The Conor McBride Series Books 1-3 by Kathryn Guare

Author:Kathryn Guare [Guare, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
Publisher: Kiltumper Close Press
Published: 2017-04-29T12:00:00+00:00

18

Her room was actually a spacious, two-bedroom suite. The main area had a canopy bed, a fireplace and luxurious furniture, along with a separate den with more furniture, the television and a mahogany desk. Conor conducted a methodical sweep of every corner, inspecting light fixtures, running fingers over the framed landscapes on the wall, examining the phones. Kate monitored this performance without a word. He imagined it confirmed all her suspicions about him wandering in a paranoid delirium, and he couldn't entirely dispel the idea himself.

Once satisfied the room was "clean" he collapsed on the sofa in front of the fireplace while Kate went to phone Milton, the concierge. Conor's operational discipline relaxed into dull exhaustion as he gazed around the suite, trying to make sense of the fact that an ordinary farmer from Dingle—not entirely unrefined or lacking in unconventional skills, but still, of humble origin—could be in love with a product of European royalty.

He put his head back and closed his eyes. Bloody hell. What would the neighbors say?

He lapsed into a doze until Kate returned and dragged him up from the sofa, insisting he move to the bed. Conor felt ridiculous lying beneath the fussy-looking drapery, but the pillowcases had a pleasant alpine scent and the bed was irresistibly comfortable. He sank into the mattress as he would a hot bath, and made no fuss as Kate settled the comforter under his chin.

"You must feel lousy. You're not being difficult."

"I wouldn't dream of hassling a princess."

"Don't." She ducked away, hiding an uneasy frown. "Please. Not even as a joke."

"Why so sensitive? Where I come from you can't throw a rock without hitting some plonker who swears he came from kings."

"This is different," Kate insisted. "My grandmother has been in this country since the 30s. She married a scientist from Boston, and then my mother married a hedge fund manager and I married a cash register salesman. There's nothing 'royal' about any of us, but the bloodline is real, and the heritage, and of course the European relatives. It's a challenge to navigate. I try not to get too involved."

"Right, so." On the edge of sleep, Conor nodded. "I promise not to call you a princess. I'll just think of you as one."

He woke some time later and slid a hand under the pillow, confirming the gun had not wandered out of reach, then cradled the second pillow against his ribs as his rumbling cough sent pain like the sharp end of a knitting needle through his chest. While recovering, Conor became aware of a more insistent but less agonizing sensation—a pinch on his right big toe, and then the same on his left. Conor lifted himself up on one elbow and saw Jigger at the foot of the bed.

"It worked." The boy laughed. "Hi Conor."

"Hi yourself. What's the idea, abusing my toes while I sleep?"

"Kate said to wake you up at five o'clock, but she told me to be careful when I did."

"Where is she?" Conor sat up, instantly alert.

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