Ruairi, ever the gentleman, knocked the whore from his lap. Giselle’s wings had been clipped by my brother for some grievous offense. I couldn’t rightly remember what it was. The pooka clambered to his feet. “Lady Keelynn. What a pleasant surprise. We weren’t expecting ye.”
He could say that again.
What was she doing here? It wasn’t Friday already, was it?
“I can see that.” Disapproval oozed from those four words. Was it the body or the booze that bothered her?
“Who the hell isshe?” Giselle whined.
“She’s, um . . .” Ruairi looked at me. He could deal with this on his own. “She’s no one.”
If only I could tell my heart the same thing.
Keelynn’s shoulders stiffened as she moved closer. “Pardon me.”
I glanced down to where she’d knocked Marina’s dirty shoe. Dead bodies were so quiet. Easy to forget. No sense apologizing to them. “She can’t hear you. She’s dead.”
“She’s what?” Keelynn gasped, stumbling and ending up in a heap on the ground next to the dead woman. “Why’d you kiss her?”
Why’d you kiss Robert? “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. I told her not to, but she didn’t listen. And now she’s dead, and her children will starve because her husband is a worthless drunk who spends more time drinking in the pub than working at the mill.”
The extra information I’d gleaned from whispers. Marina’s situation had been dire. But instead of leaving the man and taking her children somewhere safe, she’d abandoned them.
Cursing, Ruairi helped Keelynn to her feet. I would’ve done it but figured she didn’t want my hands anywhere near her. “Ye must excuse Tadhg this morning,” Ruairi growled. “He’s in a foul humor.”
Is that what we were calling this now? A foul humor?
“Oh, she’s one ofhis.”
Feckin’ Giselle. Most whores I could take. But this one, she’d always rubbed me the wrong way. Even when she was rubbing me the right way. “Do us all a favor, Giselle, and slither back to the hole you crawled out of.”
Her jaw gaped. She reached for Ruairi as if he was going to do a feckin’ thing.
“It’s time for you to go,” he murmured.
She made a show of stomping toward the door, short skirt riding up her arse.
“You can’t let her children starve,” Keelynn said. “This is your fault. You have to fix it.”
Giselle didn’t have any children—
Keelynn wasn’t looking at the faerie. She was staring at the dead human.
What was one more dead human to me? Why did Marina deserve my help when she’d done this to herself? Why was I always the one expected to help everyone else?
When was someone going to help me?
“What would you have me do?”
“Give them money.”
Money in an alcoholic’s pocket was like drink in his glass. Gone in a few swallows. “So their father can use it to buy drink? Not a feckin’ hope. There are too many of you humans on this island anyway. You procreate like feckin’ rabbits.”
Unlike the Danú, whose children were rare and to be protected at all costs.
Ruairi dug the toe of his boot into my shin.
“Dammit, Ruairi!” He’d dented my feckin’ leg.