The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

left her. Compared me to him, and when I called her there, she said how she had nothing else to compare to. Well, compare me to no one, by Christ. I’m who I am.”
    “Of course you are, and ten times the man that William is.” Her fault, she thought again. She’d seen the fun of it, but hadn’t counted on the pain. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t just that she didn’t want to leave her life in America, then?”
    “We never got that far. And why wouldn’t she when she’s happy here as she never was there?”
    “Well. . .” Darcy huffed out her breath and tried to think it through. “It hadn’t occurred to me that she wouldn’t want marriage.”
    “She’s just not thinking beyond what happened before. I know it hurt her, and I’d like to wring the man’s neck for it.” Emotions swirled into his eyes. “But I won’t hurt her.”
    No, he would treasure and tend, as he did all the things he loved, Darcy thought, aching for him.
    “Maybe it is, in part, a wound that isn’t quite healed.But the fact is, not all women want a ring and a baby under the apron.”
    She wanted to get up and stroke and hug him into some comfort, but could see there was too much temper in his eyes yet for him to accept petting. “I understand her feelings on that, Aidan. On the borders of it, the finality.”
    “It’s not an end but a beginning.”
    “For you it would be, but it isn’t for everyone.” Darcy sat back, drummed her fingers. “Well, I’m a good judge, and I’m saying our Jude’s the marrying kind, whether she believes it or not at the moment. A nester she is who’s never had a chance to make that nest if you’re asking me, before she came here on her own. Maybe we moved a bit faster than we should.”
    “We?”
    “You, I mean,” Darcy corrected as she thought of the plotting she’d done with Brenna. No need to mention that, she decided, since it seemed the mess made wasn’t her fault—entirely. “But it’s too late to change that, so you’ll just have to move forward. Persuade her.” She smiled again. “Take some time on it, but let her see what she’d be giving up if she didn’t grab what you’re offering. You’re a Gallagher, Aidan. Gallaghers get what they want sooner or later.”
    “You’re right.” Pieces of his shattered ego began to slide back into place. “There’s no moving back now. I’ll just have to help her get used to the idea.”
    Relieved to see the gleam back in his eyes, Darcy patted his cheek. “My wager’s on you.”

EIGHTEEN
    S HE WOULDN ’ T BE expecting him, not so early in any case. But since Darcy was being so cooperative, Aidan had taken off a couple of hours before closing to walk the road to Jude’s cottage.
    The night was balmy with the breeze from the sea. Clouds sailed briskly over the sky so that patches of stars winked out, glimmered, then vanished. The moon was round and fat, its light gentle.
    A fine night, Aidan thought, for romancing the woman you intended to marry.
    He’d brought her a clutch of fairy roses in delicate pink that he’d stolen from Kathy Duffy’s garden. He didn’t think the woman would mind the loss when it was going to such a good cause.
    There were lights glowing in her windows, a warm and welcome sight to him. He imagined that in years to come, when they were married and settled, it would be the same. He’d walk home after work and she’d be waiting with thelights burning to guide his step. It no longer surprised him how much he wanted that, or how clearly he could see it all. Night following night, year following year, toward a lifetime.
    He didn’t knock. Such formalities had already slipped away between them. He noted that she’d already tidied from the party. It was so like her, he thought with affection. Everything was neat and orderly and just as it should be.
    He heard music drifting down the stairs and walked up toward it.
    She was in her little office with the radio playing soft and the pup snoring at her feet under the table. Her hair was bound back, her fingers moving briskly over computer keys.
    He had an urge to scoop her into his arms and gobble her whole. But he didn’t think that was the right move under the circumstances.
    Persuasion, he reminded himself, didn’t come from the fast and the hot, but the slow and the warm.
    He crossed to her, moving quietly, then bent down to brush a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.
    She jolted, but he’d anticipated that and, chuckling, wrapped his arms