A/N: Thank you to those who are still reading and special thanks go out to those of you who took the time to leave me such wonderful reviews. A BIG thank you especially to Jedi Skysinger for her input into this chapter and her sterling BETA on all my stories.
This was supposed to be the last chapter in this mini saga, telling the tale of Mother's Day Glenanne style, but after long talks with my writing buddy Jedi Skysinger, we realised that Michael McBride's introduction to Fiona's family is an important event in not only Who We Once Were but also in many of our other stories, written both under our own nom de plumes but also as Jedi's Pal. So this has already gone from a two-parter to a four part story that is now a five part tale.
WHO WE ONCE WERE
Chapter Fourteen
Belfast March '98 - Part Four.
The Saturday before Mother's Day.
She was back in the upstairs room of the Blind Beggar Pub in South Armagh… herself, Sean, Liam and Val Temple.
"Pat Keenan is tha one yer gonna have gotta impress." Val Temple chief shot caller of the Provisional IRA's Belfast Brigade leaned forward and reached out to lay one meaty hand on her thigh, giving it a not so gentle squeeze.
Anyone else who took such liberties would have been nursing a broken hand and five broken digits, but not Valentine Temple. He had a seat on the ruling council of the PIRA and as such was untouchable. He was the man who gave her brothers their orders and now, as she had signed up for this operation, he held power over her too.
"Ya see yar brother Sean thar already has a rep. He's tha man who coordinated the London an' Manchester campaign. Keenan is gonna be drooling at tha thought o' poaching such a hero away fram our ranks. Once he proves his change in loyalty, he'll be in an' if all goes well, he'll end up part o' Keenan's inner circle."
She had to remind herself over and over again that she had promised to play nice, that she had been the one to demand a place on this particular assignment as soon as she had overheard her brothers talking about it. She hated the British with a passion. They had killed her father, brother and her sister. But she equally hated the men who believed that killing innocents was justified in the name of the Cause.
"But yarself nar, donnae take offense, girl, but yer considered ta be a bit o' a wild card an' – ah – yer a woman taa. Nar, nar, donnae look at me like thot… Ya know how much we all admire yar skills. We wouldnae be askin' ya ta do this if we dinnae think ya war up ta tha job..." The heavily built man broke eye contact and looked up to where Liam was standing with his arms folded over his chest lounging against the whitewashed wall behind her. "Do ya want ta take over?"
She turned her head to look over her shoulder at her oldest brother, narrowing her eyes to send him a death glare. Liam had already explained to her what the PIRA council wanted her to do and though she had agreed, that didn't mean she liked it.
"Oh, I think ya're doin' fine thar, Val." Her sibling smirked at the older man.
"Fine then," Temple huffed. "We think – tha council thinks, ya can best serve our interests by gettin' close ta Keenan, ahhh, ya know whot I mean? Er, play ta his ego so ta speak."
She sucked in her cheeks, as she reminded herself yet again that punching Temple in the face was not an option and then forced a smile to her lips. "Ya think o' me as one o' tha whores thot ya send out ta honeytrap tha soldiers an' those thot work fer our enemies?"
"Nar, nar, lass, we donnae think o' ya like thot, nae at all. Honestly Fiona, sweetheart, ya'll be playin' a vital part in all o' this. If ya can get Keenan talkin', if ya can get him ta let his guard down around ya... Wa're nae orderin' ya sleep wit' tha man, we'd never ask thot o' ya, trust me. But can ya nae lead ham on a bit? Yer a fine lookin' woman an' tis only fer awhile an' donnae ferget ya'll have Sean thar as yar back up." He had then burst out laughing. "Yer also Liam Glenanne's little sister. It would take a braver man than Pat Keenan ta try sommit on wit' ya... Unless ya wanted it, thot is."
She looked up at one of the most powerful men in Northern Ireland and did her best to smile convincingly and nodded. "I told Liam, I'd do it... Jus' call me Mata Hari fram nar on."
A stray stream of light finding its way between the drawn curtains covering Fiona's bedroom window startled her awake, her blue-green eyes going wide as she looked about her bedroom in confusion. Sucking in a deep breath, the petite auburn haired beauty tried to clear her head.
The dream, or was it a nightmare, had left her feeling queasy as she remembered the distaste she had felt at being more or less ordered to use her charms to win over one of the RIRA's commanders... She shivered as a flashback of Patrick Keenan's large hands pawing at her while she tried to keep him at bay without discouraging him too much flooded her mind.
She'd almost done it too, much to her shame. While Sean was being courted like feckin' royalty by Keenan and his crew in an effort to recruit him into the newly formed Real IRA, she had been reduced to playing the role of a coquette deliberately flirting with the tall heavily built blond, hanging on his every word, laughing at his jokes and leaning into his side when he insisted on paying for her drinks at the bar and then, when she had enough strong spirits to dull her senses, she had allowed him to drag her into a dark corner at the end of the night.
It was during one of those nights in the hot bed of radical talk and whispered promises of mayhem more commonly known as the Wishing Well Pub, that she had won her a place as an active member of the RIRA.
"Thar is only one place fer women and thot is bare-foot, pregnant and in tha kitchen, Am I right, boys?" The drunken lout was one of Keenan's inner circle, a nasty piece of work without, as far as she had been able to discern, a single redeeming feature.
"Is thot whot ya think, Daniel McGarth? Would ya like ta bet on thot?" She had slammed her glass of whisky down on the table top, spilling some of the amber spirit onto the table top.
"A bet? With ya? Jaysus, I heard all about ya, Fiona Glenanne...Yer good at tha simple things, like making up tha explosive, which let's face it, tis nae much more than doin' a bit o' bakin'. Me old girl could do it if ya handed har yar recipe. But tha up close stuff, nae lass. I've never yet met a woman who'll get har hands dirty... Ya wanna bet? Nae gonna happen, sweetheart, I donnae do housework."
He and his bunch of drunken hooligan friends had burst out laughing.
"Ya say women have nae place in tha organization, but I dare say ya havenae said thot ta Bernadette McKevitt, nar have ya?" She had named the wife and joint leader of the RIRA and had the satisfaction of watching McGarth pale before she continued.
"Am sayin' I can beat yar ass seven ways ta Sunday wit' one hand tied behind me back. But seein' how I donnae want ta wreck this fine establishment by tossin' ya arse through tha front window, Am suggestin' a little game. Two guns dismantled an' laid out on tha table. We take a drink an' tis tha first one ta put thar gun together an' show it fires... Whot d'ya say?"
"Jaysus! Woman, ar' ya crazy? Firing a gun off in a crowed pub?"
"Wit' an empty clip, ya idjit… You win, I'll give ya a hundred punts an' ya get ta say ya beat a Glenanne... I win…" She glanced at Keenan who was lounging back in his chair beside her. "When I win, I want me place in tha organization as an active member, jus' like me brother."
Before long everyone in their group was laying bets on the outcome. Someone went off to find two matching Browning hi-power semi-automatics and the weapons were stripped down to their component parts and placed on the table before them. It wa' like takin' candy fram a baby….
She had won Pat fifty punts that night and the hulking blond had accepted that she had earned an active role in the fight for Irish freedom.
"Ya did good. Ya can let Sean know ya'll be workin' wit' ham fram nar on. I'll be keepin' a close eye on tha pair o' ya while ya learn how we do things."
She had kissed him on the cheek, knowing that the older man had been expecting far more for giving her equal status in the ranks, and whispered her thanks into his ear before slipping away out the door of the smoky pub.
It had been at that moment, as she was preparing to slink off into the night, that she had first really noticed the dark haired man sitting at the bar, his blue eyes staring back at her with a slight smile on his lips before he'd returned to his conversation with the Wishing Well's newest bartender.
Thinking about Michael McBride caused Fiona to turn to check the other side of the bed and then she realized her boyfriend was already up and about.
"Michael?" she called out, tilting her head to the side when she didn't get an immediate reply in the hope of catching some sound to give a clue to what he was doing.
When she got no answer to her call, she stretched out, arching her back off the mattress, feeling the pull on the muscles which had been given such a wonderful workout the night before. For a moment she thought about going back to sleep. But then her conscience reminded her they were due at her mothers, one hundred and twenty miles away in the south in time for lunch.
"Sod it, I'll get up," she muttered to herself and rose up off the bed to search for something to put on, in the end taking one of Michael's flannel shirts out of the closet.
Fiona left the bedroom while still fiddling with the tiny buttons. "Michael, Am gonna– " Looking around the small flat, she realized she was all alone. McBride wa' gone…
"Dammit, whot ar' ya playin' at?" she grumbled.
They had talked for half the night about her family, about her brothers' likes and dislikes, what he could do to charm her mother… The subject had seemed long and boring to her, but it had made him happy, or so she thought, seeming to have calmed his nerves about the upcoming trip. Thar wa' no way he'd lost his nerve again, nae after whot they had done at Murphy's an' then afterwards…
Scanning the room, she took heart in the fact that though his coat and shoes were gone, he had left bits of himself all over her flat: his clothes in her closet, the book on Irish history he was reading was still resting on the corner of the coffee table, his socks still drying on the radiator under the window, along with two of her own tops, and his screw driver set was on the counter top in the kitchen, exactly where she left them after she had finished making the charges she had used on the warehouse door.
Walking into the bathroom, the redhead smiled when she saw his toothbrush and razors were still on the shelf above the sink. All that had to mean he hadn't scurried off to the other side of the country in fear of having a face to face meeting with the infamous Liam Glenanne.
Well, while he out doin' whotever tis he's doin' it gives me a chance ta have a shower in peace...
She loved their morning ritual of waking in each other's arms and then bonding in the shower or bathing together if they had nowhere to be. But after the previous night, she wasn't sure if her body was up to another round of love making. Thot had ta be a first… She usually couldnae get enough…
Turning on the taps to start the water running, she then stripped off the shirt she had only just finished buttoning up and hung it on the back of the door. After checking the water was heating up, Fiona stepped up into the bath and stood under the cascading stream and began to clean away all the dirt, sweat and evidence of what had happened the day and night before. The guerrilla fighter grinned as she thought about what they done the night before... All thot lovely dynamite and then McBride had lit up tha night in a whole other way...
Thank God I didnae shoot ham tha first time he got tha nerve ta talk ta me an' thank me lucky stars I found a way ta dump Patrick Keenan which dinnae end with one o' us buried out on tha peat bogs.
"I have a job fer ya… ya will be causin' a distraction fer a jewellery heist yar brother is doing fer us in Belfast." Keenan had reached for her hands over the table and when she picked up the cup of tea in front of her to avoid his touch, he had given her a look much like a puppy who had just been scolded for peeing on the carpet.
"Ya'll be sendin' a message fer us ta tha Brits taa, remindin' tham thar will be nae peace until we have a united Ireland. I want ya ta plant a bomb fer me, a nice big car bomb near St. Annes, big enough ta draw nae only tha law but tha press taa." His hand was under the table now, stroking her leg, so she had shifted her limb out of the way and then grasped his hand in hers for a second before firmly placing it down on the table. She remembered thinking at the time, tha man wa' a damned octopus.
"I can do thot, nae a problem… I'll head north straight away. I have nae been back ta me flat in weeks. It'll be good ta go home."
"Ar' ya bored o' me already, sweetheart? I thought we had sommit."
She had sighed heavily and given him a look filled with regret. "Patrick, I jus' feel at this time, when am tryin' me best ta be taken seriously, bein' with such a great man as yarself... People talk ya know, an –"
"Ya donnae want these people ta think yer only getting' ta do tha jobs Am sendin' ya on because yer wit' me." He'd finished her sentence for her and nodded thoughtfully. "Tis McGarth, is it nae?"
"Nae jus' ham... I – I think fer nar, we should stick ta jus' bein' friends... Is thot alright with ya, Patrick?"
It hadn't been, not truly… she could still see it in the man's eyes every time he insisted on holding her hand or sitting too close at meetings. But so far he had done no more than that. She supposed she should count it lucky that McBride didn't seem to be one of those over protective boyfriends.... Though it would be nice if he displayed even a minuscule bit of interest in her so-called ex-boyfriend.
"Fiona, thar ya ar'..."
She jumped as the shower curtain was pulled back to reveal her dark haired lover grinning at her, his sparkling blue eyes taking in every inch of her nakedness. "Yer looking well this mornin'…"
"So ar' ya... Whar have ya been?" She turned, giving him a better view of her dripping wet figure as she began to wash the shampoo out of her hair.
"I've done a little bit o' shopping. I bought a carton o' Greek yogurt an' some blueberries ta go wit' it and two cappuccinos with extra froth... I thought we– " his words trailed off as she tilted her head back to make sure the water reached the front of her hairline, the movement lifting her rib cage and her breasts in a way sure to tantalize her boyfriend.
"Yogurt an' fruit…?" she queried his choice.
"Thar's cereal in tha cupboard if ya prefer."
"No, tha yogurt will be fine, ta be truthful tha stuff is beginnin' ta grow on me." Fiona turned off the water and accepted the large fluffy white bath towel he held out to her and then took his hand to step out of the bath. "An' me mammy will be wantin' ta feed us up tha whole time wa're thar so havin' sommit light tis probably a good idea."
Standing there, so close their bodies were almost touching with his hands gliding up and down her arms as he stared into her eyes, it was hard not to give into temptation and let the towel slip to the floor. But she held herself in check. Instead of throwing herself into his arms, she swallowed thickly and then took a step back out of his arms, putting her back up tight against the lip of the sink.
"Am hoping tis nae just me taste in food thot is growin' on ya."
"Nah, nae jus' tha food… Ya have other fine qualities taa." The petite paramilitary gathered up a second smaller towel and wrapped it about her wet hair. "But we can discuss tham later. Why dontcha go see ta our breakfast while I finish up in hare."
"If yer sure ya donnae need any help in hare."
"Am sure…" She looked over her shoulder and did her best not to smirk at the look of disappointment on her lover's face. "Yer an incorrigible rogue, McBride, go nar befer ya get any more ideas inta yar head."
She watched him in the reflection from the mirror as he hesitated for a moment in the doorway and then turned away. It was hard for her to find the words for how she felt about this new man in her life. He was smart, tough, far more attentive that any other man she had known and most of all he treated her as his equal. No, it was more than that, he made her feel something she hadn't felt in years, not since Claire's death: Hope... Hope thot thar wa' more ta life than blood an' death.
She took a deep breath and shook her head. Looking away from the mirror she retreated back into the bedroom to finish drying her body and to find something to wear. Whot is up wit' me? Am getting' taa far ahead o' me self. Besides we ar' still at war an' we've a job ta do, so thar is nae point in thinkin' this is nothin' more than a wonderful interlude. Hope dinnae stop ya fram gettin' arrested an' dyin' in a prison cell or bein' gunned down in tha street.
Once dressed in jeans and a long sleeved fitted blouse, Fiona stripped the bottom sheet and the duvet cover from the bed, throwing them into the laundry basket by the door before replacing the items with clean ones from the bottom of her chest of drawers.
A wonderful interlude was a good way of describing what she had with Michael McBride and when she walked into the living space and caught sight of the new man in her life lounging on the couch listening to the news on the TV spooning yogurt into his mouth, she felt a pang of longing for that normal boring life some of her friends complained about.
Crossing the room something else caught her eye: a huge spray of white lilies still wrapped in cellophane, their stems sitting in the sink half filled with water, and on the counter top next to the draining board a gold-colored tin of her mother's favorite brand of loose tea.
"So thot's whar ya went this mornin'? Shoppin' fer me mam's favorite flowers an' tea. Ya do remember I bought har a cashmere cardigan fer Mother's Day?"
"I know, but ya only get one chance ta make a good impression an' I donnae want ta blow it." He patted the spot next to him. "Come an' sit down, yar coffee is gettin' cold."
They ate in companionable silence, sharing the large bowl filled with the extra creamy Greek yogurt with added blueberries which Michael had been previously hogging. Even though she would have preferred something more substantial, she was beginning to get used to his continental ways.
In some ways it reminded her of her time with Armand, of sitting out on the wide veranda at the back of one of his chateaus staring out over the rolling French countryside, trying to ignore the legions of bodyguards who were never far away while snacking on croissants or toast and pate.
She pushed the memories away and leaned into new boyfriend's side, nudging his arm until he raised it so she could get closer still.
"We should get ready ta leave soon... I wish we dinnae have ta go. Am sorry yer gonna be facin' a bloody inquisition. Tis jus' tha way they all ar'."
"It'll be fine, Am sure." He kissed the top of her head and then paused as the scene of the daring night time raid on a County Meath demolition company appeared on the screen.
They listened intently to the reporter explaining that, though the Garda had no idea on how the thieves had gained entry to the heavily guarded site, the Real IRA had already claimed responsibility for the theft of the explosives.
"Whot d'ya think tha Provo are gonna do about this?" her lover asked as the news crew turned their attention to the owner of the Murphy's Demolition and Dismantling as he tried to defend his company's decision to store so much explosive in an armoured truck overnight rather than keep it in the secure safe it should have been stored in.
"I donnae know…" She shrugged her shoulders, happy now that it was clear the police had no clue who had done the robbery and, unless they were hiding something, no leads either... Though some of their incompetence could probably be explained away by the large donation Patrick Keenan had made to one of the Garda charities yesterday afternoon.
"Those trackers I planted, they willnae stay hidden fer long, if thar found..."
"I seriously doubt they'll have tha stuff long enough ta unpack it. Besides thar thot small… If ya did yar job right, they should nae be found at all... " She tried to allay his obvious fears and then redirect his thoughts elsewhere. "Nar talkin' o' packin', we should finish gettin' ready ta go. It's a two hour drive an' it's already ten ta ten."
()()()()()()
"Well, wa're hare." Fiona turned off the country lane they had been travelling on since leaving the M50 motorway to maneuver her borrowed from the local municipal car park, turbo charged Golf GTI through the two open tall wrought iron gates and onto the gravel driveway which marked the way to the front door of her mother's 18th century manor house.
She watched as her lover leaned forward to get a better view of the imposing Georgian mansion before he turned his attention to the manicured lawns and neat flower borders which circled around the property.
"Ya mam lives hare?" McBride asked, whistling lowly while turning in his seat to watch the tall metal gates closing behind them.
From his expression and the way he had been staring, it was obvious to her that he was trying to work out why when her mother obviously lived in such luxury while she insisted in living in a dingy little flat in a less than safe area of Belfast.
"Befer ya ask, I like me independence," she snapped.
"I dinnae say a thing…" He turned his attention to her. "Am jus' a bit curious as ta why ya never mentioned it, thot's all. I know yar family has money, Fi. Sean's place is nae exactly a rundown terrace on some Dublin council estate, is it?"
"I like me flat. I like thot tha locals will send up an alarm any time thar is a raid comin' or someone's on tha streets who looks like a spy an' I like thot thar is lots o' streets an' alleyways fer me ta make a getaway if I need ta."
She had no idea why it was so important to her to make her boyfriend understand why she chose to live where she did. There was other reasons to… reasons she wasn't quite ready to share but she was sure would become clear to him once he spent time with her family.
"Am nae datin' yar mam, luv," he answered softly and then slipped his hand behind her to cradle her head and draw her into a kiss. "An' I couldnae care less whar we live."
She sighed heavily and glanced over to where she could see the outline of her mother gazing out at them from the window of her front parlor. "We've been spotted."
He followed the direction of the tilt of her chin and nodded as the heavy net curtain covering the window twitched. "Well then, we'd best get movin' then or yar mam might think we donnae want ta be hare."
()()()()()()
Inside the house, Maeve Glenanne peered out through the narrow gap she had made in the heavy lace curtains which shaded the room from the late afternoon sun when it chose to shine. She stared intently at the two figures sitting inside the bright red car that her only surviving daughter had no doubt stolen to make the drive south.
She had seen the photographs Liam had supplied of the new man in Fiona's life, two taken by Sean's wife Rosanna and another couple of un-posed shots supplied by one of her son's men after the head of the family discovered his little sister wasn't following the PIRA's orders. She had already heard all that Colin, her fourth born boy, had discovered using his computers which had supported everything that Sean had told them about Michael McBride...
"He wa' born in Kilkenny, lived thar until he wa' ten and then his half Italian mam up an' left his da an ' took ham back wit' har ta live in Milan. Thar's nothin' interestin' about ham then until tha early '90s when tha DiChristina family started recruiting local criminals inta thar ranks an' even then whot thar is tis very sketchy. He wa' a low level nobody, a driver, a thief an' an occasional enforcer, but never involved in anythin' big. He ended up in prison due ta a massive run o' bad luck whilst drivin' DiChristina's nephew away fram a bank robbery.
"As ya can imagine, thot ended his budding Mafioso career. Tha next bit is even more unclear, which is typical o' tha Eye-ties especially when dealin' wit' anythin' ta do wit' one o' tha families. McBride wa' released ta attend his mam's funeral an' then deported back ta Ireland. Personally, I think he wa' kicked out ta make sure he was nae gonna be about ta testify in tha nephew's trial."
Maeve pursed her lips as she watched Michael McBride draw her daughter into a kiss and then the couple pull apart before climbing out of the car. He was tall, thinner than she expected, his black hair which in all the photographs had looked unruly was brushed back and the laced boots, jeans and flannel shirts had been replaced by dress shoes, black pants and a crisp white shirt.
She let the lace curtain fall back into place but continued to watch as he collected a huge spray of white lilies from off the back seat and then went to the boot to take the suitcase from Fiona's hand. So he had some manners… She pursed her lips. But thot dinnae change tha fact he wa' a penniless nobody who according ta all tha evidence had none o' tha skills or tha power necessary ta shield me daughter fram those thot would hurt har.
"I approached ham whilst playin' darts one night," Sean had explained how they had met. "He had started comin in ta Wishin' Well about a week after we had thot blow out wit' Liam an' Keenan wa' lining ham up fer recruitment. Tha lad wa' definitely ripe fer tha pickin' so I offered ta bring ham in. I did tha usual an' had ham checked out befer I went anywhare near ham o' course.
"He'd been back home fer a jus' o'er a month an' wa' livin' in a lodgin' house by tha river earnin' money by stealin' cars, most o' which ended up goin' through one our own chop shops, nae thot he'd a known thot. He's a good man or if he ain't, I cannae find a sign o' deceit an' ta tell ya tha truth I donnae know how much longer I coulda put up wit' thot bastid Keenan puttin' his hands on Fiona."
Being a better choice than a stinking turncoat traitor who had split from the Provisional IRA like Patrick Keenan was not much of a recommendation in the matriarch of the clan's opinion. Her daughter deserved someone far better than a low level Mafioso who specialized in stealing cars.
"Mam, are ya gonna let tham in or d'ya want me ta be tha one ta make tha introductions?"
At the sound of her oldest son's voice, his mother turned away from the window to look over to where Liam stood in the doorway to the room. "I'll do it." She pointed a finger in his direction.
"And ya'll be on yar best behavior Liam Glenanne... This is tha first man Fiona has shown any real interest in since Armand... So he's nae ideal, but let's nae chase ham off in tha first five minutes."
He held his hands up as if in surrender and barred his teeth in a smile as she strode past him on the way to door. "I mean it, Liam, play nice, fer yar sister's sake."
Reaching her front door, the lady of the house took a moment to compose herself before she threw open the door and stepped out on to the first step with a big welcoming smile plastered on her face.
"Fiona, we war beginning ta worry, yer late... So, ya must be Michael. I have heard hardly a thing about ya. Come inside, thot case looks heavy."
"Mrs Glenanne, Am pleased ta meet ya." He held out the flowers, "Fiona told me these war yar favorites, an' I wanted ta thank ya fer inviting me ta stay."
"Thar very nice, Michael, an' yer right thar me favorites." She took the spray of flowers and took a moment to admire the bouquet. He might not be a suitable partner for her daughter, but he was certainly out to make a good impression... It wa' a good start, she reluctantly supposed. "Let's go inta me kitchen an' get these in water. D'ya have a good journey?"
"We left a little late an' got caught behind a tractor fer two miles befer we could get around it," Fiona replied.
"Well, never mind… Fiona, will ya shut tha door behind ya? Michael, ya can leave thot case by tha stairs and follow me."
Fiona did as she was asked and then hurried to catch up to her mother and boyfriend as they entered her kitchen. She wasn't sure what to make of the scene unfolding before her. It wasn't so much her mother's friendly chatter as she praised her daughter's boyfriend for the flowers and thanked him for the tin of her favorite tea. Maeve was nothing if not a good hostess, unless of course you were a British soldier or spy.
No, it was the new man in her life who was surprising her once again as he smiled and nodded, seeming to know exactly where to insert a comment of his own... I jus' hope he isnae overdoin' it. She bit down on her bottom lip as Maeve had Michael reach up to retrieve the large family size teapot from the top shelf of one of the wall cabinets.
"I only get ta use this one once a week nar, but wit' Liam hare an' yarselves an' Colin is arrivin' later tonight, I think we'll need it."
"Liam's already hare?" Fiona looked around. His car hadn't been on the driveway when they arrived, nor had he come to the door with their mother. Whot wa' he up taa?"
"Aye, I told ham ta give us a few minutes, nae need ta overwhelm Michael wit' us all in one go." Maeve smiled at her guest. "We've all been so lookin' forward ta tha chance ta meet tha man who has whisked our girl off har feet. Am afraid yer gonna find yarself tha center o' attention this weekend."
"I think I may be a bit o' disappointment ta ya all. Honestly thar isnae much ta know." Both women watched and smiled as Fiona's young man ducked his head to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.
"Oh, I donnae know about thot nar. Thar must be sommit worth knowin' lad. After all, me sister is obviously head o' heels fer ya," Liam interrupted the little scene taking place.
Walking slowly into the kitchen, Liam gave Fiona a light peck on the cheek and then turned his pale blue-grey eyes onto the man who was undoubtedly going to be the focus of all their scrutiny.
"Michael McBride, Am Liam Glenanne, please ta meet ya." Maeve's oldest surviving son held out a hand to his mother's guest.
"Mr. Glenanne, tis a pleasure ta meet ya," the younger man nervously stepped forward to shake the hand of the infamous PIRA interrogator.
"Ya can drop tha 'misters,' lad, Am jus' Liam when yer guest in me mother's home." He turned to Maeve and for a second the pair locked eyes. "Mam, why dontcha show Michael yar pets. It must be comin' up their lunch time an' while yer doin' thot, I'll carry Fi's bag up ta har room."
"Oh, thot's a good idea. Michael, come wit' me, ya can help me feed me tha dogs." Before Fiona could intervene, her mother had taken hold of her boyfriend by the sleeve of his shirt and was pulling him towards the door which led through the utility room and out into the courtyard beyond.
"D'ya like dogs, Michael? Seamus, ya'll be meetin' ham tomorrow, he breeds Belgium shepherd dogs. Tis a sorta sideline fer ham, among other things."
The youngest of her living children did her best not to laugh at her lover's expression as he was dragged away to go and admire her mother's three large shaggy coated guard dogs.
"I like dogs fine, Mrs. Glenanne, but d'ya nae think-" And he was gone, the only sound she caught was the utility door swinging shut and then the rattling of the metal bucket Maeve used to carry out the pieces of raw meat and biscuit she fed to her pets.
Maybe I'll suggest thot we take tham fer a walk later on. Tis tha only way Am gonna get ham away fram me mam. Fiona was still grinning when she came aware of her older brother's eyes were on her and that his earlier welcoming smile had turned into a scowl. She stiffened instantly, her temper rising as she realized the real reason her mother had whisked her new man away was to allow Liam to get her alone.
"Whot?" she demanded.
"Whot, ya say?" he hissed back, well aware the subject of his wrath was still only on the other side of a door. "Ya know bloody whot. Whot did I say ta ya las' week? Ya put yar trust on tha wrong one an' we'll all pay tha cost. An' whot do I bloody hear less than a week later? Thot ya have already spilled tha beans ta some man ya hardly know." His hand shot out so fast it made his youngest sibling flinch as his fingers gripped her arm. "Hare, Fi, let me help ya wit' yar bag."
Fiona found herself as good as dragged out of the kitchen by her enraged older brother and into the hall. "Liam, get yar hands off me," she snarled back, and then stumbled as he almost threw her against the ornate wooden staircase.
"Ya feckin' drove me nuts ta get ya a part in bringing down McKevitts bunch o' turncoats." He picked up her suitcase and then with a jerk of his chin gestured for her to go up the stairs. "An' dinnae I feckin' warn ya whot ya would be asked ta do an' ya said ya would do whot ever it took. Whot... Ever... It... Takes... D'ya remember thot? Even after I spelt it out ta ya, even after ya heard it fram tha horse's mouth, ya still sat thar an' swore ta Val ya would do yar part."
"Sean is in wit' Keenan, he has his ear... We have it covered. Ya will get yar damn intel... Besides tis nae ya, Sean nor Val feckin' Temple whose had Pat Keenan stickin' his tongue down yar throats every bloody night," Fiona spat back as she stomped up the stairs. Tears were welling in her eyes but the fiery red head refused to cry in front of her big brother.
They were up the top of the stairs now. But before she could turn towards the room she called her own, Liam gripped her shoulder and turned her around to face him, his grim features softening as he looked into her moisture filled eyes.
"I warned ya." He cupped her cheek and thumbed away a stray tear making its way down her cheek. "I said I didnae think ya should take tha job... Is thot why ya took up wit' this McBride fella?"
She reeled back, slipping out of his grasp. "Ya think I found tha first available man ta protect me fram a weasel like Keenan? Am perfectly capable o' lookin' after meself, ya bastid." She half turned away and then turned back, her temper flaring. "I know tha rules, Liam. Sean had ham checked out. If he wa' safe enough fer Sean ta invite ham inta his house, why nae mine?"
"Because Sean isnae sleepin' wit' ham, girl, or spillin' our secrets ta a total stranger, thot's why, ya daft mare. Whot tha hell wa' ya thinkin' then if twas nae ta keep Keenan fram pawin' at ya?"
"I love him!" she blurted out the words before she thought about what she was saying and who she was saying it to. "I – think – I think I love him." Fiona swallowed thickly and slumped back against the wall. "I trust him. I admit I trusted him well befer I shoulda done, yer right about thot."
She held up a hand to stop her eldest's angry retort. "I should never had taken him wit' me on thot job in Derry, at least nae without tellin' ya first. But he went through wit' tha job, a job thot coulda gotten him killed. He has never done anything ta make me doubt him... Ya know he wa' scared o' comin' hare, scared o' whot ya might do ta him, but he's hare cuz he loves me taa. Am sure o' it."
The siblings stared at each other in silence, the only sound was Fiona's deep breathing as she fought to remain calm after her declaration of love for a man she had only know a matter of months.
"Well, thot is a first…" Her brother finally broke the tension with a faint chuckle and a shake of his head. "Fiona Glenanne is in love... He'll have ta prove hamself, ya know thot? If ya want ta keep ham around, his loyalty cannae be in doubt."
"He's proved himself already. I told ya he helped with tha guns fram Derry an' it wa' his idea thot got us inside Murphy's. He coulda grassed tha lot o' us, but he wonnae. Whot more d'ya want?"
"I'll come up wit' sommit." Liam ended talk on the subject by picking up her case from where he had dropped it at the top of the stairs and gestured with a tilt of his chin for her to open the door to her room. "Unpack yar own stuff an' then I'll take tha case inta Sean's room..." He laughed when he saw her expression. "Whot? Ya thought our mam would let tha pair o' ya sleep together hare?"
"O' course nae." She tossed her hair back and took the case from his hand, throwing it down on the bed and unzipping the lid. "An' McBride knows tha rules taa, so ya've nae need ta remind ham o' thot either."
What she really wanted was for him to leave her alone to her thoughts. She couldn't decide what emotion was winning the battle raging inside her, happiness that it appeared her brothers had forgiven her lapse and were willing to give Michael McBride a chance or fear about how Liam intended to test her lover's loyalty to not only her, but to the Glenanne clan.
Fiona could feel the eldest's eyes upon her as she deliberately avoided his gaze while removing her things from the case. It was at times like these that the younger woman was reminded of who her oldest surviving brother truly was and what he actually did for a living… what he did for all of them.
Biting her lower lip, she searched for a way to convince Liam that she wasn't just the love struck fool he'd said she was and that she had been right to trust the dark haired stranger from Kilkenny with all of their lives, because that was the reality of what she had done. For all she wanted to be independent of them, she knew that her actions affected them. What she was trying to figure out was how to make Liam understand how the family's actions would affect her life should they chose to find McBride unworthy of remaining at her side….
And her new man's life as well, presuming he was allowed to live at all, should he fail whatever test the head of the family would devise. How could she convince all of them that not only was Michael McBride an asset to the Cause, but also more than just someone she fancied for the moment as means to keep the leader of the fledgling RIRA at bay? That she had truly meant what she'd declared earlier?
"Donnae worry, Fi," Liam advised softly. "Ya said it yarself, he wa' brave enough ta walk willin' inta tha lion's den. If he donnae lose his nerve this weekend, then he'll pass any test thot's put befer ham back in Belfast. An' if he is nae tha man ya think he is, then yer be better off knowing thot nar befer ya get any more attached ta ham."
Fiona swallowed quietly and nodded mutely without looking her brother in the eye. She closed the case and handed it back to her eldest sibling. "Am gonna freshen up fram tha trip."
The older man merely nodded back and left her alone. Pressing down on her lip with her teeth again, Fiona fretted momentarily as she heard his footsteps retreat towards the adjacent room. Then the redhead blew out the breath she was holding in a noisy exhalation.
"Feck it," she muttered lowly. McBride's gonna pass any test har brudders cared ta lay in his path an' har mammy taa. She was sure of it. She had seen how he had perfectly flattered her mother in all the right places. He had already won over Sean's trust. She hadn't worried since she was a girl and she wasn't going to start now. An' then he'll be rewarded fer charmin' tha entire clan.
A sly smile crossed her face as she sat down on the bed, hearing the springs squeak in response. Yes, McBride is gonna have a grand reward an' Am gonna have me sweet revenge…
With that buoying thought, Fiona went into the en suite to freshen up, imagining all the ways she could deliciously torment her boyfriend after the lights went out tonight instead of worrying about how her brother might torture the man she had confessed to love should he failed to measure up.
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A/N: Sorry :( no new hotness in this chapter… you will have to wait for the next one to discover how Fiona plans to take her seek sweet revenge upon Michael Bride. But as Michael told Fiona, anticipation makes the event all the more intense ;)