by Nora Roberts
"And thank God for it," he muttered, but being a loyal brother he came out to stand beside Aidan.
"Pretty as a picture, the pair of you. And you, too," she said, pointing at Darcy. "I hope you both have more brains than your brother, who seems to think because he's got a handsome face women are going to swoon at his feet at the first sign of attention."
"Now, Jude darling."
"Don't you darling me." She reared up over the bar to rap a fist on his chest. "And don't call me Jude in that patient, infuriatingly placating tone, you- bloody moron."
His own eyes flashed and temper threatened. He jerked his thumb at Shawn to take over the taps and nodded to Jude. "We'll go upstairs and finish this."
"I'm going nowhere with you." She rapped her fist on his chest again, enjoying the violence of it. "I will not be bullied."
"Bullied? Who's bullying you, I'd like to know, when you're the one pounding on me?"
"I can do worse." She was suddenly, thrillingly, sure of it. "If you think that by telling everyone who'll listen I'm going to marry you, you'll pressure me into it, or embarrass me into it, or just wear me down, you're in for a surprise. I have no intention of being told what to do with my life, not by you, not by anyone."
She spun around again. "And everyone here better understand that. Just because I'm sleeping with him doesn't mean I'm shopping for a wedding cake when he snaps his fingers. I'll sleep with whomever I please."
"I'm available," someone called out and brought on hoots of laughter.
"That's enough." Aidan slammed a hand on the bar, and the glasses jumped. "This is private business." He shoved past Shawn to flip up the pass-through. "Upstairs, Jude Frances."
"No." She kept her chin up. "And since that appears to be a word you have trouble with, I'll ask which part of no you don't understand."
"Upstairs," he said again, and took a firm grip on her arm. "This isn't the place."
"It's your place," she reminded him. "And it's your doing. Take your hand off me."
"We'll discuss this in private."
"I'm done discussing it." When she tried to yank her arm free, he simply started hauling her toward the back. The fact that he could, that people parted way for them, that he was strong enough to drag her wherever he chose snapped something inside her. And the last lock of that dark, bubbling brew broke clean.
"I said take your hand off me, you son of a bitch." She couldn't quite remember doing it, not with the red haze coating her vision, but she felt the impact sing up her free arm as her fist connected with his face.
"Holy Christ." Stars exploded in his head, and the pain was as awesome as the sheer shock of what she'd done. Instinctively he pressed a hand under his nose as blood began to pour.
"And keep them off," she said with great dignity, as the pub once again fell silent. She turned and walked out seconds before the applause erupted.
"Here, try this." Shawn passed him over a rag. "That's a hell of a right jab our Jude has."
"Aye." He had to sit down and did so as Darcy pulled him toward a vacated stool. "What hell got into her?" He ignored the new bets being laid in the marriage pool, and took, with gratitude, the ice Shawn brought him.
He stared at the bloody rag with both amazement and disgust. "The woman's managed what hasn't been done in thirty-one years. She's broke my goddamn nose."
CHAPTER Twenty
"I'm not going after her, chasing her like a puppy."
Shawn continued to fry up fish and chips while Aidan iced down his abused nose in the kitchen. "So you've said, ten or twelve times in the last twenty minutes."
"Well, I'm not."
"Fine. Be a bloody brick-headed idiot."
"Don't you start on me." Aidan lowered the ice pack. "I can hit you back."
"And so you have, more times than I care to count. Doesn't make you less of an idiot."
"Why am I an idiot? She's the one who comes swaggering in here, peak hour, too, looking for trouble, badgering me, poking at me, and breaking me fucking nose."
"That's got you, doesn't it?" Shawn slid the golden hunks of fish and servings of chips onto plates, added a scoop of slaw, and garnished them with a bit of parsley. "That after all these years and all the fine battles, it's a woman half your size who did the deed."
"'Twas a lucky punch," Aidan muttered as his pride throbbed in time with his nose.
"Sucker punch, more like," Shawn corrected. "And you're the sucker," he added as he swung out the door with the orders.
"So much for family loyalty." Disgusted, Aidan got up to root through cupboards for some aspirin. His face ached like a bitch in heat.
Under other circumstances, he supposed he'd have admired Jude for her fine show of temper, and her aim. But he couldn't find it in him at the moment.
She'd hurt him, face, pride, and heart. He'd never had a woman break his heart before, and didn't know what the devil to do about it. He'd understood, at least in part, that he'd bungled things the night of the ceili. But he'd been so sure, so confident, that he had fixed all that the night before.
Romance and teasing, perseverance and persuasion. What else did the damn woman want, damn it to the devil and back again? They fit together, anyone could see that.
Everyone, it seemed, but Jude Frances Murray herself.
How could she not want him when he wanted her so much he could barely breathe? How could she not see the life they'd make together when he could see it clear as glass?
It was all to do with that first marriage of hers, he thought darkly. Well, he'd gotten over it, why couldn't she?
"She's just being stubborn," he said to Shawn when his brother came back in.
"That makes her a perfect match for you, then."
"It's not being stubborn to go after what you know is right."
Shawn shook his head and began to build the sandwiches needed out in the pub. The place was a madhouse, he mused, with people staying long past their usual time, and others coming in as they got word of the situation. They'd asked Michael O'Toole and Kathy Duffy to lend a hand at the bar, and Brenna was on her way. He didn't think Aidan would be in the mood for pulling pints and making conversation for a bit longer yet.
"No, I suppose it's not," he said after a moment. "But there are ways and ways of going about it with a woman."
"A lot you know about women."
"More than you, I wager, as I've never had one plant her fist in my face."
"Neither have I up till now." Even half frozen from the ice, his nose was pounding like a kettledrum. "It's not the reaction a man expects when he asks a woman to marry him."
"It wasn't the asking, I'd say, but the way of asking."
"How many ways do you ask?" Aidan demanded. "And why is this my fault, I'd like to know?"
"Because it's pitiful obvious that she loves you, and needs love in return. So if you hadn't made a mess of it, she wouldn't have said no and broken your nose."
While Aidan gaped at him, Shawn strode out to deliver the next order. He started to leap up and follow, then calculated he'd spread enough of his personal business out into the pub and village that day. So he paced impatiently and waited for Shawn to come back in.
He carried empty plates this time and slid them into the sink. "Make yourself useful and wash up, would you? I've more fish and chips wanted."
"Maybe I made a mess of it the first time,'' Aidan began. "I admit that. I even talked it over with Darcy."
"Darcy?" All Shawn could do was roll his eyes to heaven. "Now I can say without a doubt you are an idiot."
"She's Jude's friend, and a woman."
"Without a single romantic bone in her body. Forget the washing, I'll tend to it later," he continued as he dredged fish in flour. "Sit down and tell me how you went about it."
He wasn't used to his younger brother issuing directions, and he wasn't sure how it sat with him. But he was a desperate man ready to take desperate measures. "Which time?"
"However many there were, starting with the firs
t." Shawn slid the fish and potatoes into the oil and began to make a fresh batch of slaw.
He listened without a word while he worked. When the order was finished before his brother was, he held up a finger, surprising Aidan into silence, and went out again to serve it.
"Now, then." When he came back, he sat, folded his arms on the table, and gave Aidan a level look. "I'm taking ten minutes here to tell you what I think. But first I have a question. In all this telling her what you wanted and how it would be and what should be done, did you happen to mention that you love her?"
"Of course I did." Hadn't he? Aidan shifted in his chair, moved his shoulder. "She knows I love her. A man doesn't ask a woman to be his wife unless he loves her."
"First off, Aidan, you didn't ask her at all, but told her, and that's a different matter entirely. Plus it seems to me the one who asked her before didn't love her, else he wouldn't have broken his vows to her before a year was up. Certainly she'd have no reason to think he loved her, would she?"
"No, but-"
"Did you tell her or not?"
"Maybe I didn't. It's not so easy just to blurt such a thing out."
"Why?"
"It just isn't," Aidan muttered. "And I'm not some bloody Yank who'd leave her that way. I'm an Irishman who keeps his word, a Catholic who thinks of marriage as a sacrament."
"Oh, well, then, that'll convince her. If she marries you it'll be a matter of your honor and your religion that keeps you with her."
"That's not what I meant." His head was starting to spin. "I'm just saying she should trust me not to hurt her the way she's been hurt."
"Better, Aidan, she trusts you to love her as she's never been loved."
Aidan opened his mouth, shut it again. "When did you get so smart?"
"Nearly thirty years of watching people, and avoiding the situation you find yourself in. I don't think she's a woman who's been given love and respect in equal measure. And she needs them."
"I have both for her."
"I know you do." Sympathy stirred and Shawn gave Aidan's arm a squeeze. "But she doesn't. It's time to humble yourself. That's the hardest thing for you, I know. She'll know it, too."
"You're saying I have to grovel."
Now Shawn flashed a grin. "Your knees'll take it."
"I suppose they will. Can't be more painful than a broken nose."
"Do you want her?"
"More than anything."
"If you don't tell her just that, if you don't give her your heart, Aidan, if you don't bare it for her and give her the time to trust what she sees there, you'll never have her."
"She might turn me away again."
"She might." Shawn rose, laid a hand on Aidan's shoulder. "It's a risk. I don't recall you ever being afraid of taking a chance."
"Then here's another first for you." Aidan reached up, laid his hand on his brother's. "I'm terrified." A little shaky in the gut, he rose. "I'll take a walk if you can hold things here. Get my mind clear before I go see her." Then he touched his fingers gingerly to his nose. "How bad is it?"
"Oh," Shawn said cheerfully. "It's bad. And it'll get worse."
Her hand hurt like six devils. If she hadn't been so busy cursing, she would have worried she'd broken something in it. But as she could still make a fist, she assumed it was only jarred from ramming into the concrete block that disguised itself as Aidan Gallagher's head.
The first thing she did was grab the phone and change her airline reservations. She was leaving the very next day. Not that Aidan was running her off-oh, no indeed. She just wanted to get to Chicago, handle what needed to be handled quickly, efficiently, and personally before she came back.
Then she would plant herself in Faerie Hill Cottage and live a long and happy life doing as she chose, when she chose, and with whom she chose. And the single person who was not on that list of choices was Aidan Gallagher.
She called Mollie and arranged for her to dog-sit Finn.
Already missing him and riddled with guilt for leaving him behind, she picked him up and hugged him.
"You'll have a wonderful time at the O'Tooles'. You'll see. And I'll be back before you know I'm gone. I'll bring you a present." She kissed his nose.
Since she was in no mood to work, she went upstairs to pack. She wouldn't need much. Even if the business of relocating took a week or two, she had clothes in Chicago. She'd make do with no more than her carry-on and her laptop and feel very cosmopolitan.
Once she was on the plane, she'd settle back with a glass of celebratory champagne and make a list of all that needed to be done.
She'd persuade her grandmother to come back with her, to spend the rest of the summer. She would even try to convince her parents that they should come visit so they could see that she was settled and happy.
Everything else was just practical. Selling her car, the furniture, shipping the few things she loved. It was surprising how little of what she'd collected in the past few years she really loved.
Closing bank accounts, she mused as she set her carry-on beside the closet door. Finalizing paperwork. Arranging for a permanent change of address. A week, she calculated. Ten days at most, and it would be behind her.
The sale of the condo could be completed by mail and by phone.
It was all arranged, she thought. She'd take Finn and the keys to the cottage to Mollie in the morning, then drive to Dublin. Then she looked around and wondered what she would do with herself until morning.
She would work in the garden for now, so she could leave it in absolutely perfect shape, without a single weed or faded bloom. Then she'd go visit Maude one more time just to let her know she was going away for a few days.
Pleased with the idea, Jude gathered her gardening tools and gloves, slapped her hat on her head, and went out to work.
Aidan hadn't intended to walk by Maude's grave; but he usually followed impulse. When his feet took him there, he loitered, hoping, he supposed, to find inspiration-or at least a bit of sympathy for his situation.
He crouched down to trail his fingers over the flowers Jude had left there.
"She comes to see you often. She has a warm heart, and a generous one. I have to hope it's warm enough, generous enough, to spare a bit for me. She's your blood," he added. "And though I didn't know you as a young woman, I've heard tales that tell me you had a quick temper and a hard head-begging your pardon. I've come to see she takes after you, and I have to admire her for it. I'm going to see her now, and ask her again."
"Then don't make the same mistakes I did."
Aidan looked up, and into sharp green eyes. He straightened slowly. "So, you're real as well."
"As real as the day," Carrick assured him. "Twice she's said no. If she says so again, you're of no use to me, and I've wasted my time."
"I'm not asking her to be of use to you."
"Still and all, I've only one chance left. So have a care, Gallagher. I can't weave a spell here. It's forbidden, even to me. But I've a word of advice."
"I've had plenty of that today, thanks."
"Take this as well. Love, even when pledged, isn't enough."
Annoyed, Aidan dragged a hand through his hair. "Then what the devil is?"
Carrick smiled. "It's a word that still sticks a bit in my throat. It's called compromise. Go now while she's being charmed by her own flowers. It might give you an edge." The smile widened into a grin. "The way you're looking right now, you'll need all the help you can come by."
"Thanks very much," Aidan muttered even as his visitor vanished in a silver shimmer of air.
Shoulders hunched, he started toward the cottage. "My own brother calling me a brickhead. Sneering faeries insulting me. Women punching me in the face. How much more am I to swallow in one bloody day?"
As he spoke, the sky darkened, and thunder rumbled ominously. "Oh, go ahead, then." Aidan glanced up with a scowl. "Shake your fist. This is my life I'm dealing with here."
He jammed his hands in his pockets and tried to forget
that his face ached like one huge bad tooth.
He came around the back, had nearly knocked on the kitchen door when he remembered Carrick had said she was with her flowers. Since she wasn't at the ones there, it meant she was in the front.
Breathing slow to steady his nerves, he circled the house.
She was singing. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never heard her sing. And though she'd claimed to do so only when nervous, he didn't think that was what brought her voice out.
She was singing to her flowers, and it stirred his heart. She had a sweet and a tentative voice that told him she didn't trust it, not even when she thought no one could hear.
It was a pretty sight she made, kneeling by her blossoms, singing quietly of being alone in a festive hall, with her foolish straw hat tipped over her face and the pup curled sleeping on the path behind her.
She didn't seem to notice the dark clouds brewing overhead, the threat of storms grumbling. She was a steady and bright spot in a magic little world, and if he hadn't already loved her, he would have tumbled at that moment. But he didn't know how to explain to either of them the why of it.
His heart was simply hers. He knew stepping forward with nothing to guard it was the greatest risk a man could take.
He stepped forward, and said her name.
Her head whipped up, her eyes met his. He was sorry to see that soft and content expression vanish from her face, to be replaced by a cold and steely anger. But it wasn't entirely unexpected.
"I've finished talking to you."
"I know it."
Finn woke and with a joyful bark, scrambled to greet him. That's what he'd expected of her, he realized. That she would always be happy to see him, that she would rush forward eager for his attention.
It was hardly a wonder, he thought, she'd given him the boot when he'd treated her a bit like a puppy.
"I have a few things to say to you. The first of them being I'm sorry."
That threw her off, but not enough to soften her. It might have taken her years to learn how to use her spine, but she knew now. "Fine. Then I'll apologize for hitting you."
His nose was swollen, and bruising was already spreading under his eyes. Had she actually done that? She found the fact horrifying and shamefully thrilling.