by J. D. Robb
“Medicine. My two older sisters, Faith and Hope, are both studying to be doctors.”
Faith, Hope and Charity. Aidan couldn’t help grinning. “How grand. That’s a fine goal. Is your father a doctor?”
“He’s a farmer. He said he’s weary of dancing to the whims of nature, and wants better for his children.”
That had Aidan laughing aloud. “A wise man. I see you’ve heeded his advice.”
“So far. Of course, he wants us all to marry wealthy men, too, but as our mum says, money can’t buy love.”
Aidan sipped her tea in silence. There was a time when she would have agreed with Charity’s mother. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe, if a person were desperate enough, she would even trade love for the chance to escape the burden of debt.
“Not that I wouldn’t be tempted, if the rich man happened to look like Ross Delaney.”
At Charity’s words, Aidan snapped to attention.
The housemaid touched a hand to her heart. “Now, there’s a man who can make a girl’s heart race with just a look or a smile.”
“I’m sure,” Aidan remarked dryly, “he knows just how to use that kind of charm.”
“Then I wish he’d use some of it on me.” Charity covered her hand with her mouth to stifle the laughter that bubbled. “My older sisters told me they did everything but dance naked in front of him when they worked here, and he never once noticed them.” She wrinkled her nose. “The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. All he thinks about is pleasing the old man. I think if Cullen Glin asked him to lie down in front of a moving train, he’d do it.”
“Such loyalty. He must be paid very well for his services.”
“I don’t think he does it for the money. Those who know him, and they’re few indeed, say he genuinely loves the old man. But who really knows? Ross Delaney is a bit of a mystery.” Charity lowered her voice. “Something happened between him and the old man years ago. Though there are a dozen variations of the story, nobody knows for sure. Whatever it was, the old man treats him more like his son than his barrister.”
“Speaking of sons, does Cullen Glin have any children?”
Charity closed the suitcase and stowed it in the closet. “He never married. He lives all alone in this mansion, which my father calls a mausoleum. Of course, if I had his money, and could live in such digs, I’m sure I could survive a little loneliness. Or buy whatever company I craved.”
“Doesn’t Ross Delaney live here with him?”
“He may as well live here, for all the time he spends doing the old man’s bidding. But he calls the guest cottage down the lane his home. According to Bridget, he told the old man that he needed his own space.” She gave a dry laugh. “His own space. Can you imagine? Half our town could live here and it still wouldn’t be crowded.”
She looked over to see Aidan stifling a yawn. “Oh, here I am prattling on about all this foolishness when you’re probably dead on your feet.” The girl removed a robe from the closet before drawing back the elegant comforter to reveal snowy sheets. “I’ll leave you alone now and let you get some sleep. I’ll see that you’re awake with plenty of time to dress for dinner.”
“Thank you for everything, Charity.”
The girl left, closing the door behind her. A moment later Aidan heard the parlor doors close.
Slipping out of her denims and sweater, Aidan picked up the robe. It was soft as a whisper. A look at the label confirmed that it was cashmere. With a sigh, she slid it on and sashed it before walking barefoot to the window to stare down at the scene below. All around were acres of rich green lawn, studded with rose gardens, statuary, wildlife. A garden of paradise.
It all seemed too good to be true.
Wasn’t there always a snake in paradise?
She climbed into bed, hoping she could turn off her thoughts and just relax. But she kept thinking about all the things she’d learned. A rich old man who lived here all alone, and believed her mother to be his long-l ost daughter. That would make him her grandfather.
Of course it wasn’t possible. But what if . . . ?
And then there was Ross Delaney, the mystery man. When they’d first met, he’d been studying her much too carefully. If any other man had looked at her like that, she’d have felt violated. But there was no denying that she’d felt something very different in his presence.
She’d sensed his curiosity and something more. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it an instant attraction.
The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. The old man treats him like a son.
He was probably just curious about her, and protecting his turf. Not that it mattered. Once she and Cullen Glin had their meeting, she would be on her way home, with a fat check that would, hopefully, cover the worst of her debts.
Clinging to that thought, she drifted into sleep.
“Miss O’Mara.”
The thick brogue penetrated Aidan’s consciousness and she opened her eyes to see Charity standing beside the bed.
She sat up, feeling as though she’d been drugged. Sluggish and vaguely disoriented. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Only an hour or so. Bridget sent me to fetch you. It’s six o’clock. She said dinner will be at seven.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you need help? I could run your bath.”
“Thanks, but I believe I’ll just grab a quick shower. How will I find the dining room?”
“No need to worry.” Charity lowered her voice for dramatic emphasis. “Ross Delaney himself will be up shortly, to take you there.”
“Up here?” Aidan glanced around.
“Not here. Next door, in the parlor.”
“Oh.” She shared a laugh with the girl. “All right. I guess I’d better get ready so I don’t keep him waiting.”
As soon as Charity was gone, Aidan hurried to the shower. Half an hour later, with her dark hair freshly dried, falling long and straight to her shoulders, and her makeup applied, she stood before the open closet doors, trying to decide on the appropriate attire. She’d overpacked for a single night, but she hadn’t been certain just what would be expected of her. And, of course, there was the fickle Irish weather to contend with. After much dithering, she’d brought one of her old business suits, a dress that she thought would work for warm or cool weather, as well as the comfortable denims and sweater she’d worn on the flight.
Since they would be eating here, she didn’t need to worry about the weather. She settled on her one dress, of aqua silk with a slim, straight skirt, square neckline and long sleeves. She added her grandmother’s small pearl earrings and a pair of strappy high-h eeled sandals.
With a last glance at her reflection in the full-l ength mirror, she stepped into the parlor.
“Oh.” She stopped in midstride when she caught sight of Ross standing by the fireplace. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Sorry.” He seemed to pull himself back with an effort from some dark thoughts that had him frowning. “I knocked before letting myself in. I heard the shower running, and decided to make myself comfortable.” He picked up a crystal fluted glass. “Champagne?”
“Yes, thank you.” Though it irritated her to know that he’d been here without her knowledge, she forced herself to put it aside. He was, after all, much more entitled to be at home here than she was. Still, it rankled that he’d been just outside her bedroom for all this time, listening as she’d taken her sweet time getting ready.
He handed her the glass.
She noted that he was drinking water from a crystal rock glass. “You don’t care for champagne?”
“No. What do you think of your first glimpse of Ireland?”
He had a definite way of changing the subject when it suited him.
She looked up. “How do you know this is my first trip here?”
His lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s my job to learn as much a
bout you as possible.”
“And you’re very good at your job.”
“I am. Yes.”
His brogue wasn’t as pronounced as that of the others she’d encountered, but it was there in that simple phrase.
“Then you know that this visit will end as quickly as it began.”
“Is that your plan?”
She sipped her champagne to avoid his eyes. “I came here to satisfy an old man’s curiosity about me. And, in all honesty, to satisfy my own curiosity about him. But more than that, I came here for the promised check for my inconvenience. Once I’ve met Cullen Glin and heard what he has to say, I’ll be on my way in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain.”
She looked over. He wasn’t smiling. There was no hint of a joke in his tone. And yet . . . Her tone sharpened. “If, as you say, you’ve done a thorough investigation of me, you have to know that I’m not who he thinks I am.”
“I know only that Cullen Glin has spent years searching for his long-l ost daughter.”
“I’m sorry for him. I’ll be happy to meet him, and then accept his check for the inconvenience. But I won’t pretend to be what he wants me to be.”
“Nor would he ask that.” Ross’ tone remained deceptively even. “If you’ve finished your drink, I’ll take you to him and you can tell him what you’ve just told me.”
She handed him her empty glass and he set it beside his on a sideboard.
As they stepped into the hallway and started down the stairs, Ross lowered his voice. “I do hope you’ll be polite with Cullen, and at least express your gratitude for this opportunity. Further, I’d appreciate it if you’d take care not to tire him. This is an extremely emotional time for him.”
“For him?” Aidan could feel her temper rising. “What about my emotions? If you know all you claim to know, then you realize I’ve just buried my mother, I’ve come halfway around the world, and I’m being lectured on how to behave with a stranger who wants to make me into someone I’m not.”
He paused to put a hand on her arm. “I’m only trying to help you through an awkward meeting.”
She drew away as though burned. “I’ll behave as I damned well please, Mr. Delaney. And when this meeting is over, I’ll be more than happy to leave you alone with the old man you’re trying so hard to protect from the big, bad American.”
For a moment he merely stared at her. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was the most amazing transformation. His face, which had moments earlier appeared to be carved from stone, was now warm with animation. His eyes, which she’d sworn were ice blue, now glinted with humor. His voice, so stern and self-r ighteous, now softened with merriment.
“I see you have a temper, Miss O’Mara. A very good sign indeed.”
He paused before reaching a hand to the ornate door handle. Leaning close, he added, “I pray you keep it in check until the evening ends. Otherwise, you may find in Cullen Glin its equal.”
Before she could form a retort, he had the door open and heard him saying in a clear voice, “Sir, it’s my pleasure to introduce Aidan O’Mara. Aidan, your . . . host, Cullen Glin.”
Three
Aidan’s temper was forgotten as she stared in surprise at the man facing her. She had expected to meet a frail old man, perhaps in a wheelchair, his lap covered with a blanket. That was her last memory of her stern grandfather in the years before his passing.
There was nothing frail about the man who strode across the room and offered a firm handshake. If anything, he resembled an aging lion, with a mane of white hair, a handsome Irish countenance, and a commanding presence. In his day, Aidan decided, Cullen Glin would have easily rivaled Ross Delaney as the most handsome man at any gathering.
“Aidan. Welcome to my home. Forgive me for staring.” He took a moment to compose himself. “I hope you’ll excuse my lack of manners. I got momentarily sidetracked. You’re much lovelier than your photographs.”
“Thank you.” She found herself beginning to relax in this man’s presence. “Your home is spectacular. My first glimpse of it took my breath away.”
“How refreshing.” He glanced beyond her to smile at Ross. “Isn’t she delightful?” Without waiting for a response, he turned that charming smile on her. “How are your rooms, my dear?”
“They’re grand. And, oh, that view of the gardens. I could sit and look at them for hours.”
“They’ve been at their best this season. I hope you were able to rest after that long flight.”
“I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly.”
“Good. Good.” With his hand beneath her elbow, he led her across the room to a grouping of furniture positioned to take advantage of a cozy fire on the hearth.
Like her suite of rooms, the dining room was cavernous, with a table that could easily seat thirty or more people, and a crystal chandelier above it winking with hundreds of lights. Mahogany floors were polished to a high sheen, and softened with an enormous rug in shades of emerald and ruby and gold.
Despite the size, it felt easy and comfortable. Like the man of the house, Aidan thought, who seemed bigger than life.
Bridget entered bearing a silver tray on which stood a crystal decanter and three glasses. Cullen handed one to Aidan and took one for himself before handing Ross a tumbler of water.
“Before we begin dinner, I’d like to offer a toast, my dear. To you, for humoring an old man.” He touched his glass to hers, and then to Ross’. “And, as always, to those we’ve loved and lost.”
Aidan was caught off guard by the depth of pain she could hear in his words, and the sudden flicker of it in his eyes.
Her own loss was still too fresh, too deep. She thought of her mother, and how she would have enjoyed this.
To hide her pain, she sipped and looked away. When she looked up, he was watching her closely.
“I was devastated to learn that you’d only just buried your mother, and that you were her sole caregiver during her illness.”
She nodded, unable to speak over the sudden lump that clogged her throat.
“Thank heaven she had you. There’s nothing like family to see us through the hard times.” He glanced over at Ross, who was studying Aidan through narrowed eyes. “Those of us not blessed with blood kin create our own families. Take Ross. He’s as precious to me as any son.”
“Then you’re lucky to have him.” Unable to turn away from that icy stare, Aidan shot Ross a challenging look.
Reading her irritation, his lips quirked in a hint of a smile, further annoying her.
“Sit here by the fire and enjoy your drink, my dear.” Cullen indicated a comfortable chaise and waited until she was seated, before choosing a chair beside her.
Ross walked to the hearth to poke at the fire before turning to face them. His hand rested along the mantel, drawing Aidan’s attention to the exquisite detail of the sculpted white marble.
“That fireplace is stunning, Mr. Glin.”
“Please, call me Cullen.”
She sipped her champagne. “Has your family lived here for generations?”
That brought a laugh from both Cullen and Ross.
Seeing her arched brow, the old man explained. “In my youth, I was considered an outsider, despite my name, because I grew up in the poorest section of town. There are hundreds of Glins in Glinkilly. In those days Glin Lodge lay in ruins, as did most of the town and the ancient Glin Abbey. If you look out your bedroom windows, beyond the gardens, you’ll see the ruins of the abbey, which was originally built in the fifteenth century. If I live long enough, I hope to restore it as I restored this place.”
“You did all this by yourself?”
He smiled. “I’d love to take all the credit, but it took hundreds of tradesmen hundreds of hours to turn this into the place you now see. All I did was hire good people.”
“Not to mention spending a considerable fortune,” Ross added.
“Money well spent. I was happy to add to
the town’s economy, since I make it a rule to hire as many local workmen as possible. Now the people of Glinkilly can take pride in what they accomplish, while enjoying the wages they earn.”
“What spurred you to do all this?”
He ducked his head and sipped his champagne in silence. When he looked up, his smile was back. “Ross made me realize that it was necessary to restore not only my land, but my name, as well. Both had gone to ruin, and it shamed me.”
He glanced over when Bridget entered, followed by Charity, pushing a serving cart. “Ah, here’s our dinner now.”
Instead of the large table in the center of the room, Cullen led her to a small, round table in one corner, set with snowy linens and fine silver and crystal.
The old man held her chair. “I thought this would be cozier.”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled at Charity as the girl paused beside her, offering a tray of tender roast beef slices and an array of vegetables. She helped herself, and waited as Cullen and Ross did the same.
Bridget placed a silver basket of soda bread in the middle of the table, along with a platter of various cheeses.
“I hope you’ll try the cheese.” Cullen placed several wedges on his plate. “They’re all made by the farmers here in Glinkilly.”
She tasted first one, then another, before nodding. “Wonderful. They must be very proud.”
“And well they should be. Since we’ve made them available throughout the country, they’ve become one of the most popular dairy products in Ireland.”
“Do I see your hand in this, as well?”
“It was Ross who recognized a highly marketable commodity and suggested we try packaging them on a small scale first, to test the waters. Once the consumers began buying in quantity, I knew we had a winner. The rest was up to our local farmers, who’ve proven to be more than up to the task.”
“Do you own the company that markets the cheese?”
He gave a firm shake of his head. “I suggested the farmers form a cooperative. With some seed money from me, they took over completely. They raise the dairy cows, make the cheese, market it under their own brand, and all members share in the profits.”