The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

be profound and brilliant.
    He finally released her hand, just as she expected it to dissolve in his, and took the pint glass from under the tap, to slide it into welcoming hands. “And how are you finding Ireland?” he asked her as he turned to take a bottle of wine from the mirrored shelf.
    “It’s lovely.”
    “Well, there’s no one here will disagree with you on that.” He poured her wine, looking at her rather than the glass. “And how’s your granny?”
    “Oh.” Jude was amazed that he’d filled the glass perfectly without so much as a glance at it, then set it precisely in front of her. “She’s very well. Do you know her?”
    “I do, yes. My mother was a Fitzgerald and a cousin to your granny—third or fourth removed, I’m thinking. So, that makes us cousins as well.” He tapped a finger on her glass. “ Slainte, cousin Jude.”
    “Oh, well . . . thank you.” She lifted her glass just as the shouting started from the back. A woman’s voice, clear as church bells, accused someone of being a bloody, blundering knothead with no more brains than a turnip. This was answered, in irritated male tones, that he’d rather be a bleeding turnip than dumb as the dirt it grew in.
    No one seemed particularly shocked by the shouts and curses that followed, nor by the sudden crash that had Jude jolting and spilling a few drops of wine on the back of her hand.
    “That would be two more of your cousins,” Aidan explained as he took Jude’s hand yet again and efficiently dried it. “My sister, Darcy, and my brother, Shawn.”
    “Oh. Well, shouldn’t someone see what’s the matter?”
    “The matter with what?”
    She only goggled as the voices in the back rose.
    “You throw that plate at my head, you viper, and I swear to you, I’ll—”
    The threat ended on a vicious curse as something crashed against the wall. Seconds later, a woman swung out of the door behind the bar, carrying a tray of food and looking flushed and satisfied.
    “Did you nail him, Darcy?” someone wanted to know.
    “No, he ducked.” She tossed her head, sending a cloud of raven-black hair flying. Temper suited her. Her Kerry blue eyes snapped with it, her generous mouth pouted. She carried the tray with a sassy twitch of hip to a family of five crowded at a low table. And when she served, bending down to catch whatever the woman at the table murmured to her, she threw back her head and laughed.
    The laughter suited her just as well as the temper, Jude noted.
    “I’ll be taking the price of the plate out of your pay,” Aidan informed her when she strolled over to the bar.
    “That’s fine, then. Worth every penny, more if I’d hit the mark. The Clooneys are needing two more Cokes, a ginger ale and two Harps—a pint and a glass.”
    Aidan began to fill the order. “Darcy, this is Jude Murray from America, come to stay in Old Maude’s cottage.”
    “Pleased to meet you.” The temper was quickly replaced by a lively interest in Darcy’s eyes. The pout gave way to a quick and dazzling smile. “Are you settling in well?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “It’s Chicago, isn’t it, where you’re from? Do you love it there?”
    “It’s a beautiful city.”
    “And loaded with fine shops and restaurants and the like. What do you do in Chicago, for your living?”
    “I teach psychology.” Taught, Jude thought, but that was too hard to explain, especially since attention had once again focused on her.
    “Do you, now? Well, and that’s very handy.” Darcy’s beautiful eyes gleamed with humor, and just a touch of malice. “Perhaps you could examine my brother Shawn’s head when you’ve time. There’s been something wrong with it since birth.”
    She picked up the tray of drinks Aidan nudged toward her, then grinned at him. “And it was two plates. I missed both times, but I nearly caught him at the ear the second round.”
    She sauntered off to serve drinks and take orders from the tables.
    Aidan exchanged glasses for pounds, set another two under the taps for building, then lifted a brow at Jude. “Is the wine not to your taste?”
    “What?” She glanced down, noting that she’d barely sipped at it. “No, it’s nice.” She drank to be polite, then smiled so her dimples fluttered shyly to life again. “Lovely, actually. I was distracted.”
    “You needn’t worry about Darcy and Shawn. Shawn’s fast on his feet, true enough, but our sister’s an arm like a bullet. If she’d meant to hit him, she