Born in Fire (Born In Trilogy #1)

Born in Fire (Born In Trilogy #1) Page 78

Joseph’s grin flashed as he lifted a hand to his ear. “Patty likes it.”

“Hmm,” was all Rogan could think of to say. “Anne might be a bit difficult.” He ignored Joseph’s rude snort. “But in the end, all she wants is her daughter’s happiness. If you’re the answer to that, Anne will want you as well. You know, we could manage well enough around here if you took a sudden trip to Scotland.”

“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“Your business, of course. But…” Rogan stretched back in his chair again. “It seems to me a woman might find a wild ride over the border, a ceremony in some musty chapel and a honeymoon in the Highlands very romantic.”

“I don’t want her to regret it.” Joseph was beginning to sound less certain.

“The woman who walked out of here just now looked to me to know her own mind.”

“She does, and she’s come to know mine all too quickly.” He pushed away from the desk. “I’d better go find her.” He stopped at the door, tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Rogan, can you spare me for a week?”

“Take two. And kiss the bride for me.”

The wire that came three days later, telling Rogan that Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Donahoe were well and happy proved to him that he wasn’t a hard-hearted man. In fact, he liked to believe he’d done his part to speed the two lovers on their way.

But there were two other lovers he’d have given much to see go their separate paths. In fact, he fantasized daily about booting Niall Feeney all the way back to Galway. At first Rogan tried to ignore the situation. When more than a week had passed and Niall was still cozily ensconced in Christine Sweeney’s home, he tried patience. After all, he told himself, how long would a woman of his grandmother’s taste and sensibilities be duped by a charmless, borish west-county sharpie?

After two weeks, he decided it was time to try reason.

Rogan waited in the parlor—the parlor, he reminded himself that reflected the style and breeding of a lovely, sensible and generous woman.

“Why, Rogan.” Christine glided into the room looking, her grandson thought, entirely too attractive for a woman of her age. “What a lovely surprise. I thought you were on your way to Limerick.”

“I am. I’ve just stopped in on the way to the airport.” He kissed her, glanced over her shoulder to the doorway. “So…you’re alone?”

“Yes, Niall’s out running some errands. Do you have time for a bite to eat before you go? Cook’s baked some lovely tarts. Niall’s charmed her so, that she’s been baking treats daily.”

“Charmed her?” As his grandmother sat Rogan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yes. He’s always popping into the kitchen to tell her what a way she has with soup, or the duck or some dish or other. She can’t do enough for him.”

“He certainly looks like a man who eats well.”

Christine’s smile was indulgent. “Oh, he loves his food, Niall does.”

“I’m sure it goes down easy, when it’s free.”

The comment had Christine raising a brow. “Would you have me bill a friend for a meal, Rogan?”

“Of course not. He’s been in town some time now,” he said, changing tacks. “I’m sure he must miss his home, and his business.”

“Oh, he’s retired. As Niall says, a man can’t work all his life.”

“If he’s worked at all,” Rogan said under his breath. “Grandmother, I’m sure it’s been nice for you to visit with a friend from your childhood, but—”

“It has. It’s been truly wonderful. Why, I feel young again.” She laughed. “Like a girl. Just last night we went dancing. I’d forgotten what a fine dancer Niall is. And when we go to Galway—”

“We?” Rogan felt himself pale. “We go to Galway?”

“Yes, next week we’re planning to take a long drive back to the west. A bit of nostalgia for me. Of course, I’m interested in seeing Niall’s home.”

“But you can’t. It’s absurd. You can’t go traisping off to Galway with the man.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because it’s—you’re my grandmother, for God’s sake. I won’t have you…”

“Won’t have me what?” she asked very quietly.

The tone, reflecting the sort of anger she rarely directed at him, had Rogan reining in. “Grandmother, I realize you’ve let yourself be swept away by the man, by the memories. I’m sure there’s no harm in it. But the idea of you going off with a man you haven’t seen for more than fifty years is ludicrous.”

How young he was, Christine thought. And how distressingly proper. “I believe, at my age, I’d enjoy doing something ludicrous. However, I don’t believe taking a trip back to my childhood home with a man I’m very fond of, a man I knew long before you were born, fits into that category. Now, perhaps,” she said, holding up a hand before he could speak, “you find that the idea of my having a relationship, an adult, satisfying relationship with Niall, does fit that category.”

“You’re not telling me—you’re not saying—you haven’t actually…”

“Slept with him?” Christine leaned back, tapping her well-manicured nails on the arm of the love seat. “That’s certainly my business, isn’t it? And I don’t require your approval.”

“Of course not.” He heard himself beginning to babble. “I’m just concerned, naturally.”

“Your concern is noted.” She rose, regally. “I’m sorry that you’re shocked by my behavior, but it can’t be helped.”

“I’m not shocked—damn, of course I’m shocked. You can’t just…” He could hardly say the words, could he? In his grandmother’s parlor. “Darling, I know nothing about the man.”

“I know about him. I haven’t any definite plans on how long we’ll be in Galway, but we will be stopping in to see Maggie and her family on the way. Shall I give her your regards?”

“You can’t have thought this through.”

“I know my own mind and heart better, it seems, than you think. Have a safe trip, Rogan.”