close, covering them both with his umbrella. The patter of raindrops beat in contradiction to her heart, and she wondered if he could hear the rhythm.
“Surely you won’t refuse me after I came all this way?”
“Took you a while,” she said before thought could stop her tongue.
“Most good things take some time to mature,” he quipped. “May I walk with you?”
The musky perfume of rain on stones and dampened flowers mixed with his scent triggered a shiver.
“Chilled?” he asked and put a protective hand on her shoulder.
The heat of his touch penetrated her thin shirt. Muireann flinched. He pulled his hand away and moved back a half step. “Sorry.”
“Listen,” she whispered and then held her breath. The call of a gull was the only sound to pierce the silence. “It’s stopped.”
He lowered the umbrella and his gaze followed hers. The clouds were moving to the east and a three-quarter moon fought for dominance of the night. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift?”
“Why? It’s a brilliant night for a stroll.” And she needed a bit of a cooling off. This Ty, this man, was a stranger and yet not. His genteel ways were not that of an overly urgent youth. His casual touch ignited heat that would surely be responsible for more trouble than simple pneumonia.
He wasn’t quick to respond. The silence was uncomfortable, and Muireann danced a mental jig for something clever to say. She tried without success not to look in his eyes while she untangled her tongue.
“It’s late.” She felt herself starting to slip down a slope to loss of control. “And I’m in the opposite direction from where you’re headed.”
“I’m not in any hurry.” Tynan closed his umbrella and shook it out. Muireann almost laughed out loud. He was remarkably tidy for a man.
“Sure, you can drop me at my place,” she agreed and glanced down at her feet to make sure they were not really slithering out from beneath her.
As she reached for the car door, he stepped up and opened it for her. Polite, chivalrous, conscientious.
He arranged himself in the driver’s seat and reached with his left hand for something on the backseat. “Here, give yourself a rubbing off.”
“With that?” She accepted a T-shirt, a new, very clean one.
“I don’t have anything else, and you’re dripping wet.”
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Are you always this accommodating?”
Tynan chuckled. “Probably even more if you promise to treat me gently. You left your man back there spitting nails.”
“He’s not my man,” she clarified. “And I hope he chokes on his next pint.”
As Muireann took the shirt from him and blotted her face. The shirt sported a band logo, a stylized fiddle, a Celtic harp, and Fadό screen printed in black on bright green. She knew of the trad band based in Boston.
“You’re a fan, then?” she queried.
Ty gave a chuckle. “I’d better like that particular band. It’s bread and butter for meself and my sisters.”
“You’re Fadό?”
Ty just smiled as though she’d uncovered a hidden secret.
Moonlight illuminated half his face, rendering him in silhouette and triggering a bright bolt of electricity that traveled at light speed straight to her belly.
He turned to face her, but showed no sign of driving off. “Where to, Muireann O’Malley?”
“Uh…oh, yes. Straight on here to the edge of the village.” She adjusted her seat belt and snapped it. “So when you’re not making music or travelling the world looking up old friends, how do you spend your time?” With your wife, children, lover? She tried to nudge the truth out of him before she would have to wring it out of him.
“Oh, little of this, little of that. I’m soon to be the owner of one of the oldest public houses in America.” He sounded proud of that fact.
“Impressive.”
“Well, it won’t be so impressive if I go completely broke with renovations before I serve my first pint.” He glanced in
“Surely you won’t refuse me after I came all this way?”
“Took you a while,” she said before thought could stop her tongue.
“Most good things take some time to mature,” he quipped. “May I walk with you?”
The musky perfume of rain on stones and dampened flowers mixed with his scent triggered a shiver.
“Chilled?” he asked and put a protective hand on her shoulder.
The heat of his touch penetrated her thin shirt. Muireann flinched. He pulled his hand away and moved back a half step. “Sorry.”
“Listen,” she whispered and then held her breath. The call of a gull was the only sound to pierce the silence. “It’s stopped.”
He lowered the umbrella and his gaze followed hers. The clouds were moving to the east and a three-quarter moon fought for dominance of the night. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift?”
“Why? It’s a brilliant night for a stroll.” And she needed a bit of a cooling off. This Ty, this man, was a stranger and yet not. His genteel ways were not that of an overly urgent youth. His casual touch ignited heat that would surely be responsible for more trouble than simple pneumonia.
He wasn’t quick to respond. The silence was uncomfortable, and Muireann danced a mental jig for something clever to say. She tried without success not to look in his eyes while she untangled her tongue.
“It’s late.” She felt herself starting to slip down a slope to loss of control. “And I’m in the opposite direction from where you’re headed.”
“I’m not in any hurry.” Tynan closed his umbrella and shook it out. Muireann almost laughed out loud. He was remarkably tidy for a man.
“Sure, you can drop me at my place,” she agreed and glanced down at her feet to make sure they were not really slithering out from beneath her.
As she reached for the car door, he stepped up and opened it for her. Polite, chivalrous, conscientious.
He arranged himself in the driver’s seat and reached with his left hand for something on the backseat. “Here, give yourself a rubbing off.”
“With that?” She accepted a T-shirt, a new, very clean one.
“I don’t have anything else, and you’re dripping wet.”
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Are you always this accommodating?”
Tynan chuckled. “Probably even more if you promise to treat me gently. You left your man back there spitting nails.”
“He’s not my man,” she clarified. “And I hope he chokes on his next pint.”
As Muireann took the shirt from him and blotted her face. The shirt sported a band logo, a stylized fiddle, a Celtic harp, and Fadό screen printed in black on bright green. She knew of the trad band based in Boston.
“You’re a fan, then?” she queried.
Ty gave a chuckle. “I’d better like that particular band. It’s bread and butter for meself and my sisters.”
“You’re Fadό?”
Ty just smiled as though she’d uncovered a hidden secret.
Moonlight illuminated half his face, rendering him in silhouette and triggering a bright bolt of electricity that traveled at light speed straight to her belly.
He turned to face her, but showed no sign of driving off. “Where to, Muireann O’Malley?”
“Uh…oh, yes. Straight on here to the edge of the village.” She adjusted her seat belt and snapped it. “So when you’re not making music or travelling the world looking up old friends, how do you spend your time?” With your wife, children, lover? She tried to nudge the truth out of him before she would have to wring it out of him.
“Oh, little of this, little of that. I’m soon to be the owner of one of the oldest public houses in America.” He sounded proud of that fact.
“Impressive.”
“Well, it won’t be so impressive if I go completely broke with renovations before I serve my first pint.” He glanced in
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