The Claddagh Trilogy: Irish Affair - Irish Love - Irish Heart

by Amanda Heartley

  Yep. Ireland is definitely looking up.

  We lie there for a while, cuddling, talking and getting to know each other. He tells me about Ireland, his parents and what it was like growing up in Wicklow. It all sounds idyllic and peaceful compared to the stories I share with him of being raised in a busy city like New York. He makes it so easy to feel comfortable with him and honestly, I’m not looking forward to leaving now. As if he can read my thoughts, he glances at me.

  “So, when do you leave?” he asks.

  “I’ve booked my flight for tomorrow,” I admit.

  “What?” he frowns. “No. Stay here tonight, and stay another day, at least. Come out with me tomorrow. I’ll take you to see my mother. It’s a beautiful drive along the coast. You’ll love it.”

  “Your mother?” I giggle. “A little too soon for that, don’t you think? We agreed we weren’t getting married the first time we met, remember?”

  “You won’t be saying ‘too soon’ once you taste her cooking,” he teases. “You’ll never want to leave, and we can wait until after dinner before we get wed,” he says, laughing out loud.

  I laugh with him and shrug. I guess I could change my flight. Another day here isn’t going to hurt, right?

  “Okay, let’s do it. Sounds fun.” We give each other one last kiss and drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Rory

  It’s early Friday afternoon, and after spending most of the morning together, I drop Amelia back at her room, then head over to the recording studio. I’m supposed to be working on my new album, but I feel like I need a break from it. Things aren’t flowing like they usually do, and I’m not sure why. The lyrics are written, and the music is ready, but I’m just not feeling it. Maybe I need to step back from it for a while. A distraction of some kind might help me find my mojo again, and Amelia would definitely fit that bill.

  At just before four, I arrive outside the pub to pick her up. She walks out, dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans that hug her perfect curves, knee-high boots and a tight beige sweater that draws my gaze to her gorgeous breasts. She’s swept her hair up into a messy bun, and I feel my cock twitching in my pants. My heart skips a beat—she looks fucking incredible. Even better than I remember, despite it only being a few hours since I last saw her.

  I can see her admiring my Mercedes as she walks toward me. She smiles as she climbs into the passenger seat, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Maureen watching us from the pub entrance. She catches my gaze and, smiling, tilts her head to one side, raising her eyebrows at me. I shake my head at her, a pang of guilt hitting me since I still haven’t told Amelia what I do, or about my fame. It’s selfish, I know, but she seems to like me enough without that knowledge and I have to admit, I’m enjoying the anonymity.

  “Hi, Rory,” she says, all coy. I wait until she fastens her seatbelt before I take off. “Nice car.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur. “It gets me from A to B, alright.”

  “I should say so. Do your parents live far from here?” she asks.

  “They’re about an hour out of Dublin, on a good day,” I explain. “Which around here might be two hours on a Friday afternoon.”

  She laughs. “Surely it’s not that bad. Next you’ll be telling me you don’t get to see them very often since they live too far away.”

  “I get down there quite a bit, actually,” I grin.

  “You obviously get on well with your family then?” she asks.

  “Oh, they’re grand people,” I reply. “I’ve been very lucky in that respect...and my sisters too.”

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Five,” I say with a chuckle. “Mum and Dad came from proper Catholic families.”

  Her eyes widen. “Five sisters? Holy crap! I’ll bet there’s quite a wait for the bathroom in the mornings. Are they younger or older?” she asks.

  “Both. I’m pretty much in the middle,” I say.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of family,” she says with a laugh. “I bet you were a cheeky kid. With that red hair, those freckles, and always up to no good, no doubt.”

  “Yes, and my mother will tell you not much has changed,” I joke. I glance at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. The freckles, thankfully, have mostly faded with age, but the red hair hasn’t changed, though it’s a little darker now, depending on the lighting.

  We chat for most of the drive, and she ‘ooh’s’ and ‘aah’s’ at the lush green countryside and occasional views across the land to the Irish Sea beyond. The conversation flows easily, even after our little tryst last night. I was worried she might close off and have regrets about sleeping with me, but the opposite seems true. She’s really come out of her shell. I love how easy she is to talk to, and I feel like we’ve known each other for a lot longer than we really have.

  “Okay, you’d better hit me with some names,” she says as we near my parents’ house.

  “Right, get ready for this,” I say with a smile. “Brian and Aoife are my parents, though my dad is away on business right now. Then there’s my sisters, aged youngest to oldest, Briana, Siobhan, Kaitlin, Colleen and Fiona. She has two little girls of her own, aged four and seven. Bronagh and Kerry. We’re very traditional when it comes to names over here.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of names,” she mutters.

  “You’ll be fine,” I reassure her.

  “Is your mom going to be annoyed you’ve brought me along for dinner?” she asks, suddenly.

  “Considering she doesn’t even know that I’m coming, probably,” I smirk.

  “What?” she exclaims, turning to glare at me. “You didn’t call to ask her? You can’t just turn up, unannounced. Especially with a guest she’s never met. She’ll kill you. Hell, I certainly would.”

  I laugh. “I’m joking with you. She’ll be fine. I do it all the time…well, minus the guest part.” I smile at her. I know I’m very bad at telling my mum when I’m coming to visit, but my plans change so often. She’s used to it, and honestly, I think she’s just glad I make the effort to come over at all. “It’ll be okay. With a big family like mine, she’s one of those people who always prepares way too much food, anyway.”

  Amelia laughs nervously and shakes her head.

  “I can’t imagine doing that with my family. My mom is the type of person who wants seven days’ notice before I come over—and that’s just for coffee,” she mutters. “She likes her home to be perfect, and she’d totally freak out if I just turned up with a stranger in tow.”

  “Tell me about your sister. I remember you were texting her last night. About me,” I add, grinning at her.

  She nods, color creeping into her cheeks. “Clare and I get on amazingly well. I’m very lucky to have her.”

  “Is she older or younger than you?”

  “She’s three years older.”

  “It’s great you’re so close. Kind of like me and Siobhan.”

  “How old is Siobhan?” she asks.

  “Twenty, but you wouldn’t know it. She acts like she’s forty sometimes. Very blunt and straightforward. She tells it how it is, which is what I need to keep me grounded, you know?”

  I don’t elaborate. People often tell me what they think I want to hear, but that doesn’t help me be a better musician, or even a better person. I always talk to Siobhan when I have a big decision to make, because I know she won’t pull any punches. She also has this way of spinning things, so I see them in a way I’d never consider on my own. She’s great at picking out the positives and negatives from a situation. I’d be lost without her.

  I pull into the long driveway that leads to my parents’ house while Amelia stares out the window.

  “Wow,” Amelia says. “You didn’t tell me they lived on a farm.”

  “It’s not really a farm,” I say. “Just a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere, really.”

  “Still, it’s amazing. Look at all those hills. They must look beautiful out here in the winter, all covered in
snow.”

  “They do,” I agree. Winter, on my parents’ porch, is one of my favorite places to write my songs. Maybe that’s what I need. A few days here to try and get some of that passion back. We get out of the car and walk up to the porch, and we’re barely through the door when my nieces are all over me.

  “Uncle Rory!” Bronagh squeals.

  Kerry races over too, clutching a doll, and they both throw themselves into my arms. I chuckle and lean down to kiss them. They don’t even notice Amelia standing behind me at first. I glance at Amelia and smile. She looks terrified, especially when my mum walks in.

  “Rory,” Mum smiles, hurrying over to hug me. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.” She glances at Amelia, her smile widening. “And you brought someone with you.”

  I ignore her knowing grin, and the way she’s eyeing me, and guide Amelia forward to meet her.

  “Amelia, this is my mum, Aoife. Mum, this is my friend, Amelia. Please, no one embarrass her, or me for that matter,” I add with a wink.

  “Pleased to meet you, Amelia,” Mum says, hugging and kissing her on the cheek, then Bronagh and Kerry glance at each other and giggle, stepping forward together.

  “Hi, Amelia,” they say in unison. Amelia kneels in front of them and smiles.

  “Hello. It’s Bronagh and Kerry, right? Your Uncle Rory has told me about you. I love your doll,” she says, and their eyes widen.

  “Wow,” Kerry exclaims. “You’re pretty,” she says.

  “Why, thank you. You’re both very pretty girls too,” Amelia replies.

  “You talk a little funny. Where are you from?” Bronagh asks.

  “I’m from New York, in America,” Amelia says. “But enough about me. I’d love to see the rest of your dolls.”

  I smile, because she’s amazing with them. I leave her with the girls and follow Mum out of the living room and into the kitchen where my sisters, Fiona and Siobhan are chatting and laughing loudly at the table.

  “Hey, gobshite,” Siobhan grins. “Managed to drag yourself out of that fancy hotel in Dublin to see your poor family, did you?”

  I laugh at her jibe. “Yeah, I would’ve called, but…” My voice trails off. “Nah. Who am I kidding? I was never going to call first.”

  “We know, only too well,” Fiona says. “You’re going to annoy the hell out of a perfectly good woman one day, you know?”

  “That day might come sooner than you think,” Mum giggles, her cheeks pink. I groan and glare at her.

  “Really, Mum? Already? I’ve only been here two minutes,” I groan.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s the craic?” Siobhan demands, looking from me to my mum.

  “Have a look in the living room and see for yourself,” Mum says with another girlish giggle.

  In a flash, there’s a scraping of chairs on the floor, and my sisters practically fall over themselves to be first to peek out of the crack between the kitchen door and the frame into the living room.

  “Holy crap. It’s a girl?” Siobhan whispers loudly. “You brought a real, live girl home? That’s so cute!”

  “Were you expecting a guy?” I chuckle. “And what am I, twelve? Stop talking like that.” I turn back to Mum. “Back to why I didn’t call. I knew you’d be making enough to feed an army, anyway.”

  She starts to protest and then nods.

  “Okay, so you’re right, but still, you should’ve called. It’s not every day you bring a girl home, and I haven’t cleaned the house.”

  “Aye, she’s fierce pretty, alright,” Siobhan says, walking back over to me. “How the hell did you pull that one off? Get her drunk? Kidnap her?”

  I laugh. “Why do you sound so surprised by that?”

  “Ah, I’m only jesting with you. That’s not what I meant,” she says.

  “Sure, it isn’t,” I grin. “Oh, and while I have you all here,” I glance behind me to make sure Amelia isn’t within earshot, “Don’t mention anything about my music, fame, or anything else related to that, okay?”

  “Why not?” Fiona asks with a frown. “Doesn’t she know who y’are?” I wince, but don’t answer her. Both my sisters look at each other, shocked. “Holy Mary, Mother of God. Where does she live? Under a rock, or something?” Fiona exclaims.

  “New York, actually, but she’s just not the biggest fan of country music,” I chuckle. “In fact, that’s an understatement. She hates country music.”

  “How did you find that out without giving yourself away?” Siobhan asks.

  I explain what happened Wednesday night when my song came on the radio, and Siobhan loses her shite, laughing hysterically.

  “Oh my God, that is perfect. You so have to tell me what happens when you tell her who you are,” she giggles. I smile back, and just hope Amelia finds it that funny too.

  When I walk back into the living room, Amelia is sitting on the floor with the girls, playing dolls. I just stand there, taking in her beauty, then she looks up and sees me, a blush covering her pale cheeks.

  “Sorry, I got distracted for a moment there,” she says with an embarrassed grin. “I’ve been reliving my childhood with these two little cutie-pies.” She gets to her feet and walks over to me.

  “That’s grand. I’m glad you three ladies have been getting along. Now, come in here and meet a couple of my ugly sisters,” and I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen to introduce her to Siobhan and Fee.

  “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. Rory’s told me so much about you…all good, I’ll add,” Amelia says, smiling and extending her hand, but Siobhan brushes it aside and instead, throws her arms around her, hugging her tight and kissing her on both cheeks.

  “Oh my God, I love your accent so much,” she says. “I hope our brother is treating you right.”

  Amelia just laughs, totally embarrassed by the attention she’s receiving. All in all, she’s handling it well, and as Fiona gives her a hug, two of my other sisters arrive—just in time to tease me even more about my ‘girlfriend’.

  It’s not long before I’m almost pushed out of the room entirely by my sisters, and the questions and chatter has the decibel level rising in no time. Yep, this is what home is like when everyone’s here. Lucky Dad, I chuckle to myself.

  I manage to catch Amelia’s eye. She looks a little overwhelmed, so I reach for her hand and tug her over to the table, so she can catch her breath. She gives me a grateful smile as we sit down opposite each other.

  “They can be very full on,” I say with a smile.

  “They’re all so nice. I love your family,” she replies. “I feel so welcome here.”

  We aren’t alone for long, though. Siobhan sits down next to Amelia, chatting away at a million miles an hour. They’re trying on each other’s rings, and I watch Amelia with interest. The way her eyes widen, and the way she keeps nodding, and laughing gives me a warm feeling inside.

  Handling one accent is hard enough when you’re not from the island, but when you’re put into a room full of loud Irish women, all talking at full speed when you’re not familiar with the language, it can get difficult to understand them, very fast. Siobhan says something else, and Amelia chuckles and nods in response. I wait until Siobhan turns to our nieces who’ve joined us all in the kitchen, before I lean over to Amelia.

  “You know, you just laughed and giggled when my sister told you her boyfriend was killed in an accident last year?” I murmur softly enough so only she can hear. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen.

  “Oh my God! Please tell me you’re joking?” she gasps, her face going white. “I can’t understand everything she’s saying. Or anyone, for that matter.”

  Siobhan glances over, narrowing her eyes at me. “Hey, what’s he saying? He’s got that gleam in his eye that tells me he’s up to no good.”

  “That you just told me your boyfriend was killed, and I laughed,” Amelia whispers. “I’m so sorry, I—”

  “What?” she laughs. “Pfft. He’s taking the piss. I didn’t even have a boyfriend,” Sio
bhan retorts. “You’re such a gobshite, Rory.”

  Amelia turns her head and scowls at me. “You know, I hate you right now, don’t you? I can’t believe you took advantage of the fact that I couldn’t understand her too well…gobshite,” she growls. She narrows her eyes at me, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist,” I chuckle.

  We get through dinner, and although I can tell Amelia still feels under the spotlight, she’s getting used to our accent and opens up a lot more. From what she said about her own family, I imagine our family dinner times are very different. One of the reasons I love coming home so often is because it’s just so full of life and laughter. If I’m ever doubting myself or just want to get away from it all, home is the first place I go. I wish Dad could’ve been here to meet Amelia too, but he’s not back from his trip until next week.

  * * *

  “Your family is amazing,” Amelia says when we’re on our way back to Dublin. “Thanks for bringing me, I had a great time meeting them.”

  I smile at her and reach for her hand. “Yeah, I’m pretty fond of them too.” I say. I look at her, raising my eyebrows. “So, shall I drop you back to the pub? Or…?” I murmur.

  “Or, what?” she asks, shyly.

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to come back with me. We can talk about whatever comes up.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Please, tell me that line has never worked for you.”

  I laugh. “Umm, no, not yet. But, maybe I’m lucky to be so good-looking that I don’t need lines to reel in the ladies.” She shakes her head and covers her face, but I can see she’s smiling.

  “You’re not bad-looking, but I don’t want to be ‘reeled in’ as you so eloquently put it. I’ll come back to your hotel, but please know it had nothing to do with your lines,” she finally answers.

  * * *

  We’re barely through the bedroom door, and I’m all over her. I wanted to ravish her in the elevator, though I’m pretty sure the elderly couple who got out on the third floor might’ve had a problem with that. I kick the door shut with my foot, then push her back against it. I kiss her neck, my hands exploring her body as I press my lips against hers.