The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

might have had a deep affection for Shawn Gallagher, but that didn’t negate the fact that the bastard had put his hand on Michael O’Toole’s baby.
    So he knocked, and he was prepared to handle the matter in a straightforward and civilized way.
    When the door opened, Mick rammed his fist into Shawn’s face.
    Shawn’s head snapped back, and he took two steps for balance, but he stayed on his feet. Tougher than he looks, Mick decided, lifting his balled fists again, for that had been a fine punch if he said so himself.
    “Come on, then, defend yourself. Ya son of a bitch. I’ve come to wipe the floor with you.”
    “No, sir.” Shawn’s head was ringing, and he wanted badly to swivel his jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken, but he merely stood there, arms at his sides. The man was half his size and nearly twice his age. “You can plant another on me if you must, but I won’t fight you.”
    “So, you’re a coward, then.” Mick danced inside, a boxer prepping for the next round. He gave Shawn a quick rap in the chest, faked another toward his face. Reluctant admiration bloomed. The boy didn’t so much as flinch.
    “You’re standing up for your daughter. I can’t fight what I’d do myself if I were you.” But a sudden horrible thought flew into his head, and now his hands did fist. “Did you raise your hand to her over this?”
    Insult mixed with frustration. “Bloody hell, boy, never have I raised a hand to one of my girls. I leave that to their mother if they’ve a need for it.”
    “She all right, then? Would you just tell me that she’s all right?”
    “No, we took a bat to her and bashed her brains to Sunday.” With a windy sigh, Mick lowered his fists. He didn’t have the heart to use them again. But he was far from done. “You’ve some answering to do, young Gallagher.”
    Shawn nodded. “Aye. Do you want me to do it here, in the doorway, or in the kitchen over whiskey?”
    Thoughtfully, Mick rubbed his chin, measured his man. “I’ll take the whiskey.”
    Temper was still bubbling under his skin, but he followed Shawn to the back, waited while the bottle was taken from the cupboard and good Jameson’s poured into short glasses.
    “Will you sit, Mr. O’Toole?”
    “Well, you’ve manners, don’t you, at such a time.” Scowling, Mick sat, picked up his glass, and eyed Shawn over the top of it. “You’ve had your hands on my daughter.”
    “I have.”
    Mick set his teeth. His hand fisted again, braced and ready. “And what are your intentions toward my Mary Brenna?”
    “I love her, and I want to marry her.”
    Mick’s breath hissed out. He dragged one hand through his hair as he gulped down the whiskey, then held out the glass for more. “Well, why the devil didn’t you say so?”
    “Ah . . .” Gingerly, Shawn cupped his bruised jaw, moved it gently side to side. Not broken, he decided. Just battered. “It’s a bit of a dilemma.”
    “And why would that be?”
    “I haven’t brought the matter up to Brenna herself as yet. If I do, you see, she’ll determine to go the opposite way. I’ve been working at bringing the matter ’round so it seems her idea. That way, she’ll make my life hell till I agree to it.”
    Mick stared, then shaking his head, set his whiskey down. “Well, Jesus, you do know her, don’t you?”
    “I do. And I love her with all my heart. I want to spend my life with her. There’s nothing I want more. So . . .” Finished, and exhausted from it, Shawn knocked back his whiskey. “There you have it.”
    “You know how to take the wind out of a man’s sails.” Mick drank again. “I love my girls, Shawn. Each one of them’s a jewel to me. When I walked my Maureen down the aisle and gave her away, I was proud, and my heart was breaking. You’ll know how that is one day. I’ve to do the same with Patty soon. Both of them chose men I’m pleased to call son.”
    He held out his glass, waited while Shawn filled it again. “My Brenna has as good taste and sense as her sisters, if not better.”
    “Thank you for that.” Relieved, Shawn took a second glass himself. “I’m wishing she’d come ’round to that sooner rather than later, but she’s a bit of work, if you don’t mind me saying.”
    “I don’t. I’m proud of it.” Mick settled in, frowned a little. “This business that’s going on between you, I don’t approve of it.” He noted Shawn was man enough to meet his eye and wise enough to keep his thoughts to himself. By