The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

and two glasses of Jameson’s. And when you’re done there, Aidan, Jack Brennan’s come to his limit.”
    “I’ll see to it. What time do you have, Jude Frances?”
    “Time?” She stopped staring at his hands—they were so quick and clever—and glanced down at her watch. “Lord, it’s after eleven. I had no idea.” Her hour had stretched into nearly three. “I need to get back.”
    Aidan gave her an absent nod, a great deal less than she’dhoped for, and filled his sister’s order while Jude searched for the money to pay for her drinks.
    “My grandson’s paying.” Mr. Riley laid a fragile hand on her shoulder. “He’s a good lad. You put your money away, darling.”
    “Thank you.” She offered a hand to shake, then found herself charmed when the old man lifted it to his lips. “I enjoyed meeting you.” She slid off her stool, sent a smile to the younger Riley. “Both of you.”
    Without Darcy to clear the path, getting to the door was a little more problematic than getting to the bar had been. When she got there, her face was flushed from the heat of bodies, and her blood dancing to the hot lick of the fiddle.
    She considered it one of the most entertaining evenings of her life.
    Then she stepped outside into the cool night air. And saw Aidan just as he ducked under the violent swing of an arm the width of a tree trunk.
    “Now, Jack,” he said in reasonable tones as a giant of a man with shocking red hair bunched hamlike fists again. “You know you don’t want to hit me.”
    “I’ll do it! I’ll break your interfering nose this time, by Jesus, Aidan Gallagher. Who are you to tell me I can’t have a fucking drink in the fucking pub when I’ve a fucking mind to?”
    “You’re well and truly pissed, Jack, and you need to go home now and sleep it off.”
    “Let’s see if you can sleep this off.”
    He charged, and while Aidan prepared to pivot and easily avoid the bull rush, Jude let out a short scream of alarm. It took only that to distract Aidan enough to have Jack’s wild punch connect.
    “Well, hell.” Aidan wiggled his jaw, blew out a breathas Jack’s lumbering charge sent the man sprawling facedown on the sidewalk.
    “Are you all right?” Terrified, Jude rushed over, skirting the sprawled form that was approximately the size of a capsized ocean liner. “Your mouth’s bleeding. Does it hurt? This is awful.” She fumbled in her bag for a tissue as she stuttered.
    Aidan was irritated enough to tell her the blood was as much her fault for screaming as it was Jack’s for throwing the punch. But she looked so pretty and distressed, and was already dabbing at his painfully cut lip with the tissue.
    He started to smile, and as that hurt like twice the devil, he winced.
    “Oh, what a bully! We need to call the police.”
    “For what?”
    “To arrest him. He attacked you.”
    Sincerely shocked, Aidan gaped at her. “Now, why would I want to have one of my oldest friends arrested just for bloodying my lip?”
    “Friend?”
    “Sure. He’s just nursing a broken heart with whiskey which is foolish but natural enough. The lass he thought he loved went off with a Dubliner, two weeks ago last Wednesday, so he’s taken to drinking out his sorrows the past few days, then causing a ruckus. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
    “He hit you in the face.” Perhaps if she said it slowly, clearly, the meaning would get through. “He said he was going to break your nose.”
    “That’s only because he’s tried to break it before and hasn’t found success. He’ll be sorry for it in the morning, nearly as sorry as he’ll be because his aching head won’t just roll off his shoulders and leave him in peace.”
    Aidan did smile now, but cautiously. “Were you worried for me, darling?”
    “Apparently I shouldn’t have been.” She said it primly and balled up the bloody tissue. “As you appear to enjoy brawling in the street with your friends.”
    “Was a time I enjoyed brawling in the street with strangers, but with maturity I prefer my friends.” He reached out, as he’d been wanting to, and toyed with the ends of her bound-back hair. “And I thank you for having concern for me.”
    He stepped forward. She stepped back.
    And he sighed. “One day you won’t have quite so much room to back away. And I won’t have poor drunk Jack at me feet to deal with.”
    Philosophically he bent down and, to Jude’s astonishment, picked up the enormous semiconscious man and swung him