Title: Irish Eyes

Author: lauraloo

Genre: Romance, maybe a little AU

Disclaimer: Harm and Mac and the rest of the bunch? Nope, they’re not mine but I can’t get them out of my head so I’ve brought them out for a play date.

Summary: A startling discovery about her past takes Mac to Ireland. And guess who comes along for the ride?

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write a story that takes Harm and Mac out of the office and instead, deposits them “on location” in a beautiful place with many possibilities (also – lots of fun with civies!!) This is set in season 10, a couple of weeks after the general’s arrival. There’s no Dr. MCcool, certainly no Alicia but the rest stands the same – until I tweak with Mac’s past just a little (mwahahahaha.) In my JAG dream world at that time, it was my firm belief that allowing Harm and Mac to get away by themselves for a bit would have done a world of good for both of them. So, that’s what I did. There’s a little bit of plot, a lot of romance and maybe even some magic along the way. But I couldn’t write a story featuring Ireland without having a bit of harmless fun with faerie lore…

Irish Eyes

Chapter 1

Prologue

Macauley Cottage

Ballyvaughan Village

County Clare, Ireland

Year 1730

He will leave again. The thought of it alone is nearly enough to destroy me. His gilded sword stands upright against my doorframe; his knapsack rests nearby - a rough, brown heap, filled for the journey he’ll make at daybreak. My hair has long since fallen from the tight, blonde coil at my neck, my proper garment of linen and lace, a memory. I’m warmed from the hearth, alive with red-orange flames. But it is his hands, the growing thoroughness of each subsequent touch that scalds me to the bone.

I curl my fingers into the flowing strands of his hair, black as coal, and force his piercing green eyes to mine. “Don’t go, Declan. I can’t bear it.” My voice is low, thickened both by the blazing remnants of passion and the frigid sense of loss that has come hours before the fact.

He takes my mouth again in a searing kiss. “You know I must,” he says. The late summer wind passes across my window in a low, brassy hum, like a bell that never stops ringing. “The land is at stake. I’ll not neglect my duty now.”

I bury my head in the crook of his shoulder. Duty. Here is his duty. In this place. I know his desire and it is me. Though he’s made no formal vow of family and future, I know it will come when the battle is won. The battle, the fight for his clan – it lives in his skin. It’s this I must accept if I am to love this man. And I do. With everything inside of me. I lift my gaze. “I love you,” I declare for at least the hundredth time.

A heavy sigh is his only reply. It always is.

“I know you feel it. Can’t you say it, then? Even now?” I question, the tears burning.

He kisses my cheeks dry and draws me closer. “There is only you, Kathleen. I would kill for you, a thousand times. I would rescue you from any foe. And it is you I will come back for.” In a flash, his hand shifts and he presents a golden hairpin with a spray of deep blue stones circling a single diamond in its center. My head cranes from side to side, searching for the hiding place, wondering if the trace of magic in his blood played a role in this surprise. “This holds the color of your eyes.” He fastens the pin in my hair. “Riches like this will be yours overflowing. Land, further than you can see, will be at your command. Nothing will be denied to you.” His mouth is poised at my lips. “Isn’t that enough?”

He kisses me again, in this place where ivy clings to walls and roofs and faeries scurry beneath the wild, green hills, and where time is a cruel, merciless robber. No, I fear it will never be enough. For the only thing he would deny me is his heart.

***

November, 2004

The letter looked odd among the daily pile of drudgery she was used to fishing out of her box. It was odd in a refined, elegant sort of way, with its ivory parchment envelope and proud raised type detailing a return address she wasn’t expecting. Ireland? Mac lowered her brows and read the words again. It had been sent from the legal offices of O’Leary and Kelly, Ennis, County Clare, Ireland. With a curious sigh, she topped the rest of her stack with the strange letter and headed for her desk.

Too impatient to locate the always missing letter opener, she ran her thumb along the top edge of the flap and drew out a single sheet of paper. Dear Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, it began. And the words that followed made her heart stop.

She was shaking by the time she reached Harm’s office. With the letter clamped between two fingers, she stood in the threshold and waited for him to notice.

“Mac?” he offered when the act of lowering the gigantic coffee mug from his mouth to his desk brought her into view. Barely 0900, it was already one of those days that had him wishing he could just hook himself up to an I.V. full of the rich, black, life-giving substance. “C’mon in, sit down. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

She eased herself into a chair and waved the paper like a flag. “I think you’re closer to the truth than you realize.”

Harm cocked his head and leaned forward on his elbows.

Mac drew in a deep breath and began. “I got this letter a few minutes ago. It’s from a lawyer in Ireland, a Martin O’Leary. He’s settling the estate of a woman named Margaret Brennan who recently passed away.” She glanced down again at the words for what was probably the tenth time. But they never changed. “Apparently, I’m the sole beneficiary of her estate and am now the proud owner of a tiny cottage in the village of Ballyvaughan.”

“A cottage? But how…?”

“Margaret Brennan was my great aunt. On my father’s side.”

Harm straightened and looked into Mac’s eyes. They were glazed and hollow, windows to the trouble and confusion lurking behind them. “You’ve never mentioned a Great Aunt Margaret.”

That’s because I didn’t know about her.” She flattened her palm across the cool, linen surface of the paper. “It’s common for people to have relatives they’ve never heard of, especially when they live abroad. But, my family…there are so few of us. I guess I thought my father would’ve mentioned her.” Then again, she thought her father should’ve done a lot of things.

“But she obviously knew about you.”

Mac suddenly felt a tinge of loss for this woman she’d never known to care about. “That’s what’s so strange. She never contacted me. If I’d known, I’d have gone to see her, or at least called or…”

“There has to be a reason, Mac.”

“Yeah.”

He took another sip from the mug. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I need to phone this Mr. O’Leary.” Then she shrugged and spoke quietly, the realization coming to life with each word. “And it looks like I’m going to Ireland.”

***

“Yes, Mr. O’Leary. Shocked would be an understatement.” Mac twirled her phone cord and gazed absently out her office window at the raindrops that were building from sprinkle to shower.

Thousands of miles away, Martin O’Leary adjusted his reading glasses. “Margaret, Ms. Brennan, mentioned that you’d never met her. But she was very clear that you were to receive everything.”

Even in this, Mac couldn’t help but smile at the gentle lilt of his voice. “Just what exactly is everything?”

“Well, she’d had been living in a private assisted living facility here in Ennis for the last ten years. The majority of her estate went to pay for the fees. Her cottage, or shall I say, your cottage, is in nearby Ballyvaughan. Charming place it is, I assure you. She’d sold off all of the furniture and left it vacant, although her estate allowed for a neighboring farmer, a Jason Flynn, to act as caretaker.” He paused and drew out a sheet from the bottom of the file. “I’m afraid the rest of her possessions fit into a smallish box. It’s being held in the facility where she passed. You need only come and claim it and sooner is preferable to later in these matters.”

Mac’s thoughts turned to General Cresswell. Her relationship with her new CO was shaky at best and having to approach him with this was not going to be one of the high points of her day. “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. O’Leary.”

***

A summons into the general’s office for Mac and Harm a few minutes later saved her from having to approach the temperamental marine on her own.

Harm had arrived before her and was dying to quiz her about the phone call. It would have to wait, though. He did notice that she’d brought the letter with her. He watched as she eased into the chair next to him, every bit the proper, stoic marine. But he knew that her mind was busy with at least a hundred other things. It showed in her gestures, the way she clenched her hands together around the slim white paper. And the way she faced their commanding officer, with due respect, but seeming to stare right through him.

“You both have been hard at work on the Taylor case.” It was more statement than question.

“Yes, sir,” the two officers said in unison.

Cresswell shuffled through a set of papers on his desk. “As you know, the court martial was slated to begin next week. I’ve just received word that it’s being pushed back three weeks due to some scheduling conflicts.” He looked up, splitting a sharp gaze between them. “I trust you’ll both make ample use of the extra time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

The general was about to dismiss them both when Colonel Mackenzie drew something from her lap that caught his eye. “Colonel, is there something you would like to add?”

Mac stole a quick glance at her partner. “Actually, sir, it’s of an unrelated matter. It’s all right, Commander Rabb is aware of the situation,” she added when the general motioned to send Harm away.

She lifted the paper and explained the little she knew of the situation.

“Well,” he said at length, “this is very interesting. I’m assuming you’d like to make the trip and get all of this settled. Fortunately, you’re no longer due in court on Monday. I’m trusting that a week will be enough?”

Shocked that it had been that easy, she stumbled over her words a little. “Yes, um…it should be fine. Thank you, sir.”

He nodded and made a move to dismiss them for the second time this morning when Commander Rabb signaled for his attention.

Harm glanced at Mac in that telltale, furtive way of his that had her worrying before the first word was spoken. “General, in light of recent developments, both, with the Taylor case and with the Colonel’s family situation, I’d also like to request the next week off.”

Stunned, Mac whipped her head around to face Harm. An inkling of an idea of why he was suddenly requesting leave raced into her mind but she waved it off just as quickly. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no way possible.

But then he continued. “Sir, I have more than enough leave. And I’ve heard that Ireland is particularly pleasant this time of year.”

Cresswell snorted, half in amusement, half in utter disbelief. “I’ve heard it’s wicked cold, Commander. Not to mention windy.”

Harm shrugged sheepishly. “Colonel Mackenzie might require some assistance in tying up her family matters, sir.”

Mac simply felt like smacking him across the head. It took every ounce of restraint to keep quiet but that was exactly what she did. Surely the general would shut this down immediately. She’d just murder Harm later on.

General Cresswell rubbed his aching temples, entertaining various possible responses to Rabb’s odd request. The phrases ‘hell no’ and ‘have you completely lost your mind’ had made the short list. But at that very moment, something happened that he would find no explanation for. When he opened his mouth, poised with a sharp retort, quite the opposite managed to burst out. “Fine, take the week, then,” he declared. Perplexed, he shook his head quickly as if to clear it. And then he ordered the two officers in front of him directly out of his office as if his sanity hinged upon it.

Finding herself alone with Harm in the anteroom, Mac faced him with fire in her eyes. What little she could find of her voice came out in a furious whisper. “What the hell?” Her arms flailed as she gestured to the closed door. “You just…how could you assume…?”

His finger flew to her lips, shushing her. Of course, he was infuriatingly calm and collected. “Mac, just hear me out, okay?”

Damn, why did he have to be so gorgeous when he was trying to be convincing? She loathed him for it. But she released her vehemence in a long, slow hiss of air and nodded.

He hesitantly removed the finger. “I can’t remember the last vacation I took. And Paraguay doesn’t count by a long shot.”

She couldn’t help but agree but still said, “So go to Hawaii.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mac, when I had to go to Russia, you insisted on coming.”

“That was different and you know it.”

“What I know is I needed you then. I wouldn’t admit it, but you saw right through it and forced yourself on that plane.”

She dropped her head, studying the ancient, scuffed floor tiles. “What if this is something I need to do by myself?”

“Then I’ll play tourist and give you all the space you want. But c’mon, Mac. Who knows what you’re going to find over there. Do you really want to go alone?”

It was the word ‘alone’ that got her. For months, that had been exactly what she’d wanted. And he’d respected her wishes, the offer to talk an ever-present option. But now, she couldn’t deny the aching fact that ‘alone’ was starting to feel rather, well, lonely. “All right,” she conceded with the wave of a hand, “I’ll make the arrangements.”

He smiled brilliantly as they wove through the bull pen towards his office. “Come for dinner and we’ll sort out the details. 1900?”

“Okay.” She gestured back to the general’s office. “But answer me this. What in God’s great earth happened back there? Our relationship with him is barely above precarious and you get him to agree to a sudden spree to Ireland? On personal business?” She tugged one of the sleeves of his dapper dress blues and hiked a brow. “Got any other tricks lurking up there?”

“Mac,” he said upon a low chuckle, “I’m not a man who tells.”

Chapter 2

Harm was tearing arugula and romaine lettuce into a glass salad bowl. He wondered if Mac would notice that he’d taken the time to set a vase full of fresh flowers on the table along with a few white votive candles. The stereo had been set to play a random mix of jazz piano and guitar and the lights were dimmed. It wasn’t as if this was a special occasion or anything. But after the year the two of them had gone through, just having Sarah Mackenzie, not only in his home tonight, but by his side for a week in a little patch of a charming, green island, was cause enough to celebrate.

He’d just dunked a spoon into a bubbling pot of marinara when he heard the knock at the door. He opened it to find his guest wearing low cut jeans and a thick ivory sweater, holding a set of papers. “Hey, Mac.”

She offered a genuine smile as she inched her way in, waving the papers in the air. “Hi. Looks like we’re all set. Out flight leaves tomorrow night out of Dulles.”

He observed as she went into the living room and found a place for her belongings. Before dropping her purse, she drew out a small hairbrush and smoothed out a few tangles. He could’ve stood there watching her all night, but the water for the pasta was beginning to boil. He turned towards the kitchen and cracked open the window to release some of the steam. “I take it you spoke with Mr. O’Leary again?” he asked, dunking a handful of noodles into the pot.

“Yep. I’ll tell you over dinner.” Mac walked up to the counter and accepted a frosty bottle of mineral water from his outstretched hand. She stretched her neck forward. “And speaking of dinner, what are we having? It smells delicious.”

“Chicken Cacciatore and salad. And maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you have some of the leftover brownies Mattie and Jen sent over.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Anything for chocolate…”

“Well now, your mood seems to have changed from this morning. Does that mean you’ve forgiven me for my little maneuver in Cresswell’s office?”

She snorted. “The jury’s still out on that one, Commander.” She spun the bottle cap on the counter then glanced up. “You know, O’Leary did mention something about a box of Margaret’s things. I’ll just let you schlep that around for me.”

Harm pegged her with a pot holder and they shared a laugh. Then he plated the food and led her over to the table.

Mac fingered a pink stargazer lily from the vase in front of her and smiled before cutting into her chicken.

“So where exactly is this Ballyvaughan? The last time we were in Ireland, it was Belfast and we weren’t there for the scenery.” Harm bit into a cherry tomato.

“It’s on the western coast in the county of Clare. We fly into Shannon and then it’s an hour’s drive north. O’Leary mentioned that the caretaker will be back in town in a few days and he’ll show us the cottage.”

“O’Leary is in Ennis, right? How far is that?”

Mac shrugged. “He said it’s a half hour drive. I’ll need to visit his office to sign some papers. While we’re there, I want to stop at the rest home where she died and pick up her things.”

“How old was she, Mac?”

She cast a faraway look around the table then met his gaze. “Ninety five. She died of natural causes.”

Harm nodded solemnly and returned to his food.

Mac followed suit and twirled some of the noodles with a fork and spoon. “This is great, by the way. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Anytime,” he said softly. And he truly meant it, a great deal more than his face probably let on. “Where are we staying?”

One corner of her mouth sprung up as she recalled the earlier inquiry. “Well, the two major inns in Ballyvaughan are full. Apparently there’s a quilter’s convention there every year.”

Harm raised a brow. “A village full of quilters, huh? Could be dangerous.”

She let out a little laugh. “No doubt. Anyway, I did find two rooms at a bed and breakfast a few minutes out of town. It’s run by a married couple and the wife is so gracious you’d think she was ready to adopt me.”

It was a happy image and he grinned, while the thought of spending a week with this woman in a cozy B&B brought a warm feeling to more than a few places inside of him. “You going into the office tomorrow before we leave?

“Nah, I tied up everything. And I have an appointment at Bethesda before packing.”

Despite her casual tone, Harm immediately looked up from his plate and set down his fork. He stared at her intently, his bottom lip dropping open slightly.

“It’s just a follow-up,” she murmured. He’d looked at her so seriously, with such concern that she suddenly felt the need to reassure him instead of the other way around. “It’s gonna be okay, Harm,” she said, more feebly than she’d intended. And maybe not quite well enough to make herself believe it.

All eating had stopped and suddenly the music was barely audible. The room was numb and dotted with the flickering candle flames that were more often used to commemorate happier times. More certain times. “I know. You’re going to pull through this, Mac. You always do.” He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “And you’re not alone.”

She squeezed back, her eyes glazed. “No,” she said and even laughed a little through the awkwardness. “You proved that when you weaseled your way onto my flight.”

“Damn straight.”

They shared the rest of the meal in companionable silence. Later, Mac helped him with the dishes, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her forearms dunked into the sudsy water.

As he dried a plate, he watched her as she stared out the rectangular window, whether at the stars or the moon, or even something higher, he didn’t know. But he did know that her mind was turning, fast and furious- scraping, clawing for something to believe in. To be sure of. And something told him she wasn’t thinking about her health or family. “You miss him?” he dared to ask.

There was no need to ask who him was. Immediately she faced Harm, her lips, slick and halfway parted. But both were startled by the sudden opening of the door. And the question was forced to remain there, suspended, in the quiet air between them.

“Hey guys!” Mattie said cheerfully. Less than two steps into the room, she noticed the dimmed light, the music and even the flowers and found herself backing up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Harm came into the living room. “No - we were just finishing up dinner. Come on in.”

Mac steadied herself and walked around the counter. “Hi Mattie, I was wondering why you hadn’t joined us. Do you want some chicken? There’s plenty.”

“I could smell it all the way down the hall, but no thanks.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Jen and I are going to the mall and we’ll just grab something at the food court. I actually came to talk to you about this.” She waved a white square card in front of Harm before he took it.

“Hmmm, the Thomas Payne High Autumn Ball.”

Mattie shrugged. “It’s in a couple of weeks – you’ll be back from Ireland by then. Besides I didn’t make it to the spring dance last year so I’d really like to go.” Her eyes wandered around the room before meeting Harm’s penetrating gaze again. “I sort of have a date for it,” she added nonchalantly.

Harm executed a series of slow nods, contemplating the word ‘date’ while rubbing his chin. He looked briefly at Mac, who was thoroughly enjoying this exchange, her arms crossed at her chest and an amused look on her face. “Sounds fun,” he finally decided. “And will you and said date be needing a ride to this event?”

“No thanks, he, uh, he has a car.”

“A car? But…”

Mattie nibbled her bottom lip. “He’s sort of a senior.”

Harm gestured broadly with his arms. “A senior?!” he erupted. “Well he must be…”

“A very nice boy, I’m sure, or Mattie would never have accepted,” Mac interrupted, stepping forward, but not before flashing an exasperated glare at Harm. “Where did you meet him?”

Mattie had already shifted her attention towards Mac, whom she seemed to be having much better luck with. “His name is Dave and we know each other from volleyball.”

“See,” she said to Harm in mock contempt, “they’re both athletes so they already have something in common.” She faced Mattie. “Let me guess, you need something special to wear?”

Mattie fingered the sleeve of her green Addidas track suit. “Yeah, I can’t exactly show up in something like this.”

As both women looked at Harm, he marveled at the sheer power of female persuasiveness before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He sighed deeply as he handed Mattie his Visa card. But his eyes were shining.

She stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re the best!”

His voice made her stop halfway out the door. “Hey! Make sure it has sleeves and reaches way below your knees.”

She gave a thumbs-up.

“And stay out of Neiman Marcus!” he yelled, though the door had already closed. He spun around to find Mac smiling wistfully. “What?” he questioned, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

“You’re good for her,” Mac said.

“We’re good for each other,” he countered, then asked, “coffee’s ready, you want some?”

“Sure. And don’t you dare forget the brownies.”

Because she’d moved to the couch, Harm fixed a tray of coffee and dessert and set it gently on the low table. He handed her a cup and she took a long sip then closed her hands around the base, drawing in its warmth. It was quiet again. And before thinking better of it, he drudged up the question that had been gnawing at him all evening. “Earlier, before Mattie came in, I asked you if you missed Webb.”

She tensed and studied the floor, grinding the toe of her shoe back and forth against the wooden planks. “And you’re asking it again?”

His hand cupped her shoulder so that she finally turned her head. “I’m…I’m sorry, Mac. The last thing I want to do is upset you. I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“Well I guess that’s fair enough.” She stood suddenly, wandering around the living room, aimlessly at first, as if the answer both of them needed happened to be hiding there – somewhere. Anywhere. Then she planted herself near the kitchen, her eyes focused again out the window. “You mean, do I miss the deception? Or the manipulation? Do I miss the gnawing feeling that each day I spent with him was a waste?” She paused as the realization came. “No. I don’t miss him. More than anything, Harm, I miss myself.”

He said nothing, only unfolded his legs from the sofa and moved to her. He gathered her into his arms and held her close.

Mac felt an overwhelming rush of comfort there - closer, thicker, warmer than she could ever remember feeling. And it was precisely at that moment, with her head resting against his shoulder and her eyes raw and damp that something unexplainable occurred. Something that even years later, she’d never forget, nor relate to anyone else.

She’d heard a faint scratch against the glass. And when she lifted her head barely an inch or two, she saw a bluebird poised upon the windowsill. Harm, still holding her and facing the doorway, never noticed. But she did. Incredulous, she watched as it turned its tiny beaded eyes towards her.

And then, amidst a veil of blackness instead of morning, with his dainty stick feet shuffling across the ledge, it sang, paused - and sang again.

Chapter 3

Ireland was in her blood. The surname she signed everyday was a testament to this. Mackenzie, fire born; son of a wise ruler. Yet growing up, it was her mother’s side that had staked a clearer presence in her life, its native language, the one she’d learned early on. Her father’s line had always been the sparse, dark side, the mysterious piece of her that was never talked about and never questioned. But as the Aer Lingus jumbo jet crept slowly from sea to island, the Irish in her began to wake.

She’d been here a few years before. But she’d been too busy with danger and duty to feel the pull of this land that came now with exotic, heated force. Ireland called to her now as a sister. Her voice was both ancient and new, steeped with emerald green planes and the mighty sweep of jagged cliffs. Her melody was harp and flute, tangled with legend and poem, famine and faerie lore.

The picture out of the tiny oval window was of water and grass. A scatter of clouds hovered over Shannon, revealing craggy parts of rocky structures that melded with modern buildings. The river brought life. She tracked its movement up the center of the landscape until the wide, blue-black mouth come into view. They would land soon.

She glanced to the side at her partner. He was still asleep as he’d been for most of the flight, his head half shielded by a flimsy green blanket. His breathing was steady and silent under the constant drone of jet engine. She took this rare glimpse into the quiet of him to ponder his behavior lately. She hadn’t been so preoccupied with her own problems not to notice the shift in him in the last six months. Where was her commitment-phobic, haunted, restless sailor who was often about as emotionally available as a two by four? Where was the man who couldn’t seem to complete a personal thought about the two of them for years?

Instead, she looked at him and saw a man that had researched her illness, who’d taken on the role of father and did it brilliantly, who’d repeated time and again that he wanted to be in her life – the one who always seemed to be there lately, by her side, at her door, in her mind. Even in her heart. Somehow, he became the man that would never leave her alone. Even when she could still name a hundred reasons why he should.

Mac rubbed her dry, tired eyes and knew they’d look even worse than they felt. Unlike him, she hadn’t been able to sleep for a minute. She rarely did on planes. And this time, there was just too damn much to think about.

Harm’s steps were bright and eager from customs to the baggage claim area and she hated him for it. “Wait, wait, wait,” she called, causing him to stop and turn. Then she motioned with her aching head to a vending cart. “I think I smell coffee over there. I’d tell you I see it too but I don’t trust my eyes right now.”

He chuckled and pointed to the moving belt just ahead. “Go get your fill, marine. I’ll find our bags and meet you over there. Bring me a double?” he added but she’d already scurried off.

“Better?” he asked, a few minutes later.

“Yeah, I’m slowly coming back to life.” She threw her carry on over her shoulder. One hand pulled the wheeled suitcase; the other held the gigantic coffee with a death grip. With Harm at her side, she walked through the automatic doors and into Shannon.

The crisp November air and the wind, its blustery cohort, tendered a coat-clutching welcome upon the pair. As they walked the short distance to the rental car lot, the spotty puffs of clouds that had appeared innocent enough from the plane had now merged together into a cumbersome, gray mass across the sky. Drops began to fall and splash. Umbrellas were fished out of carry on bags and quickly put to use.

“There’s the rental company,” Mac stated.

A short, podgy attendant in an appropriate, bright yellow coat produced the paperwork and lifted a set of keys from a brass hook. He pointed to the rows of parked cars. “Yours is in space 12. Need a bit of help with where you’re going this morning?”

Harm took the keys but held up a map. “No, thank you. We’re headed to Ballyvaughan but I think I can navigate this without too much trouble.”

“As you wish.” The man couldn’t resist a belly laugh as the pair walked off.

Brows lowered, Mac asked, “Does he know something we don’t?”

“I can’t imagine what.” They walked the line of cars before Harm came to a dead stop. “Oh no. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Puzzled, Mac turned. “Hmmm?”

“Look at our car!” He pointed to the bright blue something sitting in space 12. If it truly was a car, then it was the smallest specimen he’d ever seen. “Is this all they had?”

Mac tried her best to stifle a giggle. “Chalk it up to last minute. Besides, what did you expect? An SUV? We’re headed for the country, Harm. Most of the cars in Ireland are small because the roads are smaller.” Her giggle quickly overflowed into roaring laughter when Harm dropped his bags, rain and all, and did circles around the tiny hatchback.

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way. I’ll have to push the seat all the way back to the rear window.”

Still holding the umbrella with one hand, the other went to her hip. “Well, at least you’re not going to find yourself in the middle our usual argument about who gets to drive.” She yawned once, then twice. “You got all the sleep. Besides, I know which side of the road they drive on here and it’s not my side.”

Harm was a little surprised by her statement. Mac didn’t usually admit her weaknesses that easily. But, then again, she also respected her limits. He heaved a sighed and picked up his suitcase. “Well, then let’s get this midget-mobile on the road.”

After much ado, they managed to cram themselves, bags and all, into the car. Mac was inches away from sleep but fought it for the sake of scenery.

And it was breathtaking.

When they reached the northern edge of Shannon, the road took them into a storybook of fertile land and white-tipped ocean. The rain seemed to be moving southward, leaving a wide, blue stretch of sky to chase. There were limestone ruins and bleating herds of animals and she fell in love with the tiny stone cottages with wisps of smoke rising out of chimneys.

There was only one minor hitch. The reason for the rental car attendant’s laughter became painfully clear as they drove further into the country. Ireland and adequate road signs were definitely not synonymous with one another.

“I guess we need to master the art of landmark driving,” Harm offered dryly. He’d just crumpled himself back into the driver’s seat after finally consulting a local on the roadside. “At least we’re not that far off.” He made a u-turn and, this time, took the proper turn where four large shrubs grew in a perfect circle.

Mac laughed a little. “Makes you wish you had your radar, huh?”

Harm glanced to the side at her face. Every inch of it was exhausted, but never enough to mire the pretty. “Mac, flying is child’s play compared to this business.” But he smiled and even the baffling roads hadn’t done a thing to dampen his mood. He was out of that damned courtroom, alone with the person he’d rather be with than anyone else, in a beautiful place he would gladly stay lost in.

Soon they reached Ballyvaughan, the tiny port village snugly encased by the southern tip of Galway Bay to the north and the Atlantic to the west. They bypassed the village center and headed straight for the countryside where a rock-lined path led them to Carroll House. The old wooden manor was both grand and inviting, painted in pure, brilliant white. It was topped by a dusty gray roof and a set of three pointed gables keeping the watch. The weary travelers were glad to step out of the car and they stretched and swept their necks from side to side before getting their bags.

They wiped their feet in front of the cheery red door. A sign on a brass plaque read, Failte. Welcome. A bell was hung from a ribbon looped around the doorknob, signaling their arrival with its high-pitched ding.

The entryway was stuffed with antiques and flickering candles in sconces. The floorboards were rustic black walnut, left marred and scratched with age and use. And the smell was divine – a comfortable mix of sweet and savory that wafted down the hallway as the kitchen door swung open.

“Good day. You must be Sarah Mackenzie.” The medium-toned voice preceded the woman that came into view from the hall. “I’m Eileen Carroll.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mac said and accepted the outstretched hand. Their hostess appeared to be in her early fifties, with a hearty mane of hair, more blonde than gray and worn in a loose chignon. She was slim but solid, with a kind, graceful face and hands well accustomed to a full days’ work.

Eileen turned to the dashing man next to Sarah. Her lightning-fast survey from head to toe caused her automatic smile to brighten a few degrees. A Yank with the looks of him was going to cause a bit of a stir in this town.

All charm and wide-toothed grin, Harm offered his hand. “I’m Harmon Rabb, ma’am.”

Eileen nodded and found her cheeks growing flushed. “Well, we’ve been expecting…” her words were cut off by the loud “flap” that came from the rear of the house.

The trio turned as a burly redheaded man in jeans and a blue flannel barreled down the hall. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to fix that blasted door.” He eyed the guests, smiled, and poked out a hand. “Robert Carroll.”

With greetings out of the way, Robert scratched his beard-covered chin and counted the luggage. “Eileen will see to your stomachs and I’ll handle these for you.”

Before either of them could protest, Robert was a quarter of the way up the stairs with both large suitcases.

Eileen leaned in close and snickered. “He’s a bit eager, my husband. There’s a rugby match on in ten minutes.”

Mac tried to laugh but a yawn came out instead.

Eileen’s hand went to her shoulder. “You poor dear. You must be exhausted from your travels. Your room is the first on the right if you’d like to rest. I’ll bring up a light lunch for the both of you in a few minutes.”

After another yawn, Mac nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

Eileen turned to Harm. “And your room is the second on the left.”

“Thank you. Are we the only guests?”

“Today, yes. But tomorrow, we’re expecting a family of five out of Dublin. Mr. Fagan has business in Ballyvaughan twice each year. The whole family always comes along.” Eileen paused, her head rising to the ceiling in thought. “This’ll be the fifth year. So enjoy the quiet now because it’s sure to get a bit livelier around here come tomorrow.”

Harm chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “It can’t be all that bad. You keep letting them come back.”

Eileen squared her shoulders. “Oh, I’ve got the lot of them handled by now. The little ones know there’ll be no sweets for them if they act up.”

After parting with Harm down the hall, Mac found her suitcase perched upon a big, fluffy bed covered in white damask. It was a princess room, with white paneled wainscoting and floral wallpaper. Rose pink curtains were gathered aside with cording to reveal a gabled window with a view that went for miles.

“This is actually our bridal suite.”

The voice from the doorway caused her to turn. “Well, I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking at this point,” Mac said, her tone, wistful and sarcastic all at once.

Eileen laughed, a clear, melodious sound. She had a hunch that the handsome military lawyers - work partners, they’d said, had a story that had followed them all the way from Washington. Yes, they would be great fun to have around. There was magic in this land. And few could escape it.

She ventured in and set the silver tray upon a little round table. “There’s tea and a cup of vegetable soup and a sandwich of roasted chicken. The potato bread’s fresh from the oven.”

Mac snuck a peek and swooned. “Eileen, you’re my hero.”

When the kind woman had gone, Mac kicked off her shoes and barely stayed awake enough to enjoy the delicious lunch.

Minutes later, she was tucked into the fragrant sheets and blankets. She closed her eyes and listened. There were no familiar city sounds of racing engines and blaring horns. A pair of birds sang at her window. Then it was all wind. It came suddenly, as it usually did in these parts. Just as she succumbed to the pull of sleep, a mighty gust rattled the glass and she could’ve sworn she heard the faintest sound of weeping.

Chapter 4

After a two hour nap, Mac rose from the bed and rubbed her eyes. She ran a brush through her hair, eased her feet into a pair of black driving mocs then ventured into the hallway. She pointed her feet towards Harm’s room but stopped and lifted her brows at the raucous laughter and cheering coming from the lower level.

She padded down the sweeping wood staircase. It was old but sturdy and creaked and crackled every few steps. She followed the odd, primal sounds, decidedly male, into the parlor at the base of the stairs. Hovering at the threshold, her mouth curved up at the sight of Harm and Robert Carroll, perched upon the edge of a long leather sofa. There were glasses half full of beer on the coffee table. The TV was blaring and the image, unmistakable. It was rain and sweat. It was blood and grass and piles of flailing limbs.

It was rugby.

“Are females allowed in here?” Mac asked but sauntered over to an empty spot next to Harm anyway.

He rubbed her knee playfully. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead.” She leaned into the soft cushions and grabbed a throw pillow for her lower back. The parlor was large, longer than it was wide. Various conversation areas had been set up with wing backed chairs and tables perfect for late night coffee and dessert. One side of the room boasted a shiny black grand piano, the other, a game table for four with a chessboard waiting. She turned to the gentlemen. “So rugby, huh?”

Robert scratched the end of a graying sideburn. “I was just educating your friend here on the ongoing feud between these particular teams.” He took a long swig of the amber colored lager and lowered the volume with a remote. “Makes for a fine match, I’d say.”

Mac glanced from Harm to Robert and pursed her lips. “Did Harm tell you that he played a little rugby at the Naval Academy?”

Impressed, Robert gave the younger man a friendly nudge on the shoulder. “You don’t say?”

Harm shrugged. “Actually, I only played a few games. My goal of going to flight school would’ve been shot if I’d graduated with only one eye. And the odds of just that happening were too much to keep me on the field.”

“Spoken like a wise man, Mr. Rabb,” Eileen voiced from the doorway. She deposited a stack of magazines on an end table and sat on the sofa arm next to her husband. “Now that you’ve rested, what do you have planned for the afternoon?”

Harm looked at Mac. It was her show. “Do you want to check out the cottage?”

She tilted her head in thought then shook it hesitantly. “No, the caretaker won’t be back until tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t mind a day or two of doing next to nothing, so we can wait.”

Eileen’s face fell a little. “Sarah, I wish Robert and I were able to give you more information on your great aunt.”

Mac lifted a shoulder. “Well, she’d been living in Ennis for ten years.”

“And we’ve only been in Ballyvaughan for six,” Robert said. “There are many in town that’ll be glad to help. What cottage is it, then?”

“I was told it’s just off of Cappabhaile Pass, wherever that is.”

Eileen silently consulted her husband and turned to Mac. “Well, we’re not acquainted with your Margaret but most of us know that cottage. It’s barely large enough for a family of rabbits but ‘tis on one of the finest pieces of land in these parts.” She smiled wistfully. “Steps from the ocean cliffs, it is.”

Robert polished off his beer and set down the glass with such a bang that Eileen rolled her eyes. “In the meantime, if its leisure you’re after, there’s the village. And the Cliffs of Moher are something to see. The bay also has a fine view. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to keep to the shore this time of year.” He chuckled and leaned in close. “Things are liable to fall off in those waters.”

Harm laughed richly along with Mac. “Duly noted.”

Mac peered out the large picture window on the opposite wall. The wide expanse of green glistened in the afternoon sun. “I think I’d just like to walk,” she declared softly and looked at Harm in a silent invitation.

He drained the rest of his beer. “Let’s get our coats.”

When they were halfway out the door, they turned back at the sound of Eileen’s voice.

“I forgot to mention that dinner is always included on your first day. I’ve a lovely piece of fresh salmon and pecan tarts in the oven.”

Harm grinned and grabbed the doorknob. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

The sunlight was full and strong, but nearly powerless against the frigid air that heralded the coming wintertime. Wrapped in the black wool coats that would get much use on this trip, the pair set off on foot. Carroll House rested on a stretch of land beneath a hearty, rounded hillside. They’d been told that this was the Burren region of Ireland, so named for the ancient, gray-black limestone rocks that formed the towering sea cliffs. The rocks were found inland as well, some crafted into fence walls, others found in sporadic rows and clumps in the middle of the grasslands.

They saw flowers. Though well into fall, a few white and purple blooms stubbornly grasped on to the crumbling edges of the season, their vines woven over and under the base of green and gray.

Curious as to the secrets that might be found on the other side of the bordering hill, they set forth to climb it. The terrain wasn’t steep but Harm still pulled his hand from his pocket and offered it to Mac.

She took it and stole a look into his eyes. They exchanged no words, but smiles, genuine and shy. It was a few seconds later, on their first steps up the base of the hill, that she heard it again. It was the faint but distinctive sound of weeping. A woman weeping – so mournfully she felt a tinge of heated pain inside of her before she’d even thought to question the source. Or her sanity. Earlier, in bed, she’d blamed it on the exhaustion. Now, there was no explanation. “Did you hear that?” she asked her companion.

“Hear what?” he questioned.

A shiver raced up and down her back. “I guess it was nothing.”

Harm nodded, still facing forward. “The wind makes all sorts of weird sounds.”

“Yeah.” But she tucked the thought deep inside her mind. After a few more steps, they reached the hilltop, a new view unfolding in front of them. “Harm, what’s that?”

He followed her stare to what looked like an old, stone ruin. “I think it’s a cottage. Or it used to be.”

“Let’s check it out.” But she had already quickened her pace, dragging him along.

They reached the group of rounded stones that used to form a perfect square. One wall was half-standing; another reduced to a pile of rubble only a couple of feet high. Harm stood in what was once a doorway. “This is probably hundreds of years old. We should ask the Carrolls about it.” He turned to explore the back section.

She would’ve answered but her attention was drawn to the right hand wall. Her breath hitched in her throat when a bluebird fluttered by and perched upon a craggy rock. It chirped sweetly then flew off into the countryside. She would’ve thought nothing of it, had it not been the exact shape and size as the mysterious creature she’d seen two nights before in Harm’s kitchen. Again, it had to be a coincidence. But her pulse continued to rise.

There was an eerie feeling about this place that she couldn’t ignore. She tried her best to shake it off and turned to find Harm. He was seated on a flat section of rocks, a makeshift bench, on the opposite end of the ruin facing the peaceful landscape they’d just come from.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” she asked and sat beside him.

He slowly wound his head to the side. “Just the fact that two days ago I was at my desk, suffocating under a mound of paperwork. And Bud was trying to rope me in for help with those budget reports.” He sighed and cracked a smile. “I could go on and on.” He swept his hand in front of him. “And now look at this.”

“I know. With our jobs, we travel so frequently and many of those places have a lot going for them. But we’re always too busy to notice.”

She snuggled further into her coat, amazed by the solitude and firmly convinced that this had been exactly what she’d needed. “I’m glad you came,” she said at length, almost imperceptible amidst the sudden gust of wind that rustled the tips of the grass at their feet.

He was sure that few words would’ve meant more to him than those. Unafraid, he took her hand again. “So am I.”

Maybe it was the faraway setting, but the need to finally talk to this man rose up suddenly, forcing the words into her throat. So much had been left unsaid. “I know I’ve been quiet the past few months.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But your whole life was turned upside down. It’s been a hard year - I understand.”

“Thanks for giving me space. I know it’s hard being the one in the dark.”

It had been hell, but he rubbed the warm hand within his. “Did you figure anything out?”

She met his gaze. “I realized something one day, not too long ago.”

Though his heart jumped, he stayed silent as she gathered her words.

“You know, when I was a little girl, I never told any of my friends at school about my father.” She let out a brief puff of air. “I always told stories about how great my family was - all the fun things we did and the toys he bought me. I’d created my own little safe place to hide. A world of pretend. Maybe I thought that if I talked about it enough, or made it real enough…maybe if I wanted it bad enough, it would somehow come true. Even though it was all a lie.”

The raw honesty of her words was a thin strand of pain that tightened around his soul. “God, I’m so sorry, Mac.”

“No. I’m not looking for sympathy. In fact, I think I know now. I think I know why I’ve done some of the things I’ve done lately.” She shrugged her shoulders under the warm, black wool. “The last few years, I’ve done it with love, Harm.” Her voice began to thicken and she scraped her free hand along the jagged rock. “I’ve said the ‘I love yous’ and built lies around them, just trying to make the situation I happened to be in into the right one…into what it should be, even when it wasn’t.” Her gaze dropped to the green below. “Even when it never would be.”

At her stunning revelation, his eyes turned dark as he slowly let out his breath. “Mac,” he whispered fiercely.

“Harm, when I grew up, I forgot to stop pretending.” Her head stay low as she released her words into the tranquil landscape that went for miles and miles. There, they would find rest.

***

They returned to a feast in the formal dining room of herb-roasted salmon, tiny, red buttery potatoes and a salad with spinach and peppery watercress. Harm couldn’t stop thinking about the statements Mac had made less than an hour before. There’d been so much that he’d wanted to say. But he’d held back, shoving his feelings to the side once again, realizing that the time at the ruin had been all about her. She’d had her say and, soon, very soon, he would have his. For now, he was content to savor those words, hard-fought and painful, but cathartic all the same. He took them as a gift.

While Eileen cleared the table, they were shooed into the parlor with the promise of dessert. Tall ivory tapers in silver holders danced on the mantle, in contrast to the lively flames that roared beneath them in the brick fireplace. They chose a set of burgundy leather club chairs, separated by a round table, as Robert trudged in with an armload of logs. Eileen followed with a tray and set cups of coffee and golden pecan tarts in front of Harm and Mac.

Mac wasted no time in taking a bite. “Eileen,” she slurred as a few crumbs fell from her fork, “this is amazing. I wish I could bake like this. I’m hopeless.”

Pleased, Eileen beamed. “Then you’ll have a lesson. Tomorrow?”

“Really? You’re going to teach me to cook?”

“I’d be happy to. With the Fagans coming, I’ll be in the kitchen most of the day.”

Harm also tasted the decadent concoction and was nearly reduced to tears. “It’s a brilliant idea.” He grinned cheekily and looked at Mac. “Then I can be her baking guinea pig when we get home.”

Mac rolled her eyes. “See what I go through?”

Eileen chuckled and lifted the tray which still held her and Robert’s portions.

“No, please stay,” Harm said. “Besides, we wanted to ask you about something we saw earlier.”

Eileen considered this for a half-second and nodded. Then she motioned for Robert to bring over another set of chairs. “All right, then.”

When the two couples were settled, Mac asked, “The ruin, on the other side of the hill, what is that?”

Instantly, Robert’s eyes met those of his wife, who gestured for him to answer while she ate. “That’s what’s left of Macauley cottage. It was built more than three hundred years ago.”

Harm cocked his head. “What happened to it? I mean, there are many structures here that are older and still standing.”

Again, the Irish couple consulted each other briefly, silently, with movements of heads and eyes and mouths – their own invented language. Then Robert spoke. “There’s a legend about the cottage. It’s widely known in these parts.”

Suddenly, Mac grew uneasy and her voice broke slightly. “A legend?”

Eileen set down her mug on a lace doily. “Well you can’t come to Ireland without experiencing a bit of faerie lore, so this will be your time,” she declared, splitting her gaze between Harm and Mac. At their consent, she continued. “As Robert said, the story began over three hundred years ago. There was a fair maiden named Kathleen Macauley. She was known across the land for her stunning beauty, with hair of corn silk blonde and eyes as blue as the ocean. She’d lost the lot of her family early on and she was left with a tiny stone cottage to tend. When she came of age, she took a lover – he was Declan, of the O’Reilly clan. Now Declan had a fine singing voice, melodious and rich. And there were few as handsome or brave. But he was troubled by the threat to his family and the land he would inherit by a menacing neighboring clan. The battles were legendary and caused much bloodshed.

Declan was smitten with Kathleen, but would not reveal his feelings, though real and true, they were. His heart remained closed. Yet, Kathleen loved him deeply. She begged and pleaded, but Declan would not stay. He had to fight. It was his duty. He promised to return to her and left a sapphire hairpin set in gold with a single diamond in the center– a gift to wear and hold dear to her heart in his absence.

Kathleen fell into a dark depression at his departure. Without Declan’s vow of love, her heart grew forlorn and bitter and her own love was overshadowed. Many months had passed with not a word from her lover. Her faith was lost. In a moment of weakness, she went to another who admired her. He readily vowed his love and devotion and she went on to marry him.

But early in the marriage, Kathleen began to deeply regret her decision, though her husband was good and kind. Already with child, she began to pine for the true love of her life. On his journey homeward, Declan got word of what Kathleen had done. His heart became enraged with hurt. In a fit of anger, he went to the cottage Kathleen had deserted and destroyed it.”

Eileen paused to take a bite of her dessert. The rain came then without preamble, so abruptly thick, it poured in wide ribbons down the glass of the nearby window. Still holding the rapt attention of the other three, she went on. “Now the legend is as follows. It was said that Declan had a trace of faerie blood in him. It was likely this that kept him alive through the treacherous battles, time and again. But the Faerie King looked upward from beneath the emerald hills and saw the travesty of the heart that had been done. Both Declan and Kathleen had been grossly foolish. The Faerie King was angered and the pair would be punished for their actions.

Declan’s lot was this. The Faerie King cursed his closed heart and the words of love he’d withheld from his lips. As a result, he became mute – both his hearing and his gift of voice were instantly taken away. It’s said that this region of our country owes its history of fine music to this curse. It is Declan’s legacy. It was his voice that has spurned these gifts.

Kathleen did not escape unpunished. Her descendants for generations would struggle in pain and heartache in life and love. And though she’d heard no words of love from Declan, she’d failed to see this love manifested as it was through his actions, loyal and honorable as they were. She’d gone to another. Thus, the Faerie King took her sight on that very day. Her sight, from eyes of deepest blue, became a bird. The bluebird also held her joyous spirit within it. This too was robbed.”

Mac shifted uneasily in her chair. While Eileen was relating the legend, she was hit by coincidences so sharp, they made her skin tingle. But it was when the bluebird was mentioned that Mac completely lost her breath. She’d seen this bird and what that meant about the legend was too much for her to comprehend.

Harm noticed her paling complexion. “You okay, Mac?”

The others quickly turned to her, but she waved them off. “Yes, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. Please continue, Eileen,” she managed. Though anxious beyond belief, she needed to hear the ending.

Eileen studied the younger woman’s face for half a breath then went on. “The last decree of the Faerie King stated that neither Kathleen nor Declan would find rest in death, nor could they reach one another. Declan was cursed to roam, still deaf and mute and deeply repentant for his actions. He was overrun with guilt for withholding his love. The pain was with him daily. Kathleen died a sad, bitter woman, blind and forever pining for the love she’d rejected too quickly. She’d learned her lesson but was powerless against the decree. She too, roams this land and weeps for her love. The weeping comes with the wind, but only a chosen few can hear it.”

The weeping. Somehow Mac knew it before Eileen gave the explanation. And now it had hurried inside of her – settling in a weighty burden upon her heart. Her eyes flew to the side as a log snapped and crackled in the fire, shooting out a flaming mist of sparks. Its warmth, though, she no longer felt.

“There is an end to the punishment. A love from the family line must come. It must be an everlasting love that rises above the cursed adversity, a true and abiding love. This will be enough to bring Declan and Kathleen together at last.”

Intrigued, Harm leaned forward on his elbows. “So, Declan can’t get to Kathleen. And he can’t speak to her.”

Eileen nodded. “Aye’, that is part of his curse.”

Mac absently dabbed her fork into the pile of flakey crumbs left on her plate. “But he’s also deaf. So Kathleen’s weeping for him – he’ll never hear it.”

The eyes of the older woman met those of the other across the little round table. “And that, Sarah, is part of hers.”

Chapter 5

“I think I’m in love,” Harm said dreamily.

Mac snickered as she pulled out a chair from the dining room table. “Aw, I bet you say that to all the scones.”

Harm only waggled his eyebrows and took another bite of French toast, made from freshly baked cinnamon raisin bread. The coffee was strong, the scones were still steaming in an earthen basket in front of him and Sarah Mackenzie was at his table. He was a happy man.

Eileen breezed in the doorway wearing soft periwinkle slacks and a matching sweater. “Ahh, there’s Sarah. Tell me what you’d like for your breakfast.”

Mac smiled and gladly accepted the cup of black coffee that was set in front of her. “What do you suggest?”

Eileen, in her element, offered a wide grin. There was nothing she enjoyed more than sharing her cooking. “Why, the traditional Irish breakfast, of course. It’s a hearty platter of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, potatoes and biscuits.

With each successive ingredient, Harm’s eyebrows had risen a little more. But Mac was game. “That sounds wonderful.”

When Eileen had gone, Harm leaned forward. “I’m not going to ask how you’re going to eat all that. After nine years, I know better. But I’ll still wonder, like I do every time, where the hell you put it all.”

Mac swatted his shoulder playfully then with one fingernail, lifted the cloth napkin that covered the baked goods. “Don’t play innocent with me. How many of these have you eaten?”

His mouth now blissfully full, Harm’s words were slurred. “I plead the fifth.”

Mac rolled her eyes and tasted the coffee. “I just got off the phone with Mr. Flynn. He’s the one who’s taken care of Margaret’s cottage for the last ten years.”

“When are we going?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I got the directions.” When Harm eyed her suspiciously, she added, “I know – we’ll ask the Carrolls for detailed instructions. I still don’t understand how they get by without street addresses here.”

He nodded in staunch agreement. “So, you ready to see it?”

Mac let out a gentle sigh. “I guess, I mean, it’s just a house.” She traced one finger around the edge of her coffee cup and looked up. “Still, I don’t know what I’m going to find there.” It had been the one thing that had kept her from rushing over to the property as soon as she’d set foot in Ireland. There was so much uncertainty.

She thought then about the Macauley legend. Actually, she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since last night. If she knew one thing, she was in a place steeped with mystery. A place where faerie legends and curses and ghosts were talked about like daily current events. A place where a little piece of her had once lived and died, most likely, with a story. With no other choice, she made light of it. “If anything, Harm, I’ve now indirectly accomplished something I could probably never do in the states.” She cocked her head as a sparkle flew from her eye. “I’m now the proud owner of a home on what’s reported to be prime, ocean front real estate.”

***

They were deeply engrossed in a game of chess in the parlor when they heard the noise. It started innocently enough, just a few car doors slamming shut. Then there was the distinct sound of bickering, high-pitched and childlike, which seemed to fade as soon as it began, thanks to a stern, authoritative decree.

They rose and followed the rumble into the entryway, where they were met by Eileen.

“No doubt, it’s the Fagans,” she declared and moved to the door.

Harm and Mac turned towards one another and shared a giggle. They lingered to the side and observed as the door was opened. Robert, who looked like a walking luggage rack, barreled through first with the brunt of the baggage. He was followed by small boy with a charming tousle of curly black hair and bright, blue eyes.

The parents were next – a wiry thin, but exceedingly well dressed man with graying black hair and a pleasant face. And his wife, a petite redhead with a chin-length bob and tired eyes.

Eileen turned to Harm and Mac. “I’m pleased to introduce the Fagans, Peter and Claire.” She ruffled the little boy’s hair. “And this here is Johnny.”

“I’m six years old!” Johnny erupted, pleased with himself.

His mother laughed. “Just had a birthday last week, he did. And he’ll tell everyone he meets.”

Eileen stretched her neck out the opened front door. “Where are Charles and Elisabeth?”

Before their parents could answer, a boy who could’ve been little Johnny’s twin, were it not for the good foot he had on him in height, flew in the doorway. “Sorry. Elisabeth’s dolly was stuck in the boot.”

Mac watched as the dolly’s owner skipped in last of all. She was all smiles and fiery red hair, swooped up into curl-tipped pigtails that reached past her shoulders. She bubbled and bounced until finally settling at her mother’s side.

After seeing that everyone had been introduced, Eileen served tea in the parlor. She snuck a third biscuit to eight-year-old Charles and said, “Besides a navy lawyer, did you know that Mr. Rabb is a pilot?”

Charles ran up to Harm, seated next to Mac on the sofa. “Really? You’re a real life pilot?” he asked, wide-eyed and so awestruck, Harm thought the boy was going to pinch him to make sure he wasn’t made of wax.

Harm smiled. “Yes, sir. I’ll even show you my wings later on.”

Charles’ mouth dropped open and he pointed to his own chest with his thumb. “I’m going to be a pilot when I’m bigger.”

From a nearby chair, Peter feigned hurt but added a wink. “A Pilot, aye? Now I thought you were going to run the gallery when I retire.”

Mac took a sip of tea. “You own a gallery, Peter?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, in Dublin. But I travel to Ballyvaughan twice a year for new pieces to showcase. The local talent here is quite something.”

Charles wrinkled his nose. “I’m still going to fly.” And he pretended to do just that, right in the middle of the parlor.

While Claire and Eileen rounded up the human airplane, little Johnny ran up to Harm. “You’re in the navy. That means you have a real gun. A pistol, even?”

From across the room, Claire frowned. “Sorry. He caught the last few minutes of an old war movie that was on last evening.”

Amused, Harm gestured to Mac. “Well, yes, but I usually leave the shooting to Colonel Mackenzie, here. She’s a marine. And she’s much tougher than I am.”

The room overflowed with laughter.

***

Eileen’s kitchen was her palace. And Mac felt honored to have been summoned into inner court of it that afternoon for a cooking lesson with the queen herself. It was an enormous room with rustic cherry cabinets and honed marble counters. The stainless steel appliances were new and modern but the walls were covered in faded, aged bricks that had soaked up the fragrant smells of generations of fine dishes. The main workspace was a wooden butcher block island that sat in the center of the room. It was there that Mac had stood for an hour already, her hands kneading a floury ball of pie dough. “How’s this look?” she asked, holding out the dough for Eileen to inspect.

The older woman could make a perfect pie crust in her sleep. “Is that the way yours looks in your kitchen at home?”

“Usually, yes.”

“And how does it turn out?”

Mac lifted a shoulder sheepishly. “Tough and crumbly,” she admitted.

Eileen smiled. “Precisely. And here’s the reason.” She took the ball of dough, turning it as she explained. “Now most of the modern cooking manuals will tell you to barely handle the dough.” She handed back the little ball and leaned in as if this were some closely guarded secret. “But the trick is to over-knead it until it turns very shiny. The sheen comes from the gluten that develops. ‘Tis the gluten that makes the light, flaky crust.”

Mac considered this, nodding slowly. Then she went back to work on the dough.

“Look, Mrs. Eileen. I made a flower.”

The women turned to four year old Elisabeth. She’d been quietly perched at the kitchen table, playing with her own ball of extra dough while her mother relaxed upstairs with a cup of tea, a romance novel, and a set of earplugs.

Eileen rushed over to inspect. “Oh, isn’t that lovely. It will be the perfect decoration for the top of one of the pies.”

The little girl beamed. “I made one for you, too, Miss Sarah.”

Touched beyond belief, something warm sparked inside of her. Mac had to fight the crack in her voice as she walked to the table. Sure enough, there were two tiny pie dough daisies on the piece of waxed paper. “Thank you, Elisabeth. You’re a wonderful artist.”

She went back to her dough and marveled at how different her life looked in this place. Gone were the uniforms and the protocol, the paperwork and the traffic. And yes, even some of the heartache. Harm was here, but out in the fields playing a rowdy game of soccer with the Fagan boys. The sounds were different, too. Wind and birdsongs and the highs and lows of children’s gleeful voices. The pungent smells of apples and cinnamon, of butter and freshly baked bread; they were the smells of the home she’d never had.

Eileen peeked over her shoulder and broke the time of reverie. “See, now that’s how it should look,” she decreed and handed over a wooden rolling pin. “The dough – a bit like love, it is.”

When Mac drew her brows downward, Eileen explained as she pressed her own dough into a porcelain pie plate. “Love takes a great amount of time of molding and shaping.” Then she took one of Mac’s hands, sore from the constant kneading. “The beauty, it comes from the pain. From the work.” She gently squeezed the hand and went back to her pie. Then a wicked gleam bounced from her eye. “And if you give up too soon and don’t let it develop, you never get to the really good stuff.”

Mac laughed richly. “Eileen, as of today, I know a great deal more about pie dough than I do about love.”

Eileen joined in the laughter before her face turned pensive. “You’ve heard the weeping,” she said at length.

The words had been said so softly and evenly, Mac could’ve laid down right on top of them. Her glance cut away briefly before she answered. “Yesterday.”

Eileen nodded once. “It troubles you, doesn’t it?”

“Eileen, you have to admit, it’s a little unsettling. Not to mention extremely strange.” She paused and dug her rolling pin into the ripe ball of dough. “Have you ever heard it?”

“No. But only the single women do. We’ve two daughters, both married last year and moved away. Before the time of their betrothal, ‘aye, they’d heard it.”

Mac shook her head hesitantly. “It’s a legend. I guess I’m simply having trouble believing in it.”

Eileen smiled a knowing smile. “That’s the thing about our legends.” She cinched her thumb and forefinger around the dough, making the fluted edge. “Even when we don’t believe in them, sometimes they believe in us.”

Any time that Mac would take to contemplate this was cut short as the rain came suddenly in a fierce downpour. The women looked in horror, first at one another, then out the large kitchen window.

Eileen found her words first. “Oh, the boys. Blessed Mary, they’re at least twenty meters away.” She grimaced. “Here they come running now and even your Harm is covered in mud.”

The kitchen side door burst open in a mad rush of squeals and screams. What appeared to be the Fagan boys, but more closely resembled a mass of wet, curly hair and dirt, burst in, shoes in their hands.

“Out, out, out. Get upstairs to your mum and a hot bath,” Eileen screeched. “And don’t you dare drip on my floors,” she called, though the watery whirlwind had already gone.

Harm came in the door and shut it, holding his boots. His hair and clothing were clumped with mud and the rest of him was soaked to the core. Eileen opened her mouth to scold him but had to smile first. Harm took advantage of the time to intercept her. “I know, I know, there’s a shower with my name on it, too.” He turned to leave but caught the sight of Mac at the center island. Her hair was pinned up and she wore a white cotton apron over her slacks and sweater. There was a rosy pink glow to her cheeks. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. “Enjoying your afternoon of domesticity, Marine?”

Mac pursed her lips. “Yes, but it looks like you’ve enjoyed yours more.” She couldn’t resist a giggle. “Harmon Rabb, you are a sight. I wish I had my camera.”

“I wouldn’t talk, Mac.”

She tilted her head and stared at him as if he’d gone crazy.

“You have flour all over your nose,” he said softly, delighted.

She immediately touched the area and rolled her eyes when her finger held a trace of white. Then she grabbed a dishtowel.

Harm spun to the side to face Eileen. “I was hoping to find a place to eat in town tonight. Good food, nice atmosphere, friendly people…there’s a certain brunette I know who could use a fun night out,” Harm rambled as if Mac wasn’t even in the room.

Eileen crossed her arms at her chest and glared. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners when it comes to women?” When Harm’s mouth fell open, she carried on and pointed to Mac. “Now this lovely lady here deserves more than a half-arsed dinner invitation by a soaking wet, mud-infested gentleman.”

Shocked and far beyond amused, Mac’s hand flew to her gaping mouth.

“You think I’m jiving, don’t you?” Eileen asked sternly, but let the tiniest wink slip out.

Harm was dumfounded. “Well, I, uh…”

Eileen pointed to the hallway. “Now get up there and fix yourself up nice and shiny. Then call on Miss Sarah in her quarters and ask her for a date in the proper manner. And when you do, take her to Monty’s Pub. The best food and drink outside of my kitchen.”

Harm considered this and it didn’t sound half bad, especially if it got the intended results. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and trudged out of the kitchen.

Mac’s bright, hysterical laughter fluttered around the room. “Eileen, I’ve never…”

Eileen only cracked a hint of a smile. “A fine enough looking chap, he is. And I imagine, a brilliant lawyer.” She scooped a portion of apple filling into the crust. “But a bit daft at times, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea.”

***

After Mac had washed the kitchen off her body, she sat by the window in her room and heard a knock at her door.

She opened it to fine Harm dressed in dark gray wool slacks and a thin black sweater. “Hi,” she said and lifted her brows. “Is that a tail I see between your legs?” But he did look good.

Harm let out a low, breathy chuckle. “Very funny. Actually, Eileen did kind of have a point.”

“Did she now?”

He leaned a little into the doorframe. “Uh-huh.” He swept his gaze around the room and found her eyes again. “Sarah Mackenzie, I’d be delighted if you’d accompany me out for dinner in the village.”

“Well, since you put it like that,” she said, smiled crookedly and caught her first whiff of his cologne. “Give me five minutes.”

Chapter 6

I ache for her. Centuries have only increased my longing and sharpened my pain. At times, this soundless world has me begging for hell. But then I see her, the gentle, lovely, pitiful form of her across the plains. I run, each time, knowing that when I get close enough the air will become a sea of liquid, holding tight the distance.

The bird. It comes to me and sings at my shoulder – a song I’ve never heard. “Tell her that I love her,” I mouth, hoping that the tiny creature will somehow relate the words I so foolishly held back ages before. Each night, I make my bed at the cliffs and dream of the woman with darkened eyes. And pray for release.

***

They drove into Ballyvaughan Village in that momentary span of time before dusk surrendered to dark. The sky was gray, trimmed with purple, and only slightly dulled the brilliant hues that covered many of the quaint restaurants and storefronts. Monty’s Pub was yellow, a shade that hovered somewhere between butter and lemon curd.

They had to park a block away and when Mac reached for her door handle, Harm stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Let me.” He ran around to open the door, offered a hand and caught the soft giggle. “What?” he asked.

“Well, your moment of chivalry is kind of shadowed by the fact that we just pulled up here in something that looks like a tuna fish can.”

Harm shrugged casually. “I wasn’t thinking about the car.”

Something jumped inside of her and she kept her hand in his.

“I talked to Mattie this afternoon. Everything’s fine on the home front. I’d like to look for a gift for her. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure. We’ll have time before we see the cottage. So, did she ever find a dress for the dance?”

“Yep.” He drew closer. Their coat sleeves brushed. “She said it’s, quote, ‘totally beyond awesome.’ She also said it’s blue, with a square neckline, tea length and has three-quarter sleeves. Wanna translate that for me?”

Mac had to laugh. “It means it will pass inspection, Dad. She’s a good kid.”

“Yeah. An even better one in that she found it on sale.”

When Harm pushed open the rustic wood door, Mac entered and hung her coat on a hook. Underneath, she’d chosen a camel tweed skirt, a black cashmere turtleneck and black tall boots. She surveyed the room, her first taste of a real Irish pub. Monty’s was a large space, filled with just enough people to suggest that whatever was being offered there was worth the trip. It was nothing like the bars in the states. There was a vibrant mix of young an old, even babies in carriers and small children weaving around tables. Friends sat in groups, eating from plates heaped with food. Others chose to settle old rivalries at the dart board.

Harm led them to the bar and pulled out a stool for Mac. The bar itself was crafted from mahogany wood that had earned a deep, red patina. He perched his hands on the surface that had been polished smooth, but still carried the cracks and dents that countless years had inflicted. He wondered about the tears, the laughter, and the steady hum of voices that had soaked into the old wood, day after day. And now he was here, with her, taking up his own little piece of it for a few hours. His story wasn’t unlike that of many others who had likely come before him – just a boy, loving a girl, and bursting like hell to tell her so.

Mac leaned in. “I’ve heard there’s a trick to ordering in these places. Something that doesn’t make us scream ‘tourist.’”

“Robert gave me the scoop. Watch and learn, Mackenzie.” Without a word, and employing only the most subtle of gestures, Harm caught the attention of the tall, busy man behind the bar who likely ran the place. He was dressed casually for a long night’s work, with a full apron and bar towel tucked into his waist. His hair was a neat, thick cap of white, his hands large and callused. At once, there was a quick, silent conversation between two pairs of eyes. One man was thirsty and the other knew where the glasses were kept.

“I’ll have a pint,” Harm said simply.

The barman looked at Mac. “Just hot tea, please,” she said.

Harm watched the man shift to the tap and draw out the Guinness, slowly and steadily, in a deftly executed two-part pour. The head was thick and looked like bubbly cream. He placed in front of Harm with pride and fixed the cup of tea.

When he handed it to Mac, the smile came. The drinks had been tended to, and only then was the time for greetings. “Haven’t seen you around before. I’m Michael Flannigan. Monty’s what I’m best known as.”

Harm took a sip of the robust, black ale and decided that this, alone, was worth the trip. “Harmon Rabb. You can call me Harm.”

Mac rested an elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. “Sarah Mackenzie,” she called out over a loud chirp of laughter that rang out from the far corner.

Monty gave Mac a hearty smile then pointed to the Guinness. “Bet you don’t find that tasting the same in the states.” When Harm cocked his head, the man continued. “I always know a Yank by his accent.”

Harm indulged in another, long sip then nodded. “We’re from Washington D.C., and you’re right, I’ll come back here just for this.”

Monty acknowledged the complement. “You know, there’s another way to tell a man’s birthplace – just by the way he drinks a pint.”

“How’s that?” Mac asked, intrigued.

“Well, an Irishmen will finish a pint in five or six sips. We like to pace ourselves,” he added with a wink.

Harm looked at Mac, shared a quick chuckle then turned back to Monty.

“Now an Englishman will handle it in seven or eight sips and it takes Yank, such as yourself, anywhere from fifteen to twenty.”

Harm agreed.

Then Monty leaned in close. “But there’s only one breed of man who’ll take the pint right from your hands and down the bloody thing in one, long, steady gulp.” He paused, giving the Americans a few seconds to guess. When they appeared dumfounded, he slapped his hand on the bar. “An Australian, of course.”

This was especially funny to Mac. She dissolved into a fit of giggles, Harm trailing not far behind.

Without warning, Monty grabbed his own pint and raised it. “Welcome with me, Harm and Sarah from America. Washington D.C.” Miraculously, all noise ceased and everyone gave their full attention. “Slainte!” he called.

“Slainte!”

When the rumble died down, Monty enquired about what they did and Harm answered.

“You’re navy as well, then?” he questioned Mac after a few minutes.

“Actually, I’m a marine.”

The older man let out a raspy but equally enduring laugh. “Now, Sarah Mackenzie, you might pass for a lawyer, but you don’t look like any marine I’ve ever seen.” The smile widened. “And I mean that with the deepest respect.”

Mac nodded and took it with such, deciding that she truly liked this Monty Flannigan. And this place.

Harm was sure that at the very least, the man could see straight.

“You’ll be wanting food,” Monty voiced, and didn’t make it into a question.

Before either had a chance to answer, a petite fireball of a redhead, with a chin-length bundle of curls and grass green eyes, came from the kitchen and settled between the two bar stools. Now that she’d gotten a closer look at the taller, masculine half of the visiting American duo, she felt her long, tiresome day suddenly take a turn for the better.

Monty poured a half-pint of lager for another customer then turned back to Harm and Mac. “This is my daughter, Shannon. She’ll see to your dinner.”

Mac offered a warm smile and asked, “Shannon, what do you like on the menu tonight?”

The young woman pointed to the large blackboard hanging across the room. “Well, my brother Colin sees to the cooking and I’m sure you’ll find it all above par. Would you like the chicken stew, fish and chips or a meat pie?”

Mac shrugged her shoulders and cracked a silly smile. “Yes.”

While Harm rolled his eyes, both Shannon and Monty fell into a rich harmony of laughter.

Shannon craned her head and gave a hearty yell into the kitchen pass way. “Colin, get yourself out here! I’ve finally found a woman fit for the likes of you!”

When Monty noticed Harm’s jaw tense up a little, he shook his finger and faced his daughter. “Now Shannon, there’s no ring on her finger but still, we don’t know if Miss Sarah here is spoken for.”

Mac glanced nervously to Harm, who simply lifted his brows. Then she turned back to the scheming Irish duo. “Well I’m not exactly…It’s, um…it’s a little complicated right now.”

Monty considered this and scratched his chin. “Complicated ‘aye? Well most of life’s greatest things spring out of a little complication here and there.” And he left it at that while the striking couple shared a brief, steady glance.

It was broken when the kitchen door swung open. At the sound of the word ‘woman,’ Colin Flannigan had tended to a boiling pot of water then scurried out to meet the visiting Americans.

Mac couldn’t deny that the man who’d wandered over wearing a food-stained, white apron was handsome. He was tall and well built, but a little shorter than Harm. His hair curled at his collar - warm brown with a hint of auburn. His green eyes were large and friendly. She introduced herself and then Harm.

Colin immediately thought that Sarah Mackenzie was something spectacular. But the way her companion brushed his hand across her shoulder, nearly inconspicuously, drew his instant respect. For sure, he’d keep his distance, but would find it a shame, indeed.

With that settled, Colin crossed his arms at his chest. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. And I’m sure you’re hungry. What can I get you, then?”

“Fish and chips,” Harm decided.

Mac looked again at the menu board. “Chicken stew, please.”

They were quiet while they waited for their food, their ears aimlessly jumping about the various conversations around them. Parents carried out their drowsy children, slumped over shoulders. They were replaced by younger groups, brimming with energy and waiting for the live music Monty had said would be starting shortly. Suddenly, an idea occurred to Mac and she flagged the barman over.

Monty came with fresh drinks and a friendly ear. “What can I do for you, Miss Sarah?”

“The reason we came – well, I was wondering if you could help me with a relative of mine from Ballyvaughan. She passed away two weeks ago.”

Monty’s face fell. “My deepest sympathies. Most of us ‘round these parts know, well, most of us. Who was she, then?”

Mac took a few minutes to tell the story. After she’d finished, Monty had remained silent for a beat. When he finally spoke, it was hesitantly, as if he was trying to fit together the details as he went along.

“When you said that you never knew of Margaret, I wasn’t surprised. I’ve lived here all my life and have barely said a handful of words to her.” He fiddled with the towel in his apron belt then looked up. “She always kept to herself – maybe came in here once or twice to escape the rain or such. Maybe I saw her in town from time to time. Usually at the market. But she always walked with her head down. Sarah, Ballyvaughan’s a friendly town for the most part. If she was alone, it was by her choice.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

Somehow, Mac wasn’t surprised by his words. “The reason she was so alone, so sad…”

Monty shook his head. “God only knows.”

Mac stole a quick look at Harm and nodded pensively. She brightened a bit when Shannon placed a steaming white bowl and a side plate of a hunk of crusty, brown bread in front of her. She tasted her dish and sighed. “Harm, that’s it. We’re eating here everyday.”

Harm sampled the golden, lightly battered piece of cod. “No argument here. Between Eileen’s breakfasts and this place, they’re going to have to wheel us back to D.C.”

Mac deftly stole one of his wedge-cut fried potatoes and popped it into her mouth. “Yeah. But it’s totally worth it.”

About halfway through their meal, Monty strolled over and pointed to the three gentlemen, dressed in black, who’d settled on stools in the far corner of the bar. “You hear these men and their music once and you’ll never forget it.”

Mac noticed the patrons working together to push a few of the tables out of the way. Within seconds, a good sized empty space had been created. “There’s going to be dancing?” she asked.

Monty was already drumming his fingers along the edge of the bar, anticipating the tunes he’d grown up with. “Of course. It’s what we do. You’ll join in?” he asked, shifting his glance from Mac to Harm.

Horrified, Harm shook his head rapidly. “Uh, no thanks. I think I’ll just play spectator.”

Monty frowned and looked at Mac expectantly.

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, Monty, I think I’d make a fool…” but her words were lost as the first few notes of flute, harp and Irish accordion filled the room. The melody was a slow, haunting swirl or minor tones that brought shivers to her skin. She looked over at Harm, who appeared to be equally moved. She felt his palm cup her shoulder and rest there lightly, but she felt the warm, comfortable smile he’d shared along with it, even more.

The melody turned then, building, quickening and brightening into a rhythmic jig that had every customer clapping along in time. The first four couples occupied the dancing space in two lines, skipping and swaying around one another with steps that were born centuries before.

Out of nowhere, Shannon flung her apron on the bar and pulled Harm off of the stool. “C’mon, Yank, you’ll learn the reel and have a story to tell later.”

He turned around to Mac with pleading eyes but she shook her head and grinned. “Be a sport, Navy! Show us what you’re made of!”

She was so enthralled with watching Harm’s makeshift dancing lesson that she realized, a second too late, that she too was being dragged to an empty corner by none other than Colin, minus the apron. “I guess I had it coming,” she conceded.

Colin laughed and demonstrated the first move. “That’s right. And you’ve the better teacher. I’ll get you caught up and then you’ll partner with your friend, there.”

Mac found the steps surprisingly simple. It was the order of them that puzzled her at first. But after a few minutes, the Irish in her took over, as if she’d always had it buried within her.

When the lesson finished, she watched brother signal to sister. The musicians paused for a tuning and she found herself standing directly across the floor from Harm. There was a cocky, wicked gleam in his eye and challenge in his stance. But she’d learned a few tricks herself.

The music started up again and she wound herself down and through the line, coyly avoiding the eyes of the one she’d eventually come back to. The rhythm pulsed through her system until she totally forgot who and where she was. She was all instrument now, she was all woman, who’d found sharp, sudden communion with the ones that had come before her and had danced in this very spot. She was swinging hair and burning calves and flushed cheeks. Her boot-covered feet tapped and swayed, her arms lifted and lowered until a familiar pair of larger hands grasped her own and claimed her, as the dance required. She felt the heat. He turned her and swung her under his arm and back around again. They smiled and laughed but held their necks steady, never looking down. The steps brought them closer, teasing, taunting, never quite fulfilling. She lightly touched his shoulders; barely grazed the rounded collar of his sweater, lightly damp with sweat. And then she was whisked away by a neighboring gentleman to start the reel again.

Harm imagined that feuds were started and ended, wordlessly in this dance. Love had blossomed and ebbed, friendships and deals had been forged. The dance was language. He wondered then, what exactly Sarah Mackenzie had said to him as he’d held her close and felt the red-hot flow of blood under her skin. She was coming down the line again, with a body made for movement. Again he took his prize and spun her around then pulled her just a little tighter, a little nearer this time. His motions spoke what his words had yet to dare. You’re mine now. You always were.

They danced until the clock scolded and the musicians begged for mercy. After thanking the Flannigans, they laughed themselves all the way back to Carroll house. Out of the car, the frigid air lapped up the beads of sweat at their temples. They were mindful of the sleeping little ones as they crept up the darkened stairwell on their tiptoes.

At Mac’s door, she let out a half-yawn, half-sigh and rubbed her hands together. “Harm, thank you,” she said quietly. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”

He nodded. “You looked good out there, Mac.”

“I can say the same for you.”

God, he wanted to kiss her. And hours before, he’d made up his mind that there was no way he was leaving the country without doing just that. But he also knew that this was not the time. Something had shifted between them and he truly sensed that the delicate scale, balanced between friendship and love, had begun to tilt in his favor tonight. He’d give her a few more hours to figure it out for herself. He simply took her hands and squared his stance. “Sleep tight, Marine. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and in the dim light of the hall, saw the quiet, tranquil joy in his eyes. She watched him draw closer and felt his lips on one cheek, then the other in a movement so slow and timeless that her eyelids drifted downwards, at rest. “Goodnight, Harm.”

“Goodnight, dancing lady.”

She flicked on her bedroom light and floated around the room to the music that still played on in her mind. She changed into her pajamas and washed her face clean. The bed was wide and welcoming; the covers drawn back neatly by Eileen while she’d been at the bar. In the dark, the wind came again. With her head burrowed into the pillow, she listened anxiously and cast her eyes to the window. But this time, her heart remained still and filled with calm, nudging her to sleep – as if it knew that there would be no weeping tonight.

Chapter 7

“Uh-oh,” Harm slurred and pointed to the small pack of chattering women with name badges who’d just exited a clothing shop. “We’ve got a band of quilters at eleven hundred.” He turned off the engine and reached for the door handle.

Mac patted her purse and winked. “I swiped a couple of Eileen’s knitting needles. You’re safe with me, Harm.”

Her companion only chuckled.

The day was clear and unusually warm for the season. They’d made do with jeans and thick sweaters and set out shortly after breakfast into Ballyvaughan village. Galway Bay was only yards away, just past a tree-lined green belt and rock wall border. The tangy, briny scent of the water carried into town. Birds dove and grazed the surface of the sea for food, their calls echoing into the narrow streets.

“What do you have in mind for Mattie?” Mac asked. They’d just passed Monty’s. It was closed now, but they’d stop in later for a drink.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sweater or jewelry?” He shrugged. “What was that jewelry shop Eileen mentioned?”

“Hmm, it’s called Quinn’s.” She pointed to a pale green painted building across the street and down the block. “Over there.”

A little bell dinged on the door when Harm pushed it open. The shop was small and spotless, with a few glass cases filled with trinkets and shelves stacked with gift items.

Mac looked to the far corner and saw someone familiar chatting with a salesman. The hair was an instant giveaway. She nudged Harm’s shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that Shannon, Monty’s daughter?”

At the mention of her name, the bubbly redhead turned and smiled. “Harm and Sarah.” She walked up and greeted them both. “I trust you’ve recovered from your first experience with the Irish dance?”

Harm winced and rubbed a still-aching hamstring muscle. “Just barely. And I thought I was in shape.”

The ladies laughed then Shannon asked, “Shopping for something special today?”

Harm glanced around the room. “Yes. For a teenaged girl. Maybe you can help us?”

“Of course.” As the owner reached for the ringing phone, Shannon led Harm and Mac around the display cases.

Mac peered at a row of gold rings. Each featured a crown above two hands, clasping a heart in the middle. It was a design she’d seen before but knew nothing about. “Aren’t these Claddagh rings? Don’t they have a special meaning or something?”

Shannon nodded and showed her hand where an identical ring was worn. “This one was my mum’s. She passed when I was just a girl.”

Mac glanced at Harm then they both looked back at Shannon with downcast eyes. Before they could express their condolences, the young woman waved her hand and smiled genuinely.

“Typically, the Claddagh ring is a betrothal gift. Or, it could be given from father to daughter for a future betrothal.” She twirled the band of gold. “The crown is for loyalty, the hands for friendship and the heart for love.” Shannon looked up at the handsome duo. “Now, the tradition says to wear the ring on your right hand with the heart facing outwards if love is in your future. Wearing it on the right hand with the heart facing inward says that you’re considering love. And worn on the left hand with the heart facing inward says you’re joined in life and love to another forever.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Mac said wistfully. “Harm, I think Mattie would love one.”

He agreed and accepted the velvet tray the salesman had brought out. “That one, please,” he said, pointing to a ring in a size he liked. He held the piece up to the light, sighed, then smiled wryly. “Well, even if she won’t tell me what’s going on with those boys at school, at least the ring might give me some clue. Can it be engraved?”

The balding salesman nodded. “Of course. Come with me to pay and we’ll decide on an inscription.”

While Harm consulted with the owner, Mac chatted with Shannon. “So, doing a little shopping before work?

Shannon held out a glossy black box. She lifted it to reveal an engraved, sterling silver cross. “For my dearest friend. She just had a baby girl and I’m the godmother.”

“It’s so lovely,” Mac said and shifted her eyes for a closer look at Shannon’s ring. “Now Shannon, let’s see, your ring is on your right hand with the heart turned inward.” She raised her brows. “Is there a special gentleman that you’re considering a love relationship with?”

Shannon blushed and leaned in. “Yes, but I’m trying to keep it quiet for now. I’ve had the ring this way for weeks and my father, daft as he is at times, hasn’t seemed to notice.” She rolled her eyes. “’Tis a small space we live in, even smaller when I’ve got two ornery men always looking over me shoulder.”

Mac nodded in sympathy. “You should get out on your own. You’re certainly old enough.”

“Believe me; I’m meaning to do just that. Colin’s the worst of them. I so wish he’d marry and find another woman to bother.”

Ready to go and slightly suspicious, Harm strolled over, his steps wary, but still in time with the blatantly feminine jingle of laughter.

***

Margaret’s cottage was blue. A delicate, pale blue that melded with sky and sea. As Harm drove the little car up and around the winding road, she felt a tingle up her spine when it first came into view. From far away, it looked like a doll house, a miniscule speckle against massive backdrop of the ocean cliffs.

From close up, it wasn’t much bigger. But it was adorable, with fresh, white trim and a farmhouse door. A dark green clinging mass of vines spread up and over, from wall to roof.

A faded brown pick-up was parked near the door, with an old man seated upon the open tailgate.

Mac made Mr. Flynn wait a little longer. She’d followed Harm out of the car, but needed a few seconds to get her feet moving.

Harm brushed her shoulder and she turned. Pensive. “You ready to see it?”

Her sigh was long and heavy. Then she nodded. “Let’s go.”

Jason Flynn was dressed in clothing fit for farming. “You must be Sarah Mackenzie.” He smiled and held out a hand.

Mac took it and introduced Harm. They hadn’t yet made it past the threshold but she looked around from side to side, taking in every detail. The windows were French-paned and spotless. A few white flowers still grew in the front - a sign that more had filled the little yard and had been carefully tended to. She looked up at Mr. Flynn. “You’ve taken such good care of it. Thank you.”

The old man tipped his plaid, wool cap, revealing a stubby tuft of gray. “I’ve kept the walls painted and the yard trimmed. A fine piece of land, it is.”

Mac nodded and watched Mr. Flynn present a brass key, old and tarnished. She opened her palm, closing her hand around it. Before she put it in the door, Harm tapped her shoulder.

“Do you want to go in by yourself?”

Immediately, she shook her head.

It was the simplest of gestures, but his heart swelled.

Mac unlocked the door and walked into the tiny sitting room with the men behind her. The floors were a glossy, blond oak. The room was bare, the walls white. Each step in was like walking backwards, but not into the horrors of the childhood she’d fought so desperately to overcome. No, this was a new, distant pain. A different pain. It hit her forcefully and quickened her breath for a beat. It was so strange, this cozy warmth mixed with an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

The kitchen was to the right. Again, perfectly maintained with blue tiled counters and a two-burner stove. She put her hand and eyes to the small square window over the porcelain sink. She knew Mr. Flynn’s farm was there, somewhere in the nearby hills, but the window only showed the gross, wild expanse of green. It was so prolific, she felt like she could drown in all that grass, much more than in the sea at the other side. Yes, someone could easily become lost here.

Silent, the trio walked to the bedroom. There was the ocean. The well-placed window near the most logical place for a bed showcased the foamy, white-capped water. A fishing boat passed by in the distance. She turned. “Mr. Flynn, I never knew about Margaret. Can you tell me about her?”

The old man cocked his head. “I was only a lad when she came here. I’m not even sure where from. She rarely spoke. I remember my mum bringing over a loaf of bread once. I was clutched to her knee, then. Margaret was thankful enough but never heeded the invitations for supper at the farm.” He gestured around the room. “This was her place. She rarely left it. Years passed and I myself, married. The farm’s been mine for nearly forty years. Margaret loved the gardens. I’d see her when the weather was fair. And the cliffs. Mainly there, she stayed.”

“And when she went to Ennis?”

“She never contacted me about keeping up the place. It was Mr. O’Leary. I’d heard that a nephew of hers from the states made arrangements for her care.”

Mac’s stomach churned. “My father. I knew nothing about this.”

“Miss Sarah, perhaps your aunt didn’t want to be known about. But, she must’ve known about you. Most folks in her state would’ve sold the property. It was kept for a reason.”

Mac wondered so desperately exactly where and why, in this country, foreign yet inching so closely to her heart, the reasons had been hidden.

When Mr. Flynn left, Harm explored the cliffs and gave her some time alone in the cottage. She ambled from room to room, trying to crawl into the mind of the one who’d lived here, alone, for so many years. “C’mon, Aunt Margaret. Tell me your story,” she said aloud, rubbing her flattened palm across a cool, white wall. But the little house stayed silent and even the strange feelings that had come over her so sharply began to wane until only the bare basics of wood and plaster, paint and porcelain remained. Soon, she was finished.

She found Harm sitting on the edge of the cliffs. He’d heard her steps through the tall grass and turned, patting a spot next to him.

“I could stare at this all day,” he said.

She clasped her arms around her knees. “That’s a navy man for you.” But she couldn’t deny the compelling lull of the water. It gurgled and splattered against the ancient wall of rocks, in a cycle that never stopped. The waves possessed such control, such fortitude here, the way they forced themselves around any obstacle, floating or steady. The water adapted and morphed, it lapped and worked the craggy limestone, time and time again until it had worn the surface smooth. Domination. Persistence. Power.

She envied it.

“Your cottage is really something. And this,” Harm pointed to the sea, “the view is priceless. What are you going to do with it?”

She kept her gaze locked forward. “Don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to have all the answers yet.”

She snorted. “I don’t have any of the answers yet.”

He rubbed his hand against her arm. She wore a thick, black cabled sweater. A rift of breeze came, blowing her hair into her eyes. After a bit, she’d had enough and fished a black rubber band out of her pocket. Seconds later, her hair was pulled back and off her face. He liked it that way.

Mac spoke without preamble. “I got a weird feeling in the cottage.”

“Weird, how?”

She shrugged. “Like something wasn’t finished there. Like she’d sold off all the furniture, packed up a few items and cleared the heck out. But left a little part of her life behind.”

“Well, this whole country is filled with, I don’t know, all sorts of weird stuff.”

She had to smile at his eloquent, intelligent analysis.

“C’mon, Mac, all that faerie lore? The ghosts? You heard it for yourself the other night…” he stopped when she suddenly turned white. “Wait a minute,” he noted, his face puzzled as realization came.

It was useless to make him guess. He knew her too well and it was only a matter of time before he figured it out for himself. “Kathleen’s weeping. I heard it,” she admitted. She didn’t mention the bird and wasn’t sure if she ever would.

His eyes bulged. “You did?”

She nodded. “On our first day here when I took a nap. And later, when we walked by the cottage.”

He remembered now. “What did it sound like?”

She closed her eyes then opened them again in the span of a second. “It was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

This surprised him. He knew all too well that this woman had heard a lot of sadness in her lifetime.

“If it’s real…God, it’s so strange I can’t even wrap my mind around it.” She wrung her hands together and finally began to siphon out the truth. “You know what’s even stranger, Harm?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve cried like that. The exact same sound.”

His breath started to slow. “When, Mac?” he whispered, shifting just a little closer. They were getting there now. He was sure of it.

Her eyes glazed. And damn, she just couldn’t say it.

Harm faced her dead on. “When?” he repeated. When she remained silent, he tried a different tactic. “Mac, that story Eileen told, some parts of it hit a little too close to home.” A thunderous wave crashed below, the force of it, ironically softening the edge of the words. They’d been a risk.

“Yeah they did,” she finally whispered then raised her tone as she continued. “You know what I thought? Kathleen and Declan lived nearly three hundred years ago. So much has changed in the world since then. Look at technology. We dress better now. We eat better. We travel better. We heal our sick better. Hell, now you can turn on your computer, pay your bills, and chat with someone in India while you’re ordering an evening gown and an extra large pizza. We live better. But…”

“But what?”

She took a smooth, round pebble and flung it into the water. “But we don’t love better, Harm.”

“No.”

“Declan and Kathleen – they screwed up so badly. And when they realized, it was…damn it, I’m talking about them as if they were real. And it’s too wild. I just can’t go there yet.”

“So don’t go there.” He squared his jaw and pointed to the empty space of rock that still separated them. “Go here. Let’s just make this about you and me.”

Her voice was with tipped with frustration. “You and me?” she questioned. “You mean the countless ways we’ve invented to screw that up?”

He fought to keep steady. “Yeah, we have, but that’s over now. No matter what’s happened, it’s not too late. And this time, if you tell me it is, I won’t accept it.”

Holy Lord, who was this man? She looked at him, saw the simple, bold determination and found her breath stolen away. A winding trail of tears broke through. “I cried like that for you. For you, Harm.”

The hearing of it saddened him beyond belief, even though he’d already known. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I wanted you. Okay? That’s it. There’s the truth. I. wanted. You.” She spaced the words out evenly, though her voice was nothing but steady.

His hands braced her shoulders. “And I wanted you, Mac.” When she moved to speak again, he shook his head. “But I let you down. I was afraid of it and I hurt you. More than once.”

This softened her. Instantly. And she’d had no idea it was coming. Her eyelashes fluttered through the wetness. “We’ve let each other down. I did what Kathleen did. But I did it twice.”

For an instant, he felt a residual tinge of the pain that had stung like fire upon both of those moments, though years apart. Yet, the blame hadn’t been hers alone. “Mac, you know there’s a bit of good ole’ Declan in me, too.”

She understood and nodded. “We’ve wasted so much time running circles around one another. Misunderstanding and second guessing. But the thing is…”

“What’s the thing?”

The sound that came out of her mouth could easily have been a laugh or a sob. “I can’t seem to get away from you, or be away from you. No matter what. That’s the thing.”

Even in the tension, he couldn’t resist a hesitant smile. “Yeah, I’m kind of annoying that way.” When he noticed the corner of her mouth rise just a bit, he squeezed her shoulders. “You ever stop to wonder why that is? What you’ve wanted, what I’ve wanted, it’s the same thing, Mac. It’s always been and it’s not going away. Can’t you believe that?”

She cut her glance away. “I’ve made a habit out of not believing it. I thought it was the only way I’d survive. Maybe, through the years, I knew that you needed me. Maybe even wanted me a little.”

He met her glance and shook his head. With one finger, he touched the smooth skin under her eyes and brushed it dry. “A lot, Mac. I wanted you a lot. But before, I could never close the deal.”

“And now?” she questioned, the hope right there in front of her, as real as the water, the land, the rocks, the white cotton clouds. She only had to grasp it.

He smiled then, softly. “Now I’m ready to listen to what you’d said at the beach that day, months ago. We need to stop dissecting this thing.” He casually lifted a shoulder. “How about we try something new? Something totally out of character for the both of us?”

Interested, she cocked her head. “Like what?”

“How about, for once, you don’t run from me? And this thing between us, this thing that’s never going to fade – you really believe in it. You believe in me.”

She felt something in her heart. Like a glimmering little jewel. “And what about you?”

His body covered the distance. Their legs touched, their hands closed around each other’s elbows. He leaned his face forward, slowly, holding it inches away from hers. “For once, Mac, I’ll give you something real to believe in.”

Chapter 8

Halfway in his arms, she felt a shudder that traveled from head to foot. Something real to believe in, he’d said. God, she could feel his breath. “Describe this ‘something real.’”

The waiting was torturous, but he hiked a brow and grinned as he saw her playful smile. Finally. “It involves me holding you in my arms, as closely as I can, rubbing my hands over every inch of skin I can find. And I’ll kiss you, slowly and deeply for as long as you’ll let me. Then I’ll do it again about a thousand times.”

“My,” she said, breathless, and moistened her lips, “you came up with that ‘something’ pretty darn quickly.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it,” he whispered and took her mouth, making good on his promises and aiming to surpass them.

The feel of him was heaven, the taste of him, everything sinfully decadent she’d ever imagined. She’d known this man knew how to kiss a woman. But this time, she hadn’t been prepared for the way he completely robbed her of all of her sensibilities. Finding no practical use at the moment, her mind had deserted her. She was nothing now but mouth and hands and heart and she gave them freely.

The primal and utterly annoying need for air finally forced them apart, but only slightly. In awe, he shook his head. “Wow.”

She laughed - a low, throaty sound. “That about sums it up.”

He kissed her again gently then hauled her sideways into his lap. Together, they watched the water for a minute then felt the ache of separation. He brushed her lips with his. “You’re so beautiful, Mac.”

She sighed dreamily and cupped his face. There were lines and crevices she wanted to touch, to explore. His body felt so right against hers – the strength of it, the mystery of it. She was sure it held secrets. She gestured to the beauty surrounding them. “I’ll always remember this as the place you first kissed me.”

It was a lovely sentiment, but he still tilted his head. “Well, technically, we’ve kissed before. A couple of times. It’s nowhere near the same situation, but…”

She crinkled her nose and poked out her lip a little. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He looked outward at a single, rolling wave. When it finally hit the rocks, he found her pretty brown eyes again. “We could always remember it as the place where I first told you I loved you.”

This earned him a stunned, wide-eyed look.

A little nervous and caught up in total euphoria, he began to ramble. “Listen, Mac, I just wanted you to know.”

“Harm,” she said.

Oblivious, he continued. “I know you still have a lot to work through.”

“Harm.”

“I understand if it’s too soon and you can’t…”

“Good Lord, Navy,” she cried and kissed the life right out of him. He looked a little dazed when she released him. “Hi,” she said, straightening his lopsided sweater.

“Hi.” He smiled. It came out crooked. “If you wanted me to shut up, you sure found the method.”

She grinned and waited for her face to even out. “What if I want to say it back?”

He tightened his hold around her and kissed her softly, just because he could. She’d only been his for minutes, yet he knew, at the same time, she’d somehow always been. “Really?” he asked.

She nodded. “Obviously, I didn’t tell you the other day, but it was one of the other things I’ve sort of figured out lately.”

“That you love me?” He nuzzled into her. She smelled like springtime. “Despite my being, well, me?” he asked.

She bit back a giggle then fell into seriousness again. “That I couldn’t help myself. That even through all the mess, I never really stopped.”

He understood, took her hand and kissed it.

“But I thought it could never happen for us. And I pretended my way around it.”

Remembering, he nodded.

Her words came out upon a fragile sob. “Pretending sucks, Harm.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve done my share of it, too.”

She looked up at him. “I’m tired. I’m so damn tired of it.”

“No more pretending,” he whispered and barely touched her lips with his.

“I love you, Harm.” She freed the words into the surrounding landscape. She swore she could even see them, the bright, happy colors of them as they swirled from sea to grass, landing near the cottage door, where later, a flower would grow.

He braced her shoulders. “I love you,” he stated with a voice low and rough that left no room for doubt. “I love you, Mac.” This time it was soft and tender but followed by a searing kiss that was nothing of the sort. He put everything he had into it.

They sat together, the rocks at their feet and their arms entangled. They were silent now. The words that had been said had been so monumental, just the simple, precious memory of them had been enough.

When the blue blanket sky began to fade, Harm rose and pulled her up, draping an arm around her shoulders. They walked towards the car but when they passed the cottage door he felt her steps slow. “You want to go in one more time before we leave?”

In fact, she did. “If you don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “C’mon.”

For the second time today, she unlocked the door and planted her feet in the middle of the living area.

He stood behind her, his arms snug around her shoulders. “You’re a home owner now.” He felt a rumble in her chest when she giggled. “What?”

“Just a couple of minor problems. The house is in the wrong country, but, even more importantly, that closet’s way too small for all of my shoes.”

He thumped his chin on top of her head and sighed. “Oh Lord, ladies footwear. I knew I had a reason to be jealous of that guy, what’s his name? Jimmy Shoe?”

She spun around and rolled her eyes. “It’s Jimmy Choo, you goof!” She fell into a laugh but he kissed it away. When they parted she relaxed in his arms. “I wish I could thank her,” she said, shattering the quiet of the long, sweet moment.

“Margaret?”

Mac nodded. “She brought me here. I mean, the timing - it was like she knew somehow. In a way, she helped me find something.”

“Like a home or a part of your past?”

She met his gaze and placed a hand on his cheek. “Something I thought I’d lost.”

He let out a slow breath and gently circled her wrist. “You never really lost it. It’s always been yours. Only yours.” He kissed her once, then twice. When he pulled back, her eyes were misty again. They’d come so far, but he knew there was so much left to do. “Look, Mac, I know you’re still dealing with some things. I’m not going to pretend that this fixes everything.”

She snuggled closer into him. He was warm. And hers. “No, not everything. Only time will fix that.” And a miracle, she almost said. Instead she tried to focus on the miracle in her arms. “But it helps. More than you know, Harm.”

He pulled the stretchy band from her hair. It tumbled onto her shoulders and he fiddled with it absently. “There’s no need to rush through this thing between us. We’ll take it as slow as you want. Just let me be by your side.”

“’Kay.”

“And let me do this.” He grabbed her, pulling her devastatingly close. “And this.” He kissed her, nothing soft about it. “And as long as you don’t mind me saying I love you about a hundred times a day, we’re good.”

“Will you call me up in the middle of the night just to tell me?”

He laughed. “Twice.”

“Just keep it out of the courtroom.”

He raised a brow and gave her a silly grin. “So I’ll make up a hand signal or something.”

Her mouth flew open. “Harmon Rabb, who knew you were such a sap?”

He swooped her up and twirled her around the empty room. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” When he set her down, their eyes met in a heated gaze and they indulged themselves in a kiss that time forgot about.

“There’s one more thing that isn’t negotiable,” he said with the little breath he had left.

Her lips were warm and bruised. “What’s that?”

“Not that I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go. You can put two and two together and figure out what that means.” His stare burned right through her. “If you want slow, you can have it now. But it’s only a matter of time.”

She clambered for air and failed. How long had she waited for these words from this man? It was almost too much for her to absorb. The tears she’d kept tucked into the rims of her eyes began to spill.

His face darkened “I’m sorry. I got carried away - I didn’t mean to overwhelm you or…”

She held up her hand, halting his rapid flow of words, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s okay. I just love you.”

Relieved, he tightened his hold at her waist. “Just as long as those are happy tears.”

She nodded and her stomach growled fiercely.

“And that’s another sign I’d better pay attention to if I know what’s good for me. Let’s get something to eat?”

She wiped her face dry and smiled. “You’ve got a date.”

And finally, he truly did.

***

Never mind that they’d already been to Monty’s earlier for a drink; they strutted in the door at dinnertime and found seats at the bar. They were regulars now. The true regulars tipped their hats and knew them both by name. They thought it was a blast.

Monty didn’t even ask for a drink order. They’d barely scooted in their barstools before finding themselves in front of a pint of Guinness and a china cup filled with hot tea strong enough to dance a jig itself.

Monty leaned forward and produced a notepad. “Shannon’s on an errand. I’ll see to your dinner.”

Harm looked at Mac then back at his new friend. “Just surprise us.”

Suspicious, Monty creased his forehead. Upon a closer look, both of their cheeks seemed awfully flushed. He stood on his toes and peered over the bar. Sure enough, the Yank had his hand firmly grasped around Sarah’s. “Well, bloody hell!” He grinned and slapped his hand on the bar. “You two have finally made a go of it?”

Mac leaned her head into Harm’s shoulder. “You could say that.”

“Well, congratulations, then! It’s all on me tonight,” he decreed then turned mischievous.

This time around, Harm and Mac knew it was coming and braced themselves.

Monty yelled so loudly; those in the neighboring pubs likely took notice. “Raise your glasses with me! This day a fine, honorable Yank has finally come to his senses and declared his intentions. And the lovely lady here stuck around long enough to hear ‘em! Slainte!”

The crowd robustly echoed the age-old sentiment. When the laughter and cheering died down, Harm placed a sweet peck on Mac’s lips.

“I love you,” she mouthed.

He kissed her again and grinned brilliantly. “We’re obviously going to have to work on our stealth aptitude. I wonder how long it’ll take Eileen to notice.”

Mac snorted. “She probably already knows. That woman has radar built into her kitchen utensils.”

They laughed and ate and laughed some more. Later, a lone musician came with his harp and his richly toned voice. Tonight, the tunes were slow and melodic, the velvety lyrics paying tribute to love and land and life. Monty built a fire in the old, blackened hearth. The lights were lowered until the room was painted in sepia tones. And as the coppery flames hovered among the bricks, they sat close together, listening and loving. But they felt like they were dancing.

Chapter 9

Mac sat up - pin straight, blew a quick breath from her mouth, and swung her legs out of bed. It was late. Damn late. Less than an hour before, Harm had stood at her doorway and kissed her goodnight. At least ten times. When it finally became ridiculous, he’d let her go.

She was miserable.

With a robe draped loosely over her shoulders, she tiptoed into the hallway. Thankfully, his door was unlocked and she slowly turned the knob. Three steps in, she collided with a strong wall of chest.

“Harm…”

“Mac…”

He steadied them both as they tried to hold their laughter. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little lonely.” She wound her arms around his shoulders and felt the familiar fleece material of his Academy sweatshirt. “Wait a minute, were you...?”

“Six minutes ago, I was going to give you five to get over here.”

The thought of it alone brought out a sultry laugh, and even though there wasn’t a flicker of light in the room, she managed to find his lips. “Can I stay? I just want to sleep in your arms.”

“It just so happens, I have two in fine working order.” He tasted her mouth again, rubbing his hands over her back under the light robe. “Mmm, are these the blue silk ones?”

“Uh-huh.”

He picked her up gently and laid her on the bed. “You look pretty.”

“It’s pitch black in here, silly.” She felt a dip in the mattress and found herself hauled up to his side.

“I know,” he whispered and kissed her for the last time tonight. “I Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She rested her head in the crook of his arm and found that it was a perfect fit.

***

Two mornings later, Mac surreptitiously inched open the door to Harm’s room and peeked out into the hallway. She knew she had no reason to be self-conscious; she was a grown woman after all. But getting caught in her bathrobe in the wee hours of the morning by a certain someone really wasn’t her ideal way to start the day.

Surprisingly, they hadn’t seen Eileen since breakfast the day before. And a huge spilled milk catastrophe, courtesy of the bickering Fagan boys, had drawn the hostess’ attention away from the fact that her guest in the bridal suite couldn’t keep her eyes off the dangerously sexy naval commander who happened to love her.

No, it hadn’t been a dream. Just like this morning, she’d awakened into yesterday with his lips grazing her neck and those enormous, very-real arms wrapped snugly around her. They were supposed to have gone to Ennis but Harm had other plans. He’d wanted to spend a leisurely day with her and she hadn’t needed much convincing. After a quick phone call to Mr. O’Leary to push back their meeting, they’d set out right after breakfast. They’d walked arm in arm in the hills and shopped for souvenirs in the village. At lunchtime, they’d wandered into Monty’s but were immediately banished to the entryway while Shannon fixed a basket filled with sandwiches and sweets. Monty had brought over a large, thick wool blanket and basically ordered them to make use of the unusually mild weather by picnicking at the bay. The cozy, warm combination of Harm and a big wooly blanket had been enough to plant a smile on her face that had lasted for hours.

And now, as she finally padded through the doorway, her mind was mush and she was still smiling. Not three steps to her own room, Eileen appeared right in front of her carrying a stack of fresh towels. Where on earth had she come from? The military could find numerous uses for this woman.

“Good morning, Sarah,” Eileen said brightly.

Mac lifted her face and saw the older woman take in her appearance with one, covert motion of from head to toe and back again. She bit her lip when an unmistakable gleam bounced from Eileen’s eye. “Um, good morning,” she eeked out.

Eileen adjusted a lopsided hand towel. “You’ll be traveling to Ennis today?”

Mac nodded. “Shortly after breakfast.”

They shared a long look that dissolved into knowing smiles at both ends.

Eileen reached out to touch Mac’s arm. A tender, maternal gesture. “He’s a fine man, Sarah,” she said. And that was all there was to it.

Mac knew she was blushing. “Yes. He is.”

“I was just thinking,” Eileen voiced, darting her eyes around the hall. Then she stopped and shrugged her shoulders. “You’re here for three more days. No use wasting your money on two rooms if only one is needed?” Her brows rose slightly.

Mac had to smile at this. “Actually, Eileen, I’ll go ahead and keep it. My stuff’s all unpacked in there and, well,” she paused, leaning in a little, “this thing between Harm and I is still new. And knowing him, he’s bound to make an ass of himself at some point and I’ll need a place of my own to escape to.”

Before Eileen could open her mouth, a whirlwind with the face of Robert whooshed passed them towards the staircase. When he reached the bottom, he must’ve stubbed a toe or something because he let out a string of colorful expletives that echoed throughout the freshly dusted rooms.

Both ladies turned to one another, biting back a giggle.

“Two rooms it is,” Eileen said dryly. “Lord, what was I thinking?”

***

She laced her hands together in the passenger seat and was glad Harm was doing the driving. The closer they’d gotten to Ennis, the more her stomach had began to flutter at the anticipation of what she’d find there. The city was charming enough, and any other time she would’ve wanted to stop and explore the winding streets and stone-covered shops.

Their meeting, minutes before, with Mr. O’Leary had gone well. She’d found him to be professional and likeable and he’d seemed genuinely pleased when a few signatures made her the official owner of the Ballyvaughan cottage.

He’d directed them to Bishop’s Manor to pick up Margaret’s things. It was a brick building with black shutters and neatly trimmed Boxwood shrubs perched under the front windows. As Harm pulled into an empty space, she was surprised at how quickly and forcefully the anxiety had come. Though inviting enough on the outside, it was what was facing her on the inside that had her worried. She unbuckled her seatbelt but clamped her hand around the door handle until it turned white.

“You sure you’re ready to do this?” Harm asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s silly of me to be feeling this way.”

Harm stowed the keys and crossed his arms at his chest. “It’s not silly. And it’s your choice, Mac. No one says you have to go in there or even open that box. Hell, you say the word and whatever’s in there gets donated and we get on a plane back to Dulles. Case closed.”

She peeled away her hand and pointed with one finger. “Good one, Harm. Playing to my natural investigative tendencies.”

“So did it work?”

She made a circle with her lips and blew out a rush of air. Then she flicked the door handle. “C’mon, Sailor.”

The paneled reception room smelled of old wood and rosewater perfume. They were shown to the director’s office to wait. Her name was Mary and after a few minutes, she breezed in wearing a beige tweed suit, her graying hair swept up into a bun.

“Here you are, Ms. Mackenzie,” Mary said and placed a medium sized cardboard box in the center of her desk.

Mac eyed the box suspiciously. “It seems odd. This is all she had?”

On instinct, Mary double checked the neatly typed label on the top flap. “Yes. Her clothing and such was given to charity. These are the things she wanted you to have, specifically.”

Satisfied, Mac nodded. She stole a sideways glance at Harm and was warmed by his gentle smile. “I’m afraid I didn’t know about Margaret until a week ago. I’ve asked around in Ballyvaughan, but no one could tell me much about her.”

Before speaking, Mary toyed absently with a paperclip. “Your aunt was always kind, but unusually quiet.”

“Let me guess,” Mac said wryly, “she kept to her room a lot and didn’t join in on too many activities?”

“Well, yes, for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“When Margaret arrived here, she was pleasant to others and the staff, but it was clear that she suffered from some form of depression. A couple of doctors were called in to see her. No matter the method, she refused to speak of the reason.”

Mac dropped her gaze to her lap, but lifted it again when Mary continued.

“Then there was Moira,” she offered quietly.

“Moira? She had a friend?”

Mary nodded primly. “Yes, for the last few years.”

At this, Mac felt a burst of something, but wondered if hope was really the right word for it. “She knows? The reason for the depression? The loneliness?”

Mary straightened her posture before answering. And when she did, her words were carefully measured. “Miss Mackenzie, most of us on staff now know the reason. Until today, I was unaware that you didn’t.”

Mac’s mouth fell open and she barely felt Harm’s hand in hers, though it was strong and secure. “Please. I need...”

Mary nodded. “Of course. But I’m aware of only a few details. Moira has the whole story. You’re welcome to speak with her if you’d like.”

Suddenly there was no hesitation. “Yes.”

With Harm carrying the box, they were led down a long corridor painted a deep, pleasing shade of blue. Mary pointed to one of the rooms and stopped in the doorway. “Moira,” she called. There was no answer but she still motioned for the couple to enter.

Mac toed her way in. The room was a perfect square, dimly lit. A little radio on a bedside table spilled out a soft Irish melody. The woman called Moira sat in a rocking chair, her gaze fixed decidedly out the window, even though the curtains had been drawn shut. She was small, but still sported a prized cap of thick, white, hair that curled delicately at her ears. A colorful knitted blanket covered her lap and Mac smiled when she saw that the woman had perfectly manicured nails painted a deep shade of pink.

“Moira,” Mary called again, and this time reached out and lightly nudged her shoulder.

Not startled in the slightest, the old woman turned in one slow, graceful motion. When she saw the lovely couple, she grinned and reached out a hand. “Oh, it’s Patrick and Ellen!”

Mary crouched low and spoke loudly. “No, no Moira.” She turned back to speak to Harm and Mac. “Her great-grandchildren. I told her they were due to come in a few days. She gets a little confused at times.” She faced Moira again. “This is Sarah and Harmon, from America. Sarah is Margaret’s grand-niece.”

At the mention of the friend she’d recently lost, Moira shook her head quickly, as if to lock everything into place. She faced the pretty brunette. “Yes. Yes, of course. Margaret.”

Mac saw no confusion now. Moira knew exactly who Margaret was. Her striking blue eyes began to cloud and she turned back to the blank window.

Mary stood and moved to the door. “I’ll leave you for a few minutes. She’s a lovely woman, really.”

“Thank you,” Harm said. He set down the box and rubbed an affectionate hand on Mac’s lower back. “Go on,” he whispered.

Mac crept up to an edge of the bed near the rocking chair. She hadn’t a clue where to start but jumped a little when Moira suddenly pointed to the radio.

“Margaret fancied this tune, especially.”

“It’s beautiful.” Mac craned her neck and tried to decipher the words. It was a song of longing and unrequited love. Not three days ago, it could’ve been her anthem.

Moira hummed a few bars of the music. “’Tis called Carrickfergus,” she said wistfully.

Mac settled herself more comfortably on the bed. This would take patience and time and she had plenty of it to give. “Did Margaret enjoy music?” she asked tentatively.

Moira nodded. A light seemed to flicker behind her eyes. “Oh, yes. Always had to have music around her, she did.”

Mac tilted her head in wonder. Music, but not people. “Margaret was blessed to have a friend like you.”

Moira suddenly became fascinated with the ceiling, as if an entire, secret world carried on above her. “She talked to me.”

When Moira kept her head upward, Mac turned back to Harm with a questioning glance.

He came forward and found a place on the bed beside her. “Just keep at it. You’re getting there,” he whispered.

“Moira,” Mac finally said, “she didn’t talk to you at first. Isn’t that right?”

“Nor to anyone.” Moira began to smile and sway at the pictures suspended in the air. They were memories. “Not until she found out about the babe,” she murmured.

Mac began to tremble. Babe. The babe? Baby. Oh, God. “Margaret had a baby?”

Only now did Moira lower her head, but the rest of her remained in a faraway place that no one else could enter. “The babe was mine. Stillborn, it was.”

Mac released a heavy breath and leaned into Harm’s hand when it clamped on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Moira.”

The old woman nodded. “I went on to have three more. Fine, healthy children, they are.”

Mac acknowledged this with a half-smile. “Moira, what about your baby made Margaret want to talk to you?”

She wove her slim fingers together, forming a cup with her hands. “Ahhh. You see, she saw a bit of her pain in my own. Only then did she free it.”

Puzzled, Mac lowered her eyes. A bit of her pain? She suddenly folded her legs and knelt at the foot of Moira’s chair. “Tell me. Please, Moira.”

The words were clearer now. “Margaret married very young – a man from Limerick. He took her there. But after three years passed, she still wasn’t with child. Her husband grew impatient and cruel.”

Mac was struck with a wave of sickness. The walls of the room began to close in on her. But there was more.

“He sent Margaret to a doctor. The news nearly destroyed her. Barren, she was. There would never be a baby.”

At this, Harm looked down at Mac as she simply gazed at Moira, all grace and stoic elegance. Here was the marine, here was the training. But he knew this woman, loved her more than life itself. And he knew that if he touched her now, she’d crumble into dust.

“Two days later, he left. He cursed her and set the blame on her. Others in the village, they knew as well. Margaret fell into such shame. Things were different then. Aye, they were. She fled back to Ballyvaughan. By that time, only her sister was left but she would soon marry and be on her way to America. Margaret shut her out for the most part. Her shame was so great. Her sadness, so overwhelming. She felt her living was done then. No other man would want her.”

Mac said nothing. She couldn’t. Lost in a state where images and dreams, hopes, and fears and memories came in a merciless flood, she rose and hurried out the doorway.

With a heavy sigh, Harm took the kind woman’s hands. “Thank you, Moira. And best wishes to you,” he said sincerely. Then he grabbed the box and went after Mac.

He found her halfway down the hall, leaning against the wall. There were no tears, only an obvious sense of numbness. And God, that was so much worse. “Mac,” he said softly.

“Just take me back.”

***

They were silent throughout the drive back to Carroll House. When Harm pulled up to the front, he shut off the engine. There was no sound now, no bird call or forceful gust of wind. Only their breathing. “Mac,” he finally whispered, risking a light touch on her shoulder. He was relieved when she didn’t flinch.

But when she turned, there were tears in her eyes. “Please. Not now. I need some time with this.”

“Okay. You know where I’ll be,” he said with a great more assurance than he felt. Don’t do it, Mac. I’ve just found you. Don’t you dare run from me now, he pleaded with his eyes.

She only nodded and turned to where Margaret’s box sat in the back seat. Her face darkened and she gestured wildly, as if to rid herself of it. “Just…just take that. I can’t look at it now.”

“I’ll put it in my room.” He watched her acknowledge this with a quick jolt of her head. Then she was gone.

Once inside, Mac bypassed the happy sounds of laughter and clinking tea cups that came from the parlor. She took the stairs two by two but stopped suddenly in the middle of the upstairs hallway. Someone was singing. She crumpled one shoulder against the wall and listened. The voice was sweet and clear - a mother’s voice. It called to her. She risked a few steps to the right and peered around the half-open door. It was Claire in a rocking chair, face to the window with Elisabeth curled in her lap.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.

Then the singing stopped, leaving only the rhythmic creak of the rocking chair. She left the threshold for her own room, collapsing onto the bed and closing her eyes. Sleep came then, and without her knowledge of it, her arms had shifted – elbows pointed outward, palms crossed and facing forward, poised to rock a sleepy child that did not exist.

Chapter 10

Harm looked up from his Clancy novel when he heard the noise. It came from the hallway – a delicate shuffle of shoes against wood. Then there were two faint knocks followed by the sight of the doorknob turning slowly. Seconds later, she stood in the doorway. He rearranged himself slightly in the high backed chair and watched her, watching him as he pulled his feet from the ottoman. He set down the book and motioned for her to sit there. She nodded and inched her way to the cushioned spot, her sweet face, troubled and sleepy-eyed.

She sat low, her knees even with his, and rested her forearms on her thighs.

He felt totally powerless.

But she spoke then, without preamble. “The other day, at the cliffs, when you kissed me, when you told me you loved me,” she looked into his eyes, “you didn’t say anything about my health. About the fact that I may never have a child.”

His mouth inched up a little - a soft, caring gesture reserved only for her now. “Noticed that, didn’t you?”

This caught her off guard and sent a brief, involuntary smile to her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking - we should’ve talked about it.”

With one elbow perched on the chair arm, he arched his hand above his forehead and felt the cruel sense of dread. Don’t do this, Mac. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it doesn’t matter. That would just be an insult.”

She agreed and nodded but wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“But I will tell you that it doesn’t make a difference. Those are two separate things.” He leaned close and took both of her hands. “I love you.”

She felt the tears come, but they hid in the deep, shadowed corners of her eyes. “And I love you. But…”

He chopped off the rest of her sentence. “No, there is no but.”

She shook her head. “You say that now. When everything is new and giddy. But what about five years from now? What about if in ten years there’s still no baby. What’s going to happen to us then? Can you truly live with that?”

He squeezed her hands before dropping them and tried his best to control the frustration that wanted to wrap around his words. “Mac, you were there, at the cliffs. Wasn’t I clear enough? Didn’t I open my heart enough?”

She cast her eyes downward. In shame. “I’m afraid.”

He softened now. “Afraid of what?”

She studied the floor, their shoes…anything but his face. “That I won’t be enough.” She heard the thick whoosh of air that flew from his mouth.

“I’m never, ever going to do what Margaret’s husband did. He was obviously a jerk – the lowest kind. He never really loved her.” And then he went deeper, where the problem truly lay. Look at me,” he said, lifting her chin with one finger. “I’m not your father. And I’m sure as hell not your mother. Look at all of the years, all of the heartache we’ve gone through to be together. I’m finally right where I want to be and I’m not going anywhere.”

She took the hand he offered again. “Your love – I’ve never felt anything like it. I guess I just don’t feel worthy of it. Maybe I never did.”

“Of course you didn’t. That was one of the things that kept us apart for so long.” When she tried to speak, he held up a palm. “And for a long time, I was so frightened of it that I never did anything real to convince you otherwise.” With the back of his fingers, he traced the gentle curve of her cheek. “Being with you is big. It’s huge. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. It’s love. And when I think about it, what have I ever done to deserve something like that? Someone like you?” He shook his head. “Not a damn thing. But wonder of all wonders, you manage to love me anyway.”

She made a breathy sound in the back of her throat. “Yeah I do.”

He smiled upon a sigh then locked his gaze onto hers. “You’re never going to get very far if you keep thinking of love as something you have to earn, or something that’s been keeping a scorecard about you since you were little. Instead, think of love as a gift, Mac – the best one you could ever imagine. My gift.”

It was probably the most touching thing she’d ever heard. She reached for him and was pulled up to his lap, tight into his embrace. Then she felt his lips on hers, so gentle, so simple. “So tell me this. When did you learn so much about love?” she asked upon a sniffle.

Shyly, he bowed his head a little. “I’ve only begun to learn. But a long time ago, I met a gorgeous, brown-eyed marine. And she became my friend. Over time, I just looked at her and I saw it.”

“Took you long enough to say it, though,” but the lighthearted tone and slanted grin bellied the seriousness of this truth.

He snickered. “Touche’.” Then his face turned pensive. “But now that I have I’m never going to stop. And that’s a promise.”

A promise, he’d said. She drew back a little, the teasing, now a distant memory. When her mind started its anxious reel again, the tears fell.

“What?” He stretched the word out softly.

Everything came out all blubbery. “I just want to give you that baby, Harm.”

“I know. I know.” He cuddled her close and soaked her tears into the ribbed cotton of his shirt. He held her there for long minutes before recalling something. “Mac, I don’t know how it came up, but one day not too long ago, Bud told me about how he found out that Harriet was pregnant with the twins.” She stayed quiet, but turned her head up a little, listening. “Harriet’s always been a neat person and even with the kids, the house always looks great. But Bud said she does this one thing with her shoes – it drives him nuts. She always leaves them at the foot of the stairs. And when he comes down in the morning, he nearly trips on them. But you know Bud; he just carries them back up to the closet and never says anything. Well, one day, she’d left some black high heels down there. When he picked them up, out fell a little white plastic stick with two lines.”

Harriet had never told her this. She lifted her face to his. “Oh,” she managed, “that’s precious.”

“I know. It was a good one.” He rubbed the skin at the small of her back. “Mac,” he said.

“Yeah,”

“If one day, a miracle happened and you did something like that for me, I’d be the happiest man in the world.”

At this, the tears dripped like raindrops. The pain – God the pain was so enormous she feared it would crush her. “Oh, oh Harm, I can’t…”

“No, no. Listen, baby. Just listen.” The look on her face broke his heart. He threaded his hands through her hair and forced her gaze upon his. “But if that day never comes, do you know what that means?”

Clutched in his hold, she couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t speak either, so she just motioned to the left and right with her head in his hands.

He casually lifted one shoulder. “That I’m the happiest man in the world.”

Lord Almighty, the words. She savored them, dropping her eyelids down in one slow, fluid motion. She felt the featherweight touch of his lips under one brow, then the other.

“Just to have you, Mac, to love you – it’s more than enough. More than I dreamed of. Anything else is just a bonus. You’re the only thing I refuse to live without.”

She pressed her lips to his, parted them in a kiss that did the speaking for her. No one had ever loved her like this.

***

Awhile later, she asked to go to the cottage. He drove her there in the height of the afternoon. The sun welcomed them with bright zigzags of light on the entryway and kept the air mild and still. He opened the door and she walked right in to the little living room. She took off her coat and made a pillow to sit on, leaning her back against the wall. He did the same.

She hooked her arm into his and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “That first day we came here, those feelings I got - loneliness, emptiness – that almost morbid sense of loss, now I understand why,” she mused.

“Well, after hearing that story, it’s hard not to feel for her, Mac.” Then he risked the question that had been gnawing at him since they returned from Ennis. “Endometriosis –it’s hereditary, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She waved her hand around the room. “Guess that was another gift she gave me.”

“Wait just a minute; do we really know Margaret had Endometriosis? Moira never said that specifically. And besides, that was decades ago. You know how medicine was back then. She went to one doctor. Put all her faith in that one diagnosis.”

So, he had a point. “Yeah, you could be right. And other conditions can cause infertility. But whether the doctor was correct or not, look how it affected her. She just gave up. She lived the rest of her life without love.”

He swung his arm around her. “It’s tragic, Mac. She holed herself up here and decided that this was the best that life had to offer.”

She nodded and then spoke in a voice that was barely audible. “There was a time, not so long ago, I thought I was headed there myself, Harm. Maybe it was part of her legacy. And you know what? It’s actually quite tempting. When life gets too overwhelming, you just mentally check out. You bury yourself in a pretty place. But,” she stopped and caressed his cheek. He looked a little worried and she didn’t want him to be. “But that’s not really living at all.”

“No.”

She spun to the side, bracing his shoulders. “I don’t want to be like her, Harm.”

He sighed upon a tentative smile. “You’re not. You’re stronger than that.”

She shrugged at this. Her voice was small. “Sometimes. But not always. The pain, the negative thoughts, the hopelessness – they’ll siphon away the best of you. So easily. You have to fight your way out of it. You have to fight for something better even when you feel you can’t hold your head up straight.”

He leaned forward, capturing her eyes with an ardent look, and placed a searing kiss on her lips. “Is that worth fighting for?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes,” she repeated and sought his mouth again and again. Breathless, she pulled back. “I, I want…”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “What, Mac?”

She circled her arms around his neck. “You. I want you.”

“You have me,” he declared. With intensity.

“Your love. And all that comes with it, Harm.” She made it into a plea.

The need for her had been hovering so close to the edge for so long, it immediately sprang free and fierce, like an animal. But this had to be right. “Mac,” he warned, his voice labored, “you know what being with you would mean to me but are you sure..?”

She nodded. She understood. “Look, this isn’t some magical band-aid for me. I love you.” She fluttered her fingers against the warm skin at the back of his neck and heard his low, cluttered sigh. “I’ve wanted you, wanted this for years. The past few months, I’ve felt so dead inside.” She pressed her lips to his neck, to the strong line of his jaw, taking in his scent. “I just want to live, to feel again.”

In one motion, he rose, taking her along with him. With fervor, he kissed her, pressing her against his body. “I love you like crazy.”

“Show me.”

He smiled wickedly and fished for his keys. “C’mon, let’s see what that little car can do...”

“No. Here.” She kissed him again. She just couldn’t stop. “Please. It has to be here.”

It could be damn near anywhere for all he cared but, logistically, it was a bit problematic. He looked around the room with its hard, wooden floors and not a single piece of furniture to be found. Then he got an idea. “Monty’s blanket.”

She toyed with the hem of his sweatshirt. “We still have it?”

He tasted her mouth. Sugar and spice. “Back seat. Want me to get it?”

She pulled away, cursing the loss of contact. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

He made it back in twenty.

Chapter 11

One hand of the doorframe, the blanket clutched firmly in the other, Harm tried to halt the thunderous rush of his limbs. His immediate goal had been to get back to her. As quickly as humanly possible.

Blood pumped vigorously through his veins. It was adrenaline, not air that had sustained him from the door to the car and back again. The woman wouldn’t know what hit her. His want, his need for was so great, it seemed to exist outside of him. He’d run the short distance through the billowy grass and swore he could already taste her mouth, her skin – all that soft, fragrant skin just waiting to be uncovered.

How many ways would he love her? When she’d kissed him, when she’d looked at him last, he wondered if she’d known. Had she known that she was about to be all but consumed? Had she known that this would be the turning point? God, how he wanted her. And that want had been stewing and starving for years, begging for release. Yes, the fulfillment would come now – quickly, perfectly, totally and utterly completely.

But then he saw her.

She waited, her hands perched upon the window ledge. Her eyes were focused outward at things much larger and stronger than she was, things that had been waiting and growing here for centuries. They formed this place and as she stood now, in its midst, he felt as if it had all been made for her.

She’d heard his steps and he watched her turn. How did the sunlight funnel in that way? How did it wrap around her face like that, covering her with its buttery golden light? His lungs began to hush, his breathing slowed and stilled. She was a goddess, a treasure. The sight of her made him think of roses and gemstones and every lovely thing he’d ever laid eyes on. And she was his now.

No, there would be no mad, heated rush today. Another time, he’d give her that. But this first time, he’d love her delicately, leisurely, in the way that the water lapped over the limestone rocks. Years, it took. The smoothness, the rounded shapes came only through decades’ touch. This place wasn’t home – with its worries and demands and constant chasing of the clock. Here, the minutes ran as plentiful as that water and he’d use far more than his share with her.

“Harm,” she whispered and found his face. His look was calm and steady, but his eyes – they seemed to bore right through her, doing now what his hands would soon do. But she’d seen this look before. More than once. Was this what he’d been thinking of all of those times? Had this always been his secret wish? The thought of it made her shiver. They’d waited so long. The years, the growing ones, the wasted ones, gathered themselves behind her now. She left them there.

She smiled, even tried to make it look a little coy as she reached out her hand. But where had her breath gone? He was beautiful as he left the doorway and walked to her. Oh, that walk - that smooth, determined strut of his.

Harm took her hand but stood back a little. He kissed her knuckles, then rotated her wrist and lightly brushed her palm. He felt the trembling. He cut his glance away to the floor and quickly made a place for them with the thick, discarded coats under the doubled blanket. He pulled himself out of his sweatshirt – a perfect pillow. Then he turned his attention back to her but didn’t kiss her. Not yet. He just looked at her and saw that she was close to crying again.

Suddenly the moment was bigger than her, than him. She hadn’t prepared herself for the way that this would feel. This was everything. This was Harm. Harm – the one she’d always wanted; the one she’d feared existed only in her dreams and always just outside her reach. But wonder of all wonders, he wanted her. Loved her. “It’s here,” she said, awestruck. “We’ve waited so long and it’s here and I…” What could she say?

“I know, baby,” he whispered. He closed his eyes tightly and still found her there when he opened them again. “You were worth the wait.”

Oh, God. She would’ve lost her footing if he hadn’t snaked his arms around her waist. She wanted his mouth but he deftly evaded her with a low, devilish laugh, his lips seeking out the sheer, sensitive skin beneath her throat. So this was the way he was going to play? His movements seemed innocent enough, tender and featherweight and soft. But his breath was hot and dangerous upon her neck. If control was what she’d wanted, she had a fight ahead of her.

But she just had to touch him. She wound her arms around to his back, burrowing her hands under his shirt. She lightly danced her nails across his skin in sweeping strokes as if she were tracing her initials there, branding him. She felt the jolt of his breath and smiled. “Harm,” she murmured.

He’d moved to her collarbone now, running his mouth above the edge of her scoop neck top. “Hmmm?”

“Kiss me.”

“Oh, I’ll get to it,” he said upon a growl. “But I’m busy here. And this is gonna take awhile.”

She believed him but she needed more. She tugged at the offending garment and sighed with pleasure when he stopped long enough for her to swiftly divest him of it. She’d seen his chest before, but never like this, never laid out like a feast in front of her. She loved the golden bronze color of his skin. But she craved the feel of it. “I love you,” she whispered, her fingers splayed upon his stomach muscles.

Well, that did it. At once, he sighed and raised his head to kiss her. Here was his answer. He found her lips ready and racing but he slowed her eager pace, tightening his hold around her so that she’d follow with her arms around his neck. His mouth was patient. His movements, like a lazy Sunday afternoon. He took her there and made the kiss into something close to forever. It felt like the first time again.

He bent low and picked her up in his arms, only to bring them both right down again on the soft, wool surface. He kissed her as he arranged her slim, lithe body on top of his. This woman was made for stuff like this. How many times had this happened in the depths of his dreams? She was real now, touching, exploring. It was almost too much for him to take – the way her fingers gently nipped at his skin, the way her hair tumbled forward onto his shoulders. It smelled like a garden.

She was a magnificent creation. He praised her as such with his hands, rested them at the hem of her top while he still dallied at her mouth. She sensed his need and indulged it. In a flash, the shirt was gone, revealing a black satin bra with a tiny flower in the center. But before he could take his fill, she lowered her cheek to his chest, rested it there and listened.

“Your heart is busy,” she noted softly.

“It doesn’t know what hit it. I guess it’s just happy,” he said and chuckled.

She felt the buzz of it. “Are you? Happy?” she asked. In one swift, delicious movement, she was on her back with that gorgeous face poised above hers.

“God, yes,” he whispered and kissed her again. “But you’re thinking way too much.”

She smiled wryly. “Oh, I’ve been thinking about this for years.”

“Mmm.” His laughter was low and thick as he peeled the dainty black garment from her skin. “No more thinking. Just feel.” And here was his first look at her. She was almost too beautiful to touch, too perfect. He plotted his course through the long, satin valley between her breasts. He would take his time here. On a sigh, he finally satisfied that blistering need to touch her with his lips, his hands, but gently as his breath hitched in his throat. “We talked about feeling worthy.” He shook his head in wonder. “I know nothing I’ve done makes me worthy of this, Mac.”

Had he said something? She was too overcome by the white-hot feel of him across her skin, the slow, rolling boil of liquid in the pit of her belly. “Huh?”

“That’s right,” he said, delighted. This is where he wanted her. Free and weightless. He kissed her again, over and over until all he knew was the taste of her.

So this was how it was supposed to be, she thought as he loved her and the touches grew bold and brazen to the point of sweet insanity. There was nothing between them now, just acres of skin and tangled limbs. She felt as if her whole life had waited for this moment. She’d given herself before, but not like this. Never like this. Her heart was aflame, but at the same time, completely at peace and overflowing with love.

And then there was his body. She’d always admired it, the way it filled a uniform, a doorway, the way it ate up and swallowed any room he happened to walk through. Against her own body, it was a machine, strong and sensitive. And alive.

But she was alive now, as she’d never been. No, this wasn’t the normal way of her. She was used to being on call, on edge, always poised and ready to face the next challenge or foe. Here, she could let herself go, let herself shatter into a humming bundle of senses. Sight and sound and touch. She saw colors - the blue of ocean and sky, the green of the grass at the doorstep and of the tree leaves fluttering in the breeze. She heard that, too. And the restless crash of waves, the sugared words he whispered in her ear.

The tiny room encased them. And she suddenly understood that this little, lonely cottage had needed this every bit as much as she had. Together, they erased the decades of pain and loneliness until all that was left was the glorious feel of her body being swept away. When she’d thought she’d surely reached the end, he drove her further, deeper, until they tumbled helplessly into a warm, wild abyss that only led them back to the familiar place of love they now called home.

“Hey pretty lady,” Harm said when he could finally speak again.

She smiled dreamily. “Hey yourself.”

He gently swept a strand of hair from her face. “How do you feel?”

“Mmmm,” was her only response as she stretched out against him in a smooth, cat-like motion. “Like a happy, worthless glob of Jello. I feel sorry for any woman who doesn’t have you for a lover.”

He laughed at this and kissed her soundly. “Well, you seem to have done a little number on my brain as well, Marine. I doubt I’ll be able to deliver a coherent closing argument anytime soon.”

She winked. “We can be blissfully dumb together.”

“Together,” he mused and kissed her again. “I like that.” Then he lifted them both until he was sitting upright against the wall with her sideways in his lap. He folded the warm blanket under and around them.

She burrowed herself into his chest. “I love you,” she said simply.

“I love you, Mac,” he declared and brushed his lips upon the crown of her head. “This – this was love. I felt it. That’s why it was so incredible.”

“I know. And it was incredible.” She shifted back and looked up at him. “I want you to know, what you said earlier in your room, everything - I’ll never forget it.”

He relished the monumental, honest words. “Good.”

She brought a hand to his cheek and traced one finger around his lips, slightly curved into a warm, easy smile. “You were right. Your love is a gift. One I’ll always treasure.” She fluttered her eyebrows and cocked her head. “And one that I’ll truly enjoy unwrapping time and time again.”

He gave a soft playful bite to her finger and tightened his hold. “Now you’re talkin’,” he said and found her mouth for another blazing kiss. They’d lost count long ago. When he eased away with a series of gentle pecks, he noticed that there was only a hint of light left in the room. “We skipped lunch today. Are you hungry?”

“Oh, I could eat. But,” she drew out the word until it twirled in front of them, “that would require moving from this spot. And getting dressed. I don’t think I could manage the first. And the second,” she said wickedly, drawing lazy circles on his chest, “well, I know I’m not ready to see this all covered up again.”

He nodded in a scholarly fashion. “Now that’s an excellent point, Mackenzie. Dinner can wait,” he said, pulling her closer. He kissed her with all the love and longing that had risen up again, somehow even stronger than before, leaving him without so much as a clue as to how he’d ever survived for so many years without this.

Chapter 12

I perch upon the rocks that are stacked above the ocean, neither of which I am able to see. But the years have sharpened my ears, so much that I now hear the delicate wisp of birds’ wings even from some distance away. I hold out my hand and wait. Soon, I feel the soft flutter of feathers and feet upon my palm. My bird. It holds my eyes and all the best of me. The part that once smiled.

The bird chirps a cheerful song, eagerly, in a language even I cannot decipher. But I still answer in my own tongue. Who else is there to listen? “She is here, isn’t she?”

The bird makes another, quieter sound. I stroke the tiny sweep of its back and weep for the ones that have come before her. And failed.

Lord of all mercy, let her be the one.

***

Mac woke the next morning to the brief, faint sound of weeping that no longer fazed her. The thought of the strange phenomenon was grossly shadowed by the incomparable feeling of waking up in the arms of the man she adored. She wondered how she could feel so unbelievably rested with only a few, scant hours of sleep. He’d loved her deep into the night and well into the morning until they’d finally surrendered to the sheets and pillows that had been haphazardly tossed around his big, soft bed.

She was there now, sitting between the endless vee of his legs as he massaged her shoulders. She let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr. Then it turned to a frustrated sigh. “Do we have to go back, Harm? We could always mail a plane ticket to Mattie and play hookie here, living on love and scones.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, it’s damn tempting. But we have two uniforms and an extremely irritating thing called responsibility waiting for us.” He kissed the spot on her back where the kink had been. “Although, we’ll always have this at the end of the day.”

“Well, when you put it like that, reality seems almost tolerable.” She grinned cheekily and shifted her face to the window. The clouds were gray and thick, threatening a heavy mass of rain to herald the morning. When she turned back, she spied something in the corner. “Speaking of reality,” she pointed with one finger, “I think I’m ready to see what’s in there.”

He craned his neck forward. “Margaret’s box?”

She swung her legs around until she was facing him. “Yeah,” she said softly. “It’s time.”

After yesterday, he knew it was a huge step and he acknowledged it as such. He took her hands, lacing their fingers together. “Do you want me to be here?”

She tilted her head. “Of course.” From now on, there was no other answer.

***

After an early breakfast, they sat crossed-legged upon his bed with the box resting between them. Harm handed her his Swiss Army knife and she made a neat slit through the packing tape. She opened the top flaps and took a deep breath. “Well, here goes,” she said and sprung up to her knees for a look. Whatever was resting at the bottom of the box was completely covered by the top item. “Oh, look.” With a thoughtful smile she drew out a folded, crocheted blanket in varying shades of blue.

“It’s just like the one Moira had,” Harm noticed.

Mac nodded as she spread out the blanket and swept her hand across the soft, downy surface. She fingered a little lump in the yarn. “It’s not perfect. It must be handmade.”

After studying it for a few more moments, she laid it aside and grabbed the next item. It was a small manila folder. When she opened it, she pulled out a small stack of Xeroxed pictures and articles. All about her.

Harm took a few and flipped through them. “Well, this explains how she knew about you.”

“They’re copies of the same clippings I found at my dad’s death bed. I guess he’d been sending them to her all along.” She mused about this for a few seconds but didn’t comment any further. There really wasn’t anymore to say. Instead, she reached into the box again. It was obvious that the weight of it had come from the large, rectangular book that required two hands to lift. She blew lightly against the dusty surface. “It’s a Bible.”

“Maybe a family Bible?” Harm asked as he accepted the book for a closer look. It possessed a hard cover, old and worn with a faint leaf pattern stamped into it. It had once been a gold color, but only a trace of it remained in faded blotches. Part of the binding had begun to peel away. He opened it gingerly to a random spot and found the pages so thin and yellowed that he immediately shut it again to avoid the risk of further damage. When he looked up, he saw that Mac had taken out another item.

She held a small, black leather box. “This is the last thing in there,” she said, and with bated breath, carefully raised the top. “Harm,” was all she could manage in a thick whisper when she saw the tiny treasure. It was made from gold, weathered and scratched. A delicate spray of sapphires wound up and around the body of the piece, showcasing a single stone in the center that was obviously a diamond, but for some reason, possessed an odd shape.

Harm set the Bible down in front of Mac and moved closer for a better look. “Wow, that’s really something. But what is it?”

Mac picked up the lovely piece and rested it in the palm of her hand. With the other, she turned it over and discovered the mechanism attached to the back. “It’s a pin,” she said while a slight tinge of suspicion crept into the corner of her mind that she tried to ignore.

Harm lowered his brows. “Now, I’m about as far from a jewelry expert as you can get but that looks really old. And I’m not talking last-fifty-years old.”

She was thinking the very same thing. “I’m going to get Eileen.”

***

While seated on the bed next to Harm, Mac observed Eileen as she examined the pin from various angles. Mac had noticed that when he older woman had gotten her first look at the strange bauble, there’d been a slight, but still noticeable rift in her always even, steady demeanor.

Eileen cradled the object in her hand, with her glasses perched halfway down her nose. “The woman at Bishop’s Manor,” she began, splitting her gaze between the couple, “she didn’t mention anything about this or about where Margaret happened to acquire it?”

“No. Nothing.”

Eileen handed the pin back to Mac. “Your very first thought, when you opened the box and found this. What was it?”

Mac glanced nervously from Harm to Eileen, the strange feeling she’d gotten minutes before, no longer affording her the option of ignoring it. Tentatively, she gave it a voice. “That this pin bears an uncanny resemblance to the one you described in the Macauley legend.”

Eileen’s flattened her lips into a long, thin line. Then she nodded once but said nothing.

Harm cast a warning look, only now becoming aware of the coincidence. “Wait, before you go too far with that, we need to find out its true age. Is there anywhere we can take this to have it dated or appraised? What about Quinn’s?”

Eileen shook her head. “Mr. Quinn runs a fine shop, but he knows little about that sort of thing.” She paused for a beat then shook her head rapidly. “Oh, of course. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.” She gestured towards the doorway. “As it turns out, one of the finest experts in antiquities just finished breakfast in my dining room.”

“Peter Fagan?” Mac asked.

“Yes,” Eileen said, rising. “I’ll try to catch him before he runs into town.”

Mac turned to Harm with a baffled look. “Well, this is the last thing I would’ve expected to fly out of that box. I mean, who knew? Margaret spent most of her life shut away in that cottage and all that time she was sitting on a piece of 18^th century jewelry – and a famous one at that.” She looked down again at the pin, still in her hand. “That is, if it’s authentic. But you heard that story and saw the look on Eileen’s face just now.”

“Yeah, I did. And I can’t deny the similarities.”

She bit her lip. “Harm, if it’s true…”

He drew closer, gently rubbing her arm. “Then so is the story?”

She nodded. “The weeping was one thing. But this,” she held up the piece to the light, “it’s something real and tangible. And what the heck was Margaret doing with it?”

Her words became lost in the muffle of voices that came from the hall. Eileen was back with a very intrigued Peter, who spent a few moments examining the questionable item.

When he was finished, Peter pulled a chair close to the bed where the other three had been waiting. “Well, Sarah, it seems you’re the new owner of a very important piece of jewelry.”

Mac let out a slow breath. “It’s eighteenth century?”

Peter held out the pin for all to see. “Yes, which makes it very valuable, despite the gemstones. It was actually quite simple to date because of the diamond in the center. You see, in the late seventeen hundreds, the technique of cutting diamonds with 56 facets, as they are still done today, was perfected and universally adopted. But this diamond only has 16 facets. It’s done in a Mazarin cut.”

Mac leaned forward. “When I first saw the stone, I knew without a doubt that it was a diamond, but the internal structure of it seemed wrong. Now I know why.”

“Correct,” Peter said.

“How large is that stone, Peter?” Eileen asked.

“Roughly one half carat.”

Harm crossed his arms at his chest, a furrow in his forehead. “But how early could the piece be?”

Peter turned the pin over. “Here’s the second clue. In the early part of the eighteenth century, it became very fashionable for ladies to wear gold and gemstone hairpins, such as this one. The correct term for this is an aigrette. And the particular arrangement of stones added to the quality of the gold dates this piece anytime between 1700 and1760. I see items such as this on auction from time to time and they’re very collectable.”

Mac accepted the pin. “But Peter, this is a brooch.”

Peter cocked his head. “Yes, now, but it wasn’t originally. The pin mechanism, fastened here on the back is of an entirely different and modern style. It was put on in the last fifty years or so. Perhaps the original hair clip became damaged and the piece was converted.”

Mac nodded. “Than you so much for your help,” she said quietly, though she felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. She handed the pin to Harm and began to absorb everything that had been said.

After Eileen had escorted Peter out of the room, she returned and found that Harm had moved closer to the light from the window, examining the object. Oblivious to Sarah, she asked, “Mind if I have another look at that?”

“Of course not,” he said and handed it over.

Even more intrigued, she held the delicate object in her hand. It was like holding a mysterious piece of the past that had proven itself to be even more mysterious. “Hmm,” she said wistfully, “I’ve no doubt now that this was the love token that Declan had once given to his Kathleen. Imagine that. The story has been passed down for years and years. A part of this land, it is. And right here we have a piece of it.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why Mac’s great aunt had it in her possession,” Harm noted.

“Yes it does.”

Both Harm and Eileen immediately whipped their heads around at the small, shaky voice that had come from the bed.

While they’d been discussing the pin, Mac had picked up the large, weighty Bible, opening it to a random page in the front. And what she saw suddenly made everything clear, and even more complicated, all the same. A family tree had been composed there, encompassing two adjacent pages. At first, she’d thought it interesting to find her own name and birth date there. As she moved a trembling finger up the graph, she found her father and grandmother and even Margaret. But what she hadn’t expected, what had made her heart turn something like a somersault right inside her chest was the name she’d found about a third of the way down the tree.

Kathleen Macauley.

Chapter 13

Dumfounded, Harm and Eileen sat on the bed on either side of Mac and studied the family tree.

“Sarah, if I hadn’t seen it for myself, I never would’ve believed it,” Eileen said. “But it explains Margaret’s connection to the hairpin. All those years she was here and said not one word of her connection to this place.”

Mac tried to refocus her vision on the yellowed page. “I don’t think I can even process this yet. Eileen, this whole thing about the legend,” she paused and shook her head in frustration.

Eileen placed a gentle hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “It’s a bit hard to take, isn’t it?”

Mac snorted. “Well, yes. And not just the legend itself. I guess I’m having more trouble with the implications of myself being a descendant of that woman.” She met Eileen’s gaze head on. “I remember every word of that story.” And the curse, she almost said.

Eileen understood and nodded. She pointed to the names and dates noted in the Bible. “We’ve spent a fair amount of time studying this.” She turned her attention to Harm. “I’ll ask you then, what do you see here?”

Harm, who’d remained virtually quiet thus far, trying to digest this new, striking piece of information, began to organize his thoughts. At his first look at the book, he’d tried to view it with an investigator’s eye, as an outsider. Though he knew that he was far from that. “Well, there are a few things that are hard to ignore.” He shifted the Bible slightly. “The first is the overwhelming prevalence of tragedy illustrated here. Look at these notations and dates. Husbands and children dying well before their prime, many instances of divorce, even in times when it was uncommon. Not one descendant had more than two children and the majority had only one.”

“Precisely.” Eileen pointed to the most recent entries for Mac’s immediate family. “Sarah, what of your parents’ marriage and that of your paternal grandparents?”

Mac lifted a shoulder and rolled her eyes. “My father was abusive and my mother left him and me. My paternal grandfather died young, shortly after my father was born. I was told by my grandmother that it hadn’t been a happy relationship.” She trailed her gaze to the floor then back again. “Eileen, I know where you’re going with this.”

“Sarah, the story is clear about the fact that Kathleen’s descendants would suffer in life and love. Though it’s hard to accept, it seems to hold true just by what is shown here.”

Suddenly Mac sprung from the bed and focused her gaze out the window, blurred and blanketed by a heavy sheet of rain. “The ghosts, the magic – it seems so unreal. Like it belongs in a movie or something.”

Harm rose to meet her. “Look, I won’t deny that what we’re dealing with here is more than a little unusual. But I’m also convinced that there are forces and phenomena, maybe even a whole other world that goes on around us, bigger than what we can see with our own eyes. You of all people should know that.” When she turned with a questioning glance, he explained. “Have you forgotten the little something you did that saved my life? You found me, Mac. And no one has been able to produce a logical explanation for it. Least of all, you.”

God, no, she hadn’t forgotten. That moment in their lives was something that still managed to creep into her mind from time to time, but always unwelcome. “I hear you, Harm. But still, that’s different. That was just a feeling or a notion I’ve gotten a few times, and well, thankfully at the most critical of times. This,” she stressed, pointing to the Bible, “this means…”

“What?” Harm questioned.

“It means that all of the wrong that’s happened to me over the years,” she gestured wildly, “all of the poor choices, the heartache, hell – maybe even the sickness was a result of some age-old curse. Am I supposed to believe that?” She sighed deeply. “Was it all predestined? I mean, do I have absolutely no say in the matter? No choice in the direction my own life will take?”

The room was thick with silence for a long moment before Eileen spoke. “No, Sarah. You see, what you’ve gone through from when you were a little girl up to now, it is what it is. But according to the legend, you still hold the most crucial choice of all. It’s only yours to make. In fact, all of those who came before you possessed it as well. But they failed.”

“Mac, I can think of few people I’ve come across who’ve suffered more than you have,” Harm said evenly, in a way that wasn’t the slightest bit judgmental. This was common knowledge. “But I also don’t know anyone stronger, or anyone who’s handled the adversity in her life with such grace and success.”

Even in this, Mac let out a small, toothless smile, acknowledging the words that had been said entirely out of love.

Eileen nodded. “There. And that is the key. The story is resolved with the one descendant who takes what is given and still manages to rise above it.” She looked first at Harm and then at Sarah. “The one who chooses wisely, with great care - a true and everlasting love. Aye’, that is a choice that is none but your own.”

“And you think that person is me?” Mac questioned softly.

“Yes, Sarah. Your aunt’s Bible proves that it’s in your blood and I strongly feel that it’s in your heart. Something tells me that your Margaret knew it as well. She was so caught up in her grief that it became too late for her. But there was always the promise of you. Look how she brought you to this place.”

Mac nodded as acceptance wandered slowly and steadily into her mind. “But Eileen, I have made my choice. I have found true love. I’m sure of it.” Again, she took Harm’s hand and was warmed by the contented look of pride she saw upon his face. “But it still doesn’t seem finished. In fact, I heard the weeping just this morning.”

Eileen walked to the doorway. “No one is to say what act exactly will bring about the end of the curse and lay the wandering souls to rest. Just take what you have together, put your focus on it and let the rest happen in its own accord. Your love, it’s newly found. Perhaps there’s more yet that needs to be discovered and fulfilled.” Then she beamed at the attractive couple and returned to her endless list of chores. But she would blissfully lose her thoughts to love and faerie tales.

“Whew,” was all Mac could say when she was alone with Harm.

He pulled her close for a warm, secure embrace. “I know. It’s not everyday you wake up to find that something you may do will alter the course of history, or in this case, the past.”

He felt like a dream. “Yeah. I certainly have a lot to mull over, but I guess I’m starting to become okay with it.”

“I’m okay with anything that makes you certain this is an everlasting love.” He nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek. “That’s always a wonderful thing to hear.”

She lowered his head for a kiss and realized, that even more, it was a wonderful thing to feel.

***

The rain was long gone but because the air was unforgiving today, Harm fastened the top button of his coat as he walked through Ballyvaughan village. He’d dropped a starving Mac off at Monty’s for a head start on lunch while he searched around for a better road map and stopped at Quinn’s to pick up Mattie’s ring. With both purchases safely tucked into his pockets, he headed back to their favorite pub.

It was odd being without her, even for this short while. He’d hardly left her side the last few days and he was getting awfully used the feeling of it. Their plane ride home was looming fast and he hoped to God that Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie would fit back into their world as a couple as naturally as Harm and Mac had in this idyllic place.

He never thought he could love so much. It was a fierce, consuming ache that seemed to overtake every part of him – like a racehorse, needing training and discipline, but still longing to run wild and free. In the back of his mind, he feared that a love this potent had the power to make him a little foolish. It might even make him a little irrational. What he hadn’t known is that it would happen so soon.

Steps away from Monty’s Pub, he heard the music. Apparently, the dancing had started early today and when he eased open the massive door he found the crowd thick and cheerful. But he didn’t see Mac. After hanging his coat on a peg next to hers, he strolled up to their usual place at the bar and discovered the teacup and half-eaten plate of fish and chips.

As he found a stool and made a half-turn, the crowd parted enough for him to finally see that Mac was dancing with Colin, so focused on the steps, she hadn’t noticed his arrival.

When Monty strolled over, Harm ordered a Guinness then shifted his eyes again to Mac. There was just something about her while she was dancing that made her even more beautiful. He was about to join her when, suddenly, he saw Colin draw her aside, pointing back to the kitchen. Then he quickly, but joyously, kissed Mac on the cheek. His stomach dropped when he saw Mac return the gesture before being swept into the crowd again.

The part deep inside of him, where basic rationality resided, knew it was totally innocent. But when he turned back, his eyes had darkened and his jaw had tightened anyway.

Monty noticed and leaned forward on his elbows. The music was loud and lively and he had to yell. “Not to worry, son. ‘Twas a new dance today and Colin offered to show her. He meant no ill towards you.”

Satisfied, Harm raised his beer to Monty. “I gathered as much,” he said in full voice. “But it’s not the first time she’s kissed the wrong man at the wrong time so I guess it’s bound to rub me the wrong way for a bit.” And the very second he’d said the words, he’d known he was in trouble. Somehow, his mouth had opened just as the music had stopped, giving anyone within earshot a clear audience to his statement. It wouldn’t have been so bad had Monty not winced at the very same time, in a warning that came just a little too late.

Sure enough, when Harm turned hesitantly, he found Mac standing directly behind him, her mouth slightly parted and her eyes, wide with shock. “Mac,” he whispered, feeling like the lowest thing on the planet. He’d never forget the raw look of hurt on her face.

She said nothing, her words trapped by the overwhelming feeling of pain that had come instantly. She knew she should let him have his say. She knew she shouldn’t run away but she just didn’t give a damn. Ignoring his repentant gaze, she fled to the door, grabbing her coat along the way.

Heaving his arms to the air, Harm immediately turned back to the bar and found Colin standing next to his father.

“I meant nothing of it,” Colin offered sincerely. “The steps were difficult and she had a bit of trouble at first. Then she finally got it and did it perfectly. The kiss – it’s our custom and was just out of congratulations. And hers, of thanks. She meant to teach you the dance later.”

Harm nodded slowly. In shame. “I know. It’s okay, Colin.”

Monty shook his head in sympathy for the poor bloke. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let her get far.”

Harm threw some money down and moved towards the door. “Believe me, that’s not even an option.”

As quickly as possible, he pulled on his coat but frowned. Something was missing from his pocket. When he realized she wasn’t on foot and had taken the keys, he swore richly.

Monty was on it in a flash. “Here, take mine. The white sedan out front,” he said and tossed Harm his keys. “A lass with the likes of her - well, we gentlemen need to help each other out.”

He was relieved and touched, but still asked, “You sure, Monty?”

“Hell, yes. Just bring it round again later.”

Harm voiced his thanks but stopped with one hand on the doorknob, a sudden look of dread upon his face.

Mac. Car keys. Driving.

Both Monty and Colin wound around the bar.

Harm put a hand to his forehead. “That woman can do damn nearly everything. But driving on the left…it’s not one of her strong points.”

Father and son looked at one another in horror and then at Harm.

Colin made the sign of the cross.

Monty cast his eyes to the ceiling and down again. “Oh, Blessed Mary.”

Chapter 14

After a quick, unsuccessful stop at Carroll house had told him she’d gone elsewhere, Harm drove like a madman to the cottage. When he reached the hilltop, he said a little prayer of thanks at the sight of their car, parked and firmly intact. He saw her in the distance. The combination of her coat and the back of her flowing hair cast a tiny, dark shape in the middle of everything big. He cut the engine and tilted his head back, with little clue of where to start or what to say. But he knew it had better be good.

He walked tentatively to where she sat; finding a section of flattened rock, close, but not too close. She kept her head forward, her hands clenched together and tucked back into the ends of her coat sleeves. She wasn’t crying but her eyes were red, a remnant of the grief that had come and fled quickly from her face, but surely remained inside. “Would it be too much to ask for a mulligan right about now?” he asked, his brows raised expectantly in hope.

She only rolled her eyes but still focused them at the water.

His breath came out like something between a heavy sigh and a groan. There was really only one thing to say and he said it softly and simply. “I’m sorry, Mac.”

Finally, she faced him. “Why?” she asked, just above a whisper. “Why did you say it?”

He covered his face with his hands, inhaling sharply. “I’ve been thinking about the ‘why’ all the way over here. But, regardless, I’d give anything to take it back. It wasn’t one of my prouder moments. You deserved better.”

This, she agreed with. “I just don’t get it. You’ve tried so hard to help me move on from the past and then you go and throw it in my face.” Her voice began to quaver. “Something like that – it just brings me right back to that time again. To the part of me that I don’t like so much.”

He shut his eyes briefly, only beginning to realize just how deeply this had cut. But then, he realized something else. “God, I know and it kills me that I hurt you. But Mac, what I said, it really wasn’t about you at all. It was all about me. It looks like you’re not the only one who has some things to work through.”

There was something about the combination of this man and a sincere apology that made it nearly impossible for her to stay angry for too long. But she hadn’t expected this and gave him a quizzical look. “What things?”

He laced his fingers together. “Like the fact that the image of you, the memory of you with a few choice men from your past, is still tough to take. It’s something I need to get over. I guess when I saw you with Colin, innocent as it was; I saw every kiss that could’ve been mine. Should’ve been mine.”

“Go on,” she said.

“It reminds me of all of the times I sat back and did nothing.”

She considered this for a beat, tracking a graceful, white bird as it swooped down to the water, hungry and determined. “Harm, you’ve spent much of the last few months and most of the week trying to get me to believe in you and in this love that was just waiting for us to catch up to it. And damn it, Rabb, you have some serious methods of persuasion.” She met his gaze and they shared a fleeting smile - a tiny spark amidst the gloom and tension. Then her face fell. “But what I want to know is, do you really believe in it? In our love? In me? Because we can’t move forward without that.”

He felt his chest tighten. “Mac, please…”

“No, I’m serious.” She held up a hand and employed his own words back to him again. “Wasn’t I clear enough when I told you I loved you? Didn’t I open my heart enough? Harm, when you made love to me, each time, didn’t you see and feel that it was totally it for me?”

He took her hand now, his eyes as black as coal. “Oh, I felt it.”

“You’re it for me. And I do understand how you feel about the past. But don’t you get it?” she raised her hand to his cheek, “it’s not only that I choose you now, I chose you long ago. I just never thought I could have you.” She lifted a shoulder. “And that’s where a lot of my own mistakes started. So when you get that picture in your head of me with someone else, know that beneath the glossy surface, my heart was never there. You held it, so tightly, no one else ever really had a chance.”

He let out a long, slow breath, pulling her close. Where she belonged. “I do believe you, Mac. And in you. And this was never about not trusting you. I know you’re mine.”

She nodded once. “And happy about it.” Then she gave him an exasperated look, slightly playful, but potent, nonetheless. “But you go and pull that crazy jealous crap again and I’ll kick your ass.”

He let out a quick spurt of laughter. “Duly noted, ma’am.” He tilted his head. “Then again,” he slurred, waggling his brows, “that might be kinda’ fun.”

She gave him a little shove but any comeback she might have offered was lost in a kiss, full and deep and warm – like coming in from the rain. How long had it been since she’d kissed him last?

When they parted, all they saw was each other’s eyes. “Again, I’m so sorry, Mac. Forgive me?” he whispered.

She nodded and leaned into him. “I already have. We’re both bound to mess up from time to time. It happens in the best of relationships.”

He ran his hands through her hair. “Yeah. And I’m sure we’ll irritate the hell out of one another.”

“Of course. It’s just what we do,” she said, wrinkling her nose and laughing along with him before her face turned serious. “I love you, Harm.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed her again and held her tight, sharing his warmth as the temperature began to drop. But neither wanted to move. This was their place and they’d have to leave it soon enough.

After a bit, she looked up at his face, probably the most perfect one ever created. And he was smiling, his expression deeply pensive and blissfully content. It rendered him even more incredible. “What are you thinking about?” she questioned.

Startled out of his reverie, he jumped slightly but felt a little wary of sharing his thoughts. “Oh, nothing in particular.”

She pulled back, knitting her brows together. “That was not an ‘I’m thinking about nothing’ kind of look. Come on, Harm, tell me.”

He shrugged. “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Harm,” she warned.

He sighed. “I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

“Nuh-uh. Nice try, hot stuff, but I’m not buying it.

He smiled brilliantly and brushed her cheek with one finger. “You look beautiful today.”

“Don’t you dare try to distract me. That’s not going to work with…mmmph.” Her words and all the rest of her were swept away in a kiss. And this one meant business.

When he found his breath, he raised a brow. “Looks like it worked to me,” he said smugly.

She adjusted her lopsided coat. “No,” she said primly, “though your method of distraction proved itself to be extremely superior and well executed, I might add,” she paused and winked, “I was only temporarily incapacitated. Now give.”

“Ma-ac.”

“Harm.”

He glared and crossed his arms at his chest. “See, this is what I meant about you irritating me.”

“Yeah, well that goes both ways. I’m not giving up so you might as well just tell me.”

He threw up his hands in frustration. “All right, all right. But you asked for it.”

“Yes, and…”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Warn me? What the hell…”

“Hills,” he said simply.

Was she hearing things? “Huh?”

He folded his hands in his lap. “Hills,” he repeated, his eyes to the water. “I was thinking about hills.”

She drew back warily. “Did Monty slip a little something extra in your Guinness?”

He snorted and shook his head but held his gaze forward. “Years ago, you said something about your idea of a perfect wedding. And that instead of a big affair, you’d be happy getting married on a hill with a few goats around.”

Eyes wide, she released her breath, nice and slow. “Uh-huh,” was all she could come up with.

Harm continued. “And I was just thinking that, well, there sure are a lot of hills here.” Then he cocked his head in thought. “Come to think of it,” he mused softly, “there are a lot of goats, too.”

“Harm,” she whispered and watched as he faced her then. She swore she’d never seen him look more nervous.

He shrugged. “I mean, I know it’s sudden. Damn sudden – and crazy as anything. That’s why I wanted to think it over a little more before I said anything. But I just got this vision in my head of marrying you here, taking you back home as my wife. It made me smile.” Then, he did.

“Was that a proposal?” she asked, feeling more than a little lightheaded.

At her hope-filled words, he felt a mad rush inside of him. It took all of his strength to steady himself as he pointed with one finger. “That thought…just hold onto it for one second. You see, us getting married after technically dating for less than a week doesn’t actually correlate with taking things slow.”

“Harm,” she snickered then leaned in close, “I think we broke just about every rule of ‘slow’ last night. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you may be right about that.” He stole a sweet little kiss. “So, I take it that ‘slow’ is officially thrown out the window?”

She returned the kiss. “Officially,” she whispered.

“So, in revisiting my earlier statement, assuming it was a proposal, you’d really do it? You’d really say yes?”

She took his hands. They were trembling slightly. Or were hers? She swung her head from side to side. “Oh, no you don’t. That’s the easy way. You said it yourself – all those years, all those opportunities, you never took the risk with me. So take it now.”

He hiked a brow, but when he thought about it, there really wasn’t a risk at all. He saw it in her eyes. He felt it in his heart. Suddenly, he made a low sound of determination, pulling both of them up until they were standing. He heard her gasp when he dropped to one knee and looked up to find a single tear rolling down her cheek. “I love you, Sarah Mackenzie,” he said reverently, taking her hand. “Marry me in Ireland?”

“Yes,” she cried and sprang up into his arms for a kiss that went on for long, wonderful minutes. She pulled back, in awe of the man in front of her and everything he’d found a way to give her. “It’s always been my only answer.”

“You’ve always been the only woman.”

She kissed him again softly and wiped her eyes. Something in her stomach was jumping. “God, I can’t believe it. Can we really do this here?”

He spun her around in a half-circle so that the wild, wide view of the ocean was in front of them. “I know we can. If you trust me, I’ll take care of the logistics. I can’t think of a better way to spend our last day here. I just hope you’ve never wanted a long engagement.”

She leaned further back into his chest, her cheek brushing against the wool of his coat. “No. Just a long marriage.”

He smiled into her hair.

“Harm, what’s Mattie going to say about this? I know that you and she are a packaged deal and I want you do know I’m more than okay with that.”

Touched, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “I do know that. There will inevitably be some adjustments, but I also know that she needs you just as much as I do.” He thought about the night that he and Mattie had stood in his kitchen, hardly a year ago. Now it seemed like ages away.

Do you love her?

Mattie had asked the question in confidence. And he’d answered it in truth.

“Obviously, she’ll be a little shocked but she’ll say only good things, Mac. I’m certain of it.” He turned her slightly to the side. “We can always have another wedding or a big party when we get back – for her and all of our friends and family.”

Mac smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’d like that.”

“Speaking of Miss Grace,” he said and reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny black box, “while I was picking up her ring, I got a little something for you. I was going to bring it home and save it for later, but I’m happy to report that later is now.” He smiled and flipped opened the top, revealing a Claddagh ring. But unlike Mattie’s, this one was very delicate and made from slivery-white platinum.

“Oh, Harm, it’s beautiful,” she said. “A wedding band?”

He nodded and lifted the ring from its satin cradle. “First thing when we get home, I want to get you a diamond.” He grinned. “A big one.”

She pursed her lips. “Did I mention that next to shoes, I really like diamonds?”

He chuckled. “Now how did I know that? But until then, I want you to wear this and we can use it in the ceremony.” With the ring at the end of her fingertip, she stopped him.

“Wait, remember what Shannon said? It means I’m joined in life and love to you forever when the heart faces inward.”

“You’re right and you are.” He reversed the ring but before he put it in its proper place, he stared deep into her eyes. Everything in the last few days had happened in a divine, lightning-fast, blur. And so he wanted to trap this moment in time for a bit. He wanted her to remember the sky, clearer now as if it had somehow known. And the way that even the water had seemed to slow without the restless wind to drive the currents. The air was cold, but serenely still, holding this little stretch of now as securely as he was holding her.

Soon, he decided to let the rest of their moments follow. With one motion, he released himself and her into the natural course of time, sliding the ring onto her finger. He kissed her then and something truly magical happened. None of their kisses had ever felt like this before, like the entire world was spinning and spinning with them at the very center of it. He saw a brilliant flash of light even with his eyes closed and knew she’d seen the same when she drew back suddenly.

“Harm,” she gasped, breathless and confused. She grasped onto his forearms. “Did you…what was that?”

“Hell if I know.” He craned his neck to the side.

“Oh God, look,” she whispered and pointed to a section of rocks, further down the coastline. Two small, glowing spheres hovered in the air for a beat, then in a sudden gust of wind, they fused together in a hollow circle that went from blue to white to gold. And then there was nothing.

“Mac, do you think…”

Her heart was racing. “Kathleen and Declan. I’m sure of it.” She looked up at him. “They’re together now and finally at rest.”

He believed her, without a doubt. And he would never forget the sight of it. He held her there for a minute in the stunning aftermath of it all. “It happened right after I put the ring on your finger,” he said at length.

She let out a little gasp. “Oh, of course. I just remembered something that Eileen told me. She said that she could never hear Kathleen’s weeping because she was married when she came here. Her daughters stopped hearing it when they got engaged.”

Harm nodded in contemplation. “So it was your engagement that broke the curse.” They risked another look down the coastline. All was strangely calm again, as if nothing had happened.

“It sure looks that way.” She shook her head in wonder. “I guess it was me after all. And you. But more than that, it means we’ve found an everlasting love.”

He drew her close again. “I didn’t need any supernatural sign to tell me that.”

“No,” she agreed wholeheartedly and stared at the ring on her finger. His ring. “And now that we’ve taken care of those two, it’s our turn, Harm. We’ve overcome a hell of a lot to get to this place and I’m ready for our magic moment.”

“Hmmm,” he said and kissed her softly. “Speaking of which, I hate to leave you but I have a few details to see to.”

“And I need to find something to wear.” She flashed a whimsical grin. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

He chuckled and kissed her again. “Why don’t you take Monty’s car back into town? Then you can shop for awhile. I’ll pick you up later?”

“Kay,” she said and switched keys with him.

He hooked an arm around her shoulder as they walked away from the water. “So I take it you’ve finally gotten the hang of driving around here. ”

“Um, sure, it was no problem,” she eked out. A few yards before they reached the car, she stopped. “Uh, Harm,” she said hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“When you get in our car, you might see a few feathers stuck to the windshield. And maybe, um, under the wiper blades.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Just ignore them.”

“Feathers?” he asked suspiciously. “Ma-ac…”

She bit the bottom corner of her lip before explaining. “Well, just out of town, I sort of took a funny turn. Just one though, the rest were fine. I’m a pro now.”

His eyes went wide and he grabbed her shoulders instinctively. “And?”

She winced. “And there was this huge flatbed truck, stacked with all these cages filled with chickens. It sort of had to swerve a little to avoid me, and, well, the feathers went everywhere.”

He tried his best to fight the laugh but lost miserably. For some reason, the sight of this woman standing there, all sheepish and adorable, was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. Without warning, the laughter fled and he grabbed her forcibly, kissing her hungrily.

“Wow…what was that for?” she asked between breaths. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I was just thinking,” he said, pointing to the little car in the distance, “that if this is any indication of how married life is going to be with you, then I’m the one who’s in for a wild ride.”

She flashed a decidedly coy smile at her fiancÈ. “Ohhhh, yeah.”

Chapter 15

In the end, the weather had been too cold for an outdoor wedding on a hill. And under no circumstances, would Eileen have agreed to a goat or two anywhere near her fine home. But there’d been a bride, who’d traveled to this faraway land with one purpose in mind, only to leave with a forever love. And a groom, who’d one day made up his mind to follow her.

They’d recited the simple, heartfelt vows in the parlor at Carroll house, in front of the old, warm fireplace filled with a tangle of logs and crackling embers. When Eileen had gotten word that there was going to be a wedding, she’d insisted on handling the details, leaving the anxious groom free to ponder the fact that the woman of his dreams would come home to Washington bearing his name.

Eileen had done a masterful job, making sure that Mac had awakened to a posy of white roses for her to carry. After facing off with Monty, it was decided that she’d handle all of the desserts and Monty’s crew would create the rest of the wedding feast. As soon as the town vicar had pronounced them husband and wife, Harm and Mac had gathered with their new friends at their favorite pub, closed for half the day for the makeshift reception. There’d been enough food and drink for twenty receptions and the talented trio of musicians, called in as a special surprise for the happy couple.

They ate and drank and danced well into the afternoon in a day that had seemed like a dream they would never wake from. But as the hours passed by, the looks between them became more heated, the chaste kisses and embraces, stopping achingly short of fulfillment. Harm simply wanted his bride all to himself. And so, they’d expressed their sincere gratitude and piled their married selves into the little blue hatchback.

It was a given that they’d make one last stop at the cottage. Harm cut the engine and ran around the car. The bitter cold had returned and he slipped his coat over the classic dark suit before opening the door for Mac. She smiled as she reached for his outstretched hand but giggled cheerfully when he lifted her into his arms. “Chalk it up to tradition, Mrs. Rabb,” he said and kicked the car door closed with his foot.

She grinned instinctively at the sound of her new name and wound her arms around her husband’s neck. Then she kissed the stuffing out of him. When they finally parted, she found herself being carried to the cliffs. She pointed back to the cottage door. “But the threshold is over there, Harm.”

He shrugged as best he could with her in his arms. “I know. I’ll just have to carry you again.” He winked. “But I want to show my wife the ocean.” There was joy in the words and they rang out, clear and bright as he set her down at the place that had heard their very first vows of love.

She snuggled into him. “I can’t believe what Eileen and Monty were able to do in such short notice. It really was my dream wedding.”

“Mine too. And just as much as I’m going to miss this place, I’m going to miss the people.”

“I know.” She shifted so that her cottage was in view. “I think we should come back every year. It feels like a second home to me now.”

He brushed his lips against her cheek. “We will. And we can bring Mattie along.” He followed her line of sight. “We haven’t talked about what you’ve decided to do with it.”

She gasped. “Oh, gosh, I forgot to tell you with all of the excitement. Yesterday, I ran into Shannon in the village. She wants to rent it from me, or I guess from us now,” she corrected with a crooked smile. “She’s ready for a place of her own. But Mr. Flynn will still handle all of the repairs and such.”

He nodded. “Sounds like the perfect solution.” His brows furrowed. “Funny that Monty didn’t mention anything about it earlier.”

She laughed into his chest. “That’s because he doesn’t know yet. I made Shannon promise that we’d be long gone before she tells him. Indirectly, I’m responsible and I’d hate to face the wrath of a doting Irish father.”

“Good point.” He let out an easy smile then cast a faraway look that earned a questioning one from her. “I want to buy a house, with you. As soon as we can. How does that sound?”

Her breath came out in a quick burst. Then a slow smile inched across her face. “It sounds like home.”

He agreed and sealed it with a gentle kiss. “In the meantime do you mind moving into the loft? I’ve got Mattie down the hall and…”

“Oh, of course.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “But I’m calling a realtor ASAP. You’re already aware of the basic requirements for my shoe collection and a certain closet that was obviously designed by a male just isn’t going to cut it.”

He gave her a mock glare and shook his head. But the stare softened as he met her eyes. God, how he loved her. He tightened his hold at her waist and sighed deeply. “You know, all of these details remind me of the huge transition awaiting us when we step off of that plane.”

“Was that the still, small voice of regret? I mean, about doing this so quickly?” she asked warily, then instantly found herself directly in front of his shaking head, with his finger beneath her chin.

“Not in the slightest, Mac. In fact, the opposite is true. I regret that this didn’t happen years ago. But still, we can’t ignore the inevitable.”

She’d held it in the back of her mind for days, but for once, she’d chosen to ignore it for this one chance at happiness. “Our jobs,” she whispered.

He nodded solemnly. “When the general finds out, well, you know there will be some major changes.”

Her eyes began to fill, but not for what the future would bring. It was all for the past. “I know what we’re facing, but I guess it just hit me.” She locked her gaze onto his. “I just want to say, well, you’ve been a great partner, Harm. Look at what we’ve been through together, all the stories we have to tell. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for you. Many times over.”

He grasped her hands, swearing that he could even taste the memories. “Nor I, Mac.” It was strange and poignant and somehow fitting as they stood together and said goodbye to their years of working side by side. They laid them down in this place where their new life had begun - the incredible love they’d found, the perfect elegy.

“You know,” she said upon a little sniffle, “if by some miracle I get a say in the matter, I’d like to try my hand at the bench. And then, hopefully, we could at least stay at JAG together.”

Humbled, Harm pulled her into a side hug. “You’d be okay with that? ‘Cause I know you’d shine up there.”

“Yeah. Besides, the last time I presided, I took a real liking to that gavel.”

He chuckled and kissed her soundly in a way that shattered the uncertainty and reminded them that, without a doubt, this was all that truly mattered. When they parted, Harm kept her close. “Mac, something tells me that everything is going to finally fall into place for us. We saw it first hand – call it magic or luck, or fate or whatever. It brought us here.”

She would hold fast to that thought. “And it’s not going to leave us now.”

“No.” He looked at her. She was beautiful in this place. His wife. “I love you,” he said and indulged in another kiss.

She answered in kind and looked out past the rolling mass of waves into the horizon. “So what do you think they’re doing? Kathleen and Declan?”

“Well,” he murmured, low and dangerous with a trail of delicate kisses that started at the top of her collar and ended at her lips, remaining for a bit. “After almost three centuries of separation, I imagine they’re doing what we should be doing right about now.”

She leered generously at him. “Hmm. I really do like doing that.”

He tasted her mouth and pointed to the side. “The cottage is right there…”

“Actually,” she said, “if you can stand to wait ten more minutes, my room at Carroll House happens to be the bridal suite.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “And I’m feeling very much like a bride today.”

“You look like one.”

Puzzled, she considered her appearance. All that he could possibly see now of her wedding ensemble was the little trace of a silken hem, peeking out from underneath her long, black winter coat.

Still, he nodded, the look he gave her, one of adoration and unabashed pride.

And she returned it, realization coming as she slid one hand out of his and up to her hair. Just above her right ear, fastened into a few strands, was Kathleen’s sapphire and diamond aigrette. Many years before, a bride should’ve worn this pin at her wedding. So she thought it was only right that this bride wear it at hers.

She knew that another wedding, another celebration of this gorgeous, knockdown, amazing love was ahead of her at home. For that, she’d wear the proverbial white gown, the white satin shoes, maybe even the long, gauzy veil.

Today, she’d worn a blue dress.

The End

Epilogue

One Year Later

Rabb Residence

Alexandria, Virginia

There had once been a time when he thought he could never feel more at home than in the front seat of a Tomcat or on a carrier trudging massively through some distant sea. The three-day JAGMan investigation had taken him to one and given him the offhand chance at a little test ride in the other. And he’d spent the entire time counting the minutes until he could leave.

At this stage of his life, home was a quiet, suburban street, dotted with flickering lampposts. It was the classic brick colonial he now parked his Lexus in front of, with its trio of maple trees keeping watch and producing endless piles of leaves for him to rake. Home was here. It was his two girls – the younger, with a long, thick mass of curls and piles of fashion magazines and an always-astronomical telephone bill. And the elder, Her Honor - the stunning, moving example of grace and elegance, who never seemed to get enough shoes or greasy burgers. Or enough of him.

Yes, he was home now.

It had just turned dark and the lights inside cast a warm, gilded hue behind the windows. With his bag in one hand, he used the other to push the empty trashcan up the driveway, stowing it in its place at the side of the house. He entered through the door that led to the kitchen. The lights had been dimmed here and the smells were incredible. There was an overwhelming feeling of quiet, party due to the fact that Mattie was spending the night at a friend’s house. “Mac,” he called, anxious to get his arms around his wife. When he received no answer, he wound around the granite-topped island and peered into a big ceramic pot, steaming on the stove. Chicken soup with vegetables. Sitting next to it was a freshly baked apple pie. The fluted edge of the crust was slightly crooked, but the color was light and golden. And perfect. Someone had been busy.

He smiled when he heard a little rumble upstairs and wasted no more time in winding his way through the kitchen and into the entryway. The lights had been lowered here too, so much so that he almost missed them – almost tripped over them. Almost.

At first he thought it was nothing. Both of the female members of his family were notorious for leaving all sorts of things in odd places around the house. But then he remembered and could only stare incredulously, mouth dropped wide open at the sight of the pair of black Jimmy Choo sling back pumps that had been left at the foot of the stairs. The sound of his breath, heavy and erratic, echoed through the room as he finally bent low to pick up the shoes. And when he did, a little white plastic stick popped out of the toe box, right into his hand.

He was shaking as he turned it over. Two blue lines. God, there were two blue lines. Immediately he looked to the top of the stairs and saw her. She was utterly sublime in a long, ivory satin nightgown, watching him, tears flowing from her face in absolute, unspeakable joy. “Mac,” was all he could manage. He raced up the stairs, two by two, and enveloped her into his arms, kissing her with all of the love that was bursting through his heart, more than ever before.

He was still shaking and quite possibly on the verge of crying. He braced her shoulders gently. “You’re pregnant? You’re really pregnant?”

She nodded and found herself being lifted and swung around in a circle. Then he was kissing her again.

He glanced down for another look at the stick, still clutched in his hand “When?”

“We’re having a July baby.” The words tasted sweet upon her tongue. She flung her arms around his neck. “I still can’t believe it. It’s a miracle, Harm.”

“It is and I love you,” he whispered through the blazing emotion of it all. “I love you so much.”

From a faraway place of beauty and tranquility, three beings looked down and witnessed the happy moment. One had finally found the peace she’d never had in life. The other two had found one another again and were never letting go.

The man with flowing black hair closed his eyes in thought and spoke with the future in his vision. “”Tis a girl child,” he declared, then glanced from one woman to the other. “She’ll be christened as Margaret Kathleen. Maggie, they’ll call her.”

One of the women, with striking blue eyes, looked again at the couple then at the man at her side, and smiled. “This,” she pointed downward, “this was done from you? Out of your magic?”

The man shook his head. “No,” he said. “Only out of theirs.”

The End