Irish Meadows by Susan Anne Mason

“You’re not by any chance from the O’Leary house, are you now?”
    Her fingers froze, her eyes widened. “Yes. I’m Colleen O’Leary. How did you know?”
    He shook his head and bit back another grin. God was having a very good time with him today. “I’m Rylan Montgomery. Pleased to meet you, Colleen.”
    She took a step backward, her hand clutching the fabric at the neck of her dress as she scanned him from head to toe. “You . . . you can’t be Rylan Montgomery. You’re not a priest.”
    He laughed again. “Not yet. But one day soon, God willing.”
    â€œOh.” The handkerchief fluttered to the road. The misery on her face clutched at him.
    â€œCome now. It’s not so bad. You found me after all, and other than getting a wee bit dirty, we’re all in one piece.”
    She huffed out a defeated sigh, and he suddenly longed for a return of the temper he’d glimpsed earlier.
    â€œLet’s turn the horses around. I’m sure we can get cleaned up before your mother even knows what happened.”
    The fluttering of hope in her eyes matched the hint of a smile on her lips. “Maybe we can. Mama’s out at a meeting for the afternoon.”
    â€œThere you go. She’ll be none the wiser.”
    Colleen bent to retrieve a small straw hat from the grass, then primly pinned it on top of her mud-encrusted hair. He hid his amusement as he guided her onto the carriage bench, then hopped up to join her.
    She sat, as regal as a muddy queen, upon her throne. “Would you do me a favor, Mr. Montgomery?”
    â€œDon’t you think you should call me Rylan? After the adventure we’ve had, Mr. Montgomery sounds far too formal.”
    She lifted her chin. “Very well, Rylan. Would you mind driving the carriage back? I think I’ve had enough of horses for one day.”

5

    G IL SAT BACK AT THE DINNER TABLE and observed the new O’Leary houseguest. Rylan Montgomery was the most unlikely-looking priest he’d ever seen. The man seemed far too at ease in his own skin and much too charming with his dark good looks and that strong Irish brogue, which seemed to have captivated everyone at the table.
    â€œSo, Rylan, what exactly will you be doing at St. Rita’s?” Mrs. O’Leary beamed a smile across the table.
    â€œLearning the ways of a parish priest for the most part. Though I will be helping out at an orphanage a few days a week. I won’t know all the details until I meet with Reverend Filmore tomorrow.” He pushed his plate to one side and patted his stomach.
    â€œAnd why is it you can’t stay at the rectory?” Colleen sounded angry, though Gil couldn’t fathom why.
    Rylan only chuckled at her rude glare. “The rectory is undergoing renovations. Reverend Filmore is staying with his sister until the work is done.” He turned to Mrs. O’Leary. “Whichis why I was ever so grateful to learn my mother had a distant cousin here in Long Island.”
    â€œWell, we’re more than happy to have you.” Mrs. O’Leary passed a platter of pastries down the table. “You didn’t say how Colleen found you at the station this afternoon. I trust everything went smoothly.”
    â€œSmooth as mud, Mrs. O’Leary.”
    Colleen choked on her tea, then quickly pressed a napkin to her mouth. Gil noted with interest the bloom of hot color in Colleen’s cheeks. Something had the girl off kilter—a rarity indeed.
    â€œForgive me for saying so,” Gil said, “but you don’t look Irish.”
    Rylan grinned. “That’s my Italian blood showing. My grandmother on my father’s side was Italian. Hence the brown eyes and ruddy skin. The dimples, however, are all Irish.”
    Deirdre and Brianna laughed at his exaggerated facial expression, while Colleen scowled at the tablecloth.
    Maybe having Rylan Montgomery around wouldn’t