiona looked down at her father and saw the embarrassment and regret in his eyes and she let go of any anger she had towards him. What mattered was that he was a good man― with a huge heart. And he was here to walk her down the aisle.

  Holding her head up high, she stepped down from the carriage, and wound her arm through her father’s. They stopped at the end of the aisle and the guests all looked a little shell-shocked by her dress. She didn’t think anyone had seen a pink wedding dress before.

  But Fiona wasn’t looking at the crowd. Not when her eyes landed on John. He looked handsome as could be, with his hair slicked back and his suit freshly pressed. A wide smile wreathed his face as he looked at her, and he nodded once at her as though to say, That’s my girl.

  “Ready to walk me down the aisle?” Fiona smiled up at her father, feeling happiness wash through her on this most perfect of days.

  The band struck up a merry tune, one that mixed longing and happiness all in one breath, and Fiona stepped forward, ready to claim her new life.

  It felt like it took forever and no time at all to get down the aisle and in moments, her hands were tied with John’s as they recited vows of traditional Celtic blessings and promises. Fiona felt the current of love rush through John and into her, and she could feel the magical bond wrap them together for life― much like the rope bonds that hung around their wrists.

  She hadn’t known― not really― what it would like to be bound to a man. But this was something far different and much greater than she had anticipated. As she spoke the ancient Celtic words of love and binding, she felt the pulse of magick move through her and entwine her to John.

  Their eyes met, and she knew that John felt it too.

  Once bound, can’t be broken.

  Fiona smiled softly at John as the officiant invoked the elements, following the traditional Celtic handfasting vows. As the blessings rained down upon them, she made a promise to herself.

  That for however long she was gifted with the presence of this man, she would love him in a way that few would ever know. Wholly, thoroughly, and without hesitation or reservation.

  For in this life, and the one after, she was bound to him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The party lasted late into the day, with the musicians taking turns and being joined by the villagers. Food and wine flowed easily, and Fiona laughed more than she ever had in her life. It was a day of magick and of blessings, and few were the moments that John’s hand wasn’t entwined with hers or his lips far from her own. They danced, drank, and gave mighty cheers and blessings to those who shared in their joy.

  And as the sun sunk toward the horizon, John pulled her aside.

  “It’s time to go. My surprise is ready for you,” John whispered into her ear, his words causing shivers to run through her. She smiled up at him, positively vibrating with her love for him.

  “Should we say our goodbyes?” Fiona whispered, glancing over his shoulder at the party that raged behind them.

  “Not in the slightest. You know a proper Irish goodbye is to slip from the party unnoticed,” John pointed out, drawing her down the hill and around the side of the house. Fiona gasped out a laugh when she saw the ribbons and streamers flowing from his truck.

  “Your carriage awaits, my lady,” John said, brandishing his arm wide as he opened the door wide and helped her up.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? My beautiful bride in a pink dress that the whole town is talking about.”

  Fiona winked at him.

  “I think we should probably get used to the town talking about us,” Fiona teased.

  “Yes, life is never going to be dull when I’m married to magick,” John teased right back as he drove the truck along the road that wrapped the cliffs towards the cove.

  “Are you taking me to the cove to see if the light shines again?” Fiona said, smirking at him. “I’m fairly certain it will. It’s obvious we are meant for each other.”

  John laughed at her but said nothing. She smiled as they approached the turnoff for the cove, thinking it would be a lovely spot to watch the sun sink into the horizon on a day that dreams were made of. Instead, he veered right and followed the road up the hill.

  “Where are you…” Fiona trailed off as all words simply left her.

  Her cottage.

  The one she had dreamed of. Where a month ago, the fields above the cove lay empty― now a beautiful stone cottage sat. With pretty window boxes that had fat cheerful red flowers, a bright red door, and shiny new glass sparkling in the windows. Fiona choked down a sob as the truck rolled to a stop in front of the cottage.

  “How? How did this happen?” Fiona whispered.

  “Magick?” John asked, raising an eyebrow at her before he jumped from the truck and raced around the front to open the door for her. Tears leaked from Fiona’s eyes― ruining her makeup, she was sure― but she didn’t care.

  Her cottage. Plucked straight from her dreams and into reality. It was perfect. John was perfect.

  “I love you,” Fiona gushed, falling into his arms as he pulled her from the truck.

  “I hope you like it. That’s where I’ve been all this time. The land is a gift from my parents. The house is a gift from myself, and your parents. We’ve all been working nonstop to get this done in time for the wedding. I’m not even sure that the paint is dry on those window boxes yet,” John chattered, his face flushed with excitement.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about where we would live. I was dreadfully afraid we were moving in with your parents,” Fiona slapped a hand over her mouth and widened her eyes. “I’m so sorry. That’s awfully rude of me. Especially after they’ve given us this land.”

  “Trust me, I understand. I wasn’t about to live with my parents and my new wife either,” John laughed at her and then stopped her as they neared the door. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her so that they could look out over the green hills that rolled out in front of them, before dropping off into the ocean. The sun shot its warm rays across the water, little spikes of yellow and red slashing into the blue. It was stunning and exactly as Fiona had pictured it.

  “I can’t believe I get to wake up to this view every morning,” Fiona gushed.

  “And you’ll be close to all your herbs and moss from the cove― just imagine― you can hike right out onto the land from here,” John said.

  “I can’t believe this is really ours,” Fiona whispered, so happy she felt like her heart could crack.

  “Let me show you the inside,” John said, pulling her toward the door.

  Fiona laughed.

  “I was so excited about the outside, I didn’t even think about the inside!”

  John threw the pretty red door open and stopped, pulling her into his arms and sweeping her feet off the ground. Stepping through the door, he carried her inside to their new home.

  “I love it,” Fiona exclaimed instantly and John laughed, his lips warm against her neck.

  “You’ve barely seen it.”

  “It’s perfect though,” Fiona insisted, twisting to look around the room. The door opened directly into one large room. To her left was a long counter with a sink and a stove. A large window stretched the length of the wall and allowed for an unobstructed view of the w
ater. The wall along the middle was lined floor to ceiling with shelves for storage and was only broken by two doors. A beautifully oiled wood farm table sat in the middle of the room, with long benches on either side. To the right was a lovely little nook that had a table and two chairs set next to a small fireplace. One of the chairs was a beautifully carved wood rocking chair with a bow on it.

  “What is this chair? Who made this?” Fiona asked as John set her on her feet. She crossed over to run her hands over the smooth wood. “Is this teak? It’s gorgeous.”

  It was at that. Smooth teak wood, polished until it shown, with wide armrests. Fiona moved the bow and sat in the chair, smiling up at John.

  “It feels like it’s hugging me,” Fiona said, amazed that something made out of such a hard substance could feel so soft and enveloping.

  “I made it. For you. I want you to know I’ll always cradle you with my love,” John said shyly and Fiona’s mouth dropped open.

  “But John, I didn’t know you could do something like this,” Fiona said, her heart in her eyes.

  “Surprise,” John said softly.

  “And on top of building the house? Oh, John, it’s too much,” Fiona said, standing to be closer to him. She wanted to touch him― all of him― and hold him near and never let him go. This man was her every dream come true and she gasped just thinking about not having him in her life.

  “Take me to our bedroom,” Fiona whispered into his ear and again, John lifted her easily, moving through the door on the right.

  A large bed with a wrought iron headboard sat in the middle of the room, with a simple white coverlet stretched across it. One wall of the room had a large window, with delicate white lace curtains pulled back and tied with evergreen bows. Fiona could see a small bathroom attached to the corner of the bedroom. Large wooden beams crisscrossed above her head and added charm to the room.