The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

crazy, or she’d just had her second conversation with Carrick, prince of the faeries.
    Shivering, she rubbed her free hand over her face. Okay, either way she was crazy.
    Then why did she feel so damn good?
    She walked slowly, fingering the priceless jewel as a child might a pretty stone. She needed to write it all down, she decided. Carefully, concisely. Exactly how he’d looked, what he’d said, what had happened.
    And after that, she would try to get some sort of perspective on it. She was an educated woman. Surely she would find a way to make sense of it all.
    When she came down the slope toward her cottage, she saw the little blue car in the drive and Darcy Gallagher just getting out.
    Darcy was wearing jeans and a bright red sweater. Her hair tumbled down her back like wild black silk. One glance had Jude sighing with envy even as she cautiously tucked the diamond into the pocket of her slacks.
    To once, she thought—just once—look that carelessly gorgeous, that absolutely confident. She fingered the jewel absently and thought it would be worth the price of diamonds.
    Darcy spotted her and shaded her eyes with the flat of one hand while she waved with the other. “There you are. Out for a walk, are you? It’s a fine day for it, even if they’re calling for rain tonight.”
    “I’ve been visiting Maude.” And I talked to a faerie prince who left me a diamond that could probably buy a small Third World country before he vanished into thin air. With a weak smile, Jude decided she’d keep that little bit of information to herself.
    “I just went a couple rounds with Shawn and took a drive to cool off.” Darcy skimmed her gaze over Jude’s shoes, casually, she hoped, to try to gauge how close in size they were to what she wore herself. The woman, Darcy thought, had fabulous taste in shoes. “You’re looking a bit pale,” she noted when Jude walked closer. “Are you all right?”
    “Yes, I’m fine.” Self-consciously, she pushed at her hair. The breeze had teased strands out of the band. Which, she thought, would make her look unkempt rather than wonderfully tousled like Darcy. “Why don’t we go in and have some tea?”
    “Oh, that would be nice, but I’ve got to get back. Aidan’ll already be cursing me.” She smiled then, a dazzle of charm. “Maybe you’d like to come back with me for a time, and then he’d be distracted with you and forget to skin my ass for walking out.”
    “Well, I . . .” No, she thought, she didn’t think she was up to dealing with Aidan Gallagher when her head was already light. “I really should work. I have notes to go over.”
    Darcy pursed her lips. “You really enjoy it, don’t you? Working.”
    “Yes.” Surprise, surprise, Jude thought. “I enjoy the work I’m doing now very much.”
    “If it was me, I’d find any excuse in the world to avoid working.” Her brilliant gaze scanned the cottage, the gardens, the long roll of hill. “And I’d die of loneliness out here all by myself.”
    “Oh, no, it’s wonderful. The quiet, the view. Everything.”
    Darcy shrugged, a quick gesture of discontent. “But then you’ve got Chicago to go back to.”
    Jude’s smile faded. “Yes. I have Chicago to go back to.”
    “I’m going to see it one day.” Darcy leaned back against her car. “All the big cities in America. All the big cities everywhere. And when I do, I’ll be going first class, make no mistake.” Then she laughed and shook her head. “But for now, I’d best be getting back before Aidan devises some hideous punishment for me.”
    “I hope you’ll come back when you have more time.”
    Darcy shot her that dazzling look again as she climbed into her car. “I’ve the night off, thank the Lord. I’ll come by with Brenna later, and we’ll see what kind of trouble we can get you in. You make me think you could use a bit of trouble.”
    Jude opened her mouth without a clue how to respond, but was saved the trouble when Darcy gunned the motor and shot out into the road with scarcely more care than Brenna took.

NINE
    T HERE ARE THREE maids, Jude wrote, as she nibbled on a shortbread biscuit, and each represents some particular facet of traditionally held views of womanhood. In some tales two are wicked and one good, as in the Cinderella myth. In others, the three are blood sisters or fast friends, poor and orphaned or caring for one sickly parent.
    Some variations have one or more of the female characters possessing mystical