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“We were not.” At his wits’ end, Shawn pressed his fingers to his eyes. “A man can’t have a simple life in this family. I kissed Brenna, and not for the first time. Neither do I plan on it being the last. And I fail to see why that’s such a puzzlement to everyone who knows us. And an outrage as well.”
Darcy folded her hands. She’d learned something she’d hoped to by the poking at him. He hadn’t mentioned that it was Brenna who’d initiated the shift in relationship. With another man she’d chalk it up to ego. But with Shawn she knew it was instinctive protection of the woman involved.
The fact both pleased and worried her.
“It’s just . . . surprising,” Aidan said.
“I’m not outraged.” Darcy sent Shawn a sweet, sisterly look. “But puzzled I am. After all, Brenna’s seen you naked already—some years ago, to be sure, but still such things linger in the mind. And having had a good look at your equipment, I can’t think why she’d be the least bit interested.”
“That’s a question you’ll have to put to her.” He wanted to leave it at that, dignified, dismissive, but it rankled. “I wasn’t more than fifteen, and the water was cold. A man’s not at his best just out of frigid water, you know.”
“That’s your story, son, and you stick with it.”
“And you shouldn’t have been looking in that direction. But you always were a perverted sort.”
“Why shouldn’t I have looked? Everyone else was. He lost his trunks in the sea,” she explained to Jude, “and didn’t realize it till he was standing clear of the surf, jay naked. I’ve always regretted the lack of a camera.”
Jude glanced at Shawn with sympathy. “I used to regret being an only child. But there are some circumstances when—oh!”
“What is it?” Aidan was on his feet like a shot, prepared to haul his wife into his arms, when she pressed her finger to her belly. “There, you’ve upset her with your bickering.”
“No, no. The baby’s moving.” Thrilled, she grabbed Aidan’s hand and laid it over her middle. “Do you feel it? It’s like a rippling inside me.”
Panic shifted to awe, filling his eyes, his heart. “He’s lively.”
“It’s a family meeting, after all. Why shouldn’t he be part of it?” Shawn raised his glass again. “Slainte.”
He went to visit Maude. Since he’d been used to seeing her once or twice a week most of his life, Shawn saw no reason that should change after death. And her resting place was a good spot for thinking. It had nothing much to do with the fact that he would stroll near the cliff hotel on his way. It wasn’t likely he’d see Brenna, but, well, if he didn’t walk in that direction, there was no chance at all of seeing her.
As he recalled, Maude Fitzgerald had been the romantic sort, and he thought she’d appreciate the logic of it.
The hotel sat dramatically on the cliffs, with the sea spread before it. And though the air was brisk with morning, a scattering of guests were out and about enjoying the view. Shawn gave himself the pleasure of it as well, and as he watched the boats bob and sail over the water, he thanked his ancestors for going into the business of a public house rather than fishing.
There was Tim Riley and his crew hauling in nets while the waves kicked and danced. There was a rhythm to it that had Shawn tapping his foot and set pipe against cello in a musical duel in his head.
Shawn imagined the tourists thought the boats looked picturesque. They probably viewed the idea of making a living from the sea as a kind of romantic venture steeped in history and tradition. But as he stood, wind flowing through his dark hair and doing its best to sneak under his sweater, he could only think it a cold and lonely and capricious life.
He’d take a warm pub and a busy kitchen any day of the week.
But it was romance that whirled through Mary Kate’s mind when she rushed out after spotting him. She had to press a hand to her heart, as it filled with images.
She looked at Shawn, standing on the cliffs, legs spread, eyes on the horizon, and she saw Heathcliff, Rhett Butler, Lancelot, and every other heroic fantasy that might fill an infatuated young woman’s dreams.
She was glad she’d borrowed her sister Patty’s new blue blouse that morning, though Patty wasn’t going to be pleased about it. Making a valiant attempt to smooth her hair, Mary Kate hurried forward.
“Shawn.”
When he turned and saw her coming toward him, Shawn cursed himself. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of running into Brenna’s sister, not when he’d been so busy thinking of Brenna.
Mind your step, Gallagher, he warned himself. “Good morning, Mary Kate. I was forgetting the hotel is full of O’Tooles just now.”
She had to untangle her tongue. His eyes were so clear in this light. If she looked into them deeply enough, she could see herself reflected back. It was so alluring.
“You should come in out of the wind. I’ve a break now, I’ll buy you some tea.”
“That’s a kind offer, but I’m on my way to see Old Maude. I was just watching Tim Riley pull in his nets, and they looked heavy with fish. I’ll have to go about bargaining with him later for some of his catch.”
“Why don’t you stop by on your way back?” She tilted her head, running a hand through her hair and looking up at him under her lashes in a look she’d practiced endlessly. “I can take my lunch most anytime.”
“Ah . . .” She had more skill in flirtation than he’d given her credit for. It was just a little frightening. “I’m due at the pub before long.”
“I’d love to be able to sit and talk with you.” She laid a hand on his arm. “When there’s not so much going on.”
“Well, that’s a thought, isn’t it? I’ve got to be going. You should go inside. You shouldn’t be standing out here in that thin blouse. You’ll catch a chill. My best to your family.”
As he made his escape, Mary Kate sighed. He’d noticed t
he blouse.
He’d handled that well, Shawn congratulated himself. Friendly, a sort of older brother to younger sister kind of thing. He was sure the little crisis had passed. And it was really rather sweet that she’d thought of him the way she had. A man had to be flattered, especially since he’d slipped through those sticky loops with no harm done.
But deciding a bit of backup wouldn’t be out of order, he dipped into Saint Declan’s Well and sprinkled the water on the ground.
“Superstitious? A modern-thinking man?”
Shawn’s head came up, and his eyes met the clever blue ones of Carrick, prince of the faeries. “A modernthinking man knows there’s a reason for superstitions, especially when he stands and finds himself having a conversation with the likes of you.”
Since he’d come for a purpose, Shawn walked away from the well and over to Maude’s grave. “So, tell me, are you always here and about? I’ve come to this spot all my life, and it’s only recently I’ve seen you.”
“There was no particular reason for you to see me before recently. I’ve a question for you, Shawn Gallagher, and I’m hoping you’ll be answering it.”
“Well, you have to ask it first.”
“So I will.” Carrick sat by the grave across from Shawn so their eyes were level. “What the bleeding, blistering hell are you waiting for?”
Shawn raised his eyebrows, rested his hands on his knees. “All manner of things.”
“Oh, that’s typical of you.” Disgust edged Carrick’s voice. “I’m speaking of Mary Brenna O’Toole, and why you haven’t taken her to your bed.”
“That would be between Brenna and myself,” Shawn said evenly, “and no concern of yours.”
“Of course it’s a concern of mine.” Carrick was on his feet now, the movement too fast for the human eye to catch. The ring on his finger glowed a deep, deep blue, and the silver pouch hanging from his belt glittered. “I judged you to have the kind of nature that would understand, but you’re more boneheaded than even your brother.”
“Sure and you aren’t the first to say so.”
“It’s in place, Gallagher the younger.”
Because Carrick was now standing beside Shawn rather than across from him, Shawn got to his feet. “And what would that be?”
“Your part, your destiny. Your choices. How is it you can look into your heart for making your music, and not for living your life?”
“My life is as I like it.”
“Boneheaded,” Carrick said again. “Finn protect me from the foolishness of mortals.” He threw up his hands, and thunder rumbled across the clear bowl of the sky.
“If you think to impress me with parlor tricks, you won’t succeed at it. That’s just your temper talking, and I’ve one of my own.”
“Would you dare match it to mine?” As a demonstration, Carrick waved a finger, and a bolt of blinding white light lanced into the ground in front of Shawn’s feet.
“Bully tactics.” Though Shawn had to fight the instinct to leap back. “And unworthy of you.”
Fury turned Carrick’s eyes nearly black, trembled from his fingertips in little licks of red flame. Then subsided as he threw back his head and laughed. “Well, now, you’ve more courage than I gave you credit for. Or it’s just stupid you are.”
“Wise enough to know you can cause mischief if you like, but no real harm. You don’t worry me, Carrick.”
“I could have you on your knees croaking like a bullfrog.”
“Which would hurt my pride but little else.” Not, Shawn thought, that he wanted to put the matter to the test. “What’s the point of this? Threats don’t endear you to me.”
“I’ve waited six of your lifetimes for something you could have in an instant, just by holding out your hand.” But this time he sighed. “Tears from the moon I gathered for her the second time.” As he spoke he took the pouch from his belt. “And at her feet I poured the pearls they formed. And all she saw was the pearls.”
Turning the pouch over, he poured a white waterfall of glowing white gems onto Maude’s grave. “They glowed in the grass, in the moonlight then, white and smooth as Gwen’s skin. But she didn’t see that it wasn’t pearls I’d poured at her feet, but my heart—the longing in it, and aye, the purity of that love as well. I didn’t know she needed to be told, or that it was already too late, as I hadn’t given her the part of me she wanted.”
Carrick’s voice was full of despair now, and so ripe with unhappiness that Shawn touched his arm. “What did she want?”
“Love. Just the word. A single word. But I gave her diamonds—jewels plucked from the sun, and these pearls, then the final time the stones you call sapphires that I harvested from the heart of the sea.”
