“The baby will be placed with Rose’s sister.”
“I hope Rose gets out in time to be a mother.”
Macdara nodded. She’d given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Before he was arrested, Nathan Doyle had been there to hold his son. He had a longer road ahead of him, with charges both in County Cork and Dublin. It was hard to see that kind of ending for one of their own. But justice had been done. Rose Foley and the baby would remain together in custody until the baby could be placed with her sister. Rose would do time for the attempted murder of Eamon Foley and the cover-up, not to mention cutting the brakes in the Mustang, and setting Emily up to die. Sadly, evil seemed to be like a cancer. Once a person committed one evil act, it seemed the impulse multiplied, making it easier to do again, and again. Making the job of the guards vital to society. The ultimate goal would be to stop a person before they crossed that line, if only they all had crystal balls.
Without discussing it, they headed for the abbey as the sun began to set, spreading red and orange streaks across the sky. They crossed the bridge over the little river, and headed down the gravel path to the ruined structure. Once inside, they continued to the stairs leading to the bell tower. The top was their favorite place to sit, looking out over Kilbane. The silence between them was filled with anticipation. Macdara had something on his mind. They sat on the top steps, continuing the silence for a little more.
“That was excellent work,” Macdara said. His voice was thick.
“Thank you.”
“He was right about one thing. You would do well in Dublin. You will make a fantastic detective sergeant one day.”
She nodded, feeling her heart tap dance in her chest. Macdara looked out over the walls, over the gentle hills. “This is it for me. This is home.”
“I know.” It was her home too. Why did she feel a stab of pain?
“I don’t want to be the person that holds you back.”
“I don’t see it that way.” But sometimes she did. Sometimes she wished he longed for something, somewhere, beyond these walls.
“When you thought I was going to propose . . .”
Here it was. They were going to talk about it. She wanted to, and she didn’t want to. “Yes?”
“Did you . . . want me to?”
This isn’t fair. All on me to answer. “I was trying to figure that out myself,” she said. “A part of me felt excited. A part of me worried. I’m only months into this job.”
“Exactly,” he said.
What did that mean? Did he want or not want to marry her? She knew him better than anyone outside of her siblings, yet there were still parts of Macdara Flannery that were closed to her. What did he want? Why wasn’t he already married with kids? “I have a pretty full house too.”
“You do.”
He was being cautious, parsing his words. So was she. “But it wasn’t horrible to imagine.” There. Take that.
He chuckled, startling her. “I see.”
She clenched her fist. Impossible man. “Is it . . . something you’ve ever imagined?”
“Given your tastes in rings, it would take me a while to save up.”
“That’s not fair. I was set up. He wanted to know what my favorite was—if money was no object. And I wasn’t looking at price tags.”
That chuckle again.
She’d had enough. Stood. “I’m glad you find this so funny.” She started down the stairs.
“Siobhán.” He took the stairs faster, headed her off. He took her hands.
Was this it? What Shane had meant? After Nathan and Rose were taken away in the ambulance, Shane Ross had come up to her in the parking lot of Sharkey’s.
“You’re good,” Shane said. “But you had me sweating.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry. I was waiting for backup to arrive. I had to stall before revealing the true killer.”
A grin spread across Shane’s face. “There is one little thing you got wrong.”
“What’s that?”
He shook his head. “It’s not my secret to tell. But I hope you find out someday.”
Siobhán forced herself back to the present. Macdara cleared his throat. “Nathan Doyle didn’t send Shane to look at rings with you. I did.”
Siobhán had never heard thunder roll on a cloudless spring night, so it must have come from somewhere inside her. “Why?” she squeaked.
“Why? Because I love you, you eejit.”
She blinked. Tears filled her eyes. She shoved him. “I love you too. Eejit.” She gave him a little shove. He laughed and pulled her into him. “Just tell me you didn’t buy that ring.”
“Here she goes again. Can’t stand secrets, can you?”
“It’s not like you to use a suspect like that.”
Macdara nodded. “I told myself it was all about the case. But it was also an opportunity to gain a little insight.” He chuckled. “Didn’t know you were going to pick the most expensive one.”
“Wait. If Shane wasn’t a diamond thief . . . then the ring isn’t really missing.”
Macdara winked. “Tom Howell did a good job, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “So it’s still there. Right? The ring? At the shop?” He just stared at her. “Macdara.”
“Would you please shut up and let me get through this?”
She stood still. So did all of the birds in the trees, and blades of grass, and the ancient stones in the walls. Macdara sank to his knees on the stone steps. He reached into his pocket. Her hands flew over his mouth. “This doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Yes.”
“We can be engaged forever.”
“Yes.”
“If you want to go to Dublin, we’ll go to Dublin. Or China. Anywhere you want. Or just stay here.”
“Yes.”
He removed a box.
“You didn’t.”
“Shut up.”
She did.
He opened the box. There it was. The ring she picked out. She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“It’s too dear.”
“Tom might have exaggerated the price for dramatic effect.”
“By a lot?”
Macdara chuckled. “What does a bachelor like me need a nest egg for?”
“Dara.”
He reached for her hand and slipped on the ring. The emerald sitting up high. Diamonds forming a Celtic cross around it. The most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, placed on her finger by the man that made her heart skip beats. This imperfect, lopsided, handsome man. She looked up. The skies were full-on red, with orange and purple tints. Gorgeous. It caught the emeralds and diamonds and they twinkled. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You know that, don’t you, Siobhán O’Sullivan?”
“Dara.”
“Not just beautiful. Inside and out. You’re whip smart. You’re funny. You’re kind. I might be an eejit, but I’m no fool. And only a fool wouldn’t want to marry a woman like you.” She wanted to reply, but her heart was in her throat. “Siobhán O’Sullivan . . . will you—someday—marry me?”
“Yes. Yes, I will someday marry you.” She launched into his arms before he could change his mind, almost knocking him down the steps. She ended up in his lap. He leaned in and kissed her. When they finally broke away, he took her hand, hauled her to her feet, and grinned. “Curried chips? Maybe a little champagne?”
“Absolutely.” This time his chuckle didn’t annoy her. This time she joined in. Hand in hand, they maneuvered through the remains of the abbey out to the path, heading for the little bridge, and the river where the monks used to brew beer. She imagined them stopping to congratulate them. So much history, so much character. Home. She wanted to shout it to the world. “I’m engaged to Macdara Flannery!”
She paused. She liked her surname better. He wasn’t going to make her become a Flannery, was he? Someday . . . She had time to deal with that. She couldn’t imagine not having the last name O’Sullivan
. . . .
Now wasn’t the moment for negotiations, now was that glorious time to feel the joy. And her heart was bursting with it. Somewhere up in the heavens she was sure her mam and da were looking down, sending Irish blessings, and welcoming the messy-haired man with the deadly blue eyes and lopsided grin to the family.
Someday.
And that was soon enough for her.
Murder in an Irish Pub Page 26