The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

shimmered. “That’s quite the little bauble, isn’t it?”
    “It is. Trevor gave it to me.” And she watched Mick’s wicked smile.
    “Did he now?”
    “He did, and I shouldn’t have taken it, but I decided not to refuse such a generous gesture.”
    “Why should you? He’s got his eye on you, and has since you first came into view. The man has fine taste if you’re asking me, and you, my girl, could hardly do better than with the likes of Trevor Magee.”
    “It won’t do to get those sorts of notions, Mr. O’Toole. It’s no more than a bit of a frolic for both of us, with neither looking for seriousness.”
    “Is it?” Mick questioned, then seeing Darcy set her chin, as he’d seen her set it all her life, he let it lie. “Well, sure and we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
     
     
    And to Mick’s pleasure, it was barely more than an hour after Darcy left his bedside when Trevor came to it. He brought a pint of Guinness with him, and Mick appreciated his boldness in not troubling to hide it, just as he’d admired the neatness with which Darcy had delivered hers under cover.
    “Now, that’s a man after me own heart.”
    “Oh, did you want one too?” With an easy smile, Trevor passed the glass and sat. “I figured you’d be feeling restless by now.”
    “That I am. If you’d get me some pants I’d walk out of here with you.”
    “Tomorrow. I’ve just had a word with your doctor, and he says they’ll release you in the morning.”
    “Well, that’s better than a jab in the eye with a sharp stick. I was thinking, I could be on the job straightaway, in a kind of supervisory capacity. No lifting.” He hurried on as Trevor merely stared blandly. “No actual labor, just what you’d call keeping an eye on things.”
    “In a week.”
    “Bloody hell, man, I’ll go mad in a week. Do you know what it is to be laid low this way and have a brood of hens clucking about you?”
    “Only in my cherished fantasies.”
    Mick gave a short laugh and settled into his pint. “Darcy left hardly an hour ago.”
    “She loves you.”
    “That feeling’s very mutual between us. I happened to notice the trinket you gave her, the wrist bauble.”
    “It suits her.”
    “It does indeed, being bright and rich and shiny. Some see the girl and think, now that’s a flighty one only looking for fun and the easy way. They’d be wrong.”
    “I wouldn’t disagree with you.”
    “As her father, and my good friend, Patrick Gallagher is across the pond, I’m taking it upon myself to say this to you in plain speech. Don’t toy with that girl, Trevor. She’s not a bauble like that pretty bracelet you picked out of a glass case somewhere. She’s a big and seeking heart in her, even if she doesn’t like to let it show. And for all she may tell you, and herself for that matter, that it’s all fun and games, she’ll bruise like any other woman with rough handling.”
    “I don’t intend to handle her roughly.” His voice was cool now, just a step away from aloof.
    Not the sort of man who’s accustomed to being given orders, Mick thought, or advice, or even warnings about his behavior. “Maybe the word I should use is ‘careless.’ And a man can be careless with a woman even without intending it, especially if the woman expects it.”
    “I’ll make a point of being careful, whatever she expects.”
    Mick nodded, and again let it lie. But he wondered just what Trevor himself expected.
    Mick was right about one thing. Trevor wasn’t a man who particularly cared for advice, and certainly not when it pertained to a woman. He knew what he was doing with Darcy. They were both clear-sighted adults, adults who had a very elemental attraction to each other. Mixed with it was simple affection and respect. What more could anyone want from a relationship, and a temporary one at that?
    But Mick’s words troubled him, and followed him on the drive back to Ardmore. Rather than head back to the job as he’d intended, he turned up Tower Hill. He’d yet to return to his ancestor’s gravesite, or even to explore the ruins. He could spare another half hour.
    The round tower loomed over the village and could be seen from below from almost every vantage point. He passed it often enough on his way to and from the cottage, but had never followed the urge to take real time to study it. This time he pulled to the shoulder of the narrow road and stepped out of the car. And into the wind.
    When he walked through the little