Free Selkie's Song (Fado Trilogy) by Clare Austin

lump in his throat before he was able to speak. “I’m not sure ‘shocked’ is the right word for it. Surprised? Sure.” Part of him was shocked, surprised, and a little off balance. “I’ve two sisters. I guess I’ve been really protective of them all these years. What you did…well, I think if you were my sister, I’d take you home and lock you away for good.”
    Muireann curled into her chair, pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. She looked so deep into Tynan’s eyes he was tempted to turn away. His heart leapt into a gallop as she spurred his desire for her. In the silence, he was deafened by the blood coursing in his ears.
    “I guess it’s a grand thing then,” she began, “that I’m not one of your sisters.”

Chapter Six
    Ty had awakened with a smile on his face and throbbing evidence of the erotic dream that held him captive as he slept. The particulars escaped him, but Muireann O’Malley had played a major role in his unconscious wanderings.
    He took a shower and threw the windows open to the crisp morning air to wake himself enough to believe she wasn’t only in his imagination. No, she was here, unmarried, beautiful, and her edgy disdain for authority undimmed with maturity.
    However tantalizing Muireann was, Ty reminded himself not to let her presence preclude his true reasons for coming to Ireland. He would have to stay focused and not allow this serendipity to dislodge his determination. That decided, he wouldn’t refuse the pleasure of her company while he took care of business here in Ireland.
    At his ten o’clock appointment time at the Ballinacurragh Fisherman’s Bank and Loan, he was thanking his hostess for the breakfast and rushing out the door of the An Currach B&B.
    The bank offices occupied one of the few new buildings on the main street. He took in the fresh brick and mortar façade and entered through the revolving glass doors. An austere woman with dark rimmed spectacles greeted him.
    “May I help you?” she said in clear, Dublin-educated speech that you could hang icicles on and not have them melt until next August.
    He offered his hand. “Ty Sloane. I’ve an appointment.”
    “Ms. Walshe,” she said and accepted his handshake. Her fingers were cold as a dead mackerel in winter, a mighty contrast to Muireann’s soft and warm hand when he’d finally said good night. He had wanted to kiss her, but it hadn’t been the right time. Ty was a musician. He knew something about timing.
    Ty took a seat, listened to the vapid melody piped in overhead, and wondered what kind of person picked the tunes for lobby music.
    “Mr. Sloane?” The chilly way she spoke his name shook him back to the present.
    “Uh, yes.”
    “Mr. Feeney will see you now.” She nodded toward a glassed-in office where Tynan could see the back of the banker’s balding head. The same balding head that had been the target of Muireann’s verbal darts last night. Tynan hoped the man had gotten over the sting. Whatever was going on between the two, Muireann had not offered an elaboration last night over tea. Besides, it would have surely dampened their warm conversation.
    Feeney turned on his chair and waved Tynan in. The office seemed hermetically sealed, the air processed, purified, and recycled. No windows, no view of the street to the front or the sea to the rear. Photos on the wall were of Dublin’s financial district. It felt as though Tynan had left the village of cozy cottages, welcoming public houses, and entered an alternate universe—a world where the inhabitants dismissed geniality in deference to the euro.
    “Mr. Sloane,” he said and stood, reaching over his glass-topped desk to shake Tynan’s hand. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay in our little town.” He directed Tynan to a chair. “But certainly you’re eager to get back to your life in Boston, so I won’t detain you long here.”
    “Sure, no problem. I’m actually looking forward to staying in Ireland for a couple