Hot Whispers of an Irishman by Dorien Kelly Read Free Book Online

me.”
    Vi smiled. “I have twin brothers, Pat and Danny. They’re just nineteen now and didn’t visit our nan as often, but you might have seen them about as children.”
    “Redheads, right?” asked Catherine.
    “Red as my own,” Vi agreed.
    “And still so?” asked Liam’s mother.
    “They’ve darkened a little, but there’s no mistaking the color for other than red.”
    “Pity,” opined Mam. “Redheaded men never look quite right.”
    Vi’s smile grew to a dangerous curve. Beneath Mam’s linen tablecloth, Liam settled a hand on Vi’s leg and gave it a brief squeeze. He doubted that it calmed her any, but he liked the feel of her long and slender thigh beneath his palm.
    “Plenty of girls in Ballymuir think the boys look better than right,” she said to Una.
    Nora stepped into the breach. “So you’re an artist, are you not, Vi?”
    “On good days,” Vi said. “On bad, I’m merely an ill-tempered dabbler.”
    “A dabbler? Hardly. I’ve one of your pieces over my mantel,” Nora said. “I picked it up at the Design Centre in Kilkenny.”
    Liam felt as though he’d been hit with a mallet. “The abstract of Castle Duneen? That’s yours?” he asked Vi.
    She took a sip of her wine, then nodded. “I’d suppose it is.”
    He wasn’t the artsy sort, except perhaps as it pertained to the beauty of ancient treasure. Paintings didn’t “speak” to him any more than did his mother’s cat. But he’d been drawn to that particular work since he’d first seen it in Nora’s house three years ago.
    “You didn’t tell me that was Vi’s,” he said to his sister.
    Nora shrugged. “You’ve eyes enough. Her name’s right on it.”
    “Not very neatly, I’m afraid,” Vi added, giving him some grounds for self-defense.
    “An artist,” Mam mused. “Liam, doesn’t your Meghan have an interest in painting? Perhaps you can have her chat with Violet. If you wouldn’t mind too much?” she added with a nod to Vi, in what Liam had to say was one of the finest devious acts dressed in party manners that he’d ever witnessed.
    “I—Of course,” Vi said, looking confused.
    He’d fully intended to tell her about Meghan, but not yet, and surely not force-fed the way that Mam had just done it. They had history enough to deal with.
    Liam pushed his plate an inch forward, done with his mother’s chicken. He’d underestimated the fierceness of her maternal instincts, and while he loved the woman with all his heart, doing so was easier from a distance. Tonight, it seemed, the greater, the better.
    He looked at Vi. “I’ve a daughter, Meghan, who’s with me in Duncarraig just now.”
    “I see.” She took another swallow of wine and then asked, “How old is she?”
    “Twelve last month, though she feels there’s been a severe misdelivery of fate and she’s actually twenty,” Liam said.
    Vi’s smile would have fooled most anyone at the table, but not Liam. Beneath it waited a storm of emotions that he knew he’d soon face.
    “A daughter. I’d be pleased to talk with her,” Vi said.
    “Grand,” Mam replied, looking content with her evening’s mischief. She stood and took her plate, then reached for Annie’s.
    “Let me help you clear the table, Una,” Vi said.
    When others rose, too, Vi gave them a firm “sit.” To a soul, they complied. If Liam weren’t so worried over the bloodbath about to take place in the Rafferty kitchen, he’d have been impressed with Vi’s powers of command.
    Una pushed through the dining room door, and Vi followed. Jamie rose and put his ear to the door, but Cullen hauled him away.
    “You’d be marked for life, lad, hearing what’s being said in there,” Cullen told his younger brother.
    Da pushed away from the table. “I’m thinking a walk to the pub might be good.”
    He wasn’t alone in his thoughts of escape, for soon Liam was the only one left in the dining room. He heard two female voices in the kitchen, so took comfort that one had not yet