Love and Blarney by Zara Keane Page A

volunteered her services on Monday. That means you two can go do touristy stuff before Jayme heads back to the States. What do you say?” Marcella looked from Jayme to her brother.
    “Oh, I…” Actually, it was a fabulous idea. Sharon’s forecast had proved accurate, and they were enjoying delightfully mild spring weather. She’d loved exploring Ballybeg with Ruairí yesterday evening. The prospect of seeing more of Ireland sounded fantastic.
    She slid him a hopeful look. He was regarding his sister with a strange expression, some silent sibling communication passing between them. Finally he turned and met her gaze. “Would you like to see a bit of Ireland before you fly back? Beyond the daytrip we’d planned for Monday?”
    His expression was hard to decipher. Did he want her to say no? Was he hoping she’d say yes? She hesitated before giving her response, hope warring with the reluctance to lay herself open to being hurt all over again.
    “Of course Jayme wants to see the sights,” Marcella said, nudging her brother in the ribs. If Ruairí’s wince were any indication, his sister’s elbow packed a punch. “And you’re just the man to show her around.”
    “Ruairí’s great on local history,” Máire added. “He’ll know where to take you.”
    Jayme caught his eye. “Are you sure? If you’ve got other plans…”
    “No,” he replied quickly. “I’d be delighted. I’ll collect you from Mrs. Keogh’s after breakfast tomorrow. Say about nine o’clock?”
    Anticipation turned her stomach into a dance recital. She grinned at her kinda-sorta-still-husband. “That sounds perfect.”

Chapter Seven
    AT NINE O’CLOCK the following morning, Ruairí collected a bouncing Jayme from outside Mrs. Keogh’s bed-and-breakfast. She’d swapped her high heels for sensible flats and wore a bright orange windbreaker.
    “I went shopping,” she explained breathlessly when she slid into the passenger seat. “I didn’t think my feet could cope with a day of wandering around tourist sights if I didn’t buy new shoes. And I’m so over Mrs. Keogh’s raincoat.”
    He smiled at her. “I certainly won’t lose you in that ensemble.”
    She laughed and pulled a tourist guide from her coat pocket. “The choice in Ballybeg is somewhat limited. I took the only one I could find that was small enough to fit me. I drew the line at venturing into the children’s department.”
    Ruairí flipped the indicator and pulled out into the sparse traffic. “So where would you like to go today? Has your guidebook given you any ideas?”
    “Well,” she said, flipping through the book thoughtfully, “we’d talked about visiting Blarney Castle. Is it far from here?”
    “Not at all. It’s about an hour’s drive, give or take.”
    “Could we go there today?” Her tone was plaintive.
    He laughed. “Sure. Why are you so keen on Blarney Castle?”
    “It looks gorgeous in the photos. The nearest thing I’ve ever seen to a medieval castle was at Disney World.”
    Ruairí snorted with laughter. “I think we can find you something a little more authentic, but I will warn you that there’s not much to see of the castle itself. It’s mostly a ruin, but you can visit the dungeon, the battlements, and explore the structure.”
    “And it has the Blarney Stone.” Jayme gave a dreamy sigh. “It sounds so romantic. I can’t wait to kiss it.”
    Frankly, he’d far prefer she kissed him than a filthy stone. “You must be joking. That’s only for tourists.”
    “Ruairí, I am a tourist.”
    Yes, she was… and one who was set to return to America in a few days time. His gut twisted at the thought of her leaving. Apart from skirting around the topic, they’d avoided discussing the divorce. With the date of her departure looming, they couldn’t put it off much longer.
    “All right,” he said with a smile. “Let’s find you a dirty stone to kiss. Just don’t expect me to follow suit.”
    She teased him with her eyebrow.