The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

lovely.” Jude embraced the idea of it, then tried to imagine her mother’s reaction if she and her father surprised her with a new refrigerator.
    Bafflement, Jude imagined, and not a little insult. Amused by the idea, she chuckled. “If I gave my mother a major appliance as a gift, she’d think I’d lost my mind.”
    “But then, your mother’s a professional woman, as I recall.”
    “Yes, she is, and she’s wonderful at her job. But your mother’s a professional woman, too. A professional mother.”
    Brenna blinked, then her eyes gleamed with amused pleasure. “Oh, she’ll like that one. I’ll be sure to save that for the next time she’s ready to kick my ass over something. Well, look here at what’s strolling up the road, handsome as two devils and just as dangerous.”
    Even as Jude’s lovely relaxation sprang into one sticky ball of tension, Brenna was braking at the narrow drive of the cottage and leaning out to call to Aidan.
    “There’s a wild rover.”
    “Never, no more,” he said with a wink, then took the hand she’d laid on the window to examine the skinnedknuckles. “What have you done to yourself now?”
    “Bloody bastard refrigerator took a bite out of me.”
    He clucked his tongue, lifted the scrape to his lips. But his gaze drifted to Jude. “And where are you two lovely ladies bound for?”
    “I’m just bringing Jude back from a visit with my mother, and I’m off to Betsy Clooney’s to bang on her windows.”
    “If you or your dad has the time tomorrow, the stove at the pub’s acting up and Shawn’s sulking over it.”
    “One of us’ll have a look.”
    “Thanks. I’ll just take your passenger off your hands.”
    “Have a care with her,” Brenna said as he walked around the truck. “I like her.”
    “So do I.” He opened the door, held out a hand. “But I make her nervous. Don’t I, Jude Frances?”
    “Of course not.” She started to climb out, then ruined the casual elegance she’d hoped for by jerking back again because she’d forgotten to unhook her seat belt.
    Before she could fumble with it, Aidan released it himself, then simply nipped her by the waist and lifted her down. Since that tangled her tongue into knots, she didn’t manage to thank Brenna again before that young woman, with a wave and a grin, took the truck barreling down the road.
    “Drives like a demon, that girl.” With a shake of his head, Aidan released Jude, only to take her hands. “You haven’t been down to the pub all week.”
    “I’ve been busy.”
    “Not so busy now.”
    “Yes, actually, I should—”
    “Invite me in and fix me a sandwich.” When she simply gaped at him, he laughed. “Or failing that, go walking withme. It’s a fine day for walking. I won’t kiss you unless you want me to, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
    “I’m not worried.”
    “Well, then.” He lowered his head, got within an inch of his pleasure when she stumbled back.
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    “I was afraid of that.” But he eased away. “Just a walk then. Have you been up to Tower Hill to look at the cathedral?”
    “No, not yet.”
    “And with your curious mind? Then we’ll walk that way, and I’ll tell you a story for your paper.”
    “I don’t have my recorder.”
    Slowly, he lifted one of the hands he still held and brushed his lips over the knuckles. “Then I’ll make it a simple one, so you remember it.”

EIGHT
    H E WAS RIGHT about the day. It was a perfect one for walking. The light glowed like the inside of a pearl. Luminous, with a slight sheen of damp. She could see, over the hills and fields rolling toward the mountains, a thin and silvery curtain that was certainly a line of rain.
    Sunlight poured through it in beams and ripples, liquid gold through liquid silver.
    It was the kind of day that begged for rainbows.
    The breeze was just a teasing shimmer on the air, fluttering leaves growing toward their summer ripeness and surrounding her with the scent of green.
    He held her hand with the careless, loose-fingered grip of familiarity and made her feel simple.
    Relaxed, at ease, and simple.
    Words rolled off his tongue to charm her.
    “Once, it’s said, there was a young maid. Fair as a dream was her face, with skin white and clear as milk and hair black as midnight, eyes blue as a lake. More than herbeauty was the loveliness of her manner, for a kind maid was she. And more than her manner was the glory of her voice. When she sang, the birds