The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

miscalculation, he strode over the rough ground. “I don’t understand the man. If his blood didn’t leap the minute he saw you, I’m a jackrabbit. You should’ve been able to bring him to the mark by this time.”
    He stopped, and his eyes burned into hers. “You want him, don’t you?”
    “If I didn’t, he’d never have touched me.”
    “And has he touched only your body? Has he reached your heart?”
    She turned, looking down, to where the village lay. “Isn’t your magic strong enough to see into my heart?”
    “I want the words from you. I’ve learned, with pain, the power of words.”
    “The ones I have are for him, not for you. They’ll be spoken when I choose, not when you demand.”
    “In the name of Finn, I knew I’d have trouble with you.”
    He pondered a moment, rubbing his chin. Then with a sly smile, he raised his arms high. The air shivered, rippled like water at a stone’s toss. Shapes formed behind it, shadows that spread and speared up and took on color and life. The gentle voice of the sea became a roar, a thousand sounds beating against each other.
    “Look now,” Carrick ordered, but she was already staring, eyes wide, at the buildings and streets and people where her village had been. “New York City.”
    “Sweet Mary.” She had already stepped back, half afraid she would stumble and fall into that vast, crowded, wonderful world. “Such a place.”
    “You could have it, the best of it. Shops full of treasures.”
    Store windows, filled with glittering jewels, sleek clothes raced by in front of her eyes.
    “Elegant restaurants.”
    White tablecloths, exotic flowers, the shimmer of candlelight, the glint of wine in crystal.
    “Luxurious quarters.”
    Polished wood and thick carpets, a fluid curve of stairs, a wide, wide window that looked out over trees gone to flame with fall.
    “It’s Trevor’s penthouse. It could be yours.” Carrick watched the awe, the pleasure, the desire, run over her face. “He has more. His family’s getaway in a place called the Hamptons, a villa in Italy on the sea, a pretty pied-a`-terre in Paris, the town house in London.”
    A house of brilliant white wood and sparkling glass with the blue water close, another in soft, pale yellow with a red tile roof tucked onto a soaring cliff over yet another blue sea, the charm of old stone and iron rails over the streets of Paris, and the dignified brick home she remembered from London. They all flashed by, made her head spin.
    Then they were gone, in the blink of an eye, and there was only Ardmore sitting cozily under the layered, grayedged clouds.
    “You could have it, all of it, for with some women they’ve only to want to have.”
    “I can’t think.” Giving in to her shaky legs, she sat on the ground. “My head aches from it.”
    “What do you want?” Watching her, Carrick reached for his pouch and turning it over, poured a flood of sparkling blue stones onto the ground. “I offered them to Gwen, but she turned from them, and from me. Would you?”
    She shook her head, but not in denial. In sheer confusion.
    “He gave you jewels, and you wear them.”
    “I . . .” She ran her fingers over the bracelet on her wrist. “Yes, but—”
    “He looked at you and found you beautiful.” “I know it.” The brilliance of the stones made her eyes tear. It was the shine of them, she told herself. It wasn’t her heart breaking. “But beauty doesn’t last. If that’s all that holds him, what happens when it fades? Am I only to be wanted for what can be seen?”
    It would be enough if she wasn’t in love. Enough to have only that if the man was anyone but Trevor.
    “He’s heard your voice and promised you fame, wealth, and a kind of immortality. What more is there? What more have you ever dreamed of?”
    “I don’t know.” Oh, she wanted to weep. Why should she want to weep for having seen wonders?
    “You have the power, you have the choice, and here is a gift for you.”
    He plucked up one of the stones and taking her hand, laid it warm in the cup of her palm. “On this you can wish. Not three wishes, as so many of the stories go, but one only. Your heart’s desire is in your hand. Be it fortune, you will live in wealth. Vanity, and your beauty will fade never. Fame, and the world will know you. Love? The man you want most is yours, always and ever.”
    He stepped back from her, and if her eyes had been clear, she might have seen compassion in his. “Choose well, Darcy the