The Harp and the Fiddle: Glenncailty Castle, Book 1 by Lila Dubois Read Free Book Online

heard me play. I’d taken my harp on the stage. I wanted to pretend, if only for a moment.”
    Sorcha’s face creased in concern. She patted the table and Caera sat, elbows braced as she stared into her teacup. 
    “You shouldn’t hide from the gift you have.”
    Sorcha’s words were a softer version of Tim’s, but unlike him, she knew why Caera both loved and hated her music.
    “I’m a coward,” Caera said.
    “No, you were hurt and needed time to heal.”
    Caera shook herself. The patter of rain and the dense, warm air of the kitchen were bringing on melancholy. 
    “It doesn’t matter anyway. The people playing tomorrow are all professionals, with recording contracts and years of experience. I’m not in their league.”
    Sorcha looked like she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue, sipping her tea. 
    Caera struggled not to think about the past, about all the things she’d lost due to her own foolishness. 
    “So, is he a good kisser?”
    “He is,” Caera said before she realized what she’d just admitted to.
    Sorcha whooped in joy, and like that, the melancholy lifted from the kitchen. The room morphed into a cozy warm den of secrets and laughter, a place where women could talk about men’s kisses.
    “Well, that’s nice, taking advantage of a distracted woman,” Caera griped.
    “You were staring at the wall grinning when I came in. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.”
    “I was?” Caera shook her head, a small smile curving her lips. “I was thinking about it.”
    “Details.”
    “He followed me out in the rain. Asked me if he could kiss me.”
    “And you said yes.”
    “Before I could, he kissed me. It was wonderful.”
    “He’s handsome, charming in that silly American way.”
    “And he has a cute accent.” Caera remembered the way he’d said her name, stumbling slightly over the Irish.
    “He does.” Sorcha looked over her shoulder at the wall, but Caera knew it wasn’t the wall that interested her friend. It was Glenncailty. Even from a distance the building had a presence that could be felt, as if it were drawing you in.
    Sorcha turned back. “He went to the west wing.”
    “He told me.”
    “I’ve told Elizabeth we shouldn’t use it. Should close up the whole floor, but she won’t hear it.”
    “It’s because she’s never felt the cold. Never heard the voices.”
    “Your Tim said he could see the outline of the door. Through the paint.”
    Caera shook her head, glad the troubles of the bricked room were not hers to deal with. “He’s not my Tim.”
    “He is.”
    “I’ve barely spoken to him.”
    “But you’ve kissed him.”
    “A kiss can mean nothing.” Caera spoke with authority.
    “Or it can mean something. Why don’t you enjoy him, while he’s here.”
    “He’s not a bag of crisps to be enjoyed.”
    “Sure he is.” Sorcha tossed her hair. “I plan to enjoy Paddy Fish.”
    “Ah, Sorcha,” Caera sighed. “Will you wait until after the concert to break his heart? I can’t have him backing out because you’ve done him in.”
    Sorcha nodded. “If you want.”
    “Thank you.”
    “ If you give the American a chance.”
    Caera looked at her friend in exasperation. Where Sorcha used sex as both weapon and shield, Caera’s past had made her wary.
    “Sorcha…”
    “Another kiss. See where it goes.”
    Caera was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “He’s a musician.”
    Sorcha stood and came around Caera’s side, hugging her. “That doesn’t mean he’s terrible.”
    “I know that,” Caera said, voice small, “but I couldn’t trust him. I just…can’t.”
    Sorcha said something more, but Caera was lost in her past, remembering the foolish girl she’d been. At seventeen, she’d been full of confidence and life. She’d aced her exams and would be attending Trinity College in the autumn. She landed a job serving chips and gravy to people she’d known all her life in the local pub. When she wasn’t serving, she was singing or