The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

Darcy, I hope you’ll use mine.”
    She was glad she’d chosen to walk back to the village. There were so many thoughts buzzing around in her head. How long it would take to separate them, consider each one, she didn’t know. She only knew that it had to be done.
    She asked herself what she would do if there was nothing between herself and Trevor but the offer. The answer came quicker than she expected. She’d take it, of course. It would be a grand adventure, and a chance for more. And if she failed, there was no shame in it. Better, if she succeeded, there was the lush life she’d always imagined.
    And all because she could sing. Wasn’t that astounding?
    The work Nigel had spoken of didn’t worry her overmuch. She wasn’t afraid of working hard. The travel was something she’d always dreamed of. The niggle came from the fact that she had no driving ambition to perform. But perhaps that was to the good. Without that force and need, mightn’t she enjoy it more?
    She’d have money to lavish on herself, her family, her friends. Oh, she’d have no problem at all with the money.
    But it all circled back. There was something between herself and Trevor, and on her part it was more vital than anything had been in her life.
    She had to make him love her.
    It was so irritating not to know if she was making progress there. The man was much too self-contained for her peace of mind. With her mouth set in a pout, she tugged a fuchsia blossom from the hedge and tore it to pieces as she walked down the narrow road.
    Why was it when it finally happened, she’d lost her heart to a man who wasn’t dazzled with her? Who wasn’t eager as a puppy to please? Who didn’t promise her the world on a silver platter, even if those who had done that most often hadn’t had the platter, much less the world, at their disposal.
    She probably wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he’d been or done any of those things, but that was beside the point. She was in love with him, so why couldn’t he just love her back so everything could be lovely?
    Damned perverse individual.
    When he’d kissed her there in the kitchen of Faerie Hill Cottage, hadn’t he felt it? Hadn’t he known her heart was spilling right out of her and into his hands? Oh, she hated that she couldn’t stop it.
    Hated more that the first time, the only time, she’d wanted a man to see inside her, he just wasn’t looking.
    So, she’d have to deal with that. She tossed the remains of the tattered blossom away, watching it whip like confetti in the brisk wind on the hill. She had plenty of tools at her disposal to employ. Sooner or later, she’d box him right in.
    Damned if she wouldn’t.
    Before she was done, she’d be rich, famous. And married.
    As she came around the bend, the sun flashed into her eyes like a beacon, sharp and white and direct. She raised a hand to shield them, blinking, and saw through the glare the glint of silver.
    “Good morning to you, Darcy the fair.”
    Slowly, with her heart stuttering, she lowered her hand. It hadn’t been the sun at all that had beamed at her. It was filtered soft through layered stacks of clouds that turned the sky the color of Trevor’s eyes. It was magic that shone out at her, and the man standing on the side of the road, under the looming spear of the round tower, owned it.
    “I’m told you frequent Saint Declan’s Well.”
    “Oh, I’m here and there, depending. And it’s rare for you to wander to that hill.”
    “I’m here and there as well. Depending.”
    His eyes flashed with humor, as bright as the doublet he wore. “Since here’s where you are and so am I, will you walk with me?” The iron gate opened as he spoke, though he didn’t touch it with his hand.
    “Men are the same. Faerie or mortal, they must show off.” Pleased when he frowned, she breezed by him and through the opening. “I wondered if you’d ever have cause to seek me out.”
    “I gave you more credit than you deserved.” There, he thought when she turned her head to glare at him. Point for point. “I was certain a woman of your talents would have conquered any man she took aim at. But you’ve yet to land the Magee.”
    “He’s not a fish. And who put the idea in his head that he was obliged to fall in love with me so he’d get his back up about it straight off?”
    “Too much Yank practicality and not enough Irish romance in him, that’s his problem.” Disgusted because Darcy was right about his own