'There it is again.'
She sent him a puzzled look as they crossed the street. 'What?'
'Efficiency. I find that very arousing in a woman.'
'Christ, you're the oddest of ducks. Since I find it amusing to arouse you so easily, I'll take you up on that breakfast offer.'
'Tomorrow?'
She jingled her keys in her pocket and wondered why the idea was so appealing. 'Eight o'clock. I'll meet you in the restaurant at the hotel.'
'I'm not staying at the hotel.'
'Oh, well, if you're at the B and B, we can-'
'There you are, Darcy.' Aidan came up behind, his keys already in his hand. 'Jude thought you were coming down the house to visit.'
'I was distracted.'
'I see you met my sister,' he said to Trevor. 'Why don't you come in for a pint on the house?'
'Actually, I have some work. I was also distracted,' Trevor said with a glance at Darcy. 'But I'll take you up on the offer later.'
'Always welcome. Your men are keeping us busy. Now with Darcy back, I'm wagering they'll keep us busier yet.' He winked and shot the key into the lock. 'Likely we'll have a seinsiun going later tonight. Come in if you've the chance and you'll get a small idea of what we'll be offering those who come through on the way to your theater.'
'I'll look forward to it.'
'Darcy, did you have that chat with Sinead?'
She kept her eyes on Trevor's. 'It's dealt with. I'll be coming in to tell you about it in just a minute.'
'That's fine, then. Good evening to you, Trevor.'
'I'll see you later.'
'Your men,' Darcy said when the door closed. 'Your theater.'
'That's right.'
'And that would make you Magee.' She took a careful breath, knowing it would only keep her calm for the short term. 'Why didn't you tell me?'
'You didn't ask. What difference does it make?'
'I think it makes a difference in how you presented yourself to me. I don't care to be deceived and toyed with.'
He slapped a hand on the door before she could wrench it open. 'We've had a couple of conversations,' he said evenly. 'There was nothing deceptive about them.'
'Then we have different standards in that area.'
'Maybe you're just ticked off that I'm rich after all, and now you'll have to marry me.'
He sent her a smile designed to charm, and got nothing but a withering stare in return. 'I don't find your humor appropriate. Now step back from the door. We're not yet open to the public.'
'Is this our first fight?'
'No.' She did manage to yank open the door now, nearly bashing his face with it. 'It's our last.' She didn't slam it, but he clearly heard the click of the lock through the thick wood.
'I don't think so,' he said with a great deal more cheer than another man might have felt under the circumstances. 'Nope, I don't think so.' He strolled down to his car and thought it might be a good opportunity to wander up to the cliffs and take a look at the ruins everyone had told him about.
This was the Ireland he'd come to see. The ancient and the sacred, the wild and the mystic. He was surprised to find himself alone, as it seemed to him that any who were drawn to this area would be compelled to come here, high on the cliffs where the ruins brooded.
He circled the steep stone gables of the oratory that had been built in the saint's name. It stood on the rough and uneven ground and was guarded, he supposed, by the souls who rested there. Three stone crosses stood guard as well, with the fresh water quiet in the well beneath them.
He'd been told it was a lovely walk from here around the headland, but he found himself more inclined to linger where he was.
Darcy was right, he decided, the structure might have tumbled, but the heart of it lived.
He stepped back, respectful enough, or just superstitious enough, not to step on graves. He assumed the small, pitted stones were graves.
And glancing down, he saw the marker for Maude Fitzgerald.
Wise Woman
'So here you are,' he murmured. 'There's a picture of you with my great-uncle in one of the old albums my mother salvaged when my grandfather died. He didn't keep many pictures from here. Isn't it odd that he had one of you?'
He hunkered down, touched and gently amused to see that flowers had been planted over her in a soft blanket of color. 'You must have had a fondness for flowers. Your garden at the cottage is lovely.'
'Had a way with growing things, did Maude.'
At the comment, Trevor looked back toward the well, then rose. The man who stood there was oddly dressed, all in silver that sparkled in the sun. A costume, Trevor assumed, for some event at the hotel. He was certainly the theatrical sort, with his long flow of black hair, wicked smile, and lightning-blue eyes.
'Don't startle easily, do you? Well, that's to your favor.'
'A man who startles easily shouldn't pass the time here. Great spot,' Trevor added, glancing around again.
'I favor it. You'd be the Magee come from America to build dreams and find answers.'
'More or less. And you'd be?'
'Carrick, prince of the faeries. Pleased to make your acquaintance.'
'Uh-huh.'
The bland amusement in Trevor's tone had Carrick's brows beetling. 'You'd have heard of me, even over in your America.'
'Sure.' Either the man was a lunatic or he wasn't willing to step out of character. Probably both, Trevor decided. 'It so happens I'm staying in the cottage over the hill.'
'I know where the devil you're staying, and I don't care for that indulgent tone you're using. I didn't bring you here to have you make sport of me.'
'You brought me here?'
'Mortals,' Carrick grumbled. 'They like to think everything's their own doing. Your destiny's here, tied with mine. If I planted a few seeds to get you moving on it, who has a better right?'
'Pal, if you're going to drink this early in the day, you ought to stay out of the sun. Why don't I give you a hand back down to the hotel?'
'Drunk? You're thinking I'm drunk?' Carrick threw back his head and laughed until he was forced to hold his sides. 'Bloody bonehead. Drunk. We'll show you drunk. Just give me a moment here to recover myself.'
After several long breaths, Carrick continued. 'Let's see here, something not so subtle. I'm thinking, for I see already you're the cynical sort. Ah, I've got it!'
His eyes went dark as cobalt, and Trevor would have sworn the tips of the man's fingers began to glow gold, then in his hands was a sphere, clear as water. Swimming in it was the image of Trevor himself and Darcy, standing together on the beach while the Celtic Sea charged the shore beside them.
'Have a look at your destiny. She's fair of face and strong of will and hungry of heart. Are you clever enough to win what the fates offer you?'
He flicked his wrist, sent the globe flying toward Trevor. Instinctively he reached out, felt his fingers pass through something cool and soft. Then the globe burst like a bubble.
'Hell of a trick,' Trevor managed, then looked over at the well. He was alone again, with just the stir of the grass in the wind for company. 'Hell of a trick,' he repeated, and more shaken than he cared to admit, he stared down at his empty hands.
