The Lost

One

“Miss O’Mara?” The young man’s voice was thick with Irish brogue.

“Yes.” Aidan O’Mara watched him doff his cap.

“The car is waiting. Right this way. I’ll take your luggage.” His big hand clamped around the handle of her overnight bag, and he tucked it under his arm as though it were a toy. He shouldered his way through the crowd at Dublin Airport, slowing his pace whenever she fell behind.

“Here we are.” He helped her into the backseat of a vehicle the size of a small boat before stowing her bag.

As he started the car he glanced over his shoulder. “There’s a bottle of water if you’d like. We’ve a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

“Thank you.” Aidan watched the flow of traffic, the passing scenery, with the fascination of one who had never before been to Ireland. Not only was she out of her own country for the first time, but completely out of her element.

How was it possible that just a week ago she’d buried her mother and watched her whole world unravel? Yet here she was, an ocean away from all that was familiar, being transported in a vintage Rolls by a red-haired, freckled lad in a jaunty cap who looked like a model for a travel brochure, on her way to meet a perfect stranger who hinted of secrets from her family’s past.

She was so weary, both physically and emotionally. So much had happened to her in the past few days. Too much for her to take in. The steady flow of traffic, the moving river of humanity inching along the streets of Dublin became a blur.

Drained, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift back.

“Aidan. I’m sorry for your loss.” Father Davis handed the young woman a small wooden cross from her mother’s casket before turning away from the gravesite. He paused. “You know, of course, our church pantry can assist you with some meals until you’re back on your feet. If you need anything at all…”

“Thank you, Father. I’ll be fine.” She could feel the stares from those who were standing nearby, and could hear their whispered comments about her mother’s long illness and the drain on her finances.

She thanked the friends and neighbors who had come to offer their condolences, holding herself together by sheer force of will.

She experienced an odd sense of relief when she was finally alone. Dropping to her knees, she let out a long, deep sigh and looked at the headstones of her family members that surrounded her mother’s fresh grave. Thankfully her parents had bought the sites many years ago, in order to be buried near their own parents. If Aidan had been forced to buy a cemetery plot along with all the other funeral costs, she could never have afforded it.

These past months had been so hard. At first she’d been able to juggle her work at the bank and the care of her mother. As the illness progressed and things became more difficult, a neighbor suggested a private nursing facility. Aidan had looked into it, only to learn that the cost was more than she could manage. She spoke with her supervisor at work, hoping for a leave of absence, but that was denied. Ultimately forced to choose between quitting her job and putting her mother in a public facility, she’d stayed home and tended her mother to the end.

She hoped that all these months later her position at the bank would still be available. Her meager savings were now depleted.

Because she’d sold her car, she walked the six blocks to the tidy house she’d shared with her mother, after giving up her apartment. As she entered she picked up the mail and carried it to the kitchen. She made a cup of tea and sat at the table, carefully opening each envelope and adding to the pile of unpaid bills. The medical bills were bad enough, but the unpaid taxes meant that she would soon see her family home go up for auction.

“Oh, Mama.” She buried her face in her hands, refusing to give in to the desire to weep.

How had her life taken such a turn? She’d been raised in a lovely, middle-class family, and had a good education and a fine work ethic. Though it was true that her grandfather had squandered a good deal of his savings on land speculation that hadn’t paid off, Aidan’s mother and grandmother had picked up the pieces and paid off his debts. Her father had saved enough for a decent retirement, at least until his prolonged illness drained his income. With her mother’s illness following on the heels of his death, Aidan’s life savings were quickly gone, as well.

Her fingers moved over the calculator, tallying the debt so far. She studied her negative bank balance and felt a sudden panic. In her line of work at the bank she’d counseled many people who were one paycheck away from financial disaster. Unlike them, she had no paycheck to depend on. She was already ruined.

She glanced at the clock. Too late to phone her old supervisor now. But first thing tomorrow she would make that call. Mr. Saunders had to hire her back. Had to.

When the doorbell rang, she thought about ignoring it. She was too drained to deal with well-m eaning neighbors. But good manners had her doing the right thing regardless of her feelings. She opened the door and forced a smile to her lips.

“Aidan O’Mara?”

The man was dressed in an impeccable suit and tie, and carrying an attaché case. He handed her a business card. “Philip Barlow, with Putnam, Shaw and Forest.”

At the mention of one of the best-known legal firms in town, her smile fled. Which of her creditors had turned her debt over to a law firm?

“I’m Aidan O’Mara.” She squared her shoulders to hide the feeling of dread at what was to come. A lawsuit on top of everything else would be the final humiliation.

“Ms. O’Mara, I’m sorry about the timing of my visit. But it was your mother’s obituary in the newspaper that brought me here. You are listed as her next of kin.”

Aidan nodded. “Her only kin.”

“Maybe not.” At his words, her head came up sharply.

“My firm was contacted by a legal firm in Ireland. Mr. Cullen Glin, from the town of Glinkilly, in the county of Kerry, Ireland, has spent years searching for his long-l ost child. We have reason to believe that your mother was his daughter.”

Though relieved to know that his visit wasn’t about a debt, Aidan was already shaking her head. “I’m sorry. You’re mistaken. My mother’s parents lived right here in town. I’ve known them all my life.”

“I’m sure you have. But Mr. Glin’s sworn statement says otherwise. There are… extenuating circumstances that will question certain claims that you have accepted as fact for a lifetime.”

“But I…”

“Mr. Glin’s arguments are very persuasive.” The young lawyer glanced around the small foyer, noting the well-worn carpet, the faded draperies. “When I reached his solicitor by phone, I was instructed to relay his request that you fly to Ireland and meet his client face-to-face. If, after that meeting, either of you is not persuaded of the relationship, your visit will be terminated at once.” Seeing that she was about to refuse, he added, “Needless to say, all your expenses will be covered, and you will be given a generous stipend for your inconvenience.”

For a moment she was taken by such surprise, she couldn’t find her voice. At last she managed, “This is all very tempting, but I know without seeing your Mr. Glin that we couldn’t possibly be related.”

He merely smiled. “Then think of this offer as a gift to you. A chance to get away from your life as you know it and spend a few pleasant days in Ireland.”

“Sorry…” Her hand went to the door.

“Before you refuse, perhaps you should read this.” He reached into his briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “You have my card. Call me when you’ve come to a decision.”

She watched him turn and walk down the sidewalk to his car. She closed the door and carried the documents to the table, where she sipped her now tepid tea and began to read.

When she finished, she stared into space, trying to make sense of it.

There were detailed reports about a family named Fitzgibbon, who had emigrated from Ireland fifty-five years ago, the same year her mother had been born. There was a map of the town of Glinkilly, in Ireland, where Hugh and Caitlin Fitzgibbon had been born, the date of their marriage and the birth date of their only daughter, Moira, as well as the name of the ship that brought them to the United States and the port where they’d disembarked. It would seem that their lives had been carefully documented, but as far as she could see, none of this could be used to link these strangers to her, or, in turn, to link her to this stranger, Cullen Glin.

Aidan thought about her mother’s mother, Maureen Gibbons, a sweet, quiet, rather sad woman who had been married to stern Edward Martin for more than forty years before her death. She rarely spoke about herself, preferring to talk about her beautiful daughter, Claire, on whom she doted.

Aidan’s mother, Claire, was the only child of Maureen and Edward. There were no others. Not even a stillbirth had been recorded in their family Bible. Cullen Glin had no claim on her. As tempting as it was to consider an all-expense-paid trip to Ireland and a fat check for her inconvenience, her conscience wouldn’t permit it. She had no right to lead some desperate old man on in his quest to find his lost child. His time would be better spent locating his true heirs.

She would phone Mr. Barlow in the morning, right after she phoned the bank to retrieve her job.

That morning call, however, changed everything.

“Well, Aidan.” Walter Saunders, her former supervisor, used his best customer-relations voice over the phone. “Good to hear from you. I’m sorry about your mother. Everyone here at First City sends their sympathy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Saunders.” Aidan had seen and heard her supervisor in action, using that oh-so-warm voice while staring into the distance with absolutely no emotion at all.

She took a breath. “Now that I’m free to work, I was hoping I might be able to come back.”

There was a momentary pause. “You were a fine employee, Aidan. The best.”

She waited. When he offered nothing more, she jumped in to fill the silence. “If it’s a problem, I’d be willing to start at a reduced salary. I realize that I wouldn’t be qualified for the pay scale I’d reached before leaving. Or the benefits.” Now she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I’m not asking for full benefits, just enough to help with any medical situations that might arise. As you can imagine, I’m feeling overwhelmed by medical crises at the moment.”

Silence.

She closed her eyes, hoping he couldn’t hear the desperation that crept into her tone. She hated that she was begging. “I need this job, Mr. Saunders.”

“Yes. Well.” His tone sharpened. “I’m afraid we have no openings just now, Aidan. You realize we had to fill your position as quickly as possible. You left us with no other choice.”

“I gave you two weeks’ notice. I thought that would be enough to train my replacement.”

“And you did train her. Very well, I might add. She’s become a valuable employee.” He cleared his throat. “I have your personnel file. If anything becomes available, I’ll be certain to contact you.”

“You have nothing now?”

“Nothing. As you well know, these are hard times in the banking industry.”

Numb, Aidan heard the phone disconnect while she was muttering, “Thank you, Mr. Saunders. And have a nice day.”

Then, because she’d pinned all her hopes on this call, she burst into tears. Once unlocked, the tears she’d been holding at bay for days, for weeks, ran unchecked down her cheeks, soaking the front of her shirt.

She hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed that job. Now that it was being denied her, she couldn’t seem to think beyond it. What would she do? What could she do?

Without a quick infusion of cash, she would lose her family home and would find herself out on the street.

Seeing the papers left by the lawyer, she picked up his card and, without giving a thought to the consequences, dialed the number. When she heard his voice, she spoke quickly, so she wouldn’t lose her nerve.

“Mr. Barlow? Aidan O’Mara. When can you book that flight to Ireland?”

“Had a bit of a nap, did you?” The young lad’s voice had her looking up to see him watching her in the rearview mirror. “We’re passing through Glinkilly.” A note of pride crept into his tone. “Our wee town was built near the site of an ancient abbey, which dates to the twelfth century.”

“Such a pretty town.” And it was, with its tidy houses and clean streets. The shop windows were bright with goods, and the people walking about looked friendly and prosperous.

“You’ll soon have your first glimpse of Glin Lodge.”

They left the town behind and started along a lovely country road, wide enough for only one vehicle at a time. On either side of the car were hedgerows of deep pink flowers so thick Aidan couldn’t see beyond them.

The hedgerows gave way to a meandering stone wall with an occasional door painted bright red or sky blue or sunny yellow. She wondered where the doors led, but the wall was too high to see over.

The car was climbing, climbing, as though scaling a mountain. When they reached the top of a hill and turned onto a wide, curving ribbon of road, she saw acres of perfectly sculpted grounds. Ancient flowering trees with branches that swept the grass before lifting high in the air. Fountains set among lovely rose gardens, with stone benches set about to enjoy the view. Sheep dotted a distant hillside, adding to the pastoral setting.

They rounded a curve and Aidan’s jaw dropped at the sight of the stone mansion glinting in the late-afternoon sunlight.

“There’s Glin Lodge, miss.”

“This is where Mr. Glin lives?”

“Aye. Indeed.” He shot her a glance in the mirror and smiled at the look on her face.

The word lodge had planted an image in her mind far removed from this. She’d been expecting a rustic house, with a few barns and outbuildings. It had never occurred to Aidan that Cullen Glin lived in such luxury. The lodge was actually a mansion. The kind of place she’d seen only in books.

They drove past a reflecting pond where a pair of black swans circled, leaving barely a ripple in their wake.

As they pulled into the circular drive and came to a halt at the foot of high stone steps, a pair of massive Irish wolfhounds came bounding up, setting off a chorus of barking.

The lad circled the car and opened the passenger door. When Aidan hesitated, he gave her a wide smile. “They’re big and noisy, but they won’t bite.”

He helped her from the car. Before he could admonish the dogs, a man on horseback came up behind them.

As he dismounted, the man’s deep voice called, “Meath. Mayo.”

The two dogs sat, tails swishing, tongues lolling. Aidan would have sworn they were grinning.

She turned for a better look at the man.

He wore a charcoal jacket and denims tucked into tall leather boots. His dark hair was wind-tossed, his eyes deep blue and piercing as they boldly studied her. Though not handsome in the classic sense, his rugged good looks and casual elegance gave him a commanding presence. He looked like the hero in every classic novel she’d ever read. The sight of him took her breath away.

He spoke first to the driver. “Sean, you can take the lady’s luggage inside. Mrs. Murphy will tell you where to put it.”

As the lad hurried away, the stranger turned to Aidan. “You’d be Miss O’Mara.”

“Aidan O’Mara. And you are?”

“Ross Delaney, Mr. Glin’s solicitor.” He gave her an appraising look. “Your pictures didn’t do you justice.”

“Pictures?”

“As you can imagine, Mr. Glin was more than a little curious to see what you looked like. He won’t be disappointed.” He glanced toward an upper window. “I’m sure by now he’s heard the commotion and will be itching to meet you. Come.” With his hand beneath her elbow, he walked beside her up the stone steps.

Aidan became aware of a tingle of warmth where their bodies connected. She shot him a sideways glance, and saw only a stern, handsome profile that seemed chiseled in stone.

The double doors were opened by an old woman who wore a spotless apron over a black dress that fell to her ankles. White hair had been pulled back in a severe bun at her nape. Little tendrils had slipped free to curl damply around her plump cheeks. The woman seemed distracted and slightly out of breath, as though she’d just run a marathon, but when she smiled, her entire face sparkled like sunshine.

“Bridget, this is Miss O’Mara, Mr. Glin’s… guest.”

Aidan shot him a glance. Was it her imagination, or had he stumbled over what term he should use to describe her?

There was no time to mull as he continued. “Here at Glin Lodge, Bridget Murphy is the housekeeper and all-around miracle worker. If you need anything, just ask Bridget.”

“Aw, go on with you now.” The old woman was positively glowing at his praise.

And why not? Charm that smooth had probably been learned at his mother’s knee. No doubt he used it on women of all ages.

Aidan offered a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Bridget.”

“As you can imagine, we’ve all been eager to welcome you, too, miss.” The woman took a breath before turning with a brisk nod. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Ross Delaney remained at the door, watching her with more than casual interest.

As Aidan walked away and began to follow Bridget up the stairs, she could feel that cool blue stare following her. It gave her a tingle of awareness. Like the hounds, Meath and Mayo, she felt like wriggling all over with delight and was already scolding herself for such foolishness.

Two

After climbing to the second floor, Bridget opened a set of double doors and stepped aside. “These will be your rooms, Miss O’Mara.”

Aidan caught her breath at the luxurious setting. She was standing in a parlor that was bigger than her parents’ entire house. The floor was an expanse of white- and gold-veined marble, softened by a rug in tones of white and gold and pale green. In one corner was a grand piano. A fire burned on the hearth, with a fireplace surround of the same marble, flanked by two gold chairs and a white sofa. Tossed over two footstools were throws embroidered with a gold crest bearing an eagle and an intertwined monogram with the letters C and M.

She crossed to the bedroom, which was as elegant as the parlor, with a king-sized bed covered in a white comforter bearing the same crest.

A teenaged girl dressed in faded denims and a T-shirt was busy hanging Aidan’s clothes in a closet. She turned as Aidan and Bridget entered.

“Miss O’Mara, if you need anything, just let Charity O’Malley know your pleasure.” The frazzled housekeeper gave the little housemaid a meaningful look. “You’ll not be dawdling, girl. Kathleen needs your help in the kitchen as soon as you’ve finished here.”

“Of course.” Charity seemed completely unfazed by the older woman’s attempt to be stern. With a smile, she picked up yet another piece of clothing from the suitcase and transferred it to the closet.

“There’s tea.” The housekeeper nodded toward the silver tea service on a large tray set on a writing desk across the room. “With the long journey, you’ll be wanting a bit of sleep before dinner. Himself wanted to come charging in and meet you right this minute, but I told him that traveling drains a body.”

“Himself?”

“Cullen Glin. Your…” The old woman stopped, then sputtered, “He’s pacing his room like a caged tiger. I told him he’ll just have to wait until you’ve had a nap. He’ll get to meet you by and by. You rest now. I’ll have Charity wake you when it’s time for dinner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Murphy.”

“It’s Bridget, dear. Everyone here calls me Bridget.”

“Thank you, Bridget.” Aidan gave up trying to follow the old woman’s words. They were spoken nonstop, and her head was spinning. But this much she’d caught. Bridget, and probably everyone else who worked here, knew why she was here. And had already formed an opinion about her.

A glance at the bed had her wondering how she could bear to disturb that perfect picture, with its mounds of pillows and creamy white linens. She looked toward the cushioned window seat beneath the tall leaded windows, thinking she might curl up there for a quick nap.

When the housekeeper left, Aidan poured a cup of tea and nibbled one of the biscuits nestled beneath a linen napkin. The flaky pastry melted in her mouth.

“Do you live here, Charity?”

The girl barely paused in her work as she continued hanging each item with meticulous care. “Oh no, miss. I live in Glinkilly, just down the road.”

“Sean pointed out your town when we passed through. It’s lovely.”

“It is, yes. We’re all very proud of Glinkilly. Sean and I are old school chums.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“This is my second year. I’m hoping to save enough to attend university in two years.”

“What do you hope to study?”

“Medicine. My two older sisters, Faith and Hope, are both studying to be doctors.”

Faith, Hope and Charity. Aidan couldn’t help grinning. “How grand. That’s a fine goal. Is your father a doctor?”

“He’s a farmer. He said he’s weary of dancing to the whims of nature, and wants better for his children.”

That had Aidan laughing aloud. “A wise man. I see you’ve heeded his advice.”

“So far. Of course, he wants us all to marry wealthy men, too, but as our mum says, money can’t buy love.”

Aidan sipped her tea in silence. There was a time when she would have agreed with Charity’s mother. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe, if a person were desperate enough, she would even trade love for the chance to escape the burden of debt.

“Not that I wouldn’t be tempted, if the rich man happened to look like Ross Delaney.”

At Charity’s words, Aidan snapped to attention.

The housemaid touched a hand to her heart. “Now, there’s a man who can make a girl’s heart race with just a look or a smile.”

“I’m sure,” Aidan remarked dryly, “he knows just how to use that kind of charm.”

“Then I wish he’d use some of it on me.” Charity covered her hand with her mouth to stifle the laughter that bubbled. “My older sisters told me they did everything but dance naked in front of him when they worked here, and he never once noticed them.” She wrinkled her nose. “The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. All he thinks about is pleasing the old man. I think if Cullen Glin asked him to lie down in front of a moving train, he’d do it.”

“Such loyalty. He must be paid very well for his services.”

“I don’t think he does it for the money. Those who know him, and they’re few indeed, say he genuinely loves the old man. But who really knows? Ross Delaney is a bit of a mystery.” Charity lowered her voice. “Something happened between him and the old man years ago. Though there are a dozen variations of the story, nobody knows for sure. Whatever it was, the old man treats him more like his son than his barrister.”

“Speaking of sons, does Cullen Glin have any children?”

Charity closed the suitcase and stowed it in the closet. “He never married. He lives all alone in this mansion, which my father calls a mausoleum. Of course, if I had his money, and could live in such digs, I’m sure I could survive a little loneliness. Or buy whatever company I craved.”

“Doesn’t Ross Delaney live here with him?”

“He may as well live here, for all the time he spends doing the old man’s bidding. But he calls the guest cottage down the lane his home. According to Bridget, he told the old man that he needed his own space.” She gave a dry laugh. “His own space. Can you imagine? Half our town could live here and it still wouldn’t be crowded.”

She looked over to see Aidan stifling a yawn. “Oh, here I am prattling on about all this foolishness when you’re probably dead on your feet.” The girl removed a robe from the closet before drawing back the elegant comforter to reveal snowy sheets. “I’ll leave you alone now and let you get some sleep. I’ll see that you’re awake with plenty of time to dress for dinner.”

“Thank you for everything, Charity.”

The girl left, closing the door behind her. A moment later Aidan heard the parlor doors close.

Slipping out of her denims and sweater, Aidan picked up the robe. It was soft as a whisper. A look at the label confirmed that it was cashmere. With a sigh, she slid it on and sashed it before walking barefoot to the window to stare down at the scene below. All around were acres of rich green lawn, studded with rose gardens, statuary, wildlife. A garden of paradise.

It all seemed too good to be true.

Wasn’t there always a snake in paradise?

She climbed into bed, hoping she could turn off her thoughts and just relax. But she kept thinking about all the things she’d learned. A rich old man who lived here all alone, and believed her mother to be his long-l ost daughter. That would make him her grandfather.

Of course it wasn’t possible. But what if…?

And then there was Ross Delaney, the mystery man. When they’d first met, he’d been studying her much too carefully. If any other man had looked at her like that, she’d have felt violated. But there was no denying that she’d felt something very different in his presence.

She’d sensed his curiosity and something more. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it an instant attraction.

The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. The old man treats him like a son.

He was probably just curious about her, and protecting his turf. Not that it mattered. Once she and Cullen Glin had their meeting, she would be on her way home, with a fat check that would, hopefully, cover the worst of her debts.

Clinging to that thought, she drifted into sleep.

“Miss O’Mara.”

The thick brogue penetrated Aidan’s consciousness and she opened her eyes to see Charity standing beside the bed.

She sat up, feeling as though she’d been drugged. Sluggish and vaguely disoriented. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Only an hour or so. Bridget sent me to fetch you. It’s six o’clock. She said dinner will be at seven.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you need help? I could run your bath.”

“Thanks, but I believe I’ll just grab a quick shower. How will I find the dining room?”

“No need to worry.” Charity lowered her voice for dramatic emphasis. “Ross Delaney himself will be up shortly, to take you there.”

“Up here?” Aidan glanced around.

“Not here. Next door, in the parlor.”

“Oh.” She shared a laugh with the girl. “All right. I guess I’d better get ready so I don’t keep him waiting.”

As soon as Charity was gone, Aidan hurried to the shower. Half an hour later, with her dark hair freshly dried, falling long and straight to her shoulders, and her makeup applied, she stood before the open closet doors, trying to decide on the appropriate attire. She’d overpacked for a single night, but she hadn’t been certain just what would be expected of her. And, of course, there was the fickle Irish weather to contend with. After much dithering, she’d brought one of her old business suits, a dress that she thought would work for warm or cool weather, as well as the comfortable denims and sweater she’d worn on the flight.

Since they would be eating here, she didn’t need to worry about the weather. She settled on her one dress, of aqua silk with a slim, straight skirt, square neckline and long sleeves. She added her grandmother’s small pearl earrings and a pair of strappy high-h eeled sandals.

With a last glance at her reflection in the full-l ength mirror, she stepped into the parlor.

“Oh.” She stopped in midstride when she caught sight of Ross standing by the fireplace. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry.” He seemed to pull himself back with an effort from some dark thoughts that had him frowning. “I knocked before letting myself in. I heard the shower running, and decided to make myself comfortable.” He picked up a crystal fluted glass. “Champagne?”

“Yes, thank you.” Though it irritated her to know that he’d been here without her knowledge, she forced herself to put it aside. He was, after all, much more entitled to be at home here than she was. Still, it rankled that he’d been just outside her bedroom for all this time, listening as she’d taken her sweet time getting ready.

He handed her the glass.

She noted that he was drinking water from a crystal rock glass. “You don’t care for champagne?”

“No. What do you think of your first glimpse of Ireland?”

He had a definite way of changing the subject when it suited him.

She looked up. “How do you know this is my first trip here?”

His lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s my job to learn as much about you as possible.”

“And you’re very good at your job.”

“I am. Yes.”

His brogue wasn’t as pronounced as that of the others she’d encountered, but it was there in that simple phrase.

“Then you know that this visit will end as quickly as it began.”

“Is that your plan?”

She sipped her champagne to avoid his eyes. “I came here to satisfy an old man’s curiosity about me. And, in all honesty, to satisfy my own curiosity about him. But more than that, I came here for the promised check for my inconvenience. Once I’ve met Cullen Glin and heard what he has to say, I’ll be on my way in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.”

She looked over. He wasn’t smiling. There was no hint of a joke in his tone. And yet… Her tone sharpened. “If, as you say, you’ve done a thorough investigation of me, you have to know that I’m not who he thinks I am.”

“I know only that Cullen Glin has spent years searching for his long-l ost daughter.”

“I’m sorry for him. I’ll be happy to meet him, and then accept his check for the inconvenience. But I won’t pretend to be what he wants me to be.”

“Nor would he ask that.” Ross’ tone remained deceptively even. “If you’ve finished your drink, I’ll take you to him and you can tell him what you’ve just told me.”

She handed him her empty glass and he set it beside his on a sideboard.

As they stepped into the hallway and started down the stairs, Ross lowered his voice. “I do hope you’ll be polite with Cullen, and at least express your gratitude for this opportunity. Further, I’d appreciate it if you’d take care not to tire him. This is an extremely emotional time for him.”

“For him?” Aidan could feel her temper rising. “What about my emotions? If you know all you claim to know, then you realize I’ve just buried my mother, I’ve come halfway around the world, and I’m being lectured on how to behave with a stranger who wants to make me into someone I’m not.”

He paused to put a hand on her arm. “I’m only trying to help you through an awkward meeting.”

She drew away as though burned. “I’ll behave as I damned well please, Mr. Delaney. And when this meeting is over, I’ll be more than happy to leave you alone with the old man you’re trying so hard to protect from the big, bad American.”

For a moment he merely stared at her. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

It was the most amazing transformation. His face, which had moments earlier appeared to be carved from stone, was now warm with animation. His eyes, which she’d sworn were ice blue, now glinted with humor. His voice, so stern and self-r ighteous, now softened with merriment.

“I see you have a temper, Miss O’Mara. A very good sign indeed.”

He paused before reaching a hand to the ornate door handle. Leaning close, he added, “I pray you keep it in check until the evening ends. Otherwise, you may find in Cullen Glin its equal.”

Before she could form a retort, he had the door open and heard him saying in a clear voice, “Sir, it’s my pleasure to introduce Aidan O’Mara. Aidan, your… host, Cullen Glin.”

Three

Aidan’s temper was forgotten as she stared in surprise at the man facing her. She had expected to meet a frail old man, perhaps in a wheelchair, his lap covered with a blanket. That was her last memory of her stern grandfather in the years before his passing.

There was nothing frail about the man who strode across the room and offered a firm handshake. If anything, he resembled an aging lion, with a mane of white hair, a handsome Irish countenance, and a commanding presence. In his day, Aidan decided, Cullen Glin would have easily rivaled Ross Delaney as the most handsome man at any gathering.

“Aidan. Welcome to my home. Forgive me for staring.” He took a moment to compose himself. “I hope you’ll excuse my lack of manners. I got momentarily sidetracked. You’re much lovelier than your photographs.”

“Thank you.” She found herself beginning to relax in this man’s presence. “Your home is spectacular. My first glimpse of it took my breath away.”

“How refreshing.” He glanced beyond her to smile at Ross. “Isn’t she delightful?” Without waiting for a response, he turned that charming smile on her. “How are your rooms, my dear?”

“They’re grand. And, oh, that view of the gardens. I could sit and look at them for hours.”

“They’ve been at their best this season. I hope you were able to rest after that long flight.”

“I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly.”

“Good. Good.” With his hand beneath her elbow, he led her across the room to a grouping of furniture positioned to take advantage of a cozy fire on the hearth.

Like her suite of rooms, the dining room was cavernous, with a table that could easily seat thirty or more people, and a crystal chandelier above it winking with hundreds of lights. Mahogany floors were polished to a high sheen, and softened with an enormous rug in shades of emerald and ruby and gold.

Despite the size, it felt easy and comfortable. Like the man of the house, Aidan thought, who seemed bigger than life.

Bridget entered bearing a silver tray on which stood a crystal decanter and three glasses. Cullen handed one to Aidan and took one for himself before handing Ross a tumbler of water.

“Before we begin dinner, I’d like to offer a toast, my dear. To you, for humoring an old man.” He touched his glass to hers, and then to Ross’. “And, as always, to those we’ve loved and lost.”

Aidan was caught off guard by the depth of pain she could hear in his words, and the sudden flicker of it in his eyes.

Her own loss was still too fresh, too deep. She thought of her mother, and how she would have enjoyed this.

To hide her pain, she sipped and looked away. When she looked up, he was watching her closely.

“I was devastated to learn that you’d only just buried your mother, and that you were her sole caregiver during her illness.”

She nodded, unable to speak over the sudden lump that clogged her throat.

“Thank heaven she had you. There’s nothing like family to see us through the hard times.” He glanced over at Ross, who was studying Aidan through narrowed eyes. “Those of us not blessed with blood kin create our own families. Take Ross. He’s as precious to me as any son.”

“Then you’re lucky to have him.” Unable to turn away from that icy stare, Aidan shot Ross a challenging look.

Reading her irritation, his lips quirked in a hint of a smile, further annoying her.

“Sit here by the fire and enjoy your drink, my dear.” Cullen indicated a comfortable chaise and waited until she was seated, before choosing a chair beside her.

Ross walked to the hearth to poke at the fire before turning to face them. His hand rested along the mantel, drawing Aidan’s attention to the exquisite detail of the sculpted white marble.

“That fireplace is stunning, Mr. Glin.”

“Please, call me Cullen.”

She sipped her champagne. “Has your family lived here for generations?”

That brought a laugh from both Cullen and Ross.

Seeing her arched brow, the old man explained. “In my youth, I was considered an outsider, despite my name, because I grew up in the poorest section of town. There are hundreds of Glins in Glinkilly. In those days Glin Lodge lay in ruins, as did most of the town and the ancient Glin Abbey. If you look out your bedroom windows, beyond the gardens, you’ll see the ruins of the abbey, which was originally built in the fifteenth century. If I live long enough, I hope to restore it as I restored this place.”

“You did all this by yourself?”

He smiled. “I’d love to take all the credit, but it took hundreds of tradesmen hundreds of hours to turn this into the place you now see. All I did was hire good people.”

“Not to mention spending a considerable fortune,” Ross added.

“Money well spent. I was happy to add to the town’s economy, since I make it a rule to hire as many local workmen as possible. Now the people of Glinkilly can take pride in what they accomplish, while enjoying the wages they earn.”

“What spurred you to do all this?”

He ducked his head and sipped his champagne in silence. When he looked up, his smile was back. “Ross made me realize that it was necessary to restore not only my land, but my name, as well. Both had gone to ruin, and it shamed me.”

He glanced over when Bridget entered, followed by Charity, pushing a serving cart. “Ah, here’s our dinner now.”

Instead of the large table in the center of the room, Cullen led her to a small, round table in one corner, set with snowy linens and fine silver and crystal.

The old man held her chair. “I thought this would be cozier.”

“It’s perfect.” She smiled at Charity as the girl paused beside her, offering a tray of tender roast beef slices and an array of vegetables. She helped herself, and waited as Cullen and Ross did the same.

Bridget placed a silver basket of soda bread in the middle of the table, along with a platter of various cheeses.

“I hope you’ll try the cheese.” Cullen placed several wedges on his plate. “They’re all made by the farmers here in Glinkilly.”

She tasted first one, then another, before nodding. “Wonderful. They must be very proud.”

“And well they should be. Since we’ve made them available throughout the country, they’ve become one of the most popular dairy products in Ireland.”

“Do I see your hand in this, as well?”

“It was Ross who recognized a highly marketable commodity and suggested we try packaging them on a small scale first, to test the waters. Once the consumers began buying in quantity, I knew we had a winner. The rest was up to our local farmers, who’ve proven to be more than up to the task.”

“Do you own the company that markets the cheese?”

He gave a firm shake of his head. “I suggested the farmers form a cooperative. With some seed money from me, they took over completely. They raise the dairy cows, make the cheese, market it under their own brand, and all members share in the profits.”

“No wonder the town looked so prosperous.”

He smiled. “A high compliment indeed. Some years ago you’d have thought Glinkilly the poorest of places in all of Ireland.”

“And now, thanks to you, it prospers.”

His tone lowered. “May it continue, through good times and bad.” He brightened. “How is your dinner?”

Aidan laughed. “What little I’ve tasted is excellent. I’m afraid I got too caught up in your narrative to do it justice.”

“You’d best eat or Kathleen, who oversees our kitchen, will think she made a dreadful choice, and probably have Bridget’s and Charity’s heads in the bargain.”

“We can’t have that.” Aidan took another bite of beef that nearly melted in her mouth.

By the time they’d finished their meal, Bridget and Charity were back, this time with coffee and a tray of assorted cherry and blueberry tarts.

Cullen polished off one of each before sitting back with a sigh. “The perfect ending to a perfect meal. Bridget, be sure to give my compliments to Kathleen.”

She smiled and took her leave, shooing Charity ahead of her.

Across the table, Ross refused dessert and sipped his coffee. It occurred to Aidan that he’d volunteered nothing during the course of their meal. Maybe he was on a mission to see that she didn’t offend her host. Or maybe, she thought, he found her company too dull to bother with something as inane as small talk.

Still, despite his silence, she’d been acutely aware of him watching, listening, studying her like a specimen to be dissected. It gave her an uneasy feeling. If Cullen Glin was warmer than she’d expected, his legal counsel was behaving like a bodyguard keeping an eye on a trained assassin.

He needn’t worry that she would try to worm her way into this very wealthy man’s life by some pretense or other. She had every intention of informing Cullen of his error in bringing her here. But not tonight, she decided suddenly. Tonight, seeing the eagerness in the old man’s eyes, hearing it in his voice, she would let him have his fantasy for a little while longer.

She sipped her coffee, warmed by the fine food and the fire on the hearth, and the pure pleasure of her host’s charming personality.

Just for tonight she would pretend that she was merely a guest in this lovely mansion, invited to partake of all the pleasures such a place could provide.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the unpleasant realities of her situation. Tomorrow she would firmly, without leaving any room for doubt, let Cullen Glin know that she was who she had always believed she was, the daughter of John and Claire O’Mara, and the granddaughter of Maureen and Edward Martin.

Cullin Glin would have to search elsewhere for his long-lost kin.

“Come,” the old man said, suddenly getting to his feet. “Now that we’ve been fortified by Kathleen’s fine food, it’s time you had a tour of my humble abode.”

“And this was once the library. It’s now my office.”

Their first stop had been the formal parlor, decorated with a lovely mix of antiques salvaged from the original lodge, and comfortable pieces put together by a local decorator.

This room, however, seemed perfectly suited to her host. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were stocked with leather-bound books. A stone fireplace soared to a second-story gallery that ringed two walls, showing more bookshelves. A massive desk was positioned in front of French doors that opened to a brick-paved patio and the gardens beyond.

“I’m afraid this is where Ross and I spend most of our time.” With his hand beneath Aidan’s elbow, Cullen led her across the floor.

“It’s a lovely room.”

Ross moved to a side table and poured coffee liqueur into two small glasses. As he handed her one, she thanked him before nodding toward the patio. “Though I think I’d be more tempted to work out there, to the sound of birds and the scent of all those roses.”

“Not at all conducive to work. I doubt we’d get much done out there.” Cullen smiled as Ross handed him a similar glass.

Aidan moved about the room, running a finger along the smooth wood of his desk, pausing to study a framed pen-and-i nk drawing of the town of Glinkilly that hung on the wall.

The signature of the artist caught her eye. “You did this, Cullen?”

He nodded.

“It’s excellent.”

He couldn’t hide his pleasure. “In my misspent youth, I toyed with the idea of being an artist. Then I was persuaded to put aside foolish dreams and get to the business of making money.”

She turned. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

He glanced at Ross. “Now, there’s a question that hasn’t been put to me before. In the years you’ve known me, can you think of anything I’ve done except work?”

Ross shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

The two men shared a laugh.

“What is it you do?”

“I study spreadsheets, cost analyses, profit-and-l oss reports. I buy and sell companies, make money for the investors, sit on the boards of several corporations.”

Aidan merely stared at him. “It sounds… complicated. Do you enjoy your work?”

He took a moment to sip his after-dinner drink. “In that misspent youth I spoke of, I was a laborer. And had the aching muscles to prove it. It took me some time to uncover this other talent, but I’ve more than made up for my lapse. So the answer to your question is yes. I enjoy my work very much.”

“I’m sure the people of Glinkilly are glad, too, since they’ve been the beneficiaries.”

“There is that. It gives me pleasure to improve their lives, especially when I see how hard they’re willing to work to continue to grow and prosper. Long after I’m gone their children and grandchildren will keep the legacy going.”

“And legacy matters to you.”

He met her look. “It does, yes.”

He saw her stifle a yawn and was immediately contrite. “I’ve been having such a grand time showing you my home, I forgot how exhausting travel can be. Please, my dear, go up to your bed now, and we’ll have another visit in the morning.”

Aidan set aside her glass. “You’re right. I really need to sleep now. I’m afraid the flight and time change are defeating me.”

He walked over to close her hand between both of his. “I hope you sleep well and late into the day. Whatever time you wake, we’ll share one of Kathleen’s fine big breakfasts.”

“Thank you, Cullen.” She glanced past him to where Ross stood, silent and watching. “Good night, Ross.”

“Ross will walk you to your suite.”

“There’s no need.”

Cullen ignored her protest. “I insist.”

After saying good night to their host, Ross followed Aidan from the room and up the stairs.

Because he remained one step behind her, she couldn’t see his face. But the prickly feeling along her spine had her achingly aware of those steely eyes watching her.

At the top of the stairs, Aidan stood back while Ross opened the door to her suite of rooms.

She shot him a weary smile. “Good night, Ross.”

“I’d like a word with you.” Seeing that she was about to protest, he stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. “Just a word. No more.”

She sighed. “What’s wrong? Didn’t I follow your instructions carefully enough? Did I say too much? Too little? Did I keep frail old Cullen up past his bedtime? Or did you decide that I wasn’t grateful enough for this fine opportunity to glimpse the good life?”

A half smile touched his lips as he leaned back against the closed door, arms folded across his chest, regarding her. “Ah. There’s that fine Irish temper again.”

“I’m tired. I’ve had a long day, and a longer week. Say what you came here to say and let me get to bed.”

“I want to thank you.”

The unexpected words had her eyes rounding in surprise. “For what?”

“For using that charm on the old man. I haven’t seen him this animated in years.”

“You thought I was pretending? That I was heeding your advice?”

“Weren’t you?”

Her tone lowered with feeling. “I didn’t need to pretend to be charmed. I was honestly responding to Cullen’s warmth and goodness.”

“You liked him.”

She nodded. “How could I not?”

“What’s more, he likes you. I can tell that you’re all he’d hoped you would be.”

“Not all, I’m afraid.” Her chin came up. “He’s hoping for a blood relative, a granddaughter, and that’s something I can never be.”

“You don’t know…”

She held up a hand. “It’s late, I’m tired, and this can go nowhere.”

As she started away, he clamped a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “I just wanted to say…”

A look of astonishment crossed her face before it turned to anger. “Take your hand off me. Don’t you ever put a hand on me without permission.”

He lifted both hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry. Reflex.”

“So is a slap across the face, which is what you’ll get if you ever dare to do that again.” She took a step backward. “Good night, Ross.”

A dangerous smile teased his lips and crinkled his eyes, which only fueled her temper.

Before she could say a word, his hand shot out. The smile remained as he touched a finger to her cheek. Just a touch, but she felt the heat of it all the way to her toes.

“You have very soft skin, Aidan O’Mara.”

She was about to make a sharp reply when he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his.

She had every intention of slapping his arrogant face. But all her good intentions fled the moment their mouths mated. She was mesmerized by the feel of his lips on hers. By the hunger in his kiss that spoke to a like hunger in her. By the hands, strong and sure, that moved up and down her spine, pressing her to the length of him, testing, measuring. By the slow heat that built and built until she could feel it pulsing through her veins like liquid lava.

When at last he lifted his head, she stood very still, trying to get her bearings. Her head was spinning, and she would have sworn the floor had actually tilted.

He looked equally stunned, and kept his hands firmly on her shoulders, as though anchoring himself while a storm raged within him. After some moments, he took a step back.

His deep, rich voice, with just the faint trace of brogue, washed over her. “Good night, Aidan. Sleep well.”

She watched in silence as he opened the door, stepped from the room and closed the door without so much as a backward glance.

She listened to the sound of his footsteps along the hall.

Only when his footsteps faded did she move, on trembling legs, to the bedroom.

She undressed and turned off the lights before walking to the windows. Dropping to the window seat, she stared down at the gardens, silvered with dew in the moonlight.

She drew up her knees as she sat, deep in thought. What had she gotten herself into? Nothing here was familiar. And yet nothing felt strange.

She ought to be feeling at loose ends, and yet she felt an odd sense of peace, as though she’d come home.

Home. Now, that was a joke.

It was all this luxury, she scolded herself. It would be very easy to get used to a life of such ease, and turn her back on the problems she’d left behind. But the debts would still be there when she returned. As would the unpaid taxes and insurance, and the medical bills, which would probably take a lifetime to pay.

Spying a movement in the garden, she watched as the two wolfhounds leapt from the shadows and scampered along a path. Trailing slowly behind was a tall figure.

Though still in shadow, she recognized him at once.

As she watched, Ross paused beside a stone bench and turned to look up at her window. Even though she knew he couldn’t see her in the darkness of the room, she ducked her head. A moment later, feeling foolish, she peered out the window, but he was gone.

She crossed the room and climbed into bed, determined to put him out of her mind. But try as she would, he was there, with that mocking smile, those piercing blue eyes. The press of his hand at her shoulder had brought a flood of anger. But that heart-stopping kiss had been her undoing, sending shock waves rippling through her.

Had it been a spontaneous gesture? Or had it been calculated to elicit exactly the emotions she was experiencing?

She had the feeling that there was nothing innocent about Ross Delaney. From his deliberate aloofness to the way he seemed to be always studying her, he appeared to be every inch a worldly man. No doubt he took this life of luxury for granted, and felt it was his due. A man like that would probably be amused by her small-town reaction to Cullen’s lifestyle. Not to mention her reaction to his kiss.

Still, worldly or not, he had no right to intrude in her private life, and even her sleep. Damn Ross Delaney, she thought angrily. He was certainly doing everything he could to keep this from being easy.

She’d envisioned a quick trip to Ireland, an overnight stay in a rustic lodge, and a doddering old man who would offer his apologies for wasting her time, while presenting her with a check for enough money to make a dent in her growing mountain of debt.

Now she would have to deal with a successful, sharp-minded old businessman who seemed genuinely fond of her, even if he was confused about her lineage.

Not to mention having to deal with the very handsome, very irritating self-appointed bodyguard, who was behaving as though she had deliberately come here to break the old man’s heart.

She touched a finger to her lips. She could still taste him. Could still feel the jolt when he’d put his hands on her, as though she’d dropped off the edge of the world into some strange new realm.

She found herself wondering if his reaction had been as volatile as hers. If so, there was bound to be a violent explosion of cataclysmic proportions before she took leave of this place.

Four

Aidan slept badly. Another reason, she thought, to resent Ross Delaney. Not that it was entirely his fault, but his touch had left her entirely too unsettled. Added to that were the strange dreams. Dreams of her mother and grandmother as young girls, dancing along the garden path with the wolfhounds, Meath and Mayo. They’d been close together, heads bent while sharing secrets, and when she’d tried to hear, they had climbed onto the dogs’ backs and disappeared high in the branches of the trees. But they had been so real, she woke from sleep, and found herself weeping furiously because she missed them so.

There had been way too many tears these past days. Time, she thought, to toughen up and get on with life.

As she showered and dressed, she renewed her determination to be perfectly honest with Cullen Glin. He’d been such a charming host, she owed him that much. It wouldn’t be easy, she realized. She’d begun to care about him, and hated the thought of bringing him any more pain.

Pain. She’d seen it in his eyes. Heard it in his voice when he spoke of having no kin. Still, she wasn’t responsible for his pain. She had her own to deal with.

There would be no dancing around the truth today. She needed to be candid and admit that she had come here out of curiosity, and for the promised money, because of the debts incurred during her mother’s long illness. No need to sugarcoat the truth.

Because she intended to be businesslike today, she wore her charcoal business suit and a simple white blouse. She took her time with makeup and hair, and noticed that her hands weren’t as steady as she’d like. No matter. It was time for complete honesty.

She descended the stairs and followed the sound of voices until she came to a sunny breakfast room, with a wall of windows overlooking the gardens. Along one wall was a sideboard with several steam tables. The smell of coffee, bacon and freshly baked bread had her mouth watering.

Charity was chatting up Bridget, talking on and on about her father.

“Oh. Good morning.” Charity placed a bowl of fresh snapdragons in the center of the table. “Mr. Delaney instructed us to be as quiet as mice today. He thought you’d sleep ’til noon. Did we wake you?”

“Not at all. I simply woke and knew I’d slept long enough.” Aidan paused. “Did I overhear you say your father was having trouble with his ledgers?”

“You did.” The girl blushed. “As part of the Farmers’ Cooperative, he’s obliged to balance the books, but the poor dear is having fits over all the numbers. He said he’d rather muck a hundred stalls than tally any more numbers.”

Aidan shared a laugh with the girl. “I wish I were going to be here long enough to lend a hand.”

“You’re good with figures?”

“That was my job when I worked at the bank. I love balancing books.”

“Oh, my.” Charity touched a hand to her heart. “If you could be here long enough to help my poor father, he’d bless your name forever.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Here I am babbling, and forgetting my duties.”

Aidan watched as the young woman danced away, returning moments later, trailed by Cullen and Ross.

“Good morning, my dear.” Cullen greeted her with a smile. “I instructed Charity to let me know the moment you came downstairs.”

“I don’t want to take you from your work.”

“I can work anytime. Right now, Ross and I will join you for breakfast.” He nodded toward the steam tables. “There’s ham and bacon already prepared. Kathleen will make any kind of eggs you prefer. And she’s already baked fresh scones.”

“I’ll start with coffee. Would you like some?”

“I prefer tea in the morning, but I’m sure Ross would like another cup. Ross?” He turned and the younger man gave a nod.

Aidan filled two cups and handed one to Ross before lifting the other to her mouth and drinking deeply.

Cullen held her chair, then took his place at the head of the table, with Ross to his left and Aidan to his right.

Charity paused beside him. “What is your pleasure, Mr. Glin?”

“Just bacon and some of Kathleen’s fine scones.”

“Miss O’Mara?” She paused beside Aidan.

“I believe I’ll have the same.”

Charity glanced at Ross. “Mr. Delaney?”

“Nothing, thanks. I’ll just drink my coffee.”

Within minutes Aidan and Cullen were enjoying their meal, while Ross, as usual, watched and listened in silence.

When at last Aidan sat back, sipping a second cup of coffee, Cullen folded his napkin. “I didn’t want to push you last night, because I knew you had to be feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the stress of your flight, but I hope now that you’ve had a chance to rest, you’ll speak candidly about your grandmother and mother.”

“I’d be happy to. What would you like to know about them?”

“What was your grandmother’s life like in America?”

“As far as I can recall, she lived an ordinary life in Landsdown.” Aidan glanced over. “That’s a small town in upstate New York.”

“I know of it,” Cullen said simply.

“Of course. You researched it for those documents I was given.”

“They were carefully researched, not only by Ross and the American legal firm, but by me, as well.”

“Then you’ll understand my reluctance to give you any hope that we could be related. There is the matter of different names…”

She paused when Cullen lifted a hand. “We’ll get to that. Please, tell me about your grandmother’s life in America.”

Aidan took a breath. “She was married to my grandfather, Edward Martin, for more than forty years before he died after a long battle from a stroke. Most of my memories of him are in a wheelchair.”

“Was he a wealthy man?”

Aidan chose her words carefully. “He came from a wealthy family, and inherited great wealth through the family business. But he was careless in business and made some unwise investments, losing nearly everything. If it hadn’t been for my grandmother’s diligence, they would have been left with nothing.”

Cullen looked surprised. “Your grandmother became a businesswoman?”

“Out of necessity. She took over his company, paid off his debts, then took over the books and made enough money that they would be comfortable in their old age. Of course, my grandfather didn’t live to an old age.”

“What did she do after his death?” Cullen had gone very still, as had Ross.

“She talked endlessly about a trip to Ireland. It seemed to be her reason for living.”

Cullen sat a little straighter in his chair, his gaze fixed on Aidan’s face.

At his unspoken question she explained. “But then she fell ill, and a trip was out of the question. Within the year she was dead.”

He stared at his hands for long moments. At last he looked up. “And your mother? What of her life?”

Aidan smiled. “She married my father, John O’Mara, when she was twenty-n ine.”

Cullen arched a brow. “So old.”

That had Aidan chuckling. “I suppose it is, though I’m twenty-fi ve, and don’t feel like an old maid just yet.”

“I wasn’t implying…” He spread his hands. “Your grandmother was only seventeen.”

Aidan gave him a steady look. “I never mentioned her age. Was that in the documents you sent me?”

He shrugged. “No matter. Tell me about your mother.”

“She and Dad were married twenty years when he passed away. His illness ate up my mother’s savings, but we were still getting by, until she became ill.”

“I understand you quit your job to care for her.”

Aidan set aside her cup. When she looked up, her eyes were steady on his. “I went through all our savings. Sold my car, gave up my apartment and moved in with my mother. I’m not proud of the fact that I’m in debt, but I’m not ashamed of it, either. It is what it is, and I’ll figure out what to do next. But this much I do know. You desperately want to find your daughter, and I’m sorry that my mother can’t be the one you’re seeking. As I told you, her parents were Maureen and Edward Martin. I have a copy of their marriage license, and a copy of my mother’s birth certificate. Now, I hope this will put an end to your claim that we can somehow be related. Obviously, you can’t be the father of my mother, when that honor belonged to my grandfather, Edward Martin.”

When he started to speak, she shook her head. “Wait. Let me finish. This isn’t easy for me to say, but I have to say it.” She looked from Cullen, who showed no reaction, to Ross, who was scowling at her as though she were pointing a gun. “I came here for two reasons only. To satisfy my curiosity about a man who would fly a stranger all the way to Ireland, and to collect the check you promised me for my inconvenience. I’m not proud of this, but I am desperately in debt, and I saw this as an answer to my problems.”

Drained, she sat back, prepared for whatever explosive reaction he might have.

Instead of the expected anger, or frustration, he merely leaned forward and placed a hand over hers. “It pains me to hear about your debt, though it was certainly beyond your control. You’ve had your say, Aidan. Now humor me as I tell you my story.”

She nodded, then purposefully removed her hand from his grasp and sat back. She wanted no connection with him while he spoke. She needed to make this quick and painless. Or at least as painless as possible.

Cullen’s face grew animated. “When I was just seventeen, I met the great love of my life. Her name was Moira Fitzgibbon, and she lived in the town of Glinkilly. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, with skin like milk, flashing green eyes and hair as dark as midnight.” He shot Aidan a smile. “You look just like her.”

“That’s not possible because…”

Before she could say more, he interrupted her. “Moira’s father considered me to be beneath her, because I was a common laborer, while her father made a comfortable living as a landlord who owned a great deal of land in the area, which he leased out to tenant farmers. Moira and I were young and foolish and wildly in love, and we did what young lovers have done from the beginning of time.” He waited a beat before adding, “When Moira came to me and said she was with child, I went to her father and asked for her hand in marriage.”

Aidan glanced at Ross, who would surely have known all this. But he was watching the old man with a fierce intensity that had her turning back to watch and listen in silence.

“Hugh Fitzgibbon said I had despoiled his daughter, and that he’d see her dead before married to the likes of me.”

Though she’d hoped to listen in silence, Aidan was caught up in the narrative. Without thinking, she asked, “Oh, that’s horrible. What did you do?”

“I went to our parish priest here in Glinkilly, and begged him to plead my case with Hugh Fitzgibbon. I said I would do whatever it took. I promised to work three jobs for a lifetime if necessary in order to support Moira and the babe. The priest agreed to speak with Hugh Fitzgibbon after Sunday mass. I remember thinking that those next few days were the longest of my life. Little did I know,” he mused almost to himself, “that the rest of my life would be even longer.”

“So he refused the priest?”

“Worse. On Sunday evening Father Ryan came to tell me that the Fitzgibbon home had been hastily vacated. Hugh and his wife had taken their daughter in the night to Dublin, and from there to America, where, they’d vowed, I would never see my Moira again.”

“Did you try to follow her?”

“How could I? I hadn’t two coins to my name. Hugh was right. I was a laborer. But not common. Not at all. I spent the rest of my life accumulating the fortune I’d need to find my Moira and our child and bring them back to me. But Hugh was one step ahead of me all the way. When they landed in America, Hugh changed his family name to Gibbons and took his middle name, Francis. For years I searched for Hugh Fitzgibbon, and checked out nearly a dozen or more, only to come up empty. As for Moira, who was now Maureen Gibbons, she was wed to an American almost as soon as she stepped off the boat in New York. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

“Not at all. You said that your Moira was beautiful. If, and it’s a big stretch to suggest that my grandmother Maureen is somehow your Moira, but if it were true, then why wouldn’t Edward Martin be equally struck by her beauty? It doesn’t sound odd that they met, fell in love and married quickly.”

“And less than seven months later your mother was born.”

Aidan pursed her lips in a frown. “Don’t make this into more than it was. I was told that my mother was premature, and very frail at birth.”

He chuckled. “So many babies enter this world before the full nine months. Not all of them frail. It’s said that half the population wasn’t planned. Many of us are accidents of birth.” He looked over. “Did your grandfather strike you as an impulsive man who would marry someone he’d only just met within days of her landing in America?”

Aidan laughed. “Quite the contrary. He was a very stern, disciplined man. But I didn’t know him in his youth. Perhaps in his later years he was forced to overcome an impetuous nature.”

“Or he was persuaded to marry a dishonored young woman who was in need of a husband in order to hide her shame. Knowing Hugh Fitzgibbon’s fury, he would not have been above offering quite a dowry for the right man to take his shameful, headstrong daughter off his hands and spare him and his wife the embarrassment of a grandchild without a father.”

Aidan gave a firm shake of her head. “I simply can’t accept any of this. I know what I know, and that is that Edward Martin was my grandfather, and his wife, Maureen, my grandmother. Their daughter was my mother, whom I loved more than life. I’m not prepared to accept that their entire lives have been a lie.”

“Not a lie, Aidan. The result of difficult circumstances, perhaps. We do what we have to in order to survive. Your grandmother was no different.”

“But to never tell my mother…” She spread her hands. “They were too close. There was plenty of time for honesty before she died. She would have had to tell the truth of her parentage to my mother.”

“Perhaps she did, and your mother chose not to share that with you.” While Aidan was shaking her head in denial he added, “One thing more about your mother. You have yet to say her name.” He leaned forward.

“Her name was Claire.”

“Have I told you my mother’s name?” He paused dramatically before saying, “It was Claire.”

Aidan swallowed. “A coincidence.”

“Perhaps.”

“Or perhaps you’re making this up.”

“I could be. But there are documents to prove what I say. My mother, Claire,” he added emphatically, “loved Moira like a daughter, and grieved along with me when my great love was taken away to America, never to be seen again. Imagine how my dear mother yearned to see her only grandchild. But it was to be denied her. And yet, though Moira was forced to change her name, live a lie and wed another, she still saw to it that her daughter bore the name Claire, in honor of the woman her namesake would never know.”

Aidan pressed her fingers to her temples, where the beginning of a headache had begun to throb. “I’m sorry. This is all so much to take in.”

“I know.” His tone gentled. “I understand everything you’re feeling, for I’ve struggled with every emotion possible. Through the years I’ve been angry, sad, defeated, determined, hopeful and, at times, desperately unhappy. After a lifetime of searching, I finally learned the name of the man Moira had married, and was able to put all the pieces together. I don’t believe I’ve ever been so joyful, so filled with hope. Then, just as my legal team was closing in on the one I sought, I was told that both Moira and the child were dead.” His eyes were hot and fierce. “But you’re alive, Aidan. The daughter of my daughter. Don’t you see? My lifetime search has not been in vain.”

Aidan scrambled to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste. “I can’t accept this without proof. What you’ve offered me is a sad story, a few coincidences. I need more.”

“Very well.” The old man glanced at Ross for confirmation. “We thought you would need convincing. And for the sake of the courts, we’ll need more. Ross?”

Taking his cue, Ross picked up the conversation. “With your permission, Cullen would like to order a genetic test. It’s simple enough. A technician from our local hospital can be here within an hour to swab both your mouths. Within forty-eight hours a DNA test will offer proof beyond a doubt as to whether or not you two are blood-r elated.”

“Forty-eight hours.” Aidan chewed the inside of her mouth, considering. “I’d hoped to be on a plane later today.”

“Of course,” Ross added, “should the tests prove negative, Cullen will keep his promise to send you home with a first-class air ticket and a generous settlement for your inconvenience.”

Aidan looked at the offer from every angle. She could leave now, and always wonder if Cullen’s Moira had been her grandmother. Or she could postpone her return for another two days, and know without a doubt.

Two more days in this lovely setting, and a generous check for her time spent.

She looked from Cullen to Ross. “I think it’s an excellent idea. And, as you said, it will eliminate any more doubts. You’ll make that call to the hospital now?”

Ross nodded.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to my room.”

Cullen stood. “Ross will walk you upstairs.”

“No.” There were entirely too many emotions bubbling at the surface already. She wasn’t up to dealing with the very different emotions Ross evoked each time he got close to her.

She backed away. “I’m used to taking care of myself. Just let me know when the technician arrives.”

Before Cullen or Ross could react, she walked quickly from the room and hurried up the stairs, eager to mull over all she’d heard.

Five

Aidan paced the length of the room and back, her thoughts in turmoil. It wasn’t so much that her mind refused to accept the story told by Cullen, but rather that he had managed to plant a seed of doubt.

What if his Moira were truly her grandmother Maureen? What if the child she bore hadn’t been Edward Martin’s, but in fact Cullen’s?

“Oh, Mama.” Aidan struggled to hold on to the image she’d carried of her sweet, stoic grandmother, pouring herself into the intricacies of her husband’s business, staving off bankruptcy by the sheer force of her will.

Everyone who had known Maureen Gibbons had been astonished by her strength. Throughout her marriage she had deferred always to Edward. It was he who chose their furniture, each new car, even her wardrobe. Though not in the same category as a tyrant, he had definitely played a dominant role in their marriage.

Had he been chosen, not by her, but by her father? Had their marriage been one of convenience only, to hide the shame she’d visited upon her parents? It would explain so much about that distant relationship. Aidan tried to recall if she’d ever seen a display of tenderness between her grandparents.

At a knock on the parlor door, she looked up. “Charity?”

The knock sounded again, followed by the door being opened.

Annoyed, Aidan walked to the adjoining bathroom and splashed cold water over her face before hurrying to the parlor.

“I’m sorry.” Seeing her look of dismay, Ross paused just inside the doorway. “I suggested that you be given more time to compose yourself, but Cullen refused to wait another minute. He’s beside himself and sent me to apologize for having upset you. He begs you to look at some of the things he’s been saving.”

“I can’t. I’m not ready…”

He held up a hand. “In all the years I’ve known Cullen Glin, I’ve never known him to beg. This means the world to him. You,” he said for emphasis, “and your opinion of him have begun to mean the world to him.”

“I’m not who he wants me to be.”

“So you’ve said. But you’ve heard his story.”

“And he’s heard mine. Just because he wants my grandmother to be the great love of his life doesn’t make it so.”

“He has documents…”

“So do I. A birth certificate, a marriage license…”

“Which could have been filled in with any name, especially by immigrants who desperately wanted to hide their identity. You know that’s so, Aidan.”

“My parents and grandparents lived ordinary lives.”

“So do thousands of people who want to blend in.”

“Stop.” She rubbed at her temples. “You make my ancestors sound like criminals.”

“They were good people who thought a baby conceived out of wedlock to be something shameful. They were trying to protect not only their own reputations, but also that of their daughter. You heard Cullen. They thought him unworthy of their only child. So they started a new life in a new country, and persuaded Moira to do the same. Maybe she wanted a new start. Maybe she didn’t love Cullen as much as he loved her. Or maybe her loyalty to her parents was stronger than a tenuous love for an impetuous young man. For whatever reason, whether she was persuaded, or forced, what’s done is done. There’s no going back. But at least, while you wait for the hospital technician, read the letters Cullen wrote to his Moira through the years. None of them ever reached her. But he kept them, hoping that one day he could give them to her as proof of his love. It is his fondest wish that you read his letters and look over the mounds of documents he’s gathered through the years in his search for the love of his life. And then listen to your heart.”

She stared at the pile of papers that he set on the coffee table. “What do you get out of all this, Ross?”

He straightened. “I get to see a man I love and respect finally getting the chance to fulfill his dream.”

The words were spoken so simply, she knew they came from his heart.

As he started toward the door she said softly, “All right. I’ll read his letters and documents. But I can’t promise anything.”

By the time Ross descended the stairs, she was already settled on the window seat, lost in a young Cullen Glin’s declarations to the woman he’d love and lost.

Aidan looked up from the last of the letters, her eyes moist. What would it be like, she wondered, to love someone so deeply, and then face the loss of that love for a lifetime?

Cullen had poured out all his feelings on the pages of his letters. Had emptied his heart and soul, until she wondered that he had any passion left. And still he’d refused to give up his search for his Moira. There were piles of requests for information regarding immigrants from Ireland by the name of Fitzgibbon. A thick folder compiled by a private detective agency in New York State documenting every Fitzgibbon who had entered the country legally, and some who had found their way via illegal channels. And finally she found the current file, with her mother’s obituary from her local newspaper.

A lifetime search had ended with a death.

Aidan stood, flexing her cramped muscles just as a knock sounded on the parlor door.

She opened it to find Charity poised to knock again.

“Oh.” The girl snickered. “I thought you might be napping. Bridget sent me to fetch you. There’s a hospital technician in the library waiting to administer a test.”

“Thanks, Charity.” Aidan followed the girl down the stairs, aware that everyone working at the lodge knew just what was going on. There were no secrets here.

In the doorway of the library she paused. Cullen was seated behind his desk. Ross and a stranger were standing by the windows talking.

They all looked over as she stepped into the room.

Cullen walked around his desk to stand beside her. As though, she thought, to shield her.

“Easiest test I’ve ever taken,” he said with a grin. “A quick comb of my cheek, in triplicate just to be certain, and we were done with it.” He turned to the young man wearing latex gloves. “Patrick, this is Aidan O’Mara. Aidan, Patrick is with St. Brendan Hospital. He’ll administer the DNA test.”

“Miss O’Mara.” The young man handed her a long plastic stick with something that resembled a tiny comb at the end. “If you’ll comb your mouth for a full minute and place the comb in this vial, please.”

“Comb? I thought I’d be swabbing my mouth.”

“It’s the same. We call it combing.” He glanced at the tiny comb. “I’m sure you can see why.”

She did as he instructed, pleased that the tiny comb easily detached from its handle as she slid it into the vial. After handing over the vial, he sealed it in a plastic bag, which he carefully marked with a pen.

“And now again,” he said, handing her a second.

She swabbed a different section of her mouth before dropping the tiny comb into another vial.

The technician followed the same procedure and handed her a third.

When she’d finished, he turned to Cullen. “The results will be sent by courier within forty-eight hours, Mr. Glin, and possibly sooner. As you requested, we’ll give this top priority.”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

When he was gone, Aidan touched a hand to her middle, and wondered at the feelings churning inside her. She ought to be relieved. The decision was now out of her hands and placed in the capable, unerring hands of science. One way or another, she and Cullen would soon know the truth.

The old man touched a hand to her shoulder, and she wondered if he meant to soothe her or himself. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

“No.” She forced a smile. “Easy as pie.”

“Indeed.” He turned away. “I’ve ordered Sean to bring the car around to drive me to Glinkilly. Would you care to go along?”

She was about to refuse when a thought occurred to her. “I’d like that. I told Charity that I’d help her father with the figures for the Farmers’ Cooperative’s books if I stayed here long enough. It seems he’s feeling overwhelmed. And since I now have forty-eight hours to do with as I please, it’s the least I can do for her.”

Cullen arched a brow. “You’re good with numbers?”

“It’s what I did at the bank. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Cullen turned to Ross. “Would you care to join us?”

“Sorry.” Ross started toward the door. “I have things to attend to here.”

“I’ll just get my purse and meet you outside.” Aidan walked away.

“There’s the new wing of the school.” Cullen pointed with pride to the Glinkilly Academy, bearing his name, where stonemasons had perfectly matched the new stone to the original, so that it was impossible to tell the new wing from the old.

“And this is where the Farmers’ Cooperative meets.” He glanced beyond Aidan to Charity, who had volunteered to come along and introduce their guest to her father.

The car came to a stop and Sean hurried around to open the passenger door. Aidan and Charity stepped out.

Aidan turned. “How much time do I have?”

“An hour or two. Will that be enough?”

She laughed. “I have no idea the condition of the ledgers, but I’ll be ready to leave whenever you say.”

“Miss O’Mara, your car is here.”

It had been nearly three hours before the ancient Rolls pulled up to the door of the Farmers’ Cooperative. Before he could hurry inside to collect Aidan and Charity, the two young women stepped out into the sunlight, accompanied by four men who were all smiles.

As Sean held the passenger door, each man shook Aidan’s hand and thanked her for the work she’d done on their behalf.

“If you’ve a chance to visit us again, miss,” Charity’s father said in his thick brogue, “we’d be honored to have you to supper.”

“Thank you. If I’m ever back in your lovely town, I’d be honored to accept.”

One of the men turned to Cullen and tipped his hat. “Such a fine young lady she is, sir.”

The others nodded.

“She made it all so easy. A wizard with numbers, she is, and now that the columns of figures are properly tallied, we won’t be forgetting what she taught us this day.”

Aidan hugged Charity, who had elected to walk home with her father and the others, rather than return to the lodge.

As the car started away, the men were still smiling and waving.

“Well.” Cullen turned to study the young woman beside him. “You seem to have made quite an impression on the lads.”

“It was all very simple, really. Just columns of numbers. I showed them a few tricks to keep them from getting overwhelmed when the tallies don’t match up.”

“That was generous of you, Aidan.”

She shook her head. “I enjoyed it. It was nice to dip my hand in the work again. I’ve missed it.”

Cullen fell silent as the car moved along the familiar country roads. Then, playing the part of genial host, he began to point out things of interest, until they were once again home.

“If you don’t mind, my dear, I have some work to tend to in my office.”

“I don’t mind a bit.”

As she walked away, there was a spring to her step. She hadn’t been completely honest with Cullen. She hadn’t just enjoyed working with the farmers in town; she’d been over the moon at the chance to work again.

Aidan sat on a stone bench, watching birds splashing in a fountain. The sound of the water, and the perfume of the roses all around her, brought a sense of peace. She was glad now that she’d sought the solitude of the garden. It was the perfect counterpoint to the chaos in her soul.

So many doubts. So many things she’d taken for granted for a lifetime were now in question since coming here.

On the one hand, she wanted to forget everything she’d heard this morning. The image of a frightened young woman, forcibly separated from all that was comforting and familiar, only to find herself in a new and uncharted existence, was too painful to contemplate. On the other hand, it would explain the lack of tenderness between her grandparents, and the fierce loyalty of her grandmother to her only child.

Had her mother been the love child of Moira and Cullen? As much as she wanted to deny it, she found herself unable to completely reject the idea. She found herself comparing her mother’s smile to Cullen’s. The shape of that full lower lip, the merest hint of a dimple in the left cheek, the arch of brow. Despite both her grandparents’ dark hair with hardly a trace of silver, her mother had gone prematurely gray. Now that she had met Cullen, she realized her mother’s white hair was so like his silver mane.

In less than forty-eight hours she would have the truth.

Too agitated to sit any longer, she stood and began to follow a winding path that led from the rose garden to a wooded section.

As she rounded yet another curve in the path, she found herself standing in front of the guest cottage.

From inside, the wolfhounds set up a chorus of barking. The door opened and Ross greeted her with a smile. “I see you decided to look around a bit. Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you.”

He held the door and she moved past him into the most charming cottage.

The dogs circled her, sniffing and curious. With a softly spoken word from Ross, they retreated to the far side of the room.

Dappled sunlight spilled through the wide windows to form patterns of light and shadow on gleaming hardwood floors.

“Oh, this is lovely.” Aidan looked around with interest.

Exposed wooden beams ran across the ceiling, giving the room a rustic look. Pale stucco walls added to the feeling of light. The comfortable upholstered furniture had a definite masculine appeal. A wall of bookshelves was stocked with leather-bound volumes.

“Your law library?”

He nodded. “Some of it. I have an office in Dublin, as well.” He led her toward a small kitchen, with a wall of glass overlooking a brick-paved patio.

“I was just about to pour myself an iced tea.” He indicated a pitcher on the counter. “Will you join me?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

While he filled two glasses she looked around. The room, though small, was beautifully appointed, with Spanish tile flooring, marble countertops, and a round glass table and chairs that fit snugly into a bay window.

He handed her a frosty glass before snagging the pitcher. “Let’s sit on the patio and take advantage of the sunlight before it fails.”

She opened the French doors and stepped out, with Ross following. At a word from him the dogs came bounding outside and ran off.

Several deep, padded chairs had been positioned for easy conversation. The blue of the cushions matched the blue of the ceramic pots holding red roses and trailing ivy.

“I can see that you like beautiful things.”

His eyes were steady on hers. “I do, yes. Which is why I can’t seem to stop looking at you.”

She colored slightly and forced herself to look around. “It’s easy to see why you prefer this to the lodge.”

“Most people would think me a fool for disdaining luxury for simplicity.”

“This isn’t simple. It’s charming.”

He merely smiled and sipped his drink. “Did you read Cullen’s letters and documents?”

She nodded.

“Have they answered any of your questions?”

She gave a dry laugh. “If anything, they’ve just caused more questions. I’ve tried blocking all these new details from my mind, but it’s impossible to stop thinking about them. Each question leads to another.”

“Such as?” He was watching her intently.

“Why my grandmother seemed different after my grandfather died.”

“In what way?”

Aidan shrugged. “She seemed… free. All that talk about a grand trip to Ireland. She was like a girl planning her first dance. And then there’s my mother. Why didn’t she look like either of her parents? Not just her face, or her body type, though there was that. But also the fact of her prematurely gray hair. Both of her parents were barely gray when they died, with just a few silver threads. She went gray in her forties, and by the time she died she had a silver mane.”

“Like Cullen’s.” He smiled.

“You think it’s funny.”

He shook his head. “I think it’s a family trait, and though you’re trying to deny it, you’re beginning to believe.”

“Maybe.” Restless, she set aside her glass on a side table. “But it would take more than gray hairs or a few old love letters to convince me that everything I’ve held to be true for a lifetime is a lie.”

“It happens more often than you think. Adult children are told after the death of a parent that they were adopted, or learn that the woman they called mother was actually their biological grandmother, covering for the mistake of a too-young daughter. Though we may wish it otherwise, life isn’t all neat and tidy.”

“Knowing it happens to others doesn’t make it any easier to accept. I wonder if you’d be so philosophical if this were happening to you. How would you feel about catching your mother in a lie?”

His smile remained in place, though there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes. “I would have had to know my mother to catch her in a lie. And since she disappeared from my life before I was old enough to talk, that wasn’t possible.”

Aidan felt a rush of remorse. “I’m sorry. I had no right…”

He looked beyond her and seemed almost relieved as he got to his feet. “Cullen. Aidan and I are having some iced tea. Will you join us?”

“I will. Thank you.” The older man settled himself comfortably in the chair beside hers and began petting the two dogs that rushed up to greet him.

Ross returned with a glass and poured him a drink.

Cullen sipped. “Have you been enjoying the gardens, my dear?”

“I have. Almost as much as I’m enjoying Ross’ cottage.”

Cullen gave a broad smile. “He and I have enjoyed many a night of heated debate out here. Though I must confess that on my part the heat may have come from a bottle of Bushmill’s finest.”

“And many a headache in the morning, as you’re fond of telling me.” Ross laughed.

She could imagine Ross and Cullen sitting here often, debating business or politics or world affairs.

Aidan glanced from Cullen to Ross. “Who most often wins the debate?”

“There are no winners,” Cullen declared firmly. “To be Irish is to understand that the joy of a debate is not in the winning or losing, but in the argument itself.”

“Ah. So that’s where this comes from. My father used to accuse me of enjoying a good argument way too much. Now I learn that it’s the Irish in me.”

Cullen was still smiling, but his look had sharpened, and she had the distinct impression that he was searching for parts of himself in her face. Wasn’t she guilty of doing the same, when she thought he wouldn’t notice?

Ross was watching them both, and keeping his thoughts to himself.

“What else do you enjoy, my dear?” Cullen sipped his iced tea and continued to study her.

“Good books.”

“Fiction or non?”

Without a thought, she said, “Nonfiction. Usually. I devour biographies.”

He and Ross shared a glance. “And what is your taste in music?”

“I love it all, I suppose. But especially classical. Operas in particular.”

He arched a brow. “Do you have a favorite?”

“I love all I’ve seen. But I always cry at Madame Butterfly.”

He smiled at that. “Do you play an instrument?”

“I never had lessons, so I don’t play well, but I play piano for my own amusement. And I’ve been known to pick up a violin and play a tune or two.”

“Any other great loves?” He paused. Smiled. “I should clarify that. Any you can speak of?”

She laughed, enjoying the teasing. “No special man, if that’s what you’re asking. But I do love to garden. That’s something that my mother and I both shared.”

He leaned forward. “Your mother was aptly named. Her namesake, my mother, had a garden that was admired by all in our county. I swear she could put a dead stick in the ground and it would bloom for her.”

He saw Aidan’s smile fade. “Forgive me, my dear. I don’t mean to push. It’s just…” He spread his hands. “When I hear you speak, it’s as though I’ve known you for a lifetime. I forget that this is all new and awkward for you.”

She surprised herself by reaching over to take his hand. “You’re a kind man, Cullen Glin, and I don’t want to hurt you any more than you’ve already been hurt. I admit that I’m puzzled by all the similarities between my family and the one you’ve been seeking. But I can’t put aside my beliefs of a lifetime because of a few coincidences.”

Keeping her hand in his, he drained his glass and got to his feet. “You’re right, of course. Forgive an old man’s impatience. We’ll have our answers soon enough. Why don’t we walk up to the lodge and see what Kathleen has prepared for our dinner?”

He turned to Ross. “Will you be joining us?”

Ross gave a quick shake of his head. “Not tonight. I have some work to take care of.”

“You can do that later. Come. Join us.”

Ross gave the old man a gentle smile. “I suspect that you and Aidan can find plenty to talk about. Maybe I’ll walk up later for coffee.”

“Your loss.” Cullen tucked Aidan’s hand in the crook of his arm. “On the way to the lodge I’ll show you my favorite roses. Moira and I once planned to fill our yard with them.”

Ross watched them walk away, then settled back down in the chair, idly scratching behind Mayo’s ears, until Meath nudged her aside. “Jealous, are you?” He glanced toward the old man and young woman, walking along the path arm in arm. “I’d know a thing or two about that.”

Six

“Bridget.” Cullen sat back as the old woman removed his plate. “Be sure and tell Kathleen that this was the finest salmon I’ve ever tasted.” He glanced at Aidan. “What did you think of it, my dear?”

“I agree.” She sighed. “And those tiny potatoes and carrots right out of the garden. You’d spend a fortune for something that fresh in a restaurant.”

Once again they’d forsaken the banquet-sized table in favor of a small round one set in a corner of the room near a bank of windows overlooking the gardens. For the past hour they’d talked about books and music, discovering that each of them loved the same authors, and they even described the same scenes from several of their favorite operas.

While Cullen seemed to revel in each new discovery, for Aidan it was an eerie feeling to have such an intimate connection to a stranger. Except that the more time she spent with Cullen Glin, the less a stranger he seemed to be.

“Why don’t we take our coffee and dessert in the library?”

She nodded. “But just coffee. I’m afraid I don’t have room for dessert after that wonderful meal.”

He turned to Bridget with a smile. “Just coffee, Bridget. We’ll be in the library.”

Once there, Cullen watched as Aidan studied the photographs arranged on a side table.

“Your mother?” She pointed to the plump woman with her arm around a young Cullen.

“Yes.” He walked over to stand beside her. “You’d have loved her.”

Aidan heard the affection in his voice.

“Is this Ross?” She lifted a framed photo for a better look.

“Indeed. That was taken when he first came to live with me.”

“So young?” She glanced up in surprise. “I mean… I thought he was merely your lawyer.”

“He is. Considered one of the finest in the country now. After university here he studied at Oxford, and then in your country, at Harvard.”

She peered at the photograph. “But here he’s…”

“Sixteen.” Cullen chuckled. “You’d be hard-pressed to discern that rough-and-tumble youth as the same polished man who’s persuaded judges and juries across Ireland in his clients’ favor.”

They both looked up as Bridget carried in a silver coffee service and filled two cups before taking her leave.

Aidan and Cullen settled into chairs pulled in front of the fire.

Cullen stirred sugar into his coffee. “What do you think of Ross?”

Aidan shrugged, wishing she could evade the question. “He’s charming and smart and funny. And, without question, devoted to you.”

Cullen nodded absently. “No more than I am to him.”

“And yet you’re not related?”

He glanced up. “Not in any legal sense. But without Ross Delaney, I doubt I’d be sitting here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Many years ago, Ross saved my life. I was in Dublin on business, and met an old friend at a pub. We drank a bit too much, and when I left, I made a wrong turn and found myself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. I was a perfect target for punks, and a couple of them attacked me.” He shook his head. “I fancied myself a pretty good fighter, but I was no match for those street toughs. I was having my hide kicked when suddenly one punk fell, another let out a cry and the lot of them ran screeching like banshees into the night.”

“Ross?”

He nodded. “He came out of nowhere and fought them off like a man possessed. I was bloody from head to toe, and this wiry lad, who looked as though he couldn’t lift a sack of potatoes, carried me to my hotel, hauled me to my room and cleaned me up before putting me to bed and phoning for a house doctor.” He frowned, remembering. “In the morning I was alone. I walked that same street, giving his description to everyone I could find. Nobody claimed to know who the lad was. But finally a girl who plied her trade on the streets said it had to be Ross Delaney. She showed me where he stayed most nights, and sure enough, there he was, asleep in the doorway of an abandoned factory, my blood still on his clothes.”

“He was sleeping on the streets?”

“He was, yes.”

She thought about what Ross had told her. His mother had left before he could talk. “Where was his family? Who raised him?”

“From what I learned, he pretty much raised himself. He lived with his father until around the age of eight, when, after being beaten nearly senseless in a drunken rage, Ross left.”

Aidan thought about the fact that she’d never seen Ross take a drink of alcohol. Now she understood why.

“He just left? At eight? Where could a boy of that age possibly go? How could he survive?”

“He hid out on the streets of Dublin. Learned from other lads where the best scraps of food could be found and where it was safe to sleep.”

“What about school?”

“He’d had little schooling when I first met him. I offered him money for saving my life. He refused my money, even though I could see that he was in desperate need of it.” Cullen stared down into his coffee. “There was something so noble about the lad, I found myself drawn to him. By then I’d acquired a great deal of wealth, and nobody to share it with. My search for Moira was going badly, and I needed something or someone on whom to focus. Getting the lad out of that miserable existence became my mission.”

“How did you persuade him to trust you?”

Cullen smiled. “It took a while, but I can be very persuasive when I’ve a mind to be. I brought him here and hired tutors to see just what he could do. To their amazement, and mine, we discovered that he had a fine mind and an inquisitive nature, and because he’d been on his own for so long, was far superior to most lads his age. He was soon excelling at academics, and I realized that he could do anything he set his mind to.”

“What about his family? Did he ever try to contact them?”

Cullen gave a quick shake of his head. “They’d abused and abandoned him long before he abandoned them. Why should he ever look back?”

Why, indeed? She mulled all she’d just been told about the fascinating Ross Delaney.

“And so, by some strange twist of fate, a street fight brought me the son I’d never had. And like a true son, he now shares my life.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“Not at all. He actually saved a drowning man. I’d been drowning in self-pity. Even though I’d already amassed a fortune, I was drinking heavily, and my life had no direction. At first I thought I was doing this poor down-and-out lad a favor. But in the end it was Ross who was helping me, teaching me. After hearing about his father’s abuse, I stopped drinking. Now, on the few occasions that I indulge, I need only think about what some have gone through because of another’s drunkenness, and it sobers me instantly. It was Ross who pointed out the poverty of the town of Glinkilly, and how my fortune could be used to make a change. I was too self-centered to think beyond my own pain until Ross showed me the way. So you see, my dear, his love and loyalty have rewarded me many times over. And it was Ross who, because he refused to give up on my search, finally located your mother, and through her death, you.”

“What an amazing turn of events…”

They both looked up when Ross, accompanied by Meath and Mayo, stepped into the room. His hair was wind-tossed; his cheeks ruddy from the night air. He looked rough and dangerous, and his eyes, when he looked at Aidan, were stormy.

“Bridget said I’d find you here.”

“Ah, Ross.” Cullen indicated the chair beside Aidan. “Come warm yourself by the fire. Why don’t you take that chair next to Aidan.”

Was it her imagination, or did the sly old man appear to be pushing the two of them together whenever he could?

“The lass and I have been having a lovely chat. I’m sure you won’t be surprised by this, but we’ve discovered we have much in common.”

Including strong feelings for a certain mysterious man.

The thought startled Aidan and she found herself looking from the old man to the younger one.

She was drawn to Ross Delaney. And, she believed, he was equally drawn to her, or as much as a man like him could be.

But that didn’t mean they had to act on their feelings. Within forty-eight hours she would be winging back to America.

Why did that fact suddenly leave her chilled?

“… isn’t that so, my dear?”

She looked over. “Sorry. I seem to be dreaming.”

She saw Ross watching her a little too carefully and felt her cheeks color.

“Don’t apologize. This has been quite a day for both of us.” Cullen gave her a gentle smile. “We both need a good night of sleep.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I’ll say good night now.”

“Good night, my dear. I look forward to the morning. Ross, why don’t you see Aidan to her room?”

“No.” She spoke quickly before turning to Ross. “Please stay and visit with Cullen. Good night.”

She turned away, needing to flee the dark, dangerous invitation in his eyes, which spoke to a similar need in her heart.

Her legs were actually trembling as she climbed the stairs and fled to the safety of her room.

Aidan stood by the window and stared down at the gardens that looked as though they’d been drenched in liquid moonlight. The fragrance of roses was carried on the breeze, teasing all her senses.

She should be tired. Instead, she felt strangely energized. She wanted to blame it on the stimulation she’d felt while working on the Farmers’ Cooperative ledgers, but that would be a lie. It was true that she missed her job. Missed the thrill of adding columns of figures and the satisfaction of making them all balance. But in this case, the cause of this restlessness wasn’t a job, but a man.

Ross.

She’d missed him at dinner. Much more than she cared to admit. Missed him like an ache around her heart that wouldn’t be soothed. And afterward, when he’d walked into the library, she’d fled like a coward rather than stay and face him.

She’d wanted to stay. To listen to that deep, rich voice and bask in the glow of that sultry blue stare. Instead she’d run.

And all because she wanted him. Wanted to feel his mouth on hers, his hands on her. Had wanted it since the first time she’d seen him. And when he’d dared to touch her, to kiss her, a storm had been unleashed inside her that was threatening to drown her.

She shivered. There had been men in her life. Friends, coworkers, lovers. Not one had ever aroused her as this man did, with nothing more than a look. Not one of them had ever touched something deep inside her as he seemed to, even though they’d shared but one brief kiss.

She paced the length of the room, then back, feeling oddly disjointed. Again she had the feeling that she was losing control. As though something outside of her was manipulating her as if she were a puppet, and she was helpless to do anything but go along.

Without a thought to the consequences, she slipped out of her nightclothes and into the aqua silk dress. For warmth she picked up one of the cashmere throws from a footstool and tossed it about her shoulders before descending the stairs.

Once in the garden she made her way along the moon-lit path and breathed in a jolt of cold, fresh air, hoping to clear her head. Instead, it only reinforced her need to hurry. Hurry.

Her footsteps were quick, her heart racing. She refused to think about what she was about to do. It may be too bold, but there was so little time. And she wanted, needed desperately, to get to Ross.

As she drew near his cottage, the two dogs rose up out of the darkness and gave a welcoming bark. Just as quickly, they dropped down and fell silent.

Aidan looked around. Though she hadn’t heard Ross’s voice, she knew that he’d been the one to give the command to Meath and Mayo.

And then she saw him. Standing in the shadows, still dressed as he’d been in the library, his hair wind-tossed, his eyes fierce.

Her voice sounded breathless. “I was afraid you’d be asleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been waiting for you.” He stepped closer and took her hand, drawing her to him.

“You knew I’d come?”

“I sensed it. I prayed you would.”

“And if I hadn’t?”

“I’d’ve come to you.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, all the while staring into her eyes. “I’ve been struggling to deny this since I first saw you. Fighting the need for you.”

“We don’t even know each other.”

“True. But there’s no denying what we feel.”

“We don’t have to act on it.”

He merely smiled, that dangerous smile that had her heart pounding in her temples.

“Ross, I…”

“Shh.” He touched a finger to her lips and drew her inside the cottage.

In one smooth gesture he turned her in his arms, pressing her firmly against the closed door.

And then his hands were in her hair, his mouth fused to hers, his kiss so hot, so hungry, he was nearly devouring her. His body was pressed so tightly to hers, she could feel him in every part of her being. His chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His frantic heart keeping time with her own. His mouth, that clever, incredible mouth, moving over hers, taking her higher than she’d ever been with a single kiss.

Her shawl fell to the floor at their feet, forgotten in their haste. When his hands moved to the zipper at the back of her dress, she gasped and stepped away.

“I can’t stay. This is madness.”

“Don’t leave me, Aidan.” His mouth burned a trail of hot, wet kisses down her throat to her collarbone.

She was staggered by the flood of sensations that shot through her.

Heat. She was so hot, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

Light. Behind her closed lids a kaleidoscope of lights battered her senses.

Need. A desperate, driving need gripped her, and she knew that she had to run. Now. This minute. Or it would be too late.

“I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s come over me, but you have to believe that I feel as if I’ve lost my way.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, struggling for breath. “I do believe you, Aidan. It’s the same for me. I’m walking a very thin line, and just now I very nearly crossed it.”

He opened the door. “Go now. And whatever you do, don’t look back.”

She ran along the path leading to the mansion. In her haste, she never even noticed that she’d left the cashmere throw behind.

Ross picked it up and buried his face in it, breathing in the fragrance of her cologne, the smell of her skin, and wanting, more than anything, to run after her.

It took all of his willpower to remain where he was.

Seven

Aidan stepped into the sunny dining room and watched as Cullen and Bridget, heads bent, quickly looked over at her and stepped apart.

“Good morning, my dear.” Cullen walked over to press a kiss to her cheek. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” She wondered if, up close, he could see the lack of sleep in her eyes. She’d paced the room until, in the small hours of morning, she’d finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. An hour later she’d wakened feeling as though she’d been running for miles across an alien landscape. But she’d wondered, had she been running from something, or to something? “And how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” He looked up to see Ross in the doorway. “Ah, Ross. Good morning.”

“’Morning.”

Aidan knew she was staring, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was wearing faded denims and a black turtleneck. His dark hair sparkled with droplets from his morning shower. He looked like a sleek, restless panther about to pounce on an unsuspecting prey.

She wanted to be that prey.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Aidan and Ross broke eye contact and glanced over.

“The Farmers’ Cooperative is having its annual meeting. With all the excitement here, I nearly forgot. I can’t miss it.”

Ross was the first to recover. “Of course you can’t. Why is that a problem?”

Cullen shrugged. “I was hoping to give Aidan a tour of the property. But now there’s no telling how long I’ll be tied up.” He paused before adding, “Would you mind filling in for me, Ross?”

“Not at all.”

Cullen caught Aidan’s hands. “I hope you don’t mind, my dear. I assure you Ross will be every bit as thorough a guide as I would be.”

“Of course he will. We’ll be fine, Cullen. But I’m sorry you can’t be with us.”

“Can’t be helped. Well, then.” He turned away. “I’ve asked Sean to bring the car around. I’ll probably be gone most of the day.”

He winked at Bridget before calling over his shoulder, “I hope you two can make the best of it.”

“We’ll do what we can to salvage the day.” Ross watched him walk to the door.

When Cullen was gone, Bridget wiped her hands down her apron, looking flustered as always. “I hope you don’t mind, but Kathleen decided to make omelets and toast with country ham, in order to give you both time to tour the property. She said she’d be happy to make you anything more, if you’d like.”

Aidan was busy pouring coffee into two cups. “The breakfast Kathleen already made sounds perfect, Bridget. It’s as though she read my mind.”

The old woman coughed.

Aidan took a seat at the table, and Ross sat beside her. They were careful to avoid touching, sitting stiffly and looking extremely uncomfortable.

“And you, Ross?” The old woman paused beside him. “Would you be wanting anything else?”

“Not a thing. Thank you, Bridget.”

Aidan looked over. “Where’s Charity this morning?”

“Himself gave her the weekend off.” Humming a little tune, the housekeeper walked from the room, returning with their breakfast. That done, she didn’t reappear until Aidan and Ross had finished eating.

As she cleared the table, Bridget glanced out the window. “If you’re hoping to give the lass a tour of the property, you might think about doing it as soon as possible, before the rain rolls in.”

“Rain?” Ross looked up. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

“Not yet. But trust me. ’Twill rain.”

Ross stood and held Aidan’s chair. “I’d planned on riding this morning. How do you feel about seeing the countryside on horseback?”

“Oh, could we?” Aidan couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “I haven’t been on a horse since I was a kid.”

As the two hurried away, Bridget watched with a dreamy smile on her lips before returning to her chores.

“It’s all so beautiful, Ross.” Aidan reined in her mount at the top of a hill and stared down at the scene below.

The sprawling mansion resembled a castle, with its tur reted roofs sparkling in the sunlight. Around it were the graceful arboretum, green fields of sheep and cattle, and even a bee farm on a nearby incline. “I don’t know how you can ever bear to leave this place for even a day.”

“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Ross brought his horse beside hers. “I once accused Cullen of being a magician. When he first started the renovation, the lodge lay in ruins, the river polluted from an old factory and the fields around it were fallow. The village of Glinkilly was so poor there seemed no hope of ever bringing it back to life. And yet here it is, all of it looking like a sparkling jewel.”

He looked up at the clouds beginning to roll in. “Looks like the storm Bridget predicted. It’s coming in fast. We’d better get back to the stable.”

“I’ll race you.” Aidan shot him a grin before nudging her mount into a run.

Ross gave a shout of laughter and joined in the race.

By the time they’d turned the horses into their stalls and stepped from the stable, they were feeling the first raindrops.

“Just in time.” Ross caught her arm. “I don’t think we can make it up to the big house.”

They turned and raced through the rain to his cottage.

Once inside, they heard the rumble of thunder. Minutes later the skies opened up and the storm began in earnest.

They stood together by the windows, witnessing the wind whip the trees into a frenzied dance.

For long minutes they stood watching, each achingly aware of the other. As the minutes ticked by and the storm grew in intensity, Aidan turned toward the door, rubbing her arms.

“I think I’ll brave the rain and return to the house.”

“Don’t go.” The words were torn from his throat.

“Ross, if I stay…”

He crossed to her in quick strides and gathered her close.

“I’m sorry.” Ross pressed his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple.

“What… what are you sorry about?”

“This. I thought I could fight it, but it’s too much, Aidan. I want you too much. There’s something deeper, stronger here than just my will.”

She gave a long, deep sigh. “I know. I feel it, too.”

He stared down at her, his eyes so fierce she actually shivered. And then his mouth was on hers, and she was lost in the kiss.

When they came up for air, she touched a finger to his lips. “I’ve tried fighting, but the truth is I want you, Ross.”

It was true. She had to have this man. She was actually trembling with need for him.

“I want you, too, Aidan.”

And then there was no need for words as they came together in a storm of passion. With each touch of his lips, his tongue, his clever fingers, she felt herself growing hotter and hotter until she was engulfed in fire.

Because her legs had turned to rubber, she clutched at his waist for support, and would have surely fallen if he hadn’t held her firmly against the cool wood of the door.

His hands found the zipper of her dress, and he slid it from her shoulders. It pooled at their feet as his clever fingers dispensed with the lace that covered her breasts.

She hadn’t known how desperately she’d wanted his hands on her. His mouth followed, taking her even higher.

When he lifted his head to catch a breath, she used that moment to tear at his shirt. She heard the buttons pop and roll across the floor as she flung it aside and reached for the fasteners at his waist.

With his help his clothes soon joined hers on the floor around them. In one quick motion her bikini panties were stripped aside.

Now they were free to feast. And did.

She ran her hands over the muscled contours of his chest and shoulders, then followed with her mouth, and thrilled to his low growl of pleasure.

“The bed.” She managed the words despite a throat constricted with need.

“Too far.” He lifted her, his mouth still feasting on hers, until he bumped into the overstuffed sofa.

He drew her down before stretching out beside her. At last free of any restraint, they came together in a firestorm of desire that rocked them both.

She shuddered as his hands and lips moved over her, taking her on a wild, dizzying ride that had her head spinning, her mind going blank.

“I knew,” he whispered against her ear. “The first time I saw you, I knew that you’d be here with me.”

“Though I tried to deny it, I knew…” Before she could finish, his mouth covered hers in a kiss so heated, she could feel her bones melting.

No one had ever excited her like this. The darkness, the danger of this man had the heat growing until it threatened to choke her.

Desperate, she twined her arms around his neck, dragging his head down for a long, drugging kiss.

Against his mouth she whispered, “I want you, Ross. Now.”

“And I want you.” He lifted his head. “Look at me, Aidan.” His voice was rough with need.

Through the heat of passion that clouded her vision, she struggled to focus. His eyes were hot and fierce, and remained steady on hers as he entered her and began to move.

With incredible strength she matched his rhythm, moving with him, climbing with him.

Heat rose between them, pearling their flesh, dampening their hair as they strained to reach the very top of a high, sheer cliff.

For one precious moment they seemed to hang suspended. Then, eyes steady, hearts thundering, they took that final step into space.

“Ross.” His name was torn from her lips as she felt herself soaring high, then higher still, before shattering.

“Aidan.”

She heard him sigh her name as though in prayer as she slowly drifted back to earth.

Still joined, they lay in a limp heap of arms and legs on the narrow, cramped sofa.

Ross pressed his lips to her forehead. “What just happened?”

She managed a laugh. “I think we got caught in a storm.”

“Sorry I was so rough. Are you all right?”

“I think so. My head’s still spinning. You?”

He levered himself above her. “I’m not sure. Guess I’d better check.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. “Umm. That works.” He ran a hand down her side, then up again, pausing at the swell of her breast. “Everything’s still working just fine.” He kissed her again, slowly.

Against her mouth, he whispered, “That storm has been building since you stepped out of Cullin’s car. But maybe now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can actually think and talk.”

She couldn’t help grinning. “You want to talk?”

His smile matched hers. “Not really. But I thought I’d show you that I can be civilized.”

“I see. Civilized. I think it’s a bit late for that.”

He threw back his head and roared. “I guess you’re right. All right then, what would you think about joining me in my bed?”

“Is it bigger than this sofa?”

“Much.”

“Good.” She started to stand.

As she got to her feet he scooped her up in his arms and strode from the room, depositing her in the middle of his big bed.

“Much better.” She sat up and watched as he settled himself beside her. “Now, what would you like to talk about?”

“Let’s save that for later.” He gave her a wolfish grin. “I thought I’d show you that I’m not always in such a rush.”

“You have another speed?”

“I do. Yes. Just watch me.” He drew her down among the bed linens and began a slow, leisurely exploration of her body with his tongue.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ross snagged her wrist as she started to slide out of bed.

They’d spent hours talking, laughing, loving, until both were sated. Now, with the rain gone and evening shadows dappling the lawn outside the window, Aidan bent to brush a kiss over his mouth and allowed her free hand to stroke his cheek.

“To grab a shower and dress. Cullen will be back. It might prove awkward explaining to Bridget and Cullen why I’m sneaking in, late and mussed.”

“To save face, you intend to leave me alone and bereft? I can see where your priorities lie.”

The look on his face had her heart stuttering. He looked so inviting, with his hair tousled and his eyes heavy-l idded with passion. Like a man who had been thoroughly loved.

In her most haughty tone, she said, “I live to break men’s hearts. Now, like Cinderella, I fear the witching hour. I must flee before I’m discovered, barefoot and in rags.”

“Even in rags, Aidan, I’d want you.”

Her heart lurched. To keep things light, she simply smiled. “Easy for you. You don’t have to face Bridget’s wrath.”

As she started away he drew her back. “You can’t leave me without a kiss.”

She brushed her lips over his and was startled when he dragged her close and ravaged her mouth until her heart began tripping over itself.

“Stay, Aidan. I’ll show you all the wonders of the world.”

“I thought you’d already done that.”

“Oh, but there are so many more.”

She drew back. “You make it entirely too tempting.” She stepped away and this time managed to cross the room.

“All right.” He slid out of bed and trailed her. “The least I can do is scrub your back.”

Still laughing, they showered together.

As they dressed, Aidan spotted the cashmere throw which had been carefully folded over the back of a chair.

She arched a brow. “I’d forgotten this.”

He merely smiled. “Like Cinderella’s glass slipper, it remained after you’d fled. I liked having it here.” His tone deepened. “I missed you the minute you walked out the door. Which is why…” He linked his fingers with hers and held the door. “This time I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”

His words touched her heart and made her so incredibly happy that she couldn’t stop smiling as they strode hand in hand from the cottage and made their way to the lodge.

As dusk settled over the land, the storm had blown itself out, leaving the gardens fresh and glistening with raindrops.

Aidan and Ross stepped apart before entering the library.

Cullen and Bridget were huddled in quiet conversation in front of a roaring fire.

The old man looked up with a smile and held out a tulip glass of champagne to Aidan. “I hope you found something to do while I was gone, my dear.”

She accepted the glass and sipped. “I had a lovely tour of the countryside by horseback.”

“Excellent.” He handed Ross a tumbler of ice water. “Thank you for standing in for me, lad.”

“It was my pleasure. You had to drive through quite a storm.”

“Storm?” For a moment the older man seemed puzzled. Then a wide smile split his lips. “Oh. Yes. The storm. Not quite as fierce in town as it was here, I expect. Did you two have supper?”

Aidan nodded. “And you?”

“Oh, my, yes. We ate at the pub after our meeting. Here, my dear.” He indicated a group of chairs in front of the fire. “Warm yourself.”

Cullen settled himself beside Aidan, while Ross chose to stand in front of the fireplace where he could watch her expressive face.

“The farmers were impressed by the accuracy of your figures. They claimed that without your help, they’d have had to hire a firm from Dublin, which would have charged them a fortune. Thanks to you, Aidan, they’re showing their biggest profit ever.”

“I’m so glad.” Aidan sipped her champagne and shot a quick glance at Ross, who was openly staring, as though he couldn’t get his fill of looking at her.

“The Cooperative would like to pay you for your services.”

Aidan flushed. “Please thank them for me, and explain why I must refuse their generous offer. It was such a treat for me to be able to do something that I enjoy while knowing that I was helping them. To me, that’s reward enough.”

“Indeed.” Her response seemed to please Cullen tremendously. “You’ve a generous heart, my dear. But then, I never doubted it. You come from a long line of generous souls.”

After less than an hour of pleasant conversation, Cullen stifled a yawn. “I’m afraid this day has worn me out. Forgive an old man his weariness.” He got to his feet. “You two stay and enjoy the fire.”

Ross gave a quick shake of his head. “I thought I’d give Aidan a tour of the gardens by moonlight. Will you join us?”

“Not tonight. I’m off to my bed.” Cullen bent to press a kiss to Aidan’s cheek. “I expect the courier should be here by the time we finish our breakfast.”

“So soon?” Aidan’s heart contracted and she looked over to see Ross’ little frown.

“’Twill end the suspense for you. For both of us,” he added as an afterthought. “Good night, my dear.” He straightened and walked to Ross, laying a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Good night, son.”

“Good night, Cullen.”‘

Aidan was touched by the affection between the two men. It warmed her more than the fire.

Ross opened the French doors leading to the gardens. As she was about to follow, she turned to see Cullen and Bridget, heads bent once more in quiet conversation.

The moment she stepped outside Ross caught her hand and drew her deeper into the shadows.

“This is what I wanted.” He gathered her close to press soft kisses from her temple to her jaw, before claiming her mouth. “Only this.”

When they stepped apart, he started leading her along the path toward his cottage.

She held back. “I thought you were going to show me the gardens by moonlight.”

“And so I shall.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Look quickly. Drink it all in as you pass through. As soon as we reach my place, I have no intention of letting you out of my arms again until morning.”

Their laughter drifted like music on the night air and carried into the library, where the old man and woman shared a conspiratorial smile.

Eight

Aidan crept into the lodge and up the stairs. In the privacy of her room, she undressed and stepped into the shower. When she emerged, wrapped in a huge bath sheet, she sat at the ornate dressing table and dried her hair before dressing for the day.

She’d never felt so alive. So filled with joy. So thoroughly loved.

And all because of Ross Delaney. She felt as though she’d been waiting for this man all of her life. He was fun and funny. Sophisticated, yet as down-to-earth as any man she’d ever known. He had a gentle way of teasing, of coaxing a laugh from her even in the midst of a serious conversation.

Her soul mate.

He’d been so much more than she’d expected. Warm and sentimental. And sexy as hell.

Love at first sight. It was a concept she’d long disdained. But there was no denying, it had happened to her. She felt as giddy as a girl on her first date. Light-as-air happy, and wildly, madly, deeply in love.

Foolish, of course. For Ross, she would be nothing more than a harmless fling.

The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry.

Aidan consoled herself that it didn’t matter. What she was feeling for Ross was enough for both of them. And he would never know, for she would never admit her foolish feelings. The love she felt for him would be her secret.

At a knock on the parlor door, she hurried over to find Bridget carrying a silver tea service.

“Good morning, miss. I thought, since I heard you up and about so early, you might want a cup of tea before you go down to breakfast.”

“Thank you, Bridget. That’s so thoughtful.” She watched as the housekeeper set the tray on a side table. “Do you have time to join me?”

The old woman smiled at the unexpected gesture. Not that she was surprised. In the short time the lass had been here, she’d proven herself to be kind and thoughtful with everyone, from Himself to the staff to the strangers in the Farmers’ Cooperative.

“Afraid not. I’ve my morning chores to see to.” Bridget stared directly at Aidan. “And, as you can imagine, I’ll be keeping an eye out for the courier.”

Aidan’s hand went to her heart as it took a quick dip.

Bridget poured a cup of tea. “Cullen Glin is the finest man I’ve ever known. It does my heart good to see him so happy, hoping that today may be the day he’ll learn that he’s a grandfather. Just think, after today, this could all be yours.” She set down the teapot and handed the steaming cup to Aidan. “Of course, that will mean he’ll have to amend his will.”

“His will?” Aidan’s head came up sharply.

“When he had his lawyers draw up his original will, he’d planned on leaving everything to the young man who saved his life. Having a blood relative changes everything. Not that Ross will mind in the least. His love and loyalty for Cullen Glin are true and deep, and has never been about fortune or status. Still, it will surely change things between the two.”

Seeing the stunned look in Aidan’s eyes, Bridget clapped a hand over her mouth. “There I go. Running off at the mouth again. Talking about things that are none of my business. It’s always been my greatest shortcoming.” She turned away. “Now you just forget everything I said, miss, and enjoy your tea.”

She nearly ran from the room in her haste to escape.

When the door closed behind her, Aidan sat, staring into space. Through the open windows she could hear the soothing sound of the fountains and could smell the wonderful perfume of the roses.

Hadn’t she called this paradise?

And it was. It was almost too perfect to be real. This could all be hers. If she was indeed Cullen’s granddaughter as he hoped, her life as she’d known it would be forever altered. All her debts would be erased. Her childhood home could be saved or sold, according to her whims. Her future secure for all time.

Wasn’t this what any sane person would want? Why, then, had her heart suddenly become as heavy as a boulder inside her chest?

Ross.

By rights, this should all be his. His estate. His fortune. His legacy. Without Ross, Cullen would have died that night on the streets of Dublin. Without Ross to carry on the search, Cullen never would have found his lost love, and the daughter he’d never known. Without Ross, Aidan wouldn’t be here, sampling a life so foreign to her, it was beyond her wildest imagination.

And now, instead of the reward Ross deserved for his years of love and loyalty, it could be all stripped away. If the DNA tests showed her to be Cullen’s granddaughter, Ross would forfeit any right to all of this.

The man she’d come to love would lose everything that was rightfully his, all because of her.

She stood so quickly, the tea sloshed over the rim of her cup, scalding her fingers. She took no notice as she hurried to the bedroom.

She knew in her heart of hearts what she had to do. And she must move quickly, before Cullen awoke and the courier arrived with information that could alter all their lives forever.

Ross looked up when Meath and Mayo barked. Seconds later a knock sounded on the cottage door. He silenced the dogs, then hurried over to find Bridget looking out of breath, her hair spilling out of its neat knot, her eyes wide and worried.

“Good morning, Bridget. What’s wrong?”

“Miss O’Mara said I was to give you this.” She handed him a folded note. “It must be important, for she said I was not to give it to you until after she was gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

The old woman shrugged. “She was calling for Sean to bring the car.”

“Car?” He looked thoroughly confused. “Whatever for?”

The old woman worried the edge of her apron, avoiding his eyes. “I believe she’s planning on leaving for the airport. I saw her suitcase packed.”

“Leaving? Now what’s this all about?” With a scowl, he started past her.

“Oh. When you see her, be sure to give her this.” Bridget reached into her pocket and withdrew a fat envelope. “The courier just delivered it as I was coming to find you.”

He stared at the envelope, then slapped it against his open palm before striding away.

The housekeeper watched him go.

As soon as he was out of sight, the frazzled look in her eyes was replaced with a wide, satisfied smile.

Pausing to scratch behind each hound’s ears, she said with a sigh, “You may as well come along, too, and watch the fireworks. However it all plays out, it should prove fascinating indeed, with Himself, as always, pulling all the strings.”

Without bothering to knock on the parlor door, Ross tore it open and strode across the room to the bedroom. Aidan’s suitcase was closed and lying on the bed. She was standing by the window, watching for the car.

He crossed the room to stand beside her, tossing her note on the cushion of the window seat. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She closed her eyes, cursing his timing. Another few minutes and she could have avoided this scene. “Just what it said in my note, Ross. I’m leaving.”

“I can read. You didn’t bother to tell me why.”

“I realized that I’ve been living in a dream world these past few days. This isn’t my birthright, Ross. I don’t belong here.”

“Isn’t that a decision you should be discussing with Cullen?”

“He’s blinded by the loss of his beloved Moira. He wants so badly to believe, that he’s lost all reality.”

“Oh, it’s reality you want?” He handed over the courier’s envelope. “Read this.”

“So soon? I was hoping…” She stared at it with a look of dread. “You haven’t read it?”

“It isn’t mine to read. It’s yours. Yours and Cullen’s. Go ahead, Aidan. Read it.”

Instead of opening it, she shocked him to the core by tearing it into tiny bits.

He hissed out a breath and tried to stop her. “Are you crazy?”

She pulled away, shredding the last of the documents. “I think I was, for a couple of days.”

“You’re not making any sense, Aidan.”

She tossed the bits of paper into a wastebasket before turning to him. Though she longed to reach out and touch him, she dared not, for fear of losing what little courage she had left. “Listen to me, Ross. You and Cullen love each other. And why not? You’re his true son.”

“And he’s more a father to me than my own ever was.”

“Without you, Cullen would have never become what he is today.”

Ross was shaking his head. “You’ve got it wrong. Without Cullen, I’d still be a street tough, probably living out my years in prison. Maybe I ought to tell you the kind of life I led before Cullen took me in.”

“There’s no need. He told me.”

“But you don’t…”

She placed a finger to his lips to still his words. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingertip caused a tiny thrill to race along her spine. “I know that because of Cullen, you’ve become a better man. And because of you, so has he. You became his reason for living, for growing as a person. That’s what family does for family. Whether I’m related or not, I can never love Cullen the way you do. I can never impact Cullen’s life the way you have.”

“And for that you’d just leave?”

“That isn’t why.” She shook her head. “Why should I have a claim on his estate? Does it make sense to hand all this over to me because of a mistake that was made two generations ago? Don’t you see? You have to let me go.”

“There’s something else going on here.” Ross bit off each word for emphasis. “What you’re planning is selfish and cruel, and now that I know you so well, I know that’s not something you’re capable of being. You’re kind and thoughtful and generous, but never cruel.”

She looked away, wondering how to make him understand. “It would be even more selfish to claim what isn’t mine. I can’t be what Cullen wants me to be. I can’t stay here. I can’t claim any of this, when it’s rightfully yours. If I leave, everything between you and Cullen will remain as it was.”

For the longest moment he merely stared at her, as the truth of her words dawned. She was turning her back on all of this because of him.

Ross felt a surge of such blinding love blooming in his heart, it had him by the throat until he could barely catch his breath.

She loved him. She was doing all of this because she loved him. Completely. Unselfishly.

Hadn’t he truly believed that such love was impossible in this world?

He fought to speak over the rock that had formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. “Aidan, all of this is Cullen’s. To do with as he pleases.”

“But he’s left it to you. The son he always wanted.” She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked furiously to keep from weeping. “And now I’ve come along and messed up everything. This is all a big mistake.”

“A mistake?” His eyes were hot and fierce. “Was the love we shared last night a mistake? What about the feelings we have for each other? Are you saying that’s a mistake, too?”

When she didn’t answer he clenched his hands at his sides. He wanted to shake her until she came to her senses.

He wanted to hold her. Just hold her. But not yet. Not just yet. They needed to get all of this out in the open and put behind them.

“All of this…” She swept her hand. “Ireland. This lovely estate. That fairy-tale town filled with good, hard-working people… It’s all a lovely dream, but for me, it’s just that. A dream. Now it’s time for the truth.”

“Yes. The truth.” He fought to keep his tone even. “Think you can handle it?”

When she said nothing he went on. “I want you to stay, Aidan. Not for Cullen, but for me.”

“I can’t stay. I told you, I’m…”

“I know. Determined to do the noble thing and step aside so that all this can be mine.” He fought down the wild swirl of emotions threatening to swamp him. He would have sworn he could hear music playing. An orchestra, the sound growing, swelling in his heart. A heart that had been battered by anger and mistrust, and locked tightly against any hint of trust or tenderness for all of his adult life. “The truth is, you love me. You’re ready to step aside because you want what’s best for me.”

Aidan refused to look at him.

“I need to hear the words, Aidan. Say you love me.”

She looked down at her hands and prayed her voice wouldn’t tremble. “Maybe I do. But…”

“You do love me.” He was finally able to smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She still refused to look at him. “But I have to go.”

“You have to stay.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, too, little fool.”

Love. The mere word had all the air leaving her lungs. She could hardly breathe. “But Cullen’s estate…”

“Is in Cullen’s hands. Tell me, does it matter whether or not one of us inherits? Would you be willing to marry me even if I’m penniless?”

“Marry? I thought…” She swallowed and tried again. “I was told that Ross Delaney isn’t the marrying kind.”

“I wasn’t. Until now.”

“And now? What happened to change your mind?”

“You. And that damnably noble heart of yours. I haven’t any defense against it.”

Oh, the way her poor heart leapt in her chest. “But what about Cullen?”

“He has to find his own woman.”

That had them both chuckling, breaking the terrible tension building between them.

Finally, with the warmth of laughter, he could take her in his arms. Touch her. Hold her.

He pressed his mouth to her temple and growled. “Aidan, I want it all with you. Love. Marriage. Forever-after. I won’t settle for less. Starting right now. Today. This minute.”

As his words washed over her, and the reality of what he’d said began to sink in, tears filled her eyes and she was mortified to feel them running down her cheeks. “Oh, Ross. You love me. Truly love me.”

“I do. Yes.”

“And I love you. Truly love you.”

He gathered her closer, needing to feel her heartbeat inside his own chest, keeping time to his. “Thank heaven. At last we can speak the truth. Now, here’s my truth, Aidan. The first time I saw you, I felt something so strong, so powerful, I didn’t know how to handle it. I knew only that I had to be near you. To see you, to touch you. To have you. I don’t even know when lust turned into love. I love you so much I can’t sleep or eat or string together a coherent sentence. Now, finally, I understand what Cullen went through. If you left me, I’d have to spend the rest of my life searching for you. Don’t you see? We have to be together. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Aidan wondered that her poor heart didn’t simply burst with happiness. She took in a long, shaky breath. “I’m not sorry I tore up the DNA results. But what does that do to Cullen’s search for family?”

“I’m not sure. That will be entirely between you and Cullen.”

“And his estate?”

“It’s his to keep or give away. It’s not my concern, or yours.”

“But do you think…?

“Shh. Don’t think.” He brushed his mouth over hers to still any further questions. Against her mouth he muttered, “For now, just let me hold you, my love.”

Love. Oh, she’d never heard a sweeter, more beautiful word. It filled her up until she was exploding with joy as she gave herself up to his kiss.

Cullen and Bridget stood in the parlor, peering around the open door, listening to every word. When the young couple embraced, they turned to each other with matching smiles of delight.

Bridget shook her head and whispered, “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen and heard it myself. I was truly afraid she wouldn’t be talked out of leaving. But you were right again.”

“Nothing like being young and wildly in love.” Cullen patted a hand to his heart. “I’ve never forgotten the feeling.”

He crept silently from the parlor, trailed by the housekeeper, and together they descended the stairs to his library.

Meath and Mayo looked up from the rug in front of the fireplace.

Cullen walked to his desk and stared long and hard at the envelope delivered by the courier. It was identical to the one given to Aidan.

Bridget clasped her hands together. “Finally, you have scientific proof of whether or not the lass is your kin.”

He nodded, but still he didn’t make a move to open the envelope.

Bridget twisted her hands together, her brow knitted in confusion.

After another long pause, Cullen snatched up the envelope and crossed to the fireplace, where he tossed it into the flames.

Bridget sucked in a breath. “Oh, no! What have you done?”

He merely smiled. “I don’t need scientific evidence to tell me what my heart already knows. I chose wisely, don’t you agree? I knew the lass was unselfish, seeing the way she sacrificed everything to care for her mother. I knew she had a wise, compassionate heart when she agreed to the DNA test for my sake. And when you ‘accidentally’ told her that Ross would be disinherited in her favor, she reacted just as I’d predicted.”

Bridget flushed with pride. “I was quite an actress in my youth.”

“And you haven’t lost your touch, old girl.”

She arched a brow. “But you said yourself you would need the test results for the Courts.”

He shook his head. “I can do whatever I please with my fortune. I have no need of a court of law. My heart knows the truth. And now I have even more than I’d hoped for. The son I always wanted, desperately in love with the one I know to be my own.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “Oh, I chose wisely. She’s the only one good enough for Ross. The only one he’d have trusted enough with that fragile, damaged heart of his. And Ross is the only one who deserves a lass with such goodness, such decency. Each of them deserved to find the best possible soul mate.”

The old woman wiped a tear from her eye. “They do make a perfect couple.”

He chuckled. “That they do. And together they’ll give me such a beautiful family to carry on this legacy. I’d say my estate, my town, and my world will be in very good hands when I leave it.”

As he followed the housekeeper from the room, the envelope and its precious documents turned dazzling white, sending out a spray of glittering sparks that had the hounds backing away.

Cullen turned. Instead of burning to ash, the paper’s edges curled up into the shape of a perfect heart. For long moments it gleamed red hot, as though alive and pulsing, before it shot straight up the chimney.

The old man smiled. A magician, was he? Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing was certain. He was a man who’d spent a lifetime seeking perfect love. And wasn’t it grand that now, after all this time, it was right here in this very place?

He couldn’t wait to see this old lodge filled to the rafters with love and laughter. And babies. Oh now, there was a fine plan indeed.

The thought had him laughing like a loon and rubbing his hands in anticipation of everything that the fine, bright future was about to bring to all of them.