Page 31 of Unraveling Fate

“Caddie!” Drostan came through from the kitchen and set a tray of drinks on the coffee table. “How’s your head, lass?” He hurried to the door.

“We were just talking about that.” Canon replaced his hand on her elbow.

“Aye, we were. And about the astonishing news that Cadenza is single.” Taran made room for his father in the doorway, stepping in between Cadenza and Canon. Thunder rolled across her back when his shoulder brushed hers.

“I’ll agree that’s astonishing, Caddie dear, considering how wonderful you are, but how long have the lads here kept you on the porch?” Drostan asked. “Bugger, what a bunch of bachelors we are. Come on in. We were just about to have some games and the like, good craic.”

He ushered her into the living room and handed her a glass. “The boys in the shop towed your car up this morning. You found the loaner I left in the garage?”

“I did, Drostan, thank you. I had to go to Columbia today, so I really appreciate it.” She sat in the love seat.

“Of course. I’ll get your front door repaired in the morning.”

Canon followed her into the house, but Taran maneuvered in front of him to plop into the other half of the love seat. He rested one arm along the back and crossed his ankle over his knee. Far enough away so he wasn’t touching Cadenza but taking up enough space that no one else could sit next to her either.

Canon’s mouth smiled at Taran, but his eyes shot daggers. “Chess tonight? Although since that’s a two-person game, maybe we should do teams. Cadenza, play on my side?”

“Chess, sure,” Taran jumped in, sparing her from having to answer. He smiled back at Canon, the lamplight casting shadows and making his canines into points. “If you feel like losing again.”

Cadenza pressed her lips together. The pushing, the positioning. The cracks at Canon’s expense. Understanding dawned, and her mouth popped open in surprise. Taran was keeping Canon at bay for her. His drum song surged. Rhythm rolled up her arms, thundered through her head. The ocean roared, a wave of bass looming over her.

Dizzy, she stretched her arm along the back of the love seat and let her fingers rest on the back of Taran’s hand as if by accident. The wave peaked and crashed through her, but she fought her way forward.

It worked last night,she thought, breath held as if she were actually swimming.I just need to find it.

Taran’s heartbeat, deep and steady. A rock to cling to in the storm.

There.She exhaled.

Taran glanced at her hand on his, and she snatched it back with an apology. His heartbeat faded.

He smiled, eyes sparking gold. “No apology needed.”

Canon cleared his throat. “Are we going to play?”

“Or I’ve got a better idea.” Drostan rubbed his hands together and capered down the hallway. He returned with two black instrument cases. “We couldplay. In honor of our musical Cadenza, gracing our humble cottage with her presence this evening.” He bowed with a smile and removed a gleaming fiddle from one of the cases.

“Brilliant!” Taran drew a drum and a double-sided playing stick from the other case. The head stretched over a circular frame about a foot and a half in diameter. He slid one hand onto the back side of the drum and rattled off a rhythm with the stick.

Cadenza jerked upright. “Play that again.”

“You like the bodhran?” he asked.

“The what?”

“Thebow-ran. This is a bodhran,” he held up the drum. “And this is the tipper.” He wiggled the stick. His wrist rocked up and down, striking the tipper against the drum, beating out the same rhythm as before.

His rhythm. The same rhythm, the same frame drum music that ran up her arms and teased her hair every time he was around.

Drumsong came at her from all angles. Out loud from the bodhran. Trilling along her skin from Taran. She closed her eyes, dizzy again. She needed his heartbeat.

Without touching him this time, Cadenza focused on just Taran, riding the trail of his music to its source, to him. There at the core of the song, she found his heart. The backbone of the rhythm. A quiet eye in the center of the storm.

The drums settled. Still pounding, like the night before, but now around her like a bulwark, instead of crashing into her like a tsunami.

She leaned back into the couch, success blooming in her chest, like a secret smile.

“Yes,” Cadenza said. “I think I do like the bodhran.”