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“I know your story well.”
“Aye, you would. And your new sister, Jude, has put it in her book of tales and legends. The ending is still an unhappy one as I cast the spell over my Gwen, in anger and in pain—rashly, Gallagher. Three times love would find love, heart accept heart with all the failings and the foibles. And then, my Gwen and I will be free to be together. A hundred years times three I’ve waited, and my patience is sore tested. You’re a man who has words.”
Considering, Carrick circled Shawn and the grave. “You use them well with your music—music others should hear, but that’s another matter. A man who has such a gift of words is one who understands what’s inside a person, sometimes before that person knows. It’s a gift you have. I’m only asking you to use it.”
In a long flourish, he waved his hand over the grave, and the pearls blossomed into flowers. “The jewels I gave Gwen grew into flowers. Your Jude will tell you it was the flowers she kept. Some women want the simple things, Gallagher, so I’ve come to understand.”
He lifted his finger. Resting on the tip was a single perfect pearl. With a thin smile, he flicked it toward Shawn, then nodded, pleased, when Shawn snatched it from the air. “Take it, keep it, until you realize who it is you’re to give it to. When you do, give the words. They’re more of magic than what you have in hand.”
The air trembled, wavered, and Carrick disappeared into it.
“The man wears you out,” Shawn murmured, then sat beside Maude’s grave again. “It’s very unusual companions you have.”
Then, because he needed it, Shawn let himself fall into the quiet. He watched the moonflowers, blooms open despite the steam of sunlight, dance across the grave. He studied the pearl, rubbing it through his fingers. He put it in his pocket before reaching down to pick a single blossom.
“I don’t think you’ll mind, as it’s for Jude,” he said to Maude. He sat and kept her company another twenty minutes before going back home.
He didn’t knock. It had been his home too long for him to think of it. But Shawn did think, the minute he’d closed the door behind him, that he was very likely interrupting Jude’s work. When she came to the top of the steps before he could decide if he should go back out again, he glanced up in apology. “You’ll be working. I’ll come back ’round later.”
“No, that’s all right. I don’t mind a break. Would you like some tea?” she asked as she started down.
“I would, yes, but I’ll fix it for both of us.”
“I won’t argue with that.” She smiled uncertainly when he held out the moonflower. “Thanks. Isn’t it the wrong time for this to be blooming?”
“In most places. It’s one of the things I’d like to speak with you about.” He started back toward the kitchen with her. “How are you feeling today?”
“Good. Really good, actually. I think the morning sickness is passing, and I’m not sorry to see it go.”
“And your work’s going well?”
It would be Shawn’s way, she thought, to wind his way around to the genuine purpose of the visit in his own time. So she found a little bottle for the blossom while he put on the kettle. “Yes, it is. I still have moments when I can’t believe I’m doing it. This time last year I was still teaching, and hating my work. Now I have a book on its way to being published, and another one coming to life every day. I’m a little nervous because this one’s a story out of my head instead of a compilation of others I’ve been told, but I really love the process of it.”
“Being a little nervous you’ll probably write a better story, don’t you think?” At home, he got out the biscuit tin and filled a plate. “Meaning, you’ll have more care with it.”
“I hope you’re right. Are you nervous when you’re writing your music?”
“Not the tunes,” he said after a moment’s thought. “The words sometimes. Trying to find the right way of saying what the music’s telling me. It can be frustrating.”
“How do you handle it?”
“Oh, I bang my head against it for a while.” After the pot was warmed he measured out the tea. “Then if all I get from that is a headache, I’ll take a walk to clear it, or think of something else entirely. Most times, after I do, the words are just there, as if they’d been waiting for me to pluck them.”
“I’m afraid to walk away when it’s not working. I always think if I do I won’t be able to write at all when I come back. Your way’s healthier.”
“Ah, but you’re the published author, then, aren’t you?” While the tea steeped, he got out cups.
“Do you want your music published, Shawn?”
“Maybe, one day. There’s no rush about it.” Which, he knew, he’d been saying for years already. “I write it to please myself, and that’s enough for now.”
“My agent might know someone in the music business. I’d be happy to ask.”
His stomach jumped like a rabbit under the gun. “Oh, there’s no need for that. Actually, Jude, I’ve come by to speak with you about another matter altogether.”
She waited, letting him bring the pot to the table, pour the tea. When he’d settled, and the fragrant steam rose between them, he still didn’t speak.
“Shawn, tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Well, I’m trying to figure out exactly how to say it. I’ll just start this way.” He reached in his pocket, and after drawing out the pearl, set it beside her cup.
“A pearl?” Puzzled, she started to reach for it, then her gaze whipped up to his, and her fingers stopped a whisper away from the round white gem. “Oh. Carrick.”
“He speaks fondly of you.”
“How odd. It’s so . . . odd.” Now she did pick up the pearl and cupped it in her palm. “And the moonflower. The rest of the pearls turned to moonflowers.”
“On Maude’s grave. What do you think of it all?”
“What does a modern, educated, fairly intelligent woman think of the existence of faeries?” She let the pearl roll in her palm, then shook her head. “I think it’s marvelous. Literally. This one’s arrogant and impatient, and a bit of a showoff, but coming into contact with him is one of the things that changed my life.”
“I think he’s of a mind to change mine. Or he wouldn’t have given me that.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Jude gave the pearl back to Shawn. “And how do you feel about that?”
“That he’s got a long wait in store, as I like my life just as it is.”
“Are you . . .” Trailing off, Jude picked up her tea. “I never had siblings, so I don’t know what’s out of line. But I wonder if you’re thinking of Brenna.”
“I’ve given the O’Toole considerable thought. And I’ve given more than a passing one to the notion that Carrick sees my linking with her as the next step for him.”
“And?”
“Well, now.” Shawn picked up a biscuit, bit into it. “I’d say again, he has a long wait in store.” His lips twitched as Jude looked down into her tea. “Was that a bit of a matchmaker’s gleam I caught there in your pretty eyes, Jude Frances?”
She sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about a happily married woman taking a look at her bachelor brother-in-law and thinking to herself, ‘Well, now, wouldn’t it be fine if our darling Shawn found himself the right woman and settled down—and what might it be that I can do to help that along.’ ”
“I wouldn’t presume to interfere.” However prim her tone, the laugh showed in her eyes. “Hardly at all.”
“I appreciate it.” He slipped the pearl back into his pocket. “And just so you’re aware of my thoughts and feelings on this, I’ll tell you that if there comes to be anything between me and the O’Toole it’ll be because it’s something we both decide upon, not because some bullying member of the gentry’s decided for us. Or even because my new sister, whom I love dearly, wishes it so.”
“I only wish you to be happy.”
“I’ve plans to stay th
at way. And as I do, I’d best get into the pub so Aidan’s not duty-bound to break my head for being late.”
ELEVEN
BRENNA DIDN’T CONSIDER it spying. And she’d have challenged the one who accused her. It just so happened that she had a bit of work to do in Finkle’s room. He’d complained the shower was slow to drain, and since she was there in any case, the hotel had asked that she deal with it. Was it her fault he was on the phone with his employer when she came ’round? Certainly not. And could the blame be laid on her that he wasn’t the sort of man who paid any mind to service people?
Unless, she imagined, they looked like Darcy, and then a man would have to be deaf and blind, and likely dead a year or so not to give her a long second look. But that was beside the point altogether.
He’d let her in himself, with a fussy and impatient wave of his hand. Then had simply gestured toward the bath and gone back to the phone. Such treatment didn’t hurt her feelings. She was there to do some plumbing, after all.
But she had ears, and was there any reason not to use them?
“I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Magee, the young man’s here to fix the plumbing.”
Young man? Brenna bit her tongue and rolled her eyes.
“I’ll fax the report as soon as I’ve put it all in a cohesive form. That may be after business hours in New York, sir, so I’ll send copies to your private line as well.”
In the bath, Brenna rattled her tools. From her angle she could see only Finkle’s polished shoes and a thin strip of dove-gray sock.
“No, I haven’t been able to get the name of the London firm that’s interested in the property. The elder brother, Aidan, brushes it off, claims the other one is confused. I’d have to say it’s more than possible for the younger to confuse things. He’s amiable enough, but doesn’t appear terribly bright.”
Brenna snorted, then began the business of snaking the drain. As quietly as manageable.
“However, judging from the reaction, the body language, and the speed with which this lapse was covered, I’d have to say there has been some negotiation in that corner.”
