The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

face.
    She’s got ambition, talent, energy, temperament, brains, and charm. This is no shy colleen. You’ll like her.
    I’m in love with her. Is it supposed to make me feel like an idiot?
    He stopped, stared at his last line. He hadn’t meant to type that. With a shake of his head, he started to delete.
    Lightning burst like a bomb, throwing hot blue light into the room. He saw the thin crack snake down the window glass, then thunder blasted in one ear-deafening roar.
    And the lights went out.
    “Shit.” It was his first thought once his heart stopped screaming in his ears. That one had probably fried his computer.
    His own fault. He knew better.
    Since the screen was as black as the rest of the world, indicating his battery backup had failed, he swore again and fumbled for the flashlight that he’d set next to the machine.
    He switched it on, got nothing. What the hell was this? he wondered and gave it an irritated shake. He’d checked it before he’d started to work, and the beam had flashed on strong and bright.
    More annoyed than concerned, he got up, felt his way to the spare bed, worked up to the little table beside it and the matches and candles that were always there.
    The next slash of lightning had him jolting, spilling half the matches out of the box, and cursing himself. “Get a grip,” he muttered and nearly shuddered at the sound of his own voice coming out of the dark. “It’s not your first storm, or your first blackout.”
    But there was something . . . different here. Something that, if he’d wanted to be fanciful, he’d have called deliberate about the wind and rain and fierceness of it all. As if the savagery was personal.
    That was so ridiculous he laughed as he struck the match. The little flame made him feel more in control. He touched it to the wick of the candle. A little breath of relief escaped as he picked up the candle, intending to carry it with him to light more.
    And in the next wild spurt of lightning, he saw her.
    “Carrick’s temper is up.”
    The candle flame shook as his hand jerked. He had to be satisfied that he didn’t drop it and set the cottage on fire.
    “Storms often make people uneasy.” Gwen smiled at him gently. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. He knows it too, you can be sure of that, and is indulging himself in a little tantrum just at the moment.”
    Steadier, Trevor set the candle down. “It seems excessive.”
    “He’s a dramatic sort, my Carrick. And he’s suffering, Trevor. Waiting wears on the soul, and when you can nearly see the end of the waiting, it’s harder still. I wonder, could I ask you a question, of a personal nature?”
    He shook his head. It was all too strange, and somehow eerily ordinary, this talking to a ghost in a little cottage on a storm-ravaged night. “Why not?”
    “I hope it doesn’t offend you, but I can’t help wondering what it is that stops you from telling the woman you love what’s in your heart.”
    “It’s not as simple as that.”
    “I know that’s your thinking.” A thread of urgency ran through her voice now, though her hands stayed quiet and still, folded together at her waist. “I want to know why it can’t be just that simple.”
    “If you don’t lay groundwork, you make mistakes. The more important it is, the more important not to make mistakes.”
    “Groundwork?” she asked, confused. “And that would be . . . what, exactly?”
    “With Darcy, it’s showing her what she can have, the kind of life she could live.”
    “By that you’re meaning all the grand things? The riches and wonders?”
    “Yes, that’s right. Once she sees—” He broke off, seriously alarmed, when the floor shook under his feet. But before he could move, Gwen held up a hand.
    “I beg your pardon. I’ve a temper of my own.” She kept her hand up, closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were dark and vibrant. “And what did Carrick offer me, but the same in his way? Jewels and riches, a palace for a home, and immortality. Can you not see the mistake in that, a mistake that cost us both three times a hundred years?”
    “Darcy’s not like you.”
    “Oh, Trevor, look closer. Why is it you can stand on the same ground and still not see each other?”
    She lowered her hand. “Well, this night’s work isn’t done. You’ll go down to the village now. There’s a need for you there.”
    “Darcy?” Panic pushed him forward. “Is she all right?”
    “Oh, aye, she’s fine and well. But