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

American. I know it sounds bloody absurd to say this, but it never occurred to me that we’d have these troubles. She’s my child, after all…”
    Vi flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder and gave him an arch smile. “So she was bred to assimilate?”
    “I know. Stupid, isn’t it? I’m afraid I don’t make much of a da.”
    “I’m sure you make a fine one. Where’s her mother?”
    “Working in the Middle East for the next six months. Beth’s parents are too far along in years to handle Meghan for that long.”
    “Not that the responsibility should have rested with them.”
    “True enough,” he said, thinking, but not easy enough.
    “Why did you not stay in Boston with her?”
    Liam gave the simple answer, the one without lying business partners and the specters of bankruptcy and federal grand juries in front of which his testimony would soon be compelled. “She’d been living in Atlanta, so I had no familiarity to offer. And my home is a one-bedroom town house that sits empty most of the year, as I stay where projects arise. I brought her where I thought we’d have the most support.”
    “Wise choice, so long as you’re on Una’s good side.”
    He smiled at Vi’s bone-dry proviso. “I’ve never understood why she has such a dislike for you.”
    Vi shrugged. “We’ve different views. I think she found my nan a bit too earthy, and now me, too, if you know what I’m meaning.”
    “And then there’s the issue of the gold,” Liam added. “Mam’s a true believer.”
    Family legend held that a trove of Rafferty gold had ended in the hands of Vi’s great-many-times-
over-grandmam. Liam’s grandda had told the tale with a seanachie’s skill so great that Una had begun to believe it. Though a Rafferty by marriage only, she took the claim fully and vocally to heart. Liam had put little stock in the lore. Until lately…
    “But that’s a tale, nothing more,” Vi said. “Do you think that my nan would have been living in the same four-room house as her nan before her if she’d been sitting on a mountain of Rafferty family gold?”
    “I learned a long time ago that your nan did whatever suited her. Including blister my ears with a lecture or two.”
    Vi laughed. “She wasn’t a woman to cross.”
    “But she was always a woman to respect.”
    Months after her death, Liam had been forwarded a package by his da, who’d been passing friendly with Nan. The package had contained a watercolor Nan had done of the opened gate to her property and her painted rock just the other side. Also enclosed was a letter telling him that he was a fine young man and how sorry she was that matters hadn’t worked out better with Vi, for the families needed to resolve their differences. He still had both the small picture and the letter in a personal file back in Boston.
    Liam glanced skyward, thinking of Nan. The clouds had cleared, and the moon had pulled higher.
    “I’d best be getting back,” Vi said. “I’m sure Roger is more than ready for his supper and a break outside before we head back to Kilkenny.”
    “You could stay in my carriage house,” Liam said, as surprised as she appeared at the offer he’d voiced. “It’s been refitted as guest quarters.”
    “I can’t. My parents will be expecting me, and I’ve left all my clothes there, too.”
    “Then walk with me around the river bend, at least. I’ve something I want you to see.”
    Castle Duneen hadn’t ever precisely been a castle, at least not one of those multiple-turreted fantasies that romantics sighed over. It was foursquare and utilitarian, with high stone walls that had held it in good stead until the 1920s, when the local Republicans had heard a rumor that British troops were to be garrisoned there. They’d executed a preemptive burning, which history proved was unnecessary, too. The British had no intention of using the place. Liam knew that tonight the view of the castle would be impressive, as its current owners seemed to care