by Robb, J. D.
“You’re welcome, lad. Shall we begin the celebrations?”
“It’s a bit premature for that, Paddy. I haven’t said a word to her.”
“Then ye’d better get crackin’, lad. Yer father and grandfather would’ve never taken this long.”
At the mention of his father and grandfather, Cullen touched a hand to the gold locket tucked beneath his shirt and felt the warm shimmer of heat in his palm. Just the mere thought of those two old scoundrels had him sweating.
“You’re right, Paddy. But Sydney’s not like any other woman I’ve known. Despite the fact that she’s been on her own for some time now, there’s something very shy and sweet about her.”
Just thinking about her had him smiling broadly. She was such a contradiction. Independent, yet somehow sheltered. So smart and sure of herself, and yet it was obvious that her stepmother still managed to exert a great deal of control over her life. Cullen sensed that this journey to her father’s place of birth was her first halting step toward a declaration of independence. But a woman like Sydney needed time.
“If I move too quickly, she may run like a rabbit.”
“I say go for it, lad. Ye could always sugarcoat it with a bit of romance. Women just can’t deny that need for a romantic interlude, especially while on vacation in a foreign land. Hearing a man declare his love shouldn’t cause a lass to bolt now, should it?”
The two shared a laugh.
“You’re right, Paddy. I’ve been so focused on taking this one step at a time, I almost overlooked the obvious. After yesterday, I’m pretty certain that she could be persuaded. Especially if I remember the romance.”
“Then stop wasting time with an old man like me and get yerself back to the lass before ye lose her altogether.”
With a light heart Cullen let himself out of the gallery and drove away from town and out into the wild Irish countryside.
When he arrived at his home he carefully set the painting on the mantel and stepped back to study Sydney’s work. Hadn’t she perfectly captured Slipper Rock, right down to the way the iridescent light shimmered through the bits of stone, making it appear as though made of glass?
He stood, hands in his pockets, gaze centered on the painting. It fit. It all fit. If he’d had any doubts before, there were none left.
Suddenly he turned away and headed out the door.
He’d spent most of the night tossing, turning, and finally pacing his room. Before dawn he’d been up and about, seeing to mundane things until he was sure Paddy would be available. All these hours he’d been too anxious to think about eating. He’d barely paused to shower and dress before heading to the gallery. Now he couldn’t think of a thing except this need to see Sydney.
He’d wanted to tell her what he suspected yesterday, but something had held him back.
No more hesitation, he thought resolutely. He would tell her now.
And then he would ask her the question.
Her answer would definitely change both their lives forever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What are we to make of this weather?” Bridget cleared the glass-topped patio table, setting their empty breakfast dishes on a silver tray before refilling Sydney’s cup with steaming tea. “It’s as though you brought endless sunshine with you.” She settled herself across the table and glanced at the lush flowers in her gardens. “I’ve never seen my planters looking so fine.”
“Just admit that you have a green thumb.” Sydney nibbled a scone, wondering if Cullen would call.
“I’d like to take all the credit, for I dearly love to garden. But I’ve never seen them looking like this before.” The older woman peered at Sydney over the rim of her cup. “Are you sure you haven’t brought some sort of enchantment?”
“I feel like I’m the one who’s been enchanted.” At Sydney’s confession, the two shared a laugh.
“So.” Bridget picked up the thread of their conversation from the previous night. “You’re an artist like your father.”
“Oh, how I wish that were true. I’m afraid I’m much better suited to teaching than to actually painting a masterpiece.”
“And what makes you think that?” Bridget looked up sharply.
“My stepmother, Margot, never lets me forget it. She constantly reminds me that artists and teachers don’t earn as much as tradesmen, and that my father’s pursuit of his dream denied her the life she deserved. She said if my father had been a truly gifted artist, they would have lived like the rich and famous, instead of spending a lifetime on a farm in upstate New York.”
“Is your stepmother poor then?”
That had Sydney chuckling. “Not by most standards, but then, nothing is ever enough for Margot. To hear her tell it . . .”
Sydney’s words trailed off as Cullen came charging out the back door of the inn looking like a man on fire.
He descended the steps and halted in front of Sydney, struggling to catch his breath.
“Well, look at you . . .” Bridget fell silent when she realized that Cullen wasn’t even aware of her presence. His fierce gaze was fixed on Sydney as though she were the only person left on Earth.
“I’ll just take these dishes out of your way.” Bridget picked up a tray laden with the remains of Sydney’s breakfast and let herself into the kitchen.
Once there she summoned Sean, and the two of them remained by the open window, unconcerned about the fact that they were blatantly eavesdropping.
SYDNEY’S FIRST REACTION WAS A SENSE OF ALARM. THE fierce look in Cullen’s eyes, and the fact that he was breathing heavily, had her hand going to her throat. “What’s happened, Cullen? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Wrong?” He blinked, and in that instant, his frown gradually turned into a smile. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong, Sydney. Everything is so right.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
He walked closer and caught her hands in his. “What would you say if I told you that you’re a very gifted artist, Sydney?”
“I’d say you were crazy.”
“I am. Crazy for you. A friend of mine who is an art critic looked at your work. He called it brilliant. I know now that you’re the one.”
“The . . . one?”
He nodded. “The one I’ve been waiting for.”
“Cullen . . .”
He touched a finger to her lips to silence her protest. “Just listen, Sydney. I need to say this. All of it. Before I lose my nerve.” He took in a deep breath. “When I met you on the plane, I sensed there was something special about you. I tried to dismiss it, but each time I was with you after that, the feeling became stronger. Your kindness. Your generosity. Especially your generosity. And then yesterday . . .” He shook his head, remembering. “Yesterday convinced me. Please believe me when I tell you that I really wanted to wait until I could make this as special as you deserve. But I’ve been up all night thinking about you, about us, and I couldn’t wait another hour. So . . .” Still holding her hands he dropped to his knees on the stone patio. “Sydney, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Wife?” The word came out in a whoosh of air, as though at any moment she would stop breathing altogether. “We’ve only just met. We barely know one another.”
“I know everything I need to know about you, Sydney. Please say yes.”
“You . . . want to marry me?”
“I do. More than anything in this world.”
“Cullen.” Sweet heaven. She felt her eyes fill with tears, and found that she couldn’t speak a word over the sudden lump in her throat.
He got to his feet and gathered her close. “I’ve made you cry.”
“It’s all right.” Her words were muffled against his chest. “They’re . . . happy tears.”
“Truly?” He lifted her face to his and stared into her eyes. “Then you won’t reject me out-of-hand like some crazy man? Even though I’ve caught you by surprise, you’ll consider my proposal?”
“Consider it?” She sniffed
and felt more tears springing up. “Oh, Cullen.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on fiercely. “Yes. Oh, yes.” Against his cheek she whispered, “If you’re crazy, then so am I. Of course I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you any time, any place you say.”
“Oh, my darling girl.” His hands encircled her waist and he swung her around and around before setting her once more on her feet and kissing her soundly. “You’ve made me the happiest man . . .”
The ringing of his cell phone had him looking startled, until he suddenly reached into his pocket and stared at the number. “No. Oh no. Not Dublin. Oh my sweet Sydney, in all the excitement, I forgot about one of the most important meetings of the year. I can’t afford to miss this.”
He turned away slightly to say into his phone, “Sorry. Running late. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He pocketed the phone. “I had it on my calendar. I should have waited. But I was so blinded by . . .” He dug into his shirt pocket, looking puzzled. “Not this, too. I’ve left it on the dresser.”
“It?”
He framed her face with his hands. “The ring. Actually my grandmother’s ring, and then my mother’s. And soon to be yours.” He leaned close and brushed his mouth over hers.
They came together in a blaze of passion, kissing, clinging, until at last they moved slightly apart, both laughing like children. Both struggling for breath.
Cullen pressed his forehead to Sydney’s. “I have to leave, but only for a few hours. When I get back, I swear I’ll do this the right way. I’ll make it up to you. It will be as romantic as you deserve. We’ll marry at the city offices today.”
“Today? You want to marry today? So soon? Is that even possible?”
“Of course.” He nodded. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m not about to let you get away. And if we don’t wed today, we’ll have to wait the entire weekend, until they open again on Monday.” He had a sudden thought. “But if you’d like to have your family witness our wedding, we could have a second wedding, a church wedding, later. Would you like that?”
She gave a breathless little laugh. “This is all happening so fast, I can’t think.” She brought his hand to her heart. “Feel what you’ve done to me.”
At the wild beating he lifted her hand to his heart. “Listen to mine. It’s thundering even harder.”
“That’s from running.”
“All right. It’s from running. But it’s also because of you, my love. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Sydney.”
He started to turn away, then turned back with a look of horror. “The ring wasn’t the only thing I forgot. In my excitement, I left my wallet at home, too, along with all my money. I’ll never make it to Dublin and back with half a tank of gas. I’ll have to go back . . .”
“Here.” Sydney reached into the pocket of her skirt and peeled off a number of bills. “This should do it.”
He was already shaking his head. “I can’t accept . . .”
“You have no choice. You said yourself you’re already late. Go ahead, Cullen. If we’re about to get married, my money is yours anyway.”
He laughed and accepted the money before lifting her hand to his lips. “Not only are you the sweetest woman in the world, but you’re the most generous, too.” He started away, calling over his shoulder, “No matter how late I get back, we’ll make it official. And then, if you’d like, we’ll celebrate with the entire town.”
He turned back and rushed to her side. “I just had a thought. Here.” He slipped the wilted shamrock chain from his wrist and placed it on Sydney’s. “Wear this to remind you of me until I can replace it with diamonds and rubies.”
And then he was gone, racing around the side entrance of the inn as though the very devil himself were after him.
Minutes later Sydney heard the roar of his engine. And then there was only silence.
BRIDGET AND SEAN TURNED TO ONE ANOTHER WITH matching looks of astonishment.
Before her husband could say a word, Bridget touched a finger to his lips. Her words were a hushed whisper. “Not a word of this to anyone. ’Tis none of our business. Not until Cullen chooses to make it public.”
The old man nodded, before turning away and going off to find something that would keep him so busy he wouldn’t have time to enjoy a bit of gossip with his neighbors.
SYDNEY DANCED UP THE STEPS AND LET HERSELF INTO THE inn. Seeing no one around, she felt a tiny twinge of disappointment. She would burst if she didn’t soon share her news with someone.
Her family. However distant Margot and her daughters were, they were all the family Sydney had. And at the moment, she needed to tell someone about Cullen.
In her room she dialed her cell phone, seeing Cullen’s dear face before her. He’d been so happy, so eager when she’d accepted his proposal.
And why wouldn’t she accept? Hadn’t she known, almost from the beginning, that he was a very special man? Every moment spent with him had become magical. He made her laugh. Made her feel as though she were the only woman in his world. And yesterday her heart had been overflowing with love for him.
To think that he returned that love. It was almost more than she could take in.
“Yes. Hello.”
At the sound of Margot’s voice, Sydney was forced to swallow before she could say, “Margot, it’s Sydney.”
“I can read my caller ID. You sound out of breath. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Trouble? Oh, no. In fact, I called to tell you my good news. I’m in love. His name is Cullen. And he’s asked me to marry him.”
For the space of several seconds there was an ominous silence.
“Did you hear . . . ?”
Margot’s tone was sharper than usual. “I suppose this Cullen is a native?”
“Native? You make him sound like some sort of savage.”
“He lives there? In Ireland?”
“He does. In Innismere.”
“I see. Your father’s sleepy little hometown. I suppose that would make him seem all the more attractive to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can’t deny that you’ve spent a lifetime fantasizing about visiting your father’s birthplace. I would think any man living there would seem . . . a larger-than-life romantic figure.”
“That isn’t what attracted me to him.”
“Really? Is it his success then? What does this Cullen do for a living?”
Sydney stared up at the ceiling, wondering just how to respond. “I’m not sure. He works in Dublin.”
“As a banker? A lawyer?”
“He didn’t say.”
“He didn’t say?” Margot’s tone hardened. “You’re about to marry a man and you don’t even know what he does for a living. What about his family? Do they approve?”
“I . . . don’t know. His parents are dead.”
“Any siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?”
“I’m not . . .”
“I certainly hope you’ve met at least some of his family and friends.”
“I haven’t, but . . .”
“Wait. You’ve met nobody important in his life?”
“Well, Bridget, the innkeeper here, is his godmother.”
“Would that be a fairy godmother?” Margot’s tone grew more sarcastic by the word. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? You’ve taken in a stray, and now you can’t part with it.”
“Stop that, Margot. Don’t be so cruel. Cullen is no stray. He’s a lovely man who . . .”
“Just tell me this, and I’ll be convinced, Sydney. Tell me that he’s spent a fortune taking you to the finest restaurants and clubs.”
“I’m not interested in such things.”
“All right. Has he presented you with an engagement ring fit for a queen?”
Sydney lifted her wrist, to examine the wilted shamrock chain around her wrist. “Margot . . .”
The voice on the other end of the line sucked in a deep breath. The voice was pained.
“And above all, please don’t tell me that you gave him money.”
“Well, I . . .” Sydney’s words came out in a rush, eager to explain. “Maybe a little. But I was the one who insisted. He didn’t want . . .”
“Stop right there. You’ve said enough. Let me finish the story for you. He made romantic overtures, but never happened to have any money when the bill came, so you insisted on paying. Maybe you’ve even loaned him more money for one reason or another, whenever he had another sad story. And all you got from this man was an empty promise. Can you deny any of this?”
“I can’t, but . . .”
“No buts, Sydney. I’m betting that he even suggested that you rush into a quick marriage, so that he can claim half of everything you own.”
At the silence that followed that statement, Margot’s voice grew ominous. “Don’t you see? He has you pegged for a rich tourist, who won’t miss a few hundred dollars here or there. All he has to do is give you a few hours of his time, and take you to some local places that don’t cost him anything, and you’re hooked. And now he’s even coaxed you into considering marrying him. It’s the oldest scam in the world and you’ve fallen for it. Didn’t I warn you before you left? You’re so easy to read. You may as well have ‘sucker’ tattooed on your forehead. My advice to you is to get out of there as quickly as possible, before this gigolo relieves you of the rest of your money.”
“He’s not like that at all. He’s not what you think, Margot.”
“Isn’t he? What’s Cullen’s last name, Sydney?”
At the silence that followed, Margot’s tone seemed to lower a full octave. “I see. Another detail you can’t supply. You’re such a silly, romantic, love-starved fool. Go ahead, Sydney. Stay there in that fabled hometown of your father’s. Marry your Prince Charming, who will turn out to be a fortune hunter. But don’t come running home to me when you wake up alone and humiliated, without a penny to your name.”
“You don’t understand . . .” Sydney’s only thought was to defend Cullen, and to defend herself. But even as the words formed in her mind, she couldn’t speak them aloud. All of them sounded pale and empty beside the rich, ripe, colorful accusations Margot had just hurled. “It isn’t like that at all, Margot. It’s just . . . Oh, how can I make you see . . .”