“Sure it was shameful the way you poured your charm over that dear woman.”

Blair gave him a bland look. “You’re a real card.” She gestured with her chin. “That way. No detours.”

“You know, the way this village is built—I’m meaning the way the roads are, it’s very like my own. And how the shops are huddled up together. And here, this is very like home, too.”

Before she could stop him, he’d opened the door of a pub. “Ah, there’s a familiar smell. And there’s music. So we’ll stop for a moment.”

“Larkin, we need to get back.”

“So we will. But we should have a beer first. I like beer.”

Since her arms were loaded, she didn’t put up much resistance when he nudged her inside. “It’s nice,” he said, “after all the walking to sit and have a tankard. It’s not a tankard,” he remembered.

“A pint. They usually say a pint here.” It was the walking, she decided that made her give in. The man was exhausting. And exhilarating.

She dumped purchases on and around one of the chairs at a low table, sat. “One beer.” She held up a finger. “And that’s it. I don’t want any more trouble from you.”

“Have I been trouble to you?” He took her hand, lifted it to kiss her fingers. “Sure I don’t mean to be.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Have you been playing me? Is this whole thing been your idea of a date?”

His brows drew together. “I don’t know the date. I can’t keep track of the days.”

“No, I meant…never mind. Pint of Guinness,” she told the waitress who came over. “Glass of Harp.”

“And how’s it all going then?” he asked the waitress, and had her beaming him a smile.

“Very fine, and thank you. And for you?”

“A lovely day it’s been. Do you live in the village?”

“In Ennis, I do, yes. Are you visiting?”

“We are. My lady is from Chicago.”

“Oh, I have cousins there. Well then, welcome to Ireland. I hope you’re enjoying your stay. I’ll get your beer right away.”

Idly, Blair tapped a finger on the table as she studied him. “You don’t even have to turn it on, do you? It’s just there, all the time.”

“I don’t understand what you’re meaning.”

“No, you probably don’t. Do the girls back home lap up your cream that way? Blush and flutter?”

He put his hand over hers. “No need at all to be jealous, darling. I’ve no thought for any woman but you.”

“Save it.” She had to laugh. “I wouldn’t fall for that one even if it wasn’t possibly the end of the world.”

“There’s no one here, or back home, who’s caught my eye as you’ve caught it. I wonder if any will now that I’ve seen you. You’re not like the women I know.”

“I’m not like women anyone knows.”

The easy smile faded. “You think that’s a flaw in you, a fault, or…a barrier,” he decided. “Something that makes you less appealing than other women. That’s false. When I say you’re not like other women, I mean you’re more interesting, more exciting. More alluring. Stop.”

The sudden and unexpected irritation in his voice put her back up. “Stop what?”

“You put that face on. The one that says bullshit. I like charming the ladies, for it doesn’t do a bit of harm.” He waited, and this time Blair could see he had to put some effort into smiling at the waitress when she served them. “Thanks for that.” Then he lifted the pint glass, took a long, slow sip.

“You’re pissed,” she murmured, recognizing the glint in his eye. “What have you got to be pissed about?”

“I don’t like the way you demean yourself.”

“Demean my—are you whacked?”

“Just be quiet. I said I like charming the ladies, and I do. I enjoy a flirt here and there, and a tumble when I can get one. But I don’t hurt women, not with my hands, not with my words. I don’t lie. So when I tell you how I see you, it’s the simple truth of it. I think you’re magnificent.”

He drank again, nodding when she only stared at him. “Well, that put the cork back in you right enough. Magnificent,” he repeated. “In face and form, in your heart and your mind. Magnificent because of what you do every day, and have done for years, since you were all but a babe. I’ve never known another like you, and never will. I’m telling you that if a man looks at you and doesn’t see what a wonder you are, it’s his vision that’s at fault, and not a bit of you.”

Chapter 6

T hey fell back into routine, training, strategizing. From the rumbles and flashes coming from the tower, Blair knew there was magic in the work as well.

But what they were doing, under it all, she thought, was waiting.

“We have to make a move.” She plowed rapid punches into the heavy bag they’d hung at one end of the once-grand ballroom. “We’re caught in a loop, and it’s time to do something. Shake things up.”

“I’m for that.” Larkin watched her, wondering how many levels of frustration she worked through by beating up a big hanging sack. “A daylight attack on the caves is what I was thinking.”

“Been there.” She pummelled—left, left, right. “Done that.”

“No, we went there, but we didn’t do the attacking now, did we?”

Annoyed because he was right—worse because he wasn’t mentioning the fact she’d been the one to be so nearly used after the mission to Kerry—she shot him a glance. “We go in, we’re dead. Or most of us.”

“That may be, but we’re likely to die in any case before the end of this thing.”

Hard truth, she thought. She had to respect it. “Yeah, odds are.”

“So there could be a way to give them something to think about without actually going inside and hastening that eventuality. Though I’d like a chance at that—deviling them on their own ground for a change.” He picked up a stake, hurled it at the practice dummy.

She understood the sentiment, and felt the same. But knew better. “Whenever possible, you don’t fight on their terms, or their turf. The caves are suicide.”