CYCLING HOME FROM MOONCOYNE, her front basket sparsely filled with the few food items she had forced herself to buy at the weekly farmers’ market in the hope that they might kick-start her appetite again, Aideen heard the low cooing of a wood pigeon. Something about its regular familiar call reassured her. It told her that the world went on spinning even though it felt as though hers had ground to a halt.
Spring was in full bloom. The trees that lined the road were no longer stark grey-brown statues, reaching up to the sky, but lush green flowing bodies of movement and life. Waves of white cow parsley littered the hedgerows on either side of her, yellow buttercup flowers popping through at intervals.
Everything was changing.
It had been a week since she had returned from Paris. She had moved back into Fuchsia Cottage immediately, not caring about the dust or the noise as the builders carried out the renovations. It wasn’t as if she was getting a lot of work done anyway. Thankfully their work was due to be completed by the end of next week. Hopefully then she would be able to give her work one hundred per cent of her concentration.
She had neither seen nor heard from Patrick since she’d returned. A part of her had hoped he might contact her. See how she was doing. Which was pretty crazy, really. He was probably just relieved to move on from what had been a disastrous scenario from his point of view.
He had visibly paled when she’d said she loved him. The panic in his eyes had told her everything she needed to know. Even now her cheeks glowed bright red at that memory.
In her first days at home she had wondered if she had made the worst decision of her life, becoming so involved, so intimate with him. In those long days and sleepless nights she had lived with numbing pain and an overwhelming sense of loss. And the haunting question as to whether her judgement had been all wrong once again.
But in the days that had followed, as her initial shock and gruelling pain had subsided a little, she’d found a clarity of thinking that had evaded her all the time she was with him.
She had been so overpowered, intrigued, in love with him, that when they’d been together she hadn’t been able to think straight, think objectively.
Being with him had been like being awash with emotions that left no room for perspective. A perspective that now told her that it could never have lasted. He had said from the outset that he didn’t want to be in a relationship. And she knew only too well that they were from different worlds. But when she had been with him all she had known was desire, longing, excitement, happiness. An itch to bury herself into his very soul, to know him better than she even knew herself.
Now that she was away from him, those emotions had lessened and she had finally got that perspective. Though her heart was physically sore, though she could barely eat or sleep, and though she sometimes thought she was going mad with her frustration, her wanting to be near him again, she didn’t regret anything.
How could she when she had experienced such intense love and passion for another person?
Yes, she had wanted it to be for ever. She hadn’t wanted it to end. But better that than never to have experienced it at all. How incredibly sad it would be to live a life never knowing such love existed.
In her heart she knew he had loved her in his own way. She had seen it shining in his eyes when they had made love. In the things he had whispered to her. But he hadn’t loved her enough. And that was a fact she would have to learn to live with.
Now she had to start focusing on her work again. And hope that with time the pain would subside.
She neared the junction for the turning down to the road that led to her cottage and her pulse speeded up as she passed the wide entrance to his estate. But then she brought her bike to a sudden wobbly stop.
She dismounted, turned, and stared back at the board that had appeared on the wall. A sales board, to be precise, for a prestigious Dublin firm of auctioneers. And written on it, in giant capital letters, were the words FOR SALE: Historic House and Thousand-Acre Estate.
He was selling Ashbrooke!
What was he thinking?
She knew how much he loved this estate. Was he so desperate to put distance between himself and her?
She wheeled her bike over to the imposing twenty-foot wrought-iron double gates. For a minute she considered the intercom. Should she just leave it? It was none of her business, after all. But she could not shake off the feeling that he was selling for all the wrong reasons.
She pressed down on the buzzer and jumped when it was quickly answered. She instantly recognised his housekeeper’s voice.
‘Hi, Maureen, it’s Aideen Ryan. I want to have a word with Patrick.’
‘Aideen? Of course—come on in. I’ll give Patrick a call to let him know you’re here.’
The gates opened slowly and Aideen drew in a deep breath before she jumped back on her bike and started to cycle up the drive.
When she caught her first glimpse of the house, in all its magnificent grandeur, her chest tightened with a heaviness that barely allowed her to breathe. How could he walk away from this house which meant so much to him? She tried to imagine someone else living here but it seemed impossible.
The sound of fast-approaching horse’s hooves on the drive behind her had her wobbling on her bike once again, and she came to an ungraceful stop when she hit the grass verge.
She twisted around to see Patrick, heading in her direction riding a horse. He was a natural horseman, confident and assured. Totally in control. And heartbreakingly gorgeous.
He pulled the horse to a stop a few feet away.
Heat and desire instantly coiled between them. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest as his eyes held her captive.
Memory snapshots of him making love to her had her almost crying out in pain, and she gripped the handlebars of the bike tighter against the tremble in her legs.
He dismounted and led his horse towards her. He was wearing a loose blue shirt over his jodhpurs. His eyes matched the blue of the sky behind him, but gave nothing away as to what he was thinking.
‘Maureen rang to say you wanted to speak to me.’
No, How are you? How have you been? Instead this bleak, unwelcoming comment. It made her feel as though all the closeness and warmth they had once shared had been nothing but a mirage.
She couldn’t show him how upset she felt, so she took a deep breath and tried to control her voice. ‘I saw the for-sale sign.’
He frowned slightly and shrugged. ‘And?’
‘Why are you selling?’
‘I listened to what you said. You’re right. I am isolated here in Ashbrooke.’
She didn’t understand. Bewildered, she asked, ‘Where are you going to go?’
‘Wherever my work takes me. I have property throughout the world. I’ll move around as necessary.’
‘But you love Ashbrooke, Patrick. I know you do. You love this house and this land as though you were born into it.’
His mouth twisted unhappily and he fixed her with a lancing glare. ‘I thought you would be pleased. It was you who put the idea in my head.’
‘No. My point was that you deliberately choose houses that enable you to be isolated. But you can be isolated in the middle of Manhattan if you really want to. I didn’t mean for you to sell Ashbrooke. This is crazy.’
‘I need to move on. It’s nothing more complicated than that.’
‘Isn’t it? Are you sure our relationship hasn’t anything to do with it? Are you worried I might still hope something can happen between us? Because if that’s the case, please believe me—I have absolutely no expectations. I know it’s over. And I accept it’s for the best. Never the twain shall meet, after all.’
He shook his head angrily and uttered a low curse. In that moment he looked exhausted. ‘Aideen, I wish I could explain...but I can’t.’
What did he mean? For a moment she considered him, wanting to ask what there was to explain. It was all pretty simple, after all. He didn’t love her. End of story.
‘Please reconsider selling Ashbrooke. Moving from here won’t change anything. Selling a house won’t stop you being isolated. You need to open your heart to others. My fear is that you won’t, and you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. And you deserve more than that.’
He threw her a furious look. ‘Do I really, though? I hurt Orla. I hurt you. Why on earth are you saying that I deserve more?’
‘Because you’re a good man, Patrick.’
His hands tightened on the reins. ‘And you’re too kind-hearted and generous.’
She lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘Don’t patronise me. I know what I’m talking about. And maybe you should listen to your own advice sometimes. You told me once that I should believe in myself. Well, maybe you should do the same.’
His jaw clenched. ‘I can’t give you what you need, Aideen.’
‘This isn’t about me. Trust me—I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t seen the for-sale sign. I want nothing from you. But I’m not going to let you make the mistake of selling the house you love because for once you actually allowed someone into your life.’
His eyes were sharp, angry shards of blue ice. ‘That has nothing to do with it.’
‘Are you sure? Because I’m not convinced. Are you going to reconnect with Orla and your friends once you leave Ashbrooke? What changes are you going to make to your life?’
His mouth thinned and he threw her a blistering look. ‘Frankly, that’s none of your business.’
She gave a tight laugh of shock and took a step back. Her heart went into a freefall of despondency. ‘Wow, you really know how to put a person in her place.’ Her throat was tight, but she forced herself to speak. ‘And it is my business because I care for you. I don’t want to see you shutting more and more people out of your life. You deserve to be happy in life, Patrick. Remember that.’
There was nothing else she could say. She turned and picked up her bike. At the same time his phone rang.
He gave another low curse and muttered, ‘This number has been calling me non-stop all morning.’
As she pushed away she heard him answer it.
She pedalled furiously.
Seeing him again had brought home just how much she missed him. Would she ever meet another man to whom she was so physically attracted? Just from standing close to him her body was on fire. And her heart felt as though it was in pieces. Because emotionally she missed him twice as much. She wanted him in her life. It was against all logic and reason. But there it was. She wanted his intelligence, his kindness, his strength.
The sound of his voice calling her and the thundering of hooves had her looking around, startled. Patrick was racing towards her. He yanked his horse to a stop, but didn’t dismount. He looked aghast.
‘That was a hospital in Dublin calling. Orla has gone into early labour.’
For a moment she wondered why he was telling her, but then she saw the fear in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do.
She dropped her bike down on the grass verge. ‘Are you going to go to Dublin to be with her?’
He looked pale and drawn. For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her question. But then he looked down at her beseechingly. ‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to cause her any upset.’
‘Did she tell the hospital to call you and ask you to come?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, then, she needs you.’ For a moment she looked at the horse warily, and then she held out her hand to Patrick. ‘Pull me up. We need to get back to the house quickly. While you get changed I’ll organise for your helicopter to come and collect you.’
He looked at her, taken aback, but then nodded his agreement. ‘Put your leg in the stirrup and I’ll pull you up.’
He drew her up and sat her in front of him. It was her first time on a horse, and it looked like a long, long way down, but she couldn’t think of that. Instead she tried to think of the practical arrangements that needed to be sorted out in order to get Patrick to Dublin immediately. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be so physically close to him again.
At the stables, a groom helped her dismount. When Patrick jumped off he hesitated, so she held his hand in hers and tugged him forward. ‘Come on—there’s no time to waste.’
They entered the kitchen via the cloakroom. ‘Is the number for your pilot stored on your phone?’
‘Yes, but I’m not—’
‘No, Patrick. You have to go. Orla has never needed you more than now. I know you feel you have failed her in the past. That there is a lot of hurt and misunderstanding. But right now none of that matters. Orla and her baby are the only things that matter. She needs her brother. She needs your strength and support.’
For a moment he blinked, but then, as her words finally registered, determination came back into his eyes. ‘You’re right. Call the helicopter. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.’
Aideen immediately made the call, and the helicopter crew promised to be at Ashbrooke within twenty minutes. True to his word, Patrick was back in the kitchen within ten. Wearing a dark red polo shirt and faded denim jeans, his hair still wet from the shower, he looked gorgeous—if a little distracted. She could feel the pumped-up energy radiating from him. She needed to keep him calm, reassure him.
‘The helicopter will be here in ten minutes. Do you want to call the hospital again for an update?’
Instantly he took the phone from the counter and dialled the number. He spoke looking out through the glass extension, down towards the sea, his polo shirt pulled tight across his wide shoulders, his jeans hugging his hips, and Aideen remembered her first night here. How in awe of him she’d been. How bowled over she’d been by his good looks.
Her heart dropped with a thud and she felt physical pain in her chest. Would she ever stop missing him every single second of every single minute of every single hour?
‘She’s seven centimetres dilated...whatever that means. She’s doing okay, but they’re worried as she’s a month early.’ His jaw working, he added, ‘She has nobody with her. Damn it, she shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.’
She walked towards him and placed a hand on his arm. ‘She’s going to be okay. She’s in good hands, but she’ll be relieved to see you. I bet it’s pretty lonely, going through something so big all on your own.’
* * *
He inhaled a deep breath at her words and felt some of the tension leave his body.
‘You’re right.’
And then it hit him just how much he wanted Aideen by his side today. He felt as though he had been struck by lightning, the realisation was so startling.
‘Come to Dublin with me.’
‘No, I can’t...’
‘I want you to come—please.’ His throat worked. Could he actually say the words he needed to say? After so many years of going it alone, to ask for help felt alien. ‘I need your support.’
Aideen looked totally taken aback. Out of the window he could see the helicopter approaching. He looked from it to her, beseechingly.
‘Okay, I’ll come.’
He was about to lead her out to the garden when he remembered something. ‘Hold on for a minute. There’s something I need to bring.’
He sprinted down to his office and then straight back to the kitchen.
Aideen looked at the memory chest and then up at him. She said nothing, but there were tears in her eyes before she looked away from him.
As the helicopter took off his pilot gave them their estimated flight time. He inhaled a frustrated breath and shook his head.
Beside him, Aideen asked, ‘Are you okay?’
‘No. If Orla had told me she was back in Dublin I could have been there much earlier. I wouldn’t have been ignoring my phone all morning.’
‘I can understand your frustration, but Orla wasn’t to know that she was going to go into early labour. And, anyway, that was her decision. She’s a grown woman, Patrick, about to have her own child. You can’t control everything in your life. Today you just need to be there for Orla. Be the brother she loves, and trust that that’s enough.’
Thrown, he was about to argue. But then he realised she was right. He had to stop thinking that the only way he could show his love for Orla was by taking charge and forcing her to lead the life he thought she should.
With a small smile he lifted his hands in admission and said, ‘You’re right.’
She gave him a smile in return and then looked away, her gaze on the endless patchwork of green fields that appeared through the window as the pilot banked the helicopter.
He longed to reach out and touch her, to hold her hand in his. His heart felt as though it would pound right out of his chest at any moment. Being so near to her but not being able to touch her was torture. But the hurt in her eyes was even worse. You could cut the tension in the helicopter with a knife.
Though his teeth were clenched tight, he forced them apart in order to speak. ‘How is your cottage?’
She glanced at him warily, as though questioning why he was asking. ‘Dusty and noisy...’ She paused and held his gaze. ‘But that doesn’t matter. It’s just really good to be home.’ Then her gaze flicked away.
Why was the silence between them making him feel so uncomfortable? Before, he’d never had an issue with silence, but now it felt as if his heart was being ripped out to fill the void that sat like a physical entity between them.
He had to speak. Anything but this mocking silence which drove home much too eloquently everything he had lost: her humour, her warmth, her spark and her love of life.
‘William will bring down all your files and office equipment once the cottage is finished.’
She nodded to this, her face impassive. But then she looked towards him with a frown. ‘What’s going to happen to William and Maureen and the rest of the staff?’
‘It’s part of my sale conditions that all the existing staff are retained by the new owner.’
‘They’re going to miss you—they’re really fond of you.’
Were they? He had never stopped to think about it. But now he realised just how much he would miss them, too.
What was he doing? Was anything making sense in his life any more?
He looked back at her when he heard her clear her throat. ‘I really hope your time with Orla goes well today. Please be patient. I bet Orla misses you desperately, but can’t say it. Maybe for the same reasons that you can’t say it to her.’
His mind raced at her words. Did Orla fear losing him, too? Was that why she always pushed him away? No wonder the harder he tried, the harder she pushed back.
He looked at Aideen in amazement. ‘You might be right. So I just need to be there for her?’
‘Yes!’ With a small laugh she added, ‘And for goodness’ sake don’t go ordering the midwives and doctors about. I’m sure they know what they are doing.’
‘I won’t.’ He gave her a rueful look and added, ‘My managing directors have a lot to thank you for, by the way. I thought about what you said about delegating more control to them and I’ve started doing so.’
She gave a small satisfied smile. ‘And I bet the world hasn’t come crashing down, has it?’
He gave an eye-roll. ‘It’s actually a relief to not be bogged down in day-to-day operations. I now have more time to focus on a strategic level.’
He paused for a minute, uncertain of where to take the conversation. There was so much more he should say, but he couldn’t find the right words.
‘How about you? What are your plans?’
For a split second she winced, but then she sat up in her seat, her voice unwavering as she spoke. ‘I’ve had a lot of orders since Paris, and more than ever I’m determined to make Little Fire the most exciting bespoke textile design business in the world. And I’m looking forward to getting to know the people of Mooncoyne, I want to become part of the community. Get involved. I want to establish roots, to belong.’
Fresh admiration for her determination to succeed washed over him. But then a kick of reality came when it dawned on him that he didn’t feature in any of her plans. Which was only to be expected. And yet it twisted in his gut that they would soon go their separate ways.
It was what he wanted. What they had to do. Wasn’t it?