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“What about something simpler?” He pointed to a pair of gray breeches and a coarse linen shirt. Though cleaner and softer, they weren’t much different from the clothes he used to wear in his old life in Ireland. All they lacked was a fine layer of dirt, a handful of patched spots and several mended seams.
Cora looked up from a stretch velvet medieval dress she was considering. She tilted her head to the side and regarded him thoughtfully. “You know what’s weird? It actually suits you. I feel like I’ve seen you wearing that costume before. Are you sure you weren’t an extra onGame of Thrones, or something?”
He knew she was teasing, but Liam searched her face, wondering if some part of her soul remembered him. The angels had said Cora would never recall the life they’d once shared, but sometimes in moments like this, when she gave him that perplexed frown, the veil between this world and the other seemed to thin, and Liam allowed himself to hope. If Cora ever did remember—trulyremember him and the love they’d shared—then that would change everything. The angels would have to accept she belonged to him, wouldn’t they? A horned demon chose that moment to enter the tent with a plastic pitchfork, his nefarious laughter curling through the shop. Liam’s shoulders slumped, and he turned his back on the devil. Or perhaps it wouldn’t matter, and he’d be tossed into the fiery pits of hell, anyway.
“A peasant?” Suzette scoffed, wrinkling her nose. “You can’t wear that. It would be a waste of your swashbuckling good looks. Now, go, Liam. Shoo. Embrace your destiny.” She gave him a gentle push into the dressing room.
Ten minutes later Liam emerged from the tent in what the shop clerk called “Deluxe Caribbean Pirate” gear. He’d not gone four steps when a group of women in diaphanous fairy costumes eyed him coyly, whispering to themselves and giggling as they passed. One of them blew him a kiss before flitting into the crowd.
“Ahoy, there, Captain,” a serving girl shouted from the ale tent across the way. “We’ve got plenty of booty over here for you to plunder!”
A bawdy laugh erupted from the tent, and Liam tipped his hat, giving them an elaborate bow.
“Suzette was right,” Cora said, emerging from the costume shop. “Seems you’re destined for a life of piracy.”
Liam took one look at Cora and felt the air whoosh from his lungs. She was wearing a black corseted serving wench costume that showcased her feminine charms to tantalizing perfection. The blue-and-green skirts were hiked high enough to reveal glimpses of her toned legs, and the white blouse under her corset draped low, leaving her shoulders bare. She looked a far sight better than any barmaid he’d ever seen. Part of him wanted to haul her over his shoulder and carry her off someplace where they could be alone, and the other part wanted to rip his coat off and cover her, so no man with wandering eyes could ogle her.
Cora spun in a circle and held out her arms, grinning. “I’m a naughty bar wench. What do you think?”
Before Liam could find his tongue, Suzette breezed up with a loud, “Holy hotness, Cora. You looksmokingin that getup.” Suzette fingered the pink crushed velvet skirt of her medieval lady costume. Faux colorful jewels were sewn into the neckline, and she had a matching gold crown on her head. “Crap. Now I kind of feel like a Pinterest fail.”
“You look beautiful and regal,” Cora assured her, linking her arm through Suzette’s. “Jimmy’s going to be very impressed when he sees you.”
“He’d better be,” Suzette said, adjusting the neckline and tugging it lower. “He’s been working at this fair all summer, and this is the first time I’ve had a chance to come and surprise him. Honestly, I don’t know why I agreed to date him again. He’s canceled on me twice already. I’m so over the excuses.”
“Now, remember the rules, ladies,” Liam said with mock severity. “We’re to have fun today and not dwell on problems.”
“Oh, right.” Suzette gave him a sassy salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”
“Come on,” Cora said. “Let’s go to the ale tent and get this party started. Magnus said he’d meet us there.”
Liam grumbled at the mention of Magnus but followed them to the ale tent to order drinks. Within a few minutes they were standing in a roped-off area, people-watching and sipping beer from plastic cups.
“There he is!” Suzette said, bouncing on her toes. “He’s not wearing a costume, but who cares?” She whispered something in Cora’s ear that made Cora blush.
Liam watched as Magnus emerged from the crowd like a hawk descending on prey. He wore a black T-shirt, dark jeans and leather motorcycle boots, and he gave Cora a smoldering once-over as he approached. Liam gritted his teeth, even more determined to nip this—whatever this was—in the bud before Cora went off the rails with this man. He was a bad influence, and Liam would do everything in his power to prove it to her.
“Ladies, you look ravishing,” Magnus said with a rakish grin. Then he took in Liam’s costume and said, “What a remarkable outfit. I believe I had something similar when I was a kid. Good for you, man.” It was a veiled insult, but only Liam caught it.
He gulped the rest of his beer while Magnus exchanged pleasantries with the women. For the next few minutes Liam had to listen to Magnus engage them in a detailed story of how he’d found parking, somehow managing to make it sound like a fascinating adventure. Cora and Suzette were obviously enraptured, which made Liam’s blood begin to simmer and his skin begin to itch. He had to get out of the beer garden. He needed tomove. Suddenly, at the far end of the merchant row, he saw the perfect diversion.
“Shall we walk?” he asked, interrupting Magnus. “There’s a game stall over there that looks too fun to miss.”
Forcing himself to adopt a meandering stroll through the crowd like the rest of them, Liam somehow managed to keep his excitement in check until they reached the booth he wanted. A man dressed in faux chain mail stood under a sign that read battle axes of valor. On a low table were several rustic hatchets with rope-wrapped handles. A wall of painted wooden targets lined the back of the booth twenty feet away.
Liam plunked down several bills, enough for all of them, then said, “Who wants to go first? Magnus?”
“Me, me, me,” Suzette said with enthusiasm, elbowing her way to the front. She adjusted her crown, then lifted the ax with both hands. “How do we throw it?”
Liam showed Suzette how to place her hands on the handle, explaining where to aim and when to let go. To his annoyance, Cora had taken the spot beside Suzette, and Magnus was now giving her instructions. He was speaking to Cora in a low, intimate voice as he wrapped both arms around hers to show her how to stand and where to hold the ax. Liam scowled. Who made Magnus an expert on ax throwing? Surely, this wasn’t a twenty-first century skill. He probably didn’t have the faintest idea what he was doing and was just taking advantage of the situation so he could paw at Cora.
“I think the ladies can take it from here,” Liam said through gritted teeth.
Magnus glanced at Liam in amusement, then stepped back with a final encouraging word to Cora.
Suzette went first. She hauled the ax over her head with both hands, her long princess sleeves fluttering in the breeze. With a warrior-like yelp, Suzette let the ax go. It flew in a high arc, but there wasn’t enough power behind it. The ax landed in the dirt a few feet in front of the wooden target.
“No,” Suzette said, stomping her foot. With a regal lift of her chin, she turned to the man in chain mail and held out her hand. “I want to try again.”
