The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

sauntered toward the door with it. “It’s not a secret.”
    “Not a secret,” he muttered, then with gritted teeth dialed Brenna’s number. “The whole village likely knew, but not me.”

TWELVE
    B Y THE TIME Aidan came back and they walked down to his car, Jude had time to calm down, and to review.
    Mortification didn’t begin to cover it. She had burst into the pub, then had sexually assaulted the man in his place of business. Perhaps in time—twenty or thirty years, she estimated—she would find that particular memory fascinating, and even amusing. But for now it was just humiliating.
    Then she had compounded that by raging, weeping, blubbering, and cursing. All in all, she couldn’t think of anything she might have done that could have shocked them both more unless it was stripping naked and dancing a jig on his bar.
    Her mother had congratulated her on maintaining her dignity while under terrible stress. Well, Mother, she thought, don’t look now.
    And after all that, Aidan was driving her home because it was dark and rainy, and he was kind.
    She imagined he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.
    As they bumped up her little road, she tried out a dozen different ways to smooth over the embarrassment, and every one sounded stilted or silly. Still, she had to say something. It would be cowardly, and rude, not to.
    So she took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush.
    “Do you see her?”
    “Who?”
    “In the window.” Jude reached out, gripping his arm as she stared at the figure in the window of her cottage.
    He looked up, smiled a little. “Aye. She’s waiting. I wonder if time stretches out for her, or if a year is only a day.”
    He switched off the engine so they sat with the rain drumming until the figure faded away.
    “You did see her. You’re not just saying that.”
    “Of course I saw her, as I have before and will again.” He turned his head, studied Jude’s profile. “You’re not uneasy, are you, staying out here with her?”
    “No.” Because the answer came so easily, she laughed. “Not at all. I should be, I suppose, but I’m not the least bit uneasy here, or with her. Sometimes . . .”
    “Sometimes what?”
    She hesitated again, telling herself she shouldn’t keep him. But it was so cozy there in the warmth of the car with the rain pattering and the mists swirling. “Well, sometimes I feel her. Something in the air. Some—I don’t know how to explain—some ripple in the air. And it makes me sad, because she’s sad. I’ve seen him too.”
    “Him.”
    “The faerie prince. I’ve met him twice now when I’ve gone to put flowers on Maude’s grave. I know it sounds crazy—I know I should probably see a doctor for some tests, but—”
    “Did I say it sounded crazy?”
    “No.” She released another pent-up breath. “I guess that’s why I told you, because you wouldn’t say it. You wouldn’t think it.”
    And neither did she, not any longer.
    “I met him, Aidan.” She shifted on her seat, her eyes bright with excitement as she faced him. “I talked to him. The first time I thought he was someone who just lived around here. But the second, it was almost like a dream or a trance or . . . I have something,” she said following impulse. “I’d like to show you. I know you probably want to get back, but if you have just a minute.”
    “Are you asking me in?”
    “Yes. I’d—”
    “Then I’ve time enough.”
    They got out of the car and walked through the rain. A little nervous, she pushed at her damp hair as they stepped inside the cottage. “It’s upstairs. I’ll bring it down. Do you want some tea?”
    “No, I’m fine.”
    “Just, well, wait,” she said and hurried upstairs to her bedroom where she’d buried the stone among her socks.
    When she came down, holding it behind her back, Aidan was already lighting the fire. The glow of it shimmered over him as he crouched by the hearth, and Jude’s heart gave a pleasantly painful little lurch.
    He was as handsome as the faerie prince, she thought. See the way the fire brings out the deep red tones in his hair and shifts and plays over the angles of his face, shoots gold into those wonderful blue eyes of his.
    Was it any wonder she was in love with him?
    Oh, God, she was in love with him! The force of it struck like a blow in the belly, nearly made her groan. How many more idiotic mistakes could she make in one single day?
    She couldn’t afford to fall in love with some gorgeous Irishman, to