Wild Irish Rose

by Ava Miles

  Whatever the reason, she decided to leave them to it. Although she longed to join them, they hadn’t asked for her company, and perhaps they had a reason for it. Instead, she headed to the kitchen to check on Chef Padraig and make herself a special plate of scones and tea. Back inside her office, she tried to add up the accounts, but in the end, she was unable to drown out all thoughts of their happy tour.

  When she heard the front doorbell ring again, she almost called upon Cian to answer it. But he was working outside on the property today, and it was a silly fancy. She never had problems facing the walk-ins.

  Opening the door, she stopped short at the tall, handsome man grinning at her on the other side. He was dressed in designer jeans and a gray T-shirt.

  “We seem to be having a mini-family reunion here,” he announced in an American accent, jingling a leather overnight bag. “I’m Flynn Merriam. I hope you have a room for me.”

  Another sibling? “Was I supposed to? I mean, Trevor and Caitlyn didn’t mention they were expecting you.”

  “Typical,” he said, shaking his shaggy sandy blond hair. “Thoughtless. I’m just playing with you. I came as a surprise. I was in Stockholm with a lady.”

  Stockholm? They must all travel. She’d ignore the lady comment. “You’re most welcome, of course.”

  His grin was easy and charming, and she didn’t doubt he attracted many a lady with it. “Please tell me you have a room. I hate bunking with Trevor. He snores.”

  She knew that was true.

  “And Caitlyn would use her scissors on me if I even suggested it. Don’t mess with her. She’s fierce.”

  She’d seemed perfectly sweet to Becca.

  “Where’s Buttercup? I have to thank her for giving me some of the best laughs I’ve had in ages. Of course, now that I’m here, your alpaca might change her mind. The ladies seem to think I’m the better-looking brother.”

  Becca could see why—Flynn had a Calvin Klein model look about him, but it didn’t appeal to her.

  “Buttercup is outside, of course,” she said. “I can show you to a room in the meantime. You don’t have any problems with ill-fated lovers, do you?”

  “No. Is that a trick question?”

  “Your sister had reservations about staying in the Tristan and Isolde suite. I believe she feared it would possess unhappy energy.”

  Snorting, he said, “Sounds like her. I’m totally cool with ill-fated lovers. I figure love comes in all shapes and sizes.”

  She held back a snort of her own. “Follow me, Mr. Merriam?”

  “Please, call me Flynn,” he said, checking out the surroundings like Caitlyn had. “You have a beautiful place here…ah…I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Becca O’Neill.”

  He held out a hand smoothly as they continued to walk up the stairs.

  “I got the alert that Caitlyn was on her way here, and I thought I’d hop over and see what was going on. Aunt Clara’s been so high on your place, and it’s nice to see a couple siblings now and again. Don’t tell them that though.”

  From his cheeky grin, she knew he wasn’t serious. “I’ll keep your regard for them in strict confidence.”

  “Oh, I love your accent. It’s lighter than the ones in Dublin.”

  “Thank you. Your brother is in the Oisin and Niamh suite to your right while your sister is down this other hallway on the left in the Diarmuid and Grainne suite. You’re in the West Wing.”

  “Terrific,” he said, following her. “This is a big place. It used to be a manor or something, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s been in my family for four hundred years. We opened it as a bed and breakfast in the 1920s.”

  “It’s wonderful,” Flynn said. “I can see why it has five stars on Expedia.”

  It was hard not to beam. She’d worked hard for their reputation. “Thank you. Here we are.” Opening the door, she handed him the key. “Do you need me to show you around?”

  “Nah, I stay in hotels all the time when I’m traveling.”

  Oh, how she envied the Merriams. They traveled so much they were casual about it. Like most people would be about taking a walk. Like Becca was about crossing the inn. “What’s your favorite place to visit?”

  “Tough one. Right now, it’s the south of Spain. God, there’s nothing like Andalucía.”

  “Seville. Grenada. The wilds of the old Moorish empire.”

  His head darted back. “You know it.”

  “Yes.” Her parents had taken her there on holiday once when she was a child. Heaven on earth. “Your brother and sister are outside. In the old kitchen.”

  She walked to the window and looked out. The door was still closed. What were they doing in there? “It’s right there,” she said, trying not to let him see her consternation.

  “Great, I’ll get settled and find them. Do you have any scones by chance? All the reviews mentioned them.”

  The corners of her mouth tipped up. So he ate like his brother. “We have some fresh out of the oven. I’ll have someone send up a basket.”

  “Are my aunt and uncle around?” he asked, throwing his bag on a chair and opening it.

  “They’re still in Waterford, taking a tour. I’m not sure whether they will be back tonight.” Trevor hadn’t mentioned it, and she hadn’t felt it was any of her business.

  “Good for them. Touring around Ireland. It’s a beautiful country.”

  “A grand one,” she agreed, stepping into the hallway. “I’ll leave you then.”

  He gave her a playful wink. “You’ve been a doll. Thanks.”

  Closing the door, she released a heavy sigh. Two siblings in one day? Flynn had called it a mini-family reunion. Well, it seemed so. She walked to the end of the hallway and looked out the bay window. They’d left the old kitchen at last. Caitlyn was dancing around Trevor, and he was holding his hands up like he was trying to keep her away from him.

  Then Becca heard an unmistakable hum and watched as Buttercup pranced over to them. Caitlyn hugged the animal and started laughing when the alpaca rested her head fondly on Trevor’s shoulder.

  Becca’s heart sped up at the sight. When had he stopped running from Buttercup? To her astonishment, he scratched the animal behind the ears, making Buttercup let loose a litany of hums. Caitlyn bent over, holding her stomach she was laughing so hard. Trevor just continued to smile, the kind of good-humored, confident smile that made her want to run her fingertips over his lips.

  His gaze lifted, and she met his eyes from afar. He waved at her, and she almost stepped back, hoping he wouldn’t ask her to join them. She would be fine to walk that far, but what if he asked her to tour the grounds with them? Instead, she waved, and both Merriams waved back.

  Someone shouted something, and Trevor and Caitlyn both turned toward the sound. Flynn must have left his room as soon she’d left him, for he was striding toward them. Caitlyn ran and leaped up on him, and he caught her and kept right on walking with her in his arms. Trevor was shaking his head fondly as they approached him, and Flynn dropped Caitlyn with a dramatic flair in order to bear-hug Trevor. Their love and camaraderie was tangible. Oh how she wanted to join—

  Trevor was happy, and she liked to see that.

  Feeling as if she were intruding on a private moment, she made herself walk away and headed back downstairs to the kitchen for Flynn’s scones. He could eat them when he returned. Aileen was laughing with Chef Padraig, tasting the charmoula sauce for the haddock special.

  “Aileen, can I speak to you?” she called, picking up a basket and crossing to the trays of fresh-baked scones.

  The woman smacked her lips and patted Chef on the back. “Delicious. It’s going to sell out fast.” She hustled over. “Yes, dear?”

  “Trevor’s brother, Flynn, just arrived, and he’s a fine fellow.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Aileen cried. “How fine a fellow is he?”

  Becca laughed. “He looks like a Calvin Klein model.”

  “Oh, n
o wonder he dates all the models then,” she said, picking up a crock of butter and putting it on the plate Becca was arranging. “I can’t wait to get a look at him.”

  “How did you know he dates models?”

  “I’ve asked Trevor and Caitlyn about all the siblings except that Connor.”

  Becca felt that strange spurt of hurt and envy again. “Why did you take them to the old kitchen?”

  Aileen waved her hand in the air. “Oh, Caitlyn got all excited, what with her interest in fashion. Didn’t want to wait. You didn’t mind, did you?”

  “Of course not. I only wondered.” She hated lying.

  A warm hand touched her arm, and she looked up to see Aileen smiling at her. “They’re here to meet you, my dear. They know how much Trevor loves you. Isn’t it wonderful? Them coming here like they have?”

  Her knees went a little weak. Had they truly come to meet her? “That’s grand,” she murmured.

  “Yes, it is,” Aileen said, “and if I could make a suggestion.”

  “Of course.”

  “I heard Trevor say his aunt and uncle and Hargreaves are driving back this evening. You might consider opening the Cellar and having them eat there.”

  The Cellar was for special events and would give the Merriams more privacy. “Good idea.”

  “Now for my next suggestion,” Aileen said.

  “The tasting menu?” It was common for the guests in the Cellar to enjoy Chef Padraig’s eight-course meal.

  “No, dear. Join them. Let them get to know you better. Cian and I can look after everything tonight. It would mean a great deal to Trevor.”

  “Isn’t it presumptuous?” she asked, picking at the hem of her shirt. “Me going without him asking?”

  “He doesn’t know why you turned down his invitation to Cork City. He thinks you’re too busy to take a moment for yourself. You’ll need to show him otherwise.”

  “All right, I’ll do it.” She forced herself to leave the poor shirt alone and looked up at Aileen. “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome, my dear.” She kissed her cheek. “Now, I’m off to find this fine man and give him some of our prize scones.”

  Becca laughed as she watched her walk out of the kitchen. Crossing to Chef Padraig, she said, “I have some guests joining us in the Cellar last minute.”

  He muttered rapid-fire French swear words under his breath, but she didn’t care.

  Tonight was to be her first meal with some of Trevor’s siblings, and she intended to make it a grand occasion.

  * * *

  Clara loved her husband, but if he told one more person how she’d bought every Waterford Crystal ornament known to man, she might have to kill him.

  When she saw Becca coming toward them as they entered the main hall, she braced herself. “Arthur,” she said. “Remember what we spoke about.”

  The odious man shot her a grin and tossed a red hot in his mouth. “Becca! My beautiful bride bought out the entire stock of Waterford Christmas ornaments. We’re going to have to spend Christmas in Ireland from now on because no postal service on earth can ship them all. I don’t care what Waterford House said. They’ll never reach us in Colorado.”

  “We’d love to have you here for the holidays,” the sweet woman said, embracing them warmly. “It would be ever so grand.”

  “Poor Hargreaves might drop dead from carrying them all,” Arthur continued, crunching on his red hot, knowing full well he was getting her fired up.

  “Not before you do, dear, if you don’t stop yammering about my shopping,” Clara said, giving him a warning elbow in the ribs.

  “You’ll have to tell me all about it,” Becca said. “Every guest who has gone to Waterford has raved about the tour and the crystal. I’m so glad you had a wonderful time. How was Waterford Castle?”

  “Haunted,” Arthur barked.

  “Beautiful,” Clara said, shooting him a glare, which he ignored. “Don’t listen to him. In fact, if you have a scone around, I’ll stuff it in that big mouth of his.”

  He smirked, and she found herself smiling. God, he could be a boor, but she loved goading him.

  “Trevor has a surprise for you,” Becca said. “I hope you’re ready for more fun.”

  “Fun? What did he do? Hire a circus?” Arthur extended a red hot to Becca. “It’s an American cinnamon candy. I only give it to people I like.”

  She stared at it before accepting it. “Then thank you. I have dozens of things to prepare, but I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t spoil your supper. Chef Padraig and I have something special planned.”

  “Do you know where our boy is?” Arthur asked, warming Clara’s heart with the phrase.

  “He’s outside. There’s a pavilion close to the cliffs where people can take in the view comfortably. It’s a favorite with guests who dislike heights.”

  “I’m not acrophobic,” Clara said, eager to see what Trevor had in store for them.

  “That’s good,” Becca said, her whole body stilling right before Clara’s eyes. “It’s a terrible thing to be afraid of something so severely. I’ll leave you now.”

  As she hurried off, Clara stared after her. What had caused such a sudden change in the woman?

  “Maybe she’s afraid of heights,” Arthur said.

  “Well, it’s none of our affair. Let’s find our boy.”

  For all Arthur’s joking, she knew Hargreaves was handling the things they’d brought home from Waterford. He’d been a downright dear like always, helping sort out which ornaments were for whom. Now that she had her very own family, she was already looking forward to Christmas.

  For years, she’d dreaded the silent formal dinner with her now-deceased husband and the perfunctory exchanging of gifts. He’d always gotten her jewelry, and she suspected he’d shopped for her and for whatever woman he was carrying on with at the same time. But she hadn’t let him ruin her love of diamonds or anything else sparkly. She wouldn’t give that son of a bitch the satisfaction.

  When they stepped outside, she heard the sound of laughter. Trevor’s laughter. She’d missed the rascal, although his gift of a stay at the castle had been a luxurious treat, from the special champagne to chocolates he’d arranged to have for their room. She’d eaten every one of them with Arthur teasing her about preferring his red hots.

  Grabbing Arthur’s arm, she propelled him forward.

  “See here, if I wanted to engage in speed walking, I would sign up for a group.”

  She continued to hurry him along, ignoring the token protest. The grass was a delicious green in the sunlight, reminding her of peridots. Had she brought that necklace?

  She spotted the pavilion and noted Trevor wasn’t alone. Other guests?

  “Trevor!” she called out, pulling Arthur along.

  “At least he’s not talking with Buttercup,” her husband said. “I saw that animal with its head on his shoulder the other day. Scandalous.”

  She snorted, watching as Trevor and his two companions stood. There was something about the jawline of the man—so reminiscent of her brother—and then she was running forward like a young girl, dragging Arthur with her. She’d only met the other children once before, at her wedding, but she hadn’t forgotten the look of them.

  “Clara! My God, woman, act your age.”

  She stopped short of launching herself at the handsome man who reminded her so much of her brother despite his longish sandy blond hair and casual T-shirt and jeans. “My goodness, Flynn.” She extended her hand to the woman, who was beaming at her, resplendent in a beautiful plum dress, accentuating the long lines she’d gotten from her mother. “And Caitlyn. What a wonderful surprise! How did you…”

  She gestured with her hand, so moved she was unable to speak.

  Caitlyn hugged her. “Oh, Aunt Clara, it’s so good to see you again. You were such a beautiful bride, but I wished we could have talked more.”

  She knew she was going to cry if she didn’t pull herself together. The estrangement from her broth
er had hurt her deeply, and she’d grieved not knowing her nieces and nephews. But all of that had changed, thank God.

  “Hello, Aunt,” Flynn said, embracing her softly. “Are you as surprised as Trevor?”

  “Yes,” she said, pushing her soft hair from her forehead. “Goodness, you smell good. And you look so much like Shawn. I’m very sorry. I’m getting a little emotional.”

  Arthur put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “No matter. It’s always a special day when you get to see the younger generations. We didn’t get to talk with these two much at the wedding. I believe you were off dancing that horrible line dance Jill staged.”

  Caitlyn hugged Arthur tightly and kissed his weathered cheek. “The Nae Nae. That was awesome.”

  “Awesome for you,” he said, tousling her hair like she was a child. “I had nightmares on my very own honeymoon.”

  “Hello, Uncle Arthur,” Flynn said, hugging him as well. “I’ve heard you’re already on your second honeymoon. That’s how I plan to roll too.”

  “When you have one foot in the grave like me, you have to space your honeymoons closer together.”

  Clara swatted him. “Oh, stop staying things like that. I told you we’re both living to one hundred now that I’ve found you.”

  “Oh my God, that’s so sweet,” Caitlyn said, clutching her chest. “I might cry.”

  “Here’s a handkerchief from Waterford Castle,” Arthur said, not missing a beat. He pulled one from his pocket and handed it to her. “Clara bought two dozen of them in her shopping binge, God help us. So, Caitlyn, what brings you here? Was Trevor needing more family to rally the troops against Connor?”

  Flynn’s head jerked back. Trevor, who’d been smiling at the reunion, looked like his jaw had turned to stone.

  “What’s this?” Flynn asked.

  Clara swatted Arthur again. “Now you’ve done it. For once, couldn’t you have waited for an answer?”

  “What’s this about Connor?” Flynn asked, planting his feet in front of Trevor. His eyes darted to his sister. “Wait. Caitlyn knows, and I don’t? Man, that really pisses me off.”