The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

And my grandmother abided by his wishes.” He glanced at Darcy, his eyes cool and remote. “In everything.”
    “I imagine he was a powerful man, and powerful men are often difficult and intimidating.”
    “My father would be viewed as a powerful man. I wouldn’t consider him difficult or intimidating.”
    “So you’ve come back in part, have you, to see for yourself where those Magee seeds were first sown?”
    “In part.”
    She did not fail to notice the dismissive tone. A sore spot here, she decided, and though she’d have dearly loved to poke a bit, she left it alone. For now. “Well, then, since here’s where you are, why don’t you tell me what you think of the cottage?”
    Tension, tension that irritated him, eased a bit. He poured his first cup of coffee as he dealt with the eggs. “I just sent my mother a fax telling her it was a postcard.”
    “A fax? Is that the way mother and son communicate?”
    “Mother and son use technology where it’s useful.” Remembering manners, he poured her a cup, brought it to the table. “Best of all worlds, isn’t it? A thatchedroof cottage in the Irish countryside and the conveniences of modern times.”
    “You left out your ghost.”
    He had a steady hand, but nearly bobbled the skillet. “I wouldn’t say she’s mine.”
    “While you’re living here she is. A tragic figure is Lady Gwen, and while I sympathize and appreciate the romance of it all, I find it hard to understand anyone who would pine, even for love, over the centuries, beyond death. Life’s the point, isn’t it, and making it work for you.”
    “How much more do you know about her?”
    “As much as any in these parts, I suppose.” She enjoyed watching his long fingers and competent hands do their work. “Though Jude’s done more of a study on the matter for her book. Several I know have seen her.”
    He glanced back. It wasn’t surprise in his eyes, but caution. “Have you?”
    “I don’t think I’m the type a ghost spends time with. Perhaps you will, as she walks here.”
    “You’re vision enough for me. What about the second half of the legend? This Carrick.”
    “Oh, he’s a clever one, and tricky with it. Stubborn pride and poor temper put him in the fix he’s in and he’s not above using his wiles to repair it now that the time’s up. You may not have noticed, but Brenna wears her rings, her engagement and wedding rings, on a chain around her neck when she’s working.”
    “I saw a man come close to losing his finger on a job once when his wedding ring caught in a skill saw. She’s smart to avoid that.” He took out plates, divvied up the egg dish, all with a smooth efficiency that she appreciated. “What do Brenna’s rings have to do with the legend?”
    “Her engagement ring is a pearl, the second of the jewels Carrick offered Gwen. Those tears of the moon he gathered into his magic bag. Carrick gave the pearl to Shawn.”
    Trevor’s eyebrows lifted, but he turned back for flatware. “A generous sort.”
    “I don’t know about that, but the pearl was given to him by Carrick at Old Maude’s grave, and now it’s Brenna’s. The first offered was diamonds. Jewels of the sun. Ask Jude about that if you have an interest. The third and last he offered were sapphires. From the heart of the sea.”
    “The heart of the sea.” His dream came back to him, fast and clear so that he once again stared down at his own hand.
    “A pretty story, you’re thinking, and so I would myself if those I know hadn’t become part of it. There’s one more step that has to be taken, one more pair of hearts that have to meet and promise to each other.” She sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim. “The others who lived here in this cottage since Old Maude passed were step one and step two.”
    He said nothing for a moment, just retrieved the toast that had popped up. “Are you warning me that I’ve been selected as step three?”
    “It follows smoothly, doesn’t it? Now, however practical-minded a man you might be, Magee, you’ve Irish blood in your veins, and you share that blood with a man who once loved the woman who lived in the place. As candidates go for the breaking of spells, you’d be my pick.”
    Considering, he took out the butter and jam. “And a practical-minded woman like you believes in spells.”
    “Believe in them?” She leaned toward him as he sat. “Darling, I cast them.”
    The way she looked at the moment, her eyes hot and bright, her