Chapter 2

Colin stared out the window as the Lear jet descended through the gray skies of Dublin. Patches of green were visible in the distance, but were quickly eclipsed by patches of dense fog as the plane got closer to the tarmac.

“It’s lovely to be home,” Emma sighed as the wheels touched down.

Aidan glanced out the window. “‘Lovely’ isn’t a word I’d use to describe this weather, Em. It’s damn depressing. Let’s go to Spain, get some sun.”

“Sorry, lad, but Emma’s on company time now.” Colin shuffled the papers in front of him into a neat pile and handed them to Emma. “Hiring you was one of my more brilliant decisions.”

She grinned. “I agree with that.” She placed the papers into her bag and snapped her laptop shut. “I am so ready for a cup of tea. Should we stop at a shop in the city before heading out?” Colin’s phone started ringing before she finished her sentence. He held it up to show them the caller, and Emma laughed. “Not even a moment on the ground and he’s already bothering you!”

“He’s our ride,” Colin explained before answering. “We’ve landed,” he said into the phone.

“I’m aware of that,” Reilly O’Malley, his cousin many times removed, replied dryly. “I’m in contact with Les.”

“Of course you are. Private lessons going well?”

Reilly loved to fly, and for years, each time he traveled on Aidan’s private jet, Les, Aidan’s pilot, would have to kick him out of the cockpit. In an effort to save his sanity, Les finally offered Reilly lessons, which he accepted as eagerly as a schoolboy.

Colin could almost hear Reilly’s shrug. “I haven’t crashed, so there’s that. I’m waiting outside the terminal. Tell Emma I can’t wait to see her, aye?”

“Ballbuster,” Colin chortled. Reilly enjoyed nothing more than to irritate Aidan—the two fought like brothers. Poor Emma was usually the one breaking it up—she adored Reilly, and was eternally grateful to him for bringing her husband back to her when they’d been separated. Reilly loved to flirt with her, and though she didn’t flirt back, it was enough to set Aidan’s teeth on edge. Colin had a much cooler head than Aidan—he was more laid back in general. Reilly had yet to rattle him; they’d been through so much together over the last twenty years that Colin wasn’t sure Reilly could shock him even if he tried.

“O’Malley’s waiting for us,” Colin reported as they gathered their belongings. He checked his watch and grimaced. “You’ll have to convince him to stop for that tea.”

“I loathe the jet lag, too,” Emma said sympathetically. She tossed Colin an easy smile, her hair bouncing over her shoulder as she turned towards the exit. “When’s your next flight?”

“Tomorrow night,” he replied, following her and Aidan.

“Where are you headed, Mr. O’Rourke?” Les asked, standing in front of the cockpit.

“London,” Colin replied grimly. “Possibly my least favorite place.”

Les drew his brows together. “If your plans allow for it, the jet has some scheduled maintenance at Heathrow. I leave tomorrow morning, however.”

Colin shook his hand briefly. “I’ll gladly hop on board your flight, mate.” Les told him the flight time, and Colin disembarked behind the MacWilliams. He heartily wished he could stay in Ireland longer than a night.

He grinned as he heard Reilly and Aidan bickering. Nothing ever changed with those two.

• • •

Ellie gently placed her book down and glanced out the picture window facing the bay. Boats bobbed in the water as the late-afternoon sunlight glinted off the placid waves. The church bell tolled in the distance, informing her it was close to dinner time. A warm breeze, hinting at summer, lifted a few strands of hair away from her face.

The quiet village in Ireland was her idea of the perfect retreat. Aside from the house itself, which was an eclectic mix of modern and vintage styles inside a 1700s structure, the water view always relaxed her soul. Ellie could breathe here, and allow herself a little more flexibility than in London. She never put her dark hair up here; she preferred to have it loose, down her back, letting the wind tangle and play with it. Her wardrobe here was softer, too—gone were her work clothes of long sleeves and unflattering skirts. Here she could wear jeans, flowing dresses, and sometimes, in the summer, shorts. No one would look twice at her here, for the people were down-to-earth and kind.

Not that Londoners weren’t kind. But there was always that unspoken pressure to keep up with the latest fashions, look good at all times, and be somebody. Her aunt was right—the clothes were an armor. They granted her anonymity in a city that loved scandals, and when new scandals weren’t forthcoming, they’d dredge up old ones if a new picture surfaced.

She made sure any pictures of her were unflattering and unsalable. A few rags had, of course, tried to use that to their advantage, but no one wanted to revisit an earl’s fling a decade on. Especially if that fling was now a dowdy nothing, uninterested in climbing any rungs on the social ladder.

Her thoughts turned to Celtic Connections. Whoever thought to bring that kind of a company to England was brazen, to be sure. She’d looked at their website, and the fees they charged in the States were high. Really high. And while she wasn’t familiar with class wars over there, in Britain, there was most definitely one raging. If their fees remained that high, everyday people wouldn’t be able to use their services. If only the wealthy could use them, then the people would turn their backs, and some of the wealthy might even think the company crass to offer them services they felt they didn’t need.

Ellie had a feeling that she might be the bridge this company would need. If they were successful with her, a commoner, then perhaps they would be successful with others like her, and the fees wouldn’t matter because the company could deliver the promised results. But if Celtic Connections failed…well, the Brits would make up their own mind about whether or not the company had any shot of staying in the country.

The church bell tolled again, shaking Ellie from her thoughts. She honestly didn’t care if the company succeeded or failed. She was ready to take that first step into dating, and they could help her with that. Perhaps they wouldn’t find her the love of her life, but they could potentially offer her a stable relationship, one that wouldn’t result in heartbreak when it ended.

Her phone buzzed loudly, startling her, and she glanced at the text.

The press has been notified. Your picture is on the front of the entertainment section of the Telegraph. You look like a pretty woman dressed for a funeral. Go buy some clothes that show the real you. Xoxo W

She laughed. If her aunt could see her now, in her long cotton skirt and gorgeous Irish-knit sweater, she would most definitely approve. Her hair loose, no glasses, just a touch of ocean breeze…and an unreserved smile.

She felt happy here. Happy and free to be the Ellie that she knew she was, but never had the courage to be in London. When people realized who she was, they immediately assumed she was either a social climber (because of Andrew) or an opinionated and loud woman (because of her aunt). She’d let her guard down for three people: Winnie, her best friend Gwen, and Andrew.

A boat’s horn blew from far off, and Ellie stared at the sea for a moment longer. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be happy. And she knew she could be both, if she gave herself a chance.

The horn blew again, as if agreeing with her, and she made her decision. With the next person she met, she was going to practice being herself. She was going to laugh and enjoy herself, and not tuck herself away in a corner, determined to blend into the wall.

With that, she headed out the door for her daily walk, her head high and a smile on her face.

Until she tripped over the doorjamb.

Perhaps I ought to lower my head a little and watch where I’m going.

No. No head lowering. She was ready for a change, and it started now.

• • •

Reilly turned his car down the long dirt road to his cottage. “Glad you’re here, mate. It’s been too long.”

Colin grinned. “Aw. Did you miss me?”

“I missed your swordplay,” Reilly snorted. “That’s about it, though.”

Colin smacked him on the back of the head, and Reilly laughed. Another half mile and his charming thatched-roof cottage came into view. Colin always appreciated how simplistic Reilly had made it; when he’d first had it designed decades ago, he insisted that it look as though it could fit into any century in Irish history. Built solidly of cob and thatch and surrounded by wildflowers, the cottage could’ve graced any number of fairy tale book covers.

Most of Reilly’s visitors, however, were harder to believe in than any fairy tale character.

“Home sweet home,” Reilly said, cutting the engine. “I didn’t make up your bed. You know where the linens are.”

“Linens?” Colin echoed. “We’re calling them linens now? You’ve gone all fancy on me, Ry.”

“Sheets, linens, blankets…doesn’t matter to me. Grab some and sleep in the barn.”

“Shove off,” Colin laughed, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk. “Any other houseguests?”

Reilly glanced up at the second-floor windows. “None lately. I’ve enjoyed the respite.”

They trudged to the house and Reilly opened the unlocked door. He figured if anyone tried to break in, they’d have a hell of a time figuring out what to steal. He didn’t own electronics, he made his own rustic furniture, and the only thing of value (he claimed) was the thatch on his roof. And stealing that, he always pointed out, didn’t require anyone to open his front door.

He also wanted to ensure that anyone who wandered out from his forest had a safe place to lay their heads before he helped them with their journeys. And those people, as Colin knew from experience, needed to be eased into modern-day life. As a Protector, it was Reilly’s—and Colin’s—duty to aid those who found themselves out of their time.

“It’s been months since we traveled anywhere,” Colin reminded him. “You know it’s only a matter of time.”

“With me, everything’s a matter of time,” Reilly grumbled. “Go unpack, then we’ll head to the pub for some dinner. I’m starved—that ridiculous tea shop Emma insisted on provided no real sustenance.”

Colin rubbed his belly. “No joke. Why do we humor her?”

“Because she’s a sweetheart and we adore her.”

“True.” Colin hefted his suitcase and climbed the stairs. “I’ll meet you there in a while; I need one of their burgers. But I have some work I have to do, to prep for my meeting tomorrow.” The only response Colin received was the sound of tires crunching gravel as Reilly headed to the pub.

An hour later, Colin shut down his laptop and wedged it under the mattress. He didn’t care what Ry thought about robbers—he didn’t want to take any chances.

He stretched his arms over his head and rolled the kinks out of his neck, then grabbed his wallet and slid it into his back pocket. He leaned over the small desk to turn off the lamp when a movement in the back garden caught his eye.

It was a woman, mid- to late-twenties, with long, slightly wavy, dark hair. She wore a long skirt and a sweater. No purse, no cell phone, no panicked look or confusion.

Seeing as she was modern, and not of, say, medieval vintage, Colin figured it best to steer her away from the forest. Folks were known to disappear through there, and he had absolutely no interest in chasing down an unknown person through time. He wanted a burger.

“Hello!” he called out, opening the kitchen door that led into the back garden. “Are you lost, or just out for a stroll?”

The woman looked up, surprised, and stumbled. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just out for a walk.”

Colin smiled. She sounded British—he loved their accents, and found that they loved his. “All right then. Stay away from the woods, though—people get lost in there all the time.”

She glanced back nervously. “Oh. Thank you. I’m sorry I trespassed.”

A moment later, he stepped out, leaving the door open. “You’re not trespassing at all. Everyone’s welcome here. I’m—”

She gave a quick smile. “Nice to meet you, but forgive me, I’m actually headed somewhere, so, um…it was nice meeting you.”

“You said that already,” he remarked.

“Yes. So I did.” She laughed awkwardly, then stepped backwards. “I should get back—oh!” She landed hard on her bottom, grimacing in pain.

Colin was at her side instantly. “Are you okay? You must’ve found a tree root.”

She shook her head, resigned, and a blush crept over her face. But soon she straightened her spine and offered him a smile. “No, I’m afraid not. I’m very clumsy around other people.”

The smile whacked him squarely in the chest, and he felt a bit winded. “Well, at least you’re graceful when you’re by yourself. That’s important, you know, as you spend the most time with you.” Colin flashed her a smile and glanced down at her booted feet. “Is your ankle in pain?”

“Just my pride, unfortunately,” she replied with a self-deprecating laugh. She struggled to stand up, and Colin offered her his hand. She took it.

He froze, surprised at the intensity of her touch. She was looking at him, uncertainty lining her classically beautiful features. Her honey-colored eyes locked on his darker brown ones, and they remained motionless, suspended in a moment, until Colin’s phone began to buzz in his pocket.

“Oh, sorry. Sorry. Here, let me…there you go,” he said quickly, righting her. He let go of her hand and answered.

“Hey Ry.”

“You coming, or am I going to eat your burger, too?”

Colin slid a glance at the woman, who was brushing herself off and testing her weight on her ankle. “Go ahead and eat it. Feel free to stay out a bit later, too.”

“Why?” Reilly’s voice was suspicious. “You’ve got a hot date?”

“I think so,” Colin replied slowly. The woman was taking small, measured steps away from him.

“By the saints, did someone come through the forest?”

“Yes.”

“A woman?” Reilly questioned.

“Right again.”

“A medieval woman?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, perfectly modern.”

Reilly’s sigh was impressive. “Why is it that the modern ones always show up when I’m not there?”

“No idea. Perhaps you could wait there for a while. You never know; maybe one will turn up.”

Reilly barked out a short laugh. “Aye, and the leprechauns all come out at midnight. You owe me.”

Colin smiled and hung up. Feeling a bit more balanced, he extended his hand once more to the woman, who was now looking at him with outright curiosity.

He didn’t know why, but he had to touch her again.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said, waiting for her to shake his hand.

She pressed her lips together in a line, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile. “That’s because I didn’t give it.” She took his outstretched hand, and before she could shake it, he flipped her wrist and kissed her knuckles.

“I’m Colin,” he said softly.

Her breath caught. “I’m…Rose.”

He smiled against her hand, then slowly released it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose. Whoever named you clearly saw your beauty from the moment you were born.”

“Smooth,” she chuckled.

He grinned. “Care to sit with me in the garden for a bit and let that ankle rest up?”

She looked at her watch, then seemed to have some sort of internal battle. He watched in fascination as her lips moved slightly, as if she was talking it out with herself.

She met his eyes. “In the garden?”

He shrugged. “I thought you’d feel more comfortable out here.”

She chewed her lip for a moment more, then answered, “Yes. All right.”

“I’ll grab something from the kitchen. Have a seat,” he offered, dragging a rustic-looking chair towards Reilly’s small fire pit. He hurried into the house, nervous that she’d leave, and quickly rummaged around in the fridge, where he found some orange juice with a dubious smell, bottled water, and two cans of Guinness.

He looked at the cans for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed them, two pint glasses, and a bottle of water. Reilly would forgive him if he drank the last of his beer with a lady.

Maybe.

“I’ve got water or Guinness.” He shrugged apologetically, rejoining her. “It’s my cousin’s house, and he’s a bachelor. There’s really not much on offer.”

“Is he the only bachelor in residence?” she asked innocently.

Colin grinned at her. “I’m American, Rose. I don’t play word games. Yes, I’m single.”

She blushed. “I wasn’t asking that!” After a pause, she conceded, “Oh, fine. I was. But it’s not exactly a question I’m supposed to ask someone I just met. My aunt would be so ashamed.”

“Glad she’s not here, then,” Colin said. He held out the water and a Guinness.

Rose smiled. “Guinness, please. As she’s not here, I don’t have to worry about drinking a beer. My aunt believes a proper lady should never drink beer. Wine or spirits only.”

“She sounds, um…” Colin struggled to find the right word as he tossed some wood into the fire pit.

Rose smiled. “She’s wonderful, actually. The best of women. She is just very particular.”

“Are you visiting Drogheda?” he asked, popping the cap off the bottle. He poured it into one of the glasses and waited for it to settle before topping it off.

“I must say that’s an excellent pour,” she said appreciatively, taking the glass from him. “I am visiting, yes. My aunt owns a home on the sea here, and I found I needed to get away from London for awhile.”

Colin nodded in understanding, then set to work starting the fire. “Ireland relaxes me in a way no other place can, so I understand it. Are you having a nice holiday?”

She sipped the Guinness thoughtfully. “I’m only here a couple of days. I have to return tomorrow for a family obligation.”

He blew on the small flame before replying, “To London? I’m headed there as well. Part of my UK tour.”

“You know Ireland isn’t part of the UK, right?” she whispered, looking around in mock fear.

He laughed, then brushed his hands on his jeans as the flame took shape. Pulling up an identical chair to hers, he replied, “I’m well aware of that fact. Every time my cousin—the one who owns this house—comes to the States, my father loves to tease him about how it’s only a matter of time before the Irish succumb to the lure of the English.”

“If your cousin is a true Irishman, he must rise to the bait every time.”

“Of course. It’s what makes it so amusing for my father. Do your parents live nearby?”

“No.”

He didn’t press her. “So what do you do in London, Rose?”

She toyed with her necklace before answering. “I work at a library.”

Colin sat forward. “Rose, the point of conversation is to answer with at least some detail. Otherwise, it’s hard to get to know you…and I admit to wanting to get to know you a little.”

“A library in a university,” she hurried to add.

He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed.

“You make me nervous,” she blurted out. “Oh, damn. Sorry. Let’s pretend I didn’t say that. I can never keep my mouth shut when it matters.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about here. Like I said—American, remember? Be forthright. Let down that English guard of yours and be yourself. I’ve already judged you.”

“You have?” she asked, affronted.

“I have. And I find you an intriguing mix of half-truths and stark honesty. I wonder what you are really like…We may never meet again, Rose, so perhaps you can let your hair down a bit? I promise not to get you drunk or lure you into bed. I like your company, and as I have nowhere to be, and I’m hoping you also have nowhere to be, that we can enjoy each other’s conversation for as long as you would like to stay.”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “You really are forthright, aren’t you?”

“It’s the best part about my culture,” he replied. He winked. “Well, that and football.”

She took another thoughtful sip, and Colin could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He hoped she would take him up on his offer. He knew from experience that English women weren’t cold or snobbish, although they were portrayed that way on television at home. He knew them to be warm, witty, and kind, once you earned their trust enough for them to let their guards down a bit.

Usually, he had more than a few hours to earn that trust, but he had to make do with what he was given. And he couldn’t let Rose walk out of his life yet; he needed more information so that he could find her again. The pull toward her was one he couldn’t control, even if he wanted to. The fact that he didn’t want to should have made him pause. The fact that it didn’t should have made him run in the other direction.

He made her nervous? Hell, she frightened the living daylights of out him.

“I’m a simple person. I like reading, and rain, and quiet nights home,” she said.

Colin highly doubted she was simple, but he didn’t interrupt her.

“I’m terrible at small talk.”

“You’re doing fine with me,” he noted. The look on her face told him she hadn’t realized she was until that moment, and he wondered at her surprise. “Perhaps you’re at your best when you’re nervous.” He wagged his eyebrows at her, and she chuckled.

“Hardly. I’m usually walking into things, such as open doors, when nerves strike. Hmm.” She took a thoughtful sip of the stout and considered him, but then her eyes slid past him. “Poppies!” she exclaimed suddenly.

He frowned and resisted the urge to look behind him lest she dart away; he would lose her company forever. “Poppies? Is that a British football team?”

She flashed a true smile at him, and his stomach flipped as though he were a fifteen-year-old boy whose crush had finally noticed him.

She laughed. “No, of course not. But your cousin, the Irishman. He has poppies growing in his garden.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “There’s a lot of dissension between some of the English and the Irish. The Irish think poppies in Ireland are a sign of disrespect to the Irish veterans.”

“How so?”

Rose went on to tell him exactly why, but Colin didn’t hear a word of it. Instead, he noted her intelligence, the sparkle in her eyes, the cadence of her voice. The way the light breeze gently lifted the ends of her hair, as if daring him to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked. Her animated hands, used to accentuate her words, only stilled when her mouth stopped moving.

“The truth is, poppies are overlooked by most people until Remembrance Day, anyway. They’re just simple weeds, really.”

“There’s that word again.”

“What word?” she asked, curiosity lighting her face.

“‘Simple.’ You said earlier you were simple…but I’m finding that not to be the case at all.”

She sat back and crossed her arms. “Oh?”

Instead of answering, he strode to the garden. He plucked a single poppy from the ground, then dragged his chair closer to hers. “See this? How many colors do you see?”

She pursed her lips. “Three. Red petals, black center, green stem.”

Colin gently plucked a petal. “Feel this. What do you feel?”

“I feel like I’m suddenly living in a child’s touch-and-feel book,” she quipped. When his laughter subsided, she said, “It feels like tissue paper. The kind you’d wrap around a book.”

“Look closer. Do you see anything other than red on those petals?”

She peered at it. “I must admit to never really looking at one, but yes, I see what you’re getting at. There are small veins of deeper reds, and even a bit of white on the edges.” She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the firelight, her hair shining in the surreal blue glow of the moon.

Colin’s gut clenched in a wholly unfamiliar way. “So…not so simple?”

Wordlessly, she nodded her head in agreement.

“It’s quite stunning when you take the time to really look at it,” he murmured.

She visibly shivered, but didn’t break eye contact. Colin felt heat suffuse him, and he knew, without a doubt, that this woman held his destiny in her hands.

The moment stretched. Colin gravitated closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers, and his gaze refocused to her lips, which were slightly parted. Their breath mingled, and in the instant before his flesh touched hers, a loud crash came from the woods.

They both jumped to their feet.

“Wh-what was that?” she asked, twisting her hands.

“Sounded like a branch falling from a tree,” he replied, aching to take her into his arms.

“I didn’t realize how late it is! I have to get going.” She held out her hand. “May I borrow your phone?”

He reluctantly handed it to her, and before he realized what she was doing, she asked him for the address, then called a taxi to collect her. Colin frowned. “Wait a second. You walked all the way here without carrying a cell phone? What if something happened to you?”

She laughed. “Colin, no one other than my aunt has ever taken the time to fuss over me. When I escape to Ireland, I leave my cell phone in the house when I go walking because I don’t want to be bothered.” She glanced up at the night sky. “I admit, though, that I don’t want to walk back in the dark. Those woods are creepy at night.”

“As long as you stick to the clearly marked path, you’d be fine during the day. But I agree with you—walking through them at night isn’t a smart move. Can I bring you home? I can cancel the taxi.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. This night was…” She paused, and he waited patiently for her to find her next words. She gave him a sweet smile. “This night was perfect. I want to remember it just like this.”

He stepped closer to her, enveloping her in his heat. “May I kiss you, Rose?”

Her eyes wide, she stuttered for a moment. “Uh…um…I don’t really know how to answer that.”

“You either let me kiss you, or you tell me no,” he said softly. He took another step closer to her and placed his hand on her waist. The electricity nearly knocked him flat, and he knew if he didn’t kiss her, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he found her again and touched his lips to hers. Slowly, gently, he drew her closer to him until their bodies were flush. She dragged in a ragged breath, her eyes not leaving his. He lowered his head, giving her time to say no, praying she didn’t say no…then, finally, pressed his lips to hers.

Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids. Colin deepened the kiss, and she allowed it, wrapping her hands around his neck. She fit perfectly against him, as though she had been created just for him, and he for her. He brushed her tongue with his, tasting every bit of her mouth, committing it to memory. Her smell invaded his senses, and he felt light-headed from the beauty of it, the power of it.

Suddenly, she broke the kiss, and Colin dimly realized the taxi was out front, honking its horn in aggravation.

“Don’t leave.” Hoarse, his words held a plea, but he couldn’t stop them. He needed more of this woman, more of her time, of her essence. His dark eyes searched her lighter ones, beseeching, but he saw panic descend.

She quickly stepped back, almost tripping. “I must. Thank you for…” She trailed off, then licked her lips and met his eyes. A shy, genuine smile danced across her mouth. “It was nice meeting you, Colin.”

“You said that already,” he whispered, but she was already halfway around the house. As the taxi drove away, Colin stared up into the night sky and swore.

• • •

“Damn it.” Colin stared moodily into the tumbler, watching the amber whiskey as it swirled in the glass.

“If you wanted a Guinness, you could’ve just walked to the pub,” Reilly called out from the kitchen, irritation in his voice. “Those were my last two! The courteous thing would’ve been to send a text to let me know, so I could’ve stopped off and grabbed more.” Reilly sauntered into the living room and stopped cold. “Well. You’ve moved onto my Jameson, it seems. What the hell happened to you tonight?”

Colin shook his head in defeat. “I don’t even know. She wandered into the garden tonight, and she stayed to have a drink. That turned into two drinks, and then a third, although the last two were waters.”

“She? You’re in Ireland for five minutes and a she wanders into my garden?” Reilly threw himself onto the couch next to Colin. “How do I always miss the female travelers?”

Colin rubbed his chin. “No, she’s from our time, Ry. She was just out for a walk and happened upon your garden.”

“Not the brightest move, to be wandering around an Irish forest.”

“No, no. She’s smart. Really smart. I got the impression that she reads a lot. Maybe the classics, you know? She was kind of clumsy, but not in a bad way. Could laugh at herself, you know?”

“Poor thing,” Ry said, his eyes twinkling. “A smart, well-read, rather clumsy woman, out for a bit of exercise in Ireland. Poor thing couldn’t have been a looker. Tell me that I didn’t miss the company of a smart, clumsy, and beautiful woman? Because that would go to show how unfair life truly is…”

Colin groaned. “I think a better word is stunning.”

Reilly’s eyes narrowed. Colin continued to swirl his liquor, his eyes following the liquid around the base of the glass. “Stunning,” Ry echoed.

“Yeah. And the longer we talked, the more stunning she became. Dark brown hair, with these lighter streaks in it that only showed up when the sun hit it. And her eyes…they were like honey. Unlike any eyes I’ve ever seen.” He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

Reilly struggled to contain his grin. “By the saints, Colin, you seem to wax poetic about this lass. Who said romance is dead?”

“Chivalry,” Colin corrected him, finally meeting his cousin’s eyes. “Chivalry is dead.”

“Only if you sent her on her way without a proper kiss. What’s her name?”

Colin barked out a laugh. “She claims her name is Rose.”

Reilly flinched. “Claims? So the lass didn’t tell you, a stranger, her real name? I like her more and more. No ideas as to her real name, then?”

Colin miserably shook his head.

“When will you see your mysterious Rose next?”

“She leaves for London tomorrow. I have no idea how I’m going to find her again.”

Reilly blinked in astonishment. “You knew she was headed to London tomorrow, and you didn’t press for her real name? You really like to make things hard on yourself, lad. Do you think she might be your mate?”

Colin thought back to the men he’d met who’d let their mates get away. He hadn’t been able to travel back in time and tell them of the mistake they were making, but he’d wished he could after seeing the shells of men left. None of those men had any family to live for, nor any reason to fight the battles of their clans. They became husks of their former selves as the years dragged on, unable to settle for less than their life partner. The women fared better—they usually married and had families of their own, but he wondered if they were truly happy.

Colin closed his eyes in defeat. “When I kissed her…” He shrugged helplessly. “Ry, it was as if everything in my world shifted into place.”

“Oh.” Reilly sat back and blinked a few times. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Colin replied miserably. “Oh.”

“You are flying out of here in seven hours, and you have that meeting for work tomorrow afternoon. You need to go to sleep, or at least try. There’s nothing you can do, short of calling the taxi company and getting the address.”

“Tried that,” Colin replied heavily. “They told me they would report me for stalking.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ll have to look for her after I’m done with Emsworth. She said she works at a university library in the city, and her intelligence made that, at least, believable. I’ll go to every university until I find her.” He nodded firmly. “Simple.”

“There’s more than twenty universities in London,” Reilly informed him sympathetically. “But I’ll help you. We’ll find her. And let’s look on the bright side. It sounds like you found your soul mate, and she’s Irish.”

“She’s British.”

“Honest to God, Colin, can you do nothing right?”

Colin’s answer was to down the rest of his whiskey and reach for the bottle.