"Then I'll just say it's the perfect time for a break. I imagine the tea's cold now, but-"

She trailed off as she noted what he carried. Her eyes lit with delight and she hurried toward him. "Oh, you have a puppy. Isn't it sweet!"

It had been lulled to sleep during Aidan's walk from the village, but stirred now as the voices woke it. The fierce yawn came first, then dark brown eyes blinked open. He was a ball of black and white fur, all floppy ears and big feet, with a thin whip of a tail curled between his legs.

He let out an excited yip and immediately began to wriggle.

"Oh, aren't you adorable, aren't you pretty? And so soft," she murmured when Aidan passed the puppy into her hands. When she nuzzled his fur, he immediately covered her face with adoring licks.

"Well, now, there's no need to ask if the two of you like each other. It's the love at first sight that our Jude claims not to believe in."

"Who could resist him?" She lifted the pup into the air, where he wiggled in ecstasy.

"The Clooneys' bitch had a litter a few weeks back, and I thought this one had the most character. He's just weaned and ready for his new home."

Jude crouched, setting the puppy down so he could climb up and over her legs and tumble onto his back for a belly rub. "He looks ready for anything. What will you name him?"

"That'll be up to you."

"To me?" She glanced up, then laughed as the pup nipped at her fingers for more attention. "Greedy, aren't you? You want me to name him for you?"

"For yourself. I brought him to you, if you're wanting him. I thought he could keep you company on your faerie hill."

Her hands stilled. "You brought him to me?"

"You're fond of the O'Tooles' yellow hound, so I thought you might like having a dog of your own, from the ground up, so to speak."

Since she only stared, Aidan backtracked. "If you're not inclined to dealing with one, I'll take him myself."

"You brought me a puppy?"

Aidan shifted his feet. "I suppose I should have asked you first if you were interested in one. My thought was to surprise you, and-"

He broke off when she sat abruptly on the ground, gathered the puppy into her arms, and burst into tears.

He didn't mind tears as a rule, but these had come without warning and he hadn't a clue of their direction. The more the puppy squirmed in her embrace and licked at her face, the tighter she held him and the harder she wept.

"Oh, now, darling, don't take on so. There now a ghra, there's no need for all this." He squatted down, digging out his handkerchief and patting at her. "Hush, now, it's all my fault entirely."

"You brought me a puppy." She all but wailed it and sent the pup into sympathetic howls.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I should have thought it through first. He'll be happy at the pub. It's not a problem at all."

"He's mine!" She curled herself around the pup when Aidan reached down. "You gave him to me, so he's mine."

"Aye." He said it cautiously. God above, a woman was a puzzle. "You're wanting him, then?"

"I always wanted a puppy." She sobbed it out, rocking back and forth.

Aidan dragged a hand through his hair and gave up. He sat down with her. "Have you, now? Well, then, why didn't you have one?"

Finally, she lifted her tear-drenched face. Her eyes continued to brim and spill over with tears. "My mother has cats," she managed and hiccoughed.

"I see." As much, he supposed, as he could see through a fog of pea soup. "Well, a cat's a nice thing. We've one of our own."

"No, no, no. These are like royalty. They're gorgeous and aloof and prissy and sleek. They're purebred Siamese, and really beautiful, but they never liked me. I just wanted a silly dog that would get on the furniture and chew up my shoes and-and like me."

"I think you can depend on this one for all of that." Relieved, Aidan stroked her cheek, wet with tears and puppy kisses. "So you won't curse me when he leaves a puddle on your floor or gnaws one of the nice Italian shoes Darcy's always admiring?"

"No. It's the most wonderful present I've ever had." She reached out for Aidan, sandwiching the delighted puppy between them. "You're the most wonderful man in the world."

Much as the dog had done to her, she covered Aidan's face with adoring kisses.

Perhaps he'd brought the dog to charm her, but there was no point in feeling guilty about it because it had worked, was there? How could he have known he would be filling a deep childhood longing with a flop-eared mongrel pup?

He tucked the uneasy sensation away and managed to cover her enthusiastic mouth with his.

He wanted her happy, he reminded himself. That was the important thing.

"I need a book," she murmured.

"A book?"

"I don't know how to train a puppy. I need a book."

Because it was such a typical reaction, he grinned and drew back. "First off, I'd recommend a lot of newspapers to cut down on those puddles, and a stout hunk of rope to save your shoes."

"Rope?"

"So he'll chew on that instead."

"That's clever." She beamed now. "Oh, and he'll need food and a collar and toys and shots. And-" She lifted the pup into the air again. "Me. He'll need me. Nothing ever has before."

/ do. The words were in his mind, struggling their way to his tongue, but she leaped up, to whirl herself and the pup in a circle.

"I have to put my things back inside and run down to the village and get him everything he needs. Can you wait and drive down with me?"

"I can, yes. I'll put the things inside. You stay out and acquaint yourself with your new friend there."

As Aidan walked to her table, he let out an unsteady breath. It was best he hadn't said it, he told himself. It was too soon for both of them to change the level of things. There was plenty of time to bring up marriage.

Plenty of time to figure how it would best be done.

She bought him a red collar and leash, and dishes of bright blue. Aidan found her some rope and tied it into a sturdy hank. Still, she filled a sack with other things she deemed essential to her puppy's happiness and well-being.

She took him for a walk around the village, or tried to. He spent most of the time trying to shake off the leash or tangling himself in it or chewing on it. She resolved to get her hands on a training manual as soon as possible.

She met Brenna as her friend was loading a toolbox into the back of her lorry outside the village bed-and-breakfast.

"Good day, Jude, and what have you there? Isn't that one of the Clooney pups?"

"Yes, isn't he wonderful? I'm calling him Finn after the great warrior."

"Great warrior, is it?" Brenna crouched down to give Finn a friendly scratch. "Aye, you're a fierce one I'll wager, mighty Finn." She laughed as he leaped up to lap at her face. "He's a lively one, isn't he? You made a nice choice. I'd say he'll be nice company for you, Jude."

"That's what Aidan thought. He gave him to me."

Lips pursed, Brenna glanced over. "Did he, now?"

"Yes, he brought him to the cottage this afternoon. It was so sweet of him to think of me. Do you think Betty will like him?"

"Sure and Betty loves company, too." After a last pat for Finn, Brenna straightened. "She'll be pleased to have the pup to play with. I was just about to stop in the pub for a pint. Do you want to join me? I'm buying."

"Thanks, but- No, I should get Finn home. He must be hungry by now."

The minute they parted, Brenna made a beeline for the pub. She caught Darcy's eye, gave a quick jerk of her head, then moved off to a corner table where she could have some privacy.

Darcy brought along a glass of Harp. "What are you bursting with?"

"Sit down a minute." She kept her voice low and her eye on Aidan over Darcy's shoulder when Darcy sat. "I just saw Jude walking her new puppy down the street."

"She's got a puppy, does she?"

"Shh. Keep your voice down or he'll hear we're talking of it."

"Who'll hear we're talking of what?" Darcy asked in a hissing whisper.

"Aidan'll hear we're talking of how he picked out one of the Clooney bitch's litter-handsome one, too-and took it up to Jude at her cottage for a present."

"He-" Darcy caught herself as Brenna shushed her again, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Aidan gave her a puppy? He didn't say a word to me about it, or anyone else as far as I know."

Since it was news both fresh and surprising, Darcy pondered over it. "He's been known to give a lass a trinket from time to time, but that's usually for an occasion."

"That's what I'm thinking as well."

"And flowers," Darcy continued. "He's always been one for taking flowers to a woman who's caught his eye, but this is different altogether."

"Exactly different." Brenna slapped the table lightly for emphasis. "This is a live and permanent thing. A sweetheart sort of thing, it is, not just the I'm-enjoying-myself-in-your-bed sort of thing." To punctuate the opinion, she lifted her glass and drank.

"Well, she gave him that painting she bought in Dublin, and he's taken with it out of all proportion if you ask me. Maybe he was after giving her something back, and just happened on the pup."

"If it was to give her something back in kind for the painting-and I thought it a lovely painting-he'd have given her a trinket or a bauble or something of the sort. A token for a token," Brenna said firmly. "A puppy is several steps up from a token."

"You're right about that." Darcy drummed her fingers, narrowing her eyes at her brother as he worked the bar. "You think he's in love with her?"

"I'd risk a wager on it that he's heading in that direction." Brenna shifted. "We ought to be able to find out, and if not us, Shawn could. And we can wheedle it out of him easy enough, for he never thinks twice about what's coming out of his mouth."

"No, but he's fierce loyal to Aidan. I'd like her for a sister," Darcy considered. "And seems to me she suits Aidan down to the ground. I've never seen him look at a woman as he does our Jude. Still, Gallagher men are notorious slow to move to marriage once the heart's engaged. My mother said she had to all but pound my father over the head with orange blossoms before he came to ask her."

"She's planning to be here more than three months more."

"We'll need to move him along faster than that. They're both the marrying kind, so it shouldn't be that hard. We'll give this some thought."

Aidan was right. Finn was good company. He walked the hills with Jude, entertaining himself when she stopped to admire wildflowers or pluck the buttercups and cowslips that flourished as May coasted to June. Summer came to Ireland on a lovely stream of warmth, and to Jude the air was like poetry.

When the weather was soft, with the rain falling like silk, she kept her wandering short so she could tuck herself cozy in the cottage.

And when days were dry, she indulged herself and Finn with those long walks in the morning so he could run wild circles around an indulgent Betty.

Whenever she did, rain or shine, she thought of the man she'd seen on the road from Dublin, walking with his dog. And how she had dreamed of doing the same whenever and wherever she wanted.

Like the dog she'd imagined, Finn slept by the hearth when she made her first attempt at soda bread. And he whimpered when he woke lonely at three in the morning.

When he dug at her flowers, they had to have a serious talk, but he made it through two full weeks without chewing on her shoes.

Except that one time they'd agreed to forget.

She let him walk and race until he was tuckered out, then when weather allowed, she set out her table and worked outdoors in the afternoons while he napped under her chair.

Her book. It was so secret, she'd yet to fully acknowledge to herself just how much she wanted to sell it, to see it with a beautiful cover, one with her name on it, on the shelf of a bookstore.

She kept that almost painful hope buried and threw herself into the work she'd discovered she loved. To add to it, she often took an hour or two in the evening to sketch out illustrations to go with the stories.

Her sketches were primitive at best, in her opinion, and awkward at worst. She'd never considered the art lessons her parents had insisted on to be particularly fruitful. But the drawing entertained her.

She made certain they were all tucked away whenever anyone came by to visit. Now and then, it took some scrambling.

She was in the kitchen going over the latest sketch of the cottage, the one she considered the best of a mediocre lot, when she heard the quick knock on her door, then the sound of it slamming.