by Nora Roberts
"I know, and a lovely one it was." All cheer, she topped off his tea. Then snuck Finn a corner of toast under the table. "Just as I know it's a lot to ask of you so soon after, but this is an opportunity I don't want to miss. You've traveled, Aidan."
She kept her voice soft and sweet. It was the tack she'd decided on. Just as effective would have been demands, curses, and tempers, but she was certain that this tone would work more quickly.
"You've already seen so much and been so many places. You know what it is to yearn for that. It's in our blood."
"So's the pub, and high season's starting." He added more jam to his bread. Finn, knowing the routine, shifted so Aidan could sneak him a bite in turn. "I can't have Jude filling in for you now when she's only weeks till term."
"I wouldn't think of it. If I see her carrying a tray I'll knock you upside the head with it."
Because he knew the sentiment, and the threat, were completely sincere, Aidan sighed. "Darcy, I count on you to keep the service running smooth."
"I know, and that's what I do, day in and day out. I've worked with Sinead, though there were times I wanted to bash the girl's brains on the bar. She's improved considerable over the last couple weeks."
"She has." But Aidan continued to brood over his breakfast.
"I was going to ask Betsy Clooney if she'd do me the favor of covering for me, for the two days. She's worked the pub before, and she knows the routine."
"Christ, Darcy, Betsy's got herself a brood of kids now. She hasn't worked the pub for ten years."
"It hasn't changed overmuch, and I'll wager Betsy'd enjoy it. She's reliable, Aidan, as you know."
"She is, but-"
"And there's another thing I wanted to put to you. Young Alice Mae could use a summer job."
"Alice Mae?" Aidan stopped brooding to goggle. "She's barely fifteen."
"And all three of us were working before that, without harm. Brenna mentioned her baby sister wanted to earn some spending money. I'd like to give her a chance. She's a bright girl, and being an O'Toole she'll work hard. I'd start her on the one shift, the midday. Today, so I can have her trained before I leave for London."
"Christ, she was in nappies yesterday."
"Getting old, aren't you?" She rose just long enough to kiss his cheek. "I want to go, Aidan, and I'll see the service is handled smooth while I'm gone."
"Was a time only Gallaghers worked Gallagher's. But for Brenna now and again, but that was practically the same thing."
"We can't stay with that." And because she understood some of the sentiment, even a twinge of the regret, she rose again and standing behind him, wrapped her arms around his neck. "We've already made the changes. I guess we started when Ma and Dad moved to Boston. We'll be bigger now, but we'll still be Gallagher's."
"Aye, and it's what I want for us. Still, there are moments I remember and wonder if I've done right."
"You're the worrier, and bless you for it. Of course you've done right. Well and right, Aidan, by Gallagher's and all of us. I'm proud of you."
He lifted a hand, patted hers, sliding a bit of bacon to Finn with the other. "Now you're trying to get 'round me that way."
"I would if I'd thought of it." She gave him a last squeeze. "I need to go. I need to see."
He knew how it was, precisely. The deep, churning need to go and to see. He'd taken five years to work it out of his system. She was asking for two days.
But-
"I'm going to say it out plain. I don't care for the notion of you going off with Magee."
Darcy rounded her eyes, pursed her lips. When Jude came in at that moment, she decided it was perfect timing and turned to her sister-in-law. "Did you hear that?"
"No, I'm sorry. What?"
"Aidan's taken a sudden and avid interest in my sex life."
"I've not. Damn it." He wasn't easily fuddled, but she'd managed it. "I didn't say anything about sex." He hissed out a breath when Darcy only stared at him. "I implied it," he said with some dignity.
"Oh, implied, is it?"
"I think I'll go back upstairs," Jude began.
"No, you don't." Darcy waved her to a chair. Finn immediately bellied over, prepared for the next covert treat. "Sit down, for this should be interesting. Your husband here, my darling brother, is implying that he disapproves of my having sex with Magee."
"Christ Jesus." Aidan put his head in his hands. "I'll go upstairs."
"That you won't. Would you like some tea, Jude, darling?" Without waiting for an answer, Darcy got a cup and poured out. "First we should establish whether your husband, my brother, objects to me having sex altogether or just in this particular case." She sat again, and her smile was sugar-sweet. "And which would it be, Aidan, my dear?"
"You're pissing me off."
"Oh, now, temper, temper."
"I didn't say anything about sex. I said I didn't care for the idea of you going off to London with him."
"You're going to London?" Jude asked and decided to relax and have some toast.
"Trevor asked me to accompany him on a short business trip. But it appears Aidan would prefer I had sex with Trevor here rather than there. Is that correct?"
"I don't want you having sex with him at all, as it's a tangle." Frustration pumped through him, causing him to roar it as both women sat quietly staring at him. "And I don't want to know about it one way or the other."
"Then I'll be sure to spare you the details." She spoke coolly now, which only rattled the sabers of his own temper.
"Mind your step."
"Mind your own," she shot back. "My personal life, particularly this area of it, is no one's business but mine. Trevor and I understand the tangle you've referred to and, as sensible people, will be careful enough not to trip up in it."
Eyes still frosty, she rose. "I'm going to ring up Brenna's mother and ask about Alice Mae. And I'll talk to Betsy Clooney as well. The details will be seen to before I go. Good day to you, Jude," she added, and kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek before she flounced out.
The air hummed in the Gallagher kitchen for several moments, as Jude casually nibbled her toast.
"Well, what have you to say about it?" Aidan demanded.
"Not a thing."
"Hah." He stewed, drummed his fingers, scowled. "But you're thinking of saying something about it."
She decided to try the jam. "Not really. I think Darcy covered it all."
"There!" He jabbed an accusing finger. "You're on her side."
"Of course." She smiled now. "So are you."
He shoved back from the table and began to pace. In sympathy, Finn came out from under the table to pace with him. "She thinks she can handle this, handle him. The girl sees herself as sophisticated and worldly. Christ, Jude, she's been sheltered all her life. She hasn't had the time or opportunities to know."
Jude set her toast aside. "Aidan, some are born knowing."
"Be that as it may, she's never come up against a man like Magee. He's a slick one. I think he's a good man, an honest one, but slick all the same. I don't want him using my sister."
"Is that how you see it?"
"I can't see it, and that's the problem. But I know he's handsome and he's rich and however much Darcy's always joked about landing herself just that, he could dazzle her. And dazzled, how can she see where she's going?"
"Aidan," Jude said softly, "how can you?"
"I don't want her hurt."
"I do."
Shock simply robbed him of speech. He stared at his wife, laid a hand on the back of his chair, and managed to find his voice. "How could you say such a thing? How could you want Darcy hurt?"
"If he can hurt her, he matters. Aidan, no man's ever really mattered to her. They've been, well, toys, amusements, diversions. Don't you want her to find someone who matters?"
"Of course I do. But I can't see it being Magee." Annoyed, he began to pace again. "Not when both of them are thinking with their glands." He shook his head. "Trips to London. Barely k
now each other and it's trips to London."
"I walked into a smoky pub on a rainy night, and there you were. My life changed, and I didn't even know who you were."
He stopped pacing. Love too huge to measure swelled in his heart. "A one in a million for us." He sat, reached across the table for her hands. "And fate played a part."
"Maybe it's playing one now."
His eyes narrowed. "You're thinking this has something to do with the legend? The last part of it?"
"I think there's one Gallagher left. One heart not yet touched or offered or given. And I think it's interesting-no, it's fascinating-that Trevor Magee is in Ardmore. As a writer-" She paused a moment, because it was still thrilling to know she was a writer. "I'd have trouble believing it's just coincidence. The old family connection, Darcy's a Fitzgerald on your mother's side, and cousin to Maude. Trevor's great-uncle was Maude's one and only love. They lost each other, just as Gwen and Carrick lost each other."
"That's just your imagination, and your romantic side taking over, Jude Frances."
"Is it?" She shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see, won't we?"
She wasn't waiting for anything. Alice Mae was already on her way in, and Betsy had been delighted at the offer of two days' work. Pleased with herself, Darcy breezed through the kitchen and straight out the back door.
It was a bit of a shock to step out and into the solid gray block walls and lumber bones of the breezeway that would connect the two structures. Already, she thought, there was some form to it, recognizable even to her untutored eye. Men stood on scaffolding, hammering or drilling or riveting. How could she tell through all the noise?
Someone, a very optimistic someone, to her mind, was playing a radio. All she could hear from it was a tinkle and squawk that might have been music.
She saw the way the roof would curve in a kind of arch, the rafters thick to echo the feel of those that had held the pub for generations.
Unexpectedly, she felt a twinge, and recognized it as pride. Gallagher's was the root, and the theater a branch on the tree.
She walked through, mindful of the cables and cords that snaked over the subflooring. She'd already spotted Trevor, up on the scaffolding platform at the far end where the breezeway widened. His tool belt was slung at his waist, and there was some clever power tool buzzing in his hand. He wore tinted glasses, as much for protection from flying wood and concrete dust, she supposed, as a shield against the mild sunlight.
He looked rough and ready and exactly right for her mood.
She stopped beneath him, waiting, aware that many of the men were looking at her rather than going safely about their business. Mick O'Toole sauntered by, a bundle of rebar balanced over his shoulder.
"You're distracting our crew, pretty Darcy."
"I won't be but a minute. How's it all going, then, Mr. O'Toole?"
"Himself knows what he wants and how he wants it. As I'm in agreement with him, it couldn't be going better."
"Will it be wonderful?"
"It will. A credit to Ardmore. Watch your step here now, darling. Lots to trip over hereabouts."
"I've thought of that," she murmured. There was a great deal to trip over when it came to Trevor Magee.
When Mick headed off, she looked back up and saw it was Trevor who waited now. That was more like it.
"A word with you, Mr. Magee?" she shouted up.
"What can I do for you, Miss Gallagher?"
So, he wouldn't trouble to come down. That was fine.
She skimmed her hair back from her shoulder. "I need today and tomorrow to train a new part-time waitress. But I'm at your disposal come Thursday if that suits you."
Anticipation curled in his gut, but he merely nodded. "We'll leave Thursday morning, then. I'll pick you up at six."
"That's a very early start."
"Why waste time?"
For a beat, they only watched each other. "Why, indeed?"
She turned, strolled back into the kitchen. And when the door was closed did a quick victory dance.
CHAPTER Ten
After considerable debate and weighing of the pros and cons, Darcy decided to be on time. Her reasons for breaking precedent were purely selfish, and she didn't mind admitting it. She wanted to enjoy every minute of her two days off.
She'd packed light, which hadn't been an easy feat for her, and because of it the chore had taken her hours. Planning, debating, discarding. She'd raided her wish jar, something she did only for the most important of events. But she needed to buy something wonderful to commemorate the trip, didn't she?
For two days she'd worked like a mule to be certain her responsibilities at the pub were well covered. In lieu of sleep she'd given herself a manicure, a pedicure, and a facial to make certain she presented as polished an image as she could manage.
She'd selected her lingerie with the canniness and foresight of a general preparing for battle.
Trevor Magee wouldn't know what hit him-once she allowed him to seduce her.
The idea had odd little nerves fluttering in her stomach. And she wanted to be, had to be, calm, cool, cosmopolitan. She had no intention of playing the culchie-country bumpkin-in London or in bed. Part of the problem was Trevor was exactly as Aidan had described him.
Slick.
It didn't matter if he dressed in work clothes and sweated along with his crew or waded through the mud hauling supplies. Still, beneath the sweat and dirt was a gloss that came from privilege, education, and wealth.
She'd met other men from privilege. The fact was, she'd honed the skill of recognizing, and separating from the pack, those trust fund babies on tour or holiday.
But, a trust fund babe Trevor was not, and she thought never had been. With all his wealth he worked, and the power of both the rewards and the labor sat well on him. That earned her respect, and Darcy gave her respect sparingly.
She'd never known anyone quite like him. And while that intrigued her, it also made her wary.
Added to it all, layered through the observations and the interest, was the not so simple fact that she wanted him. She'd never wanted a man with quite so much focus and intensity. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on hers. His body on hers.
In the few hours she'd slept the night before, she'd dreamed of him. Strange, confused dreams. In them he'd come to her on a white winged horse, and together they'd flown over a sea as blue as sapphire, over the damp green fields of home, through pearly light toward a silver palace where trees had dripped with golden apples and silver pears, and the music that rose into the air was enough to break the heart.
In the dream, for that short, misty time, she was in love. In a way she'd never thought she could be, had never been certain she wanted to be. So completely, blindly, joyfully in love that nothing seemed to matter but those moments with him.
He'd said only one thing to her as they'd flown through sunlight, moonlight, faerie light.
Everything. And more.
All she could say, all she could feel as she turned her body to his, laid her cheek upon his was, You. You're everything, and more.
She'd meant it, with everything she had inside her, all she would ever have, would ever be. And waking, she'd wished she could feel that again, so much power of emotion. But she'd lost it in dreams and could only smile at her own fancies.
Neither she nor Trevor wanted fancies.
At six on the dot, she carried her bag downstairs, and her heart thumped with anticipation. What would she see and do and taste over the next forty-eight hours?
Everything. The thought elated her. And more.
She took one last scan of the pub, tidy and scrubbed. Sinead, Betsy, and Alice Mae should surely be able to handle what she often did alone. She'd drummed the routine into their heads and had left a written list as a backup. Satisfied, she let herself out and promised not to give the pub a single thought until she stepped foot in it again.
It was the dot of six.
It pleased her to see Trevor pull up to
the curb as she walked out. They were of a mind, then, she thought. Things would go smoother because of it.
It surprised her to see he was wearing a suit. Italian, she imagined when he got out of the car to take her luggage. Blisteringly pricey, she was sure, but not a bit flashy. The stone gray matched his eyes well, and the shirt and tie were all of a hue, so the look was smartly European.
Power, she thought again. Yes, he wore it very well.
"Well, now, look at you." Deliberately she fingered his sleeve as he loaded her luggage into the boot. "Aren't you pretty this morning?"
"I have a meeting." He closed the boot, then went around to open her door. "The timing's a little tight." He got a whiff of her as she slid past him and wished the meeting and all its participants straight to hell.
She waited until he was in the driver's seat. "I'd think a man in your position could call his own time."
"You do that and you bring one more thing into a meeting that usually bogs things up. Ego."
"But I've noticed you've got one."
He swung away from the curb. "The trick's recognizing it. I've arranged for a car and driver to meet us at Heathrow. He'll take you to the house so you can settle in. He'll be at your disposal through the day if you want to sightsee or shop."
"Will he?" Imagine that. "Well, that's considerate of you."
"I'll have more free time tomorrow, but today's packed." He glanced at her. "I should be done by six this evening. We have dinner reservations at eight. Does that suit you?"
"Perfectly."
"Good. My assistant faxed over several points of interest. I have the file in my briefcase. You can take a look during the flight to help you plan what you'd like to do today."
"That's a lovely thought, and I'll do just that. But you needn't worry that I'll have trouble entertaining myself."
He glanced over. She wore a trim jacket and slacks of slate blue, and had matched them with a soft, faintly shimmering blouse the color of roses drenched in cream. The choice was more than stylish. It was cleverly, completely female.
"No, I don't imagine you will."
Inexplicably miffed that she wouldn't be wandering aimlessly, missing him, waiting for him, he fell into silence.
