Chapter Eleven

The Stone

Niall left for Portland soon after their encounter, and Charles had stepped outside to smoke and now watched the mounted flat screen in the living room. He’d passed her in the hallway earlier upstairs after his shower. He’d taken her hand and said, “I’m sorry about earlier,” then descended the stairs without another word. He gave her space. She appreciated his knowing when to back off, but certain actions could never be erased. It scared her. Her life in England would never be the same.

She skipped lunch, too mentally distracted. Sitting by the fireplace, she checked out real-estate websites she’d bookmarked for London flats on her smartphone, but despite how much she made, they were all exorbitantly priced. She wanted to make a clean break with Charles, but it seemed foolish to throw away a career she’d worked hard for and achieved so much in, because of one failed relationship. Then there was the lingering guilt which gnawed away at her over what she and Niall were doing. There was no doubt what her body and heart wanted. It would be great to be able to go for it with him, but a sense of shame preyed upon her, paralyzing her with indecision. She hated herself for it, for being anything like her father. Until now, she’d had a clear vision about her life’s direction.

She sighed. Maybe she’d go for a horseback ride. Something to take her mind off things, get her outside.

She went upstairs and changed into jeans and a shirt, then hurried downstairs. She paused at the living-room doorway.

“I’m going out for a horseback ride.”

Charles nodded while watching Survivor.

She caught up with her brother, who moved a saddle from the fence post inside the stables to the flank of the Appaloosa in the pen next to him.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “I’m going for one last ride before I have to drive back.”

“Great. Just what I came out to do. Can I ride with you?”

“Sure.” He seemed thrilled. “You want to take Penny again?”

Lark nodded, spotting the gray mare watching them with her head over her gate a few pens down.

Her brother slapped the top of the pen enthusiastically and reached over to plunk his black Stetson onto Lark’s head. “‘Bout time. I’ve wanted to do loads of stuff with you since you got here, but with the will and everything, it kind of didn’t happen.” He glanced at what she wore. “You may want to take this. It’s cold up there,” he said, unhooking a large, deerskin jacket with tassels from its peg on the wall. She’d seen him wear it a few times before coming in from the stables. She slipped it on. Tentlike, it kept her comfortable and warm.

Aaron grinned. “We have a Jane Wayne in the making.”

Lark stuck her tongue out at him and helped him get the horses ready.

Their ride was unhurried and relaxed, unlike last time, but they went farther up the hillside than they had before. The wet smell of the light morning rain upon the pines seeped out their natural, fresh fragrance, and though it was chill and damp, the breeze was cool as their horses worked, each hoof crunching fallen, dead leaves as they clambered along the thin paths side by side.

Upon reaching the top, Lark and Aaron let the horses rest, getting off and tying their reins to a tree.

“Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

He led her around a large boulder, and she gasped. A panoramic spread stood before her where the ridge dropped off. The wide-open sky was patched over in areas with clouds, but there was still enough sunlight. As a young girl, on a camping outing, she’d stare at the skies, where the colors from the great gems of the world came out together to dazzle when the sun rose and set, and at night, the hidden treasure diamonds revealed themselves, glistening in the dark.

Their father took her and her mother out to a field when she was nine with a pair of large, infrared binoculars and had told them to turn off their flashlights and gaze at the stars. Immersed in the darkness, seeing the night sky through the binoculars, had transported her to a magical moment, where the shadows surrounding them in the field took form, and the incredible, incandescent stars had souls, rendering her small, yet significant.

Below her and Aaron for as far as the eye could see were tall, majestic conifers so green they seemed blue. The tops of cabins and properties scattered around the countryside, and an interstate snaked its way around the hills in the distance.

“There.” Her brother pointed. She followed his finger and hitched a breath. The ranch house spread out far below, rustic and inviting.

“Wow,” was all she could say, and though she loved the English language, she could find no words adequate enough to describe what lay before her.

“Makes you feel small in the scheme of things, doesn’t it?” Aaron asked. “Like our problems, everything that crops up day-to-day, don’t mean anything compared to this.”

Lark put a hand to her heart, surveying the ranch house with fond memories. Despite the more recent, unpleasant ones, it was still the place she learned in, matured in, was safe in. Home.

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

She almost didn’t say it, but she had to. It had been in the back of her mind since she came home, but she had no idea how to say it. The solace of the mountain gave her the courage to. “Do—do you resent me? For leaving, when you were so young?”

He let out a whoosh, took off his hat, and rustled his light hair with his hand. “What? Nah. No, I never blamed you. I mean, at first, I assumed you were busy with college. You were always deep in it whenever Mom and I visited you at Berkeley. When I was like fourteen, and you got into grad school, I asked Mom one day why you never came around, and she took me up here and told me about Dad. She didn’t bother sugarcoating it either. I don’t blame you, Lark. I wasn’t there and have no clue how it made you feel. Hell, if it had been me, I’d have punched him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to lie. I thought about it.” Lark smirked. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Thanks, Aaron. I love you guys. I never wanted to leave you, or Mom. I hope you understand that…” She looked out at the mountains.

“I know. You don’t have to say anything. It’s cool.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, patting his hand.

“You want to go back?” he asked after a while.

“Give me another minute.” Aaron nodded and went to tend the horses, leaving her alone. She leaned against a boulder and gazed out.

It was for the best she made a clean break from Charles. Even if he’d never cheated, she would never be able to share any of this with him. He came from a different background and had no interest in ascending anything that did not begin with corporate and end with ladder. This would belong to her alone.

Lark lifted her head.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again,” she said down to the ranch, small as an ant beneath the ridge. But you’ll stay in my heart forever.

Once they returned from the trail, Lark and Aaron walked their horses the last hundred meters to the stables to give them a well-deserved break.

Aaron slowed his pace. “Did you ever think…” Lark turned to him, her eyebrow raised. “Did you ever think Dad had a plan when he left you the house?”

In the sidewalks of her mind, green shoots of possibility emerged from the cracks in the ground. She could choose to stay, to keep it. She could uproot her life and start fresh, but London had become her stronghold after her family life went south. She didn’t know if she wanted to give that up. Or if she should.

Aaron continued. “See, I’ve been thinking the last couple of days. Maybe it was like him saying he didn’t want us to follow the paths we’d set for ourselves. It could be he wanted us to break out of our comfort zones and, I don’t know, develop or something.”

“I’ve no idea why he left us what he did. I know he loved to stir things up. This was one way to do it, without a doubt. But I…I don’t belong here.”

“You sure?” he asked. “Because you seem at home to me. Appleyloothas.” He laughed as she gave him a playful punch as they approached the stables. The wind almost blew the black Stetson off her head, and she anchored it with her hand. She noticed someone watching them from the open stable doors.

“Niall,” Aaron called. Lark stopped smiling and put a hand on Penny’s neck to steady her. She watched as her brother greeted him.

Niall leaned against the stable doorway still in his shirt and tie, a black tool belt loose about his hips. He clutched a packet of hinges and a screwdriver in one hand.

“You’re not breaking stuff again, are you?” Aaron teased as they neared him.

Niall grinned, and his eyes lingered on Lark. “Quite the opposite, lad. I’m waiting for Peter at the Estate Administration to call me back regarding the affidavit Pam and Lark signed a few days ago. He’s an old friend. He may be able to speed things along and help it sail right through.” He held up the packet of hinges. “Thought in the meantime I’d have a go at fixing the stall your mam’s been going on about. Also came out to have a chat,” he said to Aaron. “Where’d you go?”

“Crawman’s Ridge.”

Niall whistled low. “That’s a great place to take ’er.” Lark shifted beneath his gaze. “What did you think, Shakespeare? Must have been a long time since you’ve been there. It’s charming, eh?”

Lark nodded. “It was nice.” Niall’s fingers wound around the open barn door, and his long forefinger slid along it in a casual way. He’d used it in a similar fashion on her yesterday. Blood rushed to her cheeks. She ducked her head, handed Penny’s reins to her brother, and excused herself.

“Where’re you goin’?” Aaron asked as she removed the black Stetson from her head and handed it back to him.

“For a walk.” She turned toward the trail to the creek and path.

“But you just got back,” Niall called. “It’s going to get dark soon. Don’t you want to rest, or at least get some water?”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied.

“Wait a sec,” said Aaron. He fished inside the saddlebag on Penny’s back and threw her a plastic bottle of water.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I won’t be long.”

“Pam’s got dinner cooking. Should be on at about six,” Niall chimed in.

The knowing glare Niall gave her perturbed her because he understood exactly why she took off. She did care about what he thought of her, but she needed time to herself, even if it did make her look like a coward.

After walking for about five minutes, she discovered she’d left her iPhone in Penny’s saddlebag. She’d meant to take it out, but Niall had distracted her. She turned back, wanting to listen to music and drown everything out. The trouble with walking without a partner or having music to listen to was that her brain often kicked into overdrive and she tended to dwell on things. Lark tried to clear her mind, but all she could focus on was Niall’s hands. On the way back to the barn, she replayed in her mind their encounter on the couch—the sounds he’d made, how gratified he’d been when she came.

Her happiness affected Niall; it mattered to him. Though she warred with herself and compared her actions to her father’s, it bothered her that during their engagement—not even married yet, mind you—Charles never considered her happiness something he had a duty toward. He only seemed to care about himself.

****

The barn door was shut, and no one appeared to be outside. Funny. She hadn’t been gone long. She didn’t see Penny in the corral, so she slid open the door. Niall. He stood beneath a dangling work lamp, which lifted the darkness from the back of the barn. Niall’s shirt and tie were off and draped over a nearby saddle. He wore a snug white T-shirt as he worked, trying to fit the new hinge into the top half of the stall door. She prepared to announce her presence, but the sight of him took her breath away.

The sinewy muscles of his coltish back shifted fluidly beneath his damp T-shirt as he worked the screwdriver, power, and determination clear in the twist of his body. Out of sheer instinct, Lark reached out to trace her fingers over the crevice between his shoulder blades. Her mouth parted as she ghosted her fingertips down the length of his spine. She could smell him, earthy with a whiff of mint. Coupled with the sweet perfume of the pale golden hay, it brought to mind misty Irish mornings and ancient standing stones.

Daring to hope, she placed her palm beneath the hem of his shirt, the flesh on his lower back warm to her touch. It amazed her a man as strong as he could be so tender and loving. She brushed her fingertips along his torso, fascinated. He stood perfectly still, but turned his head to the side, aware of her now. Her insides were hot. She struggled but found it impossible not to touch him.

“Lark…if I turn around right now—” He drew in a staggered breath, and she could tell his eyes were closed. “—if I touch you, are you going to leave?”

Lark shook her head, her hand sliding up his side as she outlined the contours of his shoulder muscles with the other, then realized he couldn’t see her. “I won’t.”

He turned around, pulled the T-shirt over his head, and cast it off. She came eye to eye with his pectoral muscles. She smoothed her hands over them, watching his flat nipples harden in the chilled barn air as they rose and fell with his breath. Lark slid her fingers to the tendons at his neck, splayed them along his collarbone, then glided them along the ridges of his shoulders. Gathering her courage, she met Niall’s eyes. He watched her. She wished she could tell him how badly she ached for him, how much she wanted his touch and taste. From the hot-blooded fire in his eyes, though, she wasn’t so sure he didn’t already have it figured out.

The muscle in his jaw moved as he gripped her hips. Locking his eyes with hers, he walked her back to a secluded corner of the barn behind a haystack, where he pressed her against it, leaving no room between their bodies. It was reckless and dangerous, this dance of theirs, but she wanted him. He leaned in.

“Now,” he said, his hot breath against her neck making her shiver, his lips a hairbreadth away from her skin. “I know you want to pretend yesterday didn’t happen, but I can’t. I won’t. You’re all I can think about.”

Lark’s breath caught. “I think about you too. More than I should—”

He swooped in and claimed her mouth, a swift, hard press of his lips. He opened her like a flower, and then he mapped a deliberate, unhurried journey with his lips and tongue. He moved farther into the cradle of her hips against the hay, and the blood pulsed in her pussy where his cock pressed into her through their clothes. He cupped her ass, kneading it as he rocked into her. He pulled her thigh around his hip, and she moaned. She moved to tiptoe, letting out a puff of air when the shape of his cock rubbed against her slit.

He moved to nibble her ear. “I have been thinking of you, nonstop, since we met.” He licked along the shell of her ear. “You’ve taken over my head and heart, Lark. I think about being with you, and how you make me feel as a person, as a man. I think about fucking you, over and over.” He moved against her with an impassioned sound, and she shivered and wrapped herself around him, her ankle weaving around the back of his.

His palm slapped the haystack right next to her head. “I want to taste you,” he said in her ear, trailing his mouth along the upper curve of her jawline. “Please let me. I can’t get enough of you. You’re so incredible.”

A raw flush of exhilaration shot through her. He wanted her. He wanted her, and she needed that, needed him.

She clutched his raised forearm, her eyes screwed shut. She nodded, undulating her hips against him like an ocean wave against the sand, a whimper escaping her throat. He groaned in response and captured her mouth, his hands fisting into the hem of her shirt, clutching her ass, everywhere, as he pushed and pulled and kissed her. The low sound he made through his mouth traveled right into the pit of her stomach. He drew back, and then he knelt before her, his long fingers trailing over her breasts and her abdomen.

His fingers trembled as he undid the button on her jeans, and she swayed while he unzipped them and slid them down her legs. He wanted this as much as she did, and knowing so drove her to hurry. She toed off her shoes and held on to his shoulders for steadiness as he helped her step out of them. Desire lit his eyes, and the puff of warm breath he jetted against her pussy set off an arduous throbbing.

As if he could sense her need, Niall moved forward, stroking his hand over her slit through her panties, a featherlight touch. He placed a kiss there, humming against her folds.

“Niall,” she whispered, inhaling and carding her hands through his hair.

“Be patient, love. I intend to enjoy this.” Her panties had grown damp, the moisture seeping out between her wet lips as though crying out for him. She pressed her knees together to appease the friction, but he shook his head, prying her legs apart.

“No, darling, this is mine. All mine.”

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and yanked them down. She stepped out of them, and he brought them to his nose, inhaling her scent. He kept his gaze on her as he stowed them in his back trouser pocket. His nostrils flared as he brought her hips close again, his hands clamped around the backs of her thighs.

“Come here, Lark,” his said, his voice rough and hungry.

The craving in his eyes floored her. No man had ever looked at her the way he did with such love and raw desire. “What—what are you thinking? Right now, I mean?”

He slid his hands on the backs of her thighs soothingly. “How very much I want to do this,” he assured her, his eyes narrowing. “With you. Tell me I can. Tell me what you want.”

Lark drank him in. Who was she kidding? She pushed the guilt and doubts to the back of her mind. “Fuck me with your mouth, Niall,” she said, the sultry voice coming from her lips one she didn’t recognize as her own. He gave her a dark, ravenous look, the first full drag of his tongue, soft and warm, swept into her slit and up. She cried out his name and clutched his hair for dear life, letting him take her away.

His lips explored every part of her, stopping only at the tiny button of skin at the top, flicking out his tongue in a rhythmic series of attacks. He sucked her clit with enthusiasm, and she whimpered, pushing against his eager tongue, swiveling into the rhythm of it like an exotic dancer. Her body coiled tight, and she ground her hips against him, her breath fast and heavy. Her skin flushed, itching with the need to be completely undone by this man. He stilled her movements, holding her hips in place with his strong hands as his tongue devoured her. The hay scratched her back, but she was too enraptured to care. He licked a path down her soaked slit, burying his tongue inside her, thrusting in and out. She bucked against him, tangling her fingers in his hair as a surge of pleasure coursed through her.

She rotated her hips against his hot, hungry tongue. “Yes. Your mouth feels so good on me, Niall.”

He continued to lick and suck her clit, and two long fingers worked their way inside her. A feral, uninhibited grunt escaped her when he pulled them out and thrust them back in while he ate her out. Oh, he was good at this.

“That’s right, Lark,” he whispered as she cried out. “Let it go.”

He stood, not slowing his fingers as they drove in and out of her. The tip of his finger pressed against her wet clit. She opened her mouth to let out a wail, and he kissed her, swallowing the sound. She wrapped her legs around him, and he moved her higher, supporting her ass with one strong hand as his other worked her into a frenzy. “Come for me,” he said into her ear.

His fingers curved inside her, reaching the right spot, and when he pressed against it, she gushed over his hand. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean right before her eyes, sucking on his fingers. He savored it, and she was done for.

“You taste incredible.”

She was a mess of nerves, fighting to breathe, fighting to stay up. “Niall, take me.” He nodded and smoothed his hand down her back. She helped him yank off his trousers and boxers, rubbing his back as he stepped out of them. He pushed the weeping head of his hard cock against her, the warmth of his body pressing into hers.

“Your heart belongs to me, Lark.”

She kissed him, knowing it did. As he entered her, she held her breath. This was about more than just the sex. He cared. He knew the leap she took by loving him after being betrayed. From the way his palms caressed her hips as he moved within her, with each grasp he made of her hip, to the way he enfolded her, told her he cherished what she gave him.

****

Lark blinked. She walked on the trail around the property, and dusk had fallen. She removed the earbuds and turned off the music on her iPhone, pocketing it as she turned toward the house. Oh my, what a dream. There was no shame in daydreaming about him, at least. Dreams were safe, and dreams remained private without the ability to change her life.

She detoured so she could arrive at the back of the house. She sipped the last of her water, and a cold breeze tickled the back of her neck. She looked up. Niall leaned over the patio banister in a contemplative mood. It seemed surreal to see him at his most human. The dreams made him out to be anything but.

She should go; she’d just fantasized about him, for heaven’s sake. Like five minutes ago. The porch lights and lampposts glowed as the night sky turned a clear, dark blue, and she almost veered around. But they did need to talk sooner or later about what had happened. She pulled the brown deerskin jacket closer around her shoulders, braved the steps, and looked anywhere but at him.

“Niall?”

He turned around, distracted. “Oh. Hello there, you. Didn’t see you.”

He scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb. He gulped, his gaze on her throat, and she got the weirdest sense he’d been fantasizing about her too.

Keeping her hands in her pockets, Lark lifted her eyebrows, trying to be as casual as she could. “Did you get the gate fixed?” By the way, I daydreamed you took me on a journey in the barn. It wasn’t a dream, by the way. All me. Want to try a reenactment?

“Yep.” His eyes caught the light from a nearby patio light. “Works like a charm. So, I know why I’m out here. Mostly. I’m waiting for your mam’s tasty roast beef to beckon me inside with its mouthwatering aroma.” He glanced at the deerskin jacket she wore and fingered the suede collar, pulling it closer over her as the chill air settled in. “What’s got you out here during twilight’s tango, Miss Braithwaite? You’ve scaled a mountain on a horse and returned from a long walk. You sure you’re up for another round tomorrow?”

Lark dipped her head. “Oh yes, I’ll be fine. Penny did the work, anyway. I’m out, uh, stargazing.”

“Ah…” Niall sighed and followed her gaze to the first evening stars. He leaned over the railing and recited: “And yet, with neither love nor hate, those stars like some snow-white, Minerva’s snow-white marble eyes, without the gift of sight.”

“Frost?”

His face lit up. “And she nails it again. So, down to business. Other than the magnificent three marble eyes, what else’s got you out here?”

Much more than she could tell him. She settled for half the truth. “I wish I could tell Aaron and my mom about what’s going on. With Charles, I mean. I don’t understand why I can’t. It feels like I’m a distant cousin or something. I wish everything could click,” she admitted. “It’s bizarre, not feeling relaxed enough to open up to them like I know I should be able to.”

Niall sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands together over the banister. “My guess is you’re expecting it to be like something out of a Hallmark movie, eh? Truth is, if you go away for a lot of years, you never come back the same. People change. Aaron’s different, but so are you. It’ll never be the same again, as much as you’d like it to be. People go through adjustments, and there’s nothing you can do about it but learn to adapt. Something I learned when my brother came over to visit from across the pond.”

“What happened?”

Niall dipped his head and smiled. “We shared a strong bond, my brothers and I. My da passed away when I was five. He went to bed one night and didn’t wake up the next mornin’. We found out he had undiagnosed heart disease. He was a grafter; he wouldn’t ever go to the doctor unless his arm got broken or something. It’s all right,” he assured her when she winced. “We got through it. It didn’t hit me as hard as the older ones. They remembered him better. Me mam put everything into raising us, making sure we turned into good men. It was barmy when Liam came over here, though, because I don’t drink or smoke now, and we couldn’t exactly go get drunk together unless he did it all. He’d changed too, more set in his ways, and he had his stubborn village mentality of how things should be. Got after me about ‘why have I not remarried or settled with a woman yet,’ you know. The point is, no matter how many things might have happened to you or them, they’re your family. You have to get to know them for who they are, and trust if you tell them what’s going on, they’ll be there for you. Don’t waste time being someone you’re not to appease them.”

Lark stayed silent. It was difficult with Aaron because he hadn’t known about the affair when it came out into the open, though he did reveal to her their mother had told him later on.

“Any time you’re away, things are different when you come back, whether you want them to be or not.”

“Thank you for the advice. I wish it helped.” He nudged her with his elbow and gave her a full, butter-melting smile.

“Me too. Lark, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry to complicate things, but I’m not sorry for having met you. It’s the best experience of my life.”

He moved a strand of hair out of her face, and if she didn’t keep him talking, she’d do something stupid, like attack him with her mouth. Inane chatter was good.

“Talk to me about yourself, Niall. I mean, we were…intimate, yet I feel like I don’t know you as well as I should. What’s the longest time you spent in Africa?” He moved in close again, rubbing her arms, and she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, to have him hold her.

“About six months, three or so years ago. I left in late April and returned before Thanksgiving.”

“You must have seen a lot there, done a lot.” She leaned forward, wishing she could open him as she did a book and discover his hidden secrets. Niall’s gaze flitted over hers as if he knew about her internal struggle. He drew a breath.

“It’s…disheartening, being in the third-world parts of Africa where Dee and Anthony teach and knowing people elsewhere are enjoying their comforts, warm houses, and expensive meals. I saw a boy once, dying of malaria. He was so emaciated from not eating, his rib cage poked out of him. He was like a shrunken skeleton with a small amount of flesh stretched over him. His eyes were like huge, brown marbles, a fragmented, scrappy human looking out of enormous eye sockets. It hurt my heart, seeing him,” he said in a strangled voice. “It can be a place of desperation, but also a place of tremendous hope. I suppose it’s what keeps drawing me back. The way they don’t let anything beat them, the children especially. They’re resilient. We could all take a lesson or two from those kids.”

Newfound respect for him washed over her. He was attractive, in spades. But beneath that, beneath the charisma, stood a good man with a purpose, at peace with things in his life.

“Coming back must have been pretty weird, hmm?” she asked. “I bet it wasn’t easy to adapt back to regular life?”

He considered her. “Ah, yes and no. I’ve traveled, so I’m no stranger to finding my feet. Coming back made me grateful for what I have, but also made me aware that life isn’t cut-and-dried.”

“What was the best thing you were glad to have when you came back?”

Niall smiled. “Ice.”

Lark wrinkled her nose. “Ice?”

“Aye. Where we were, the entire time it was hot and humid, and there was never any ice while we were in the remote villages. I like ice. But enough about me,” he said. “You must be a good manager; you’ve a knack for turning the subject quicker’n a cop reloading a Glock. I understand about Aaron, but what about your mam?”

Lark sighed. “What about her?”

“Well, I know why you and Rick didn’t speak to each other. But it seems like you two slipped apart. Pam didn’t know your address after you moved. I tracked it down from your last flat in London. That’s got to test you, not having any family to talk to.”

His unspoken desire to ask more, to prod further into her life, hovered over them like a drone, but she also sensed his reluctance to, both because of his position and her uncertainty. She hesitated and then chanced it.

“We did slip apart over the years. I don’t know. It was like we grew more and more distant when I moved to London after grad school. In a weird way, it was sort of how you and your friends grow older and realize you have less in common than you used to, and you drift apart. I couldn’t be someone I’m not, and my mom knows it. She wanted me to be happy, and by leaving me alone, maybe she thought I’d either find happiness or want to come back. Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” The deepness of his voice reminded her of when it had dropped yesterday. “Client-attorney privilege,” he assured her in a less sensual tone after a moment.

She took a breath. “Well, have you ever found yourself driving somewhere without any real memory of having driven there? That’s sort of how I feel about where I’m going and what’s happened between me and Charles and my family. I’m driving on a crazy highway with no direction. My life’s floating in the air, and I’m terrified, and guilty, and scared. This is crazy. I have so much going on in my mind and heart right now, and I don’t know how to process it.” Niall took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers over the railing.

“You can always talk to me.”

He kissed the top of her hand, then tipped his head back to look at her. She wanted to crawl into the safe haven within his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Always.”

Lark slipped her hand out of his as frustrated tears filled her eyes. One escaped and spilled down her cheek. This was wrong. Guilt weighed upon her like an anvil. She turned away, but he pulled her back to face him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Lark wiped her face. “Everything, okay? I feel horrible. Look at what we’ve done. I’m no better than my dad.” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Niall put his hands on her shoulders and steadied her, calm and intent. “Lark, listen to me. You are not horrible, okay? We have a connection between us, something special, and I think you feel it too. You shouldn’t feel guilty about it. I’m drawn to you, and for being celibate as long as I have, it’s a big deal I feel comfortable enough to talk to you, let alone touch you. It means something, and it’s significant. I haven’t known you longer than a week, but I can tell what you’re feeling. I know when you’re sad but pretending to be annoyed, and I know when you’re worried but pretending to be fine. I can feel it inside if you’re upset. I feel it right now. I don’t know how, but I do. Now, being engaged to someone who’s been unfaithful to you and then developing feelings for someone else, doesn’t equate to being married and having a well-established family, and then cheating and throwing away everything you have.”

Lark blinked, sobering at his words. He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes glistening with emotion.

“You’re on the cusp of creating your life as you want it. I know, because I feel it in you. I’ve been there, and exploring your options doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human. Let’s say you up and married someone.”

“Like you?” She smirked.

“I’d be lying if I said I was opposed to the idea.” He grinned. “So yeah, for instance, me. We fall in love, have a kick-ass wedding, create a couple of cute, moderately well-behaved kids, and settle down somewhere nice. So essentially, you follow your dad’s path, yeah? But there’s a world of difference between what Rick did and what you’re doing now, okay? Don’t think less of yourself or beat yourself up about it. You’re not with Charles anymore. If he was a good, stand-up guy with a generous heart who put you first in everything and loved you without limits, yeah, it’d be wrong. But he’s not, he hasn’t, and you deserve so much better.”

Lark shrugged, frustrated. “See, that’s exactly it. I—I don’t feel like I know you, but you understand me better than anyone in there. How is it I can have a whole conversation with you and not feel like it’s one-sided, or wonder if you understand what it is I’m trying to say? You seem to know what I mean. It’s strange.”

“It’s because we’re connected.” His thumb brushed along her lower lip, and his eyes softened. “I know you feel it too. You’re an honest woman. I love how you articulate what you want to say in a straightforward fashion. I like you being comfortable with me. You should be. You do know why we’re comfortable with each other, don’t you, Lark?”

She shivered as he took her right hand, turned it over, and traced his index finger down her wrist to her palm. He laced his fingers with hers while he watched her. Her hand tingled. He drank her in with intense eyes.

“I have a confession to make,” he said in a low voice. “I saw you in my dreams after we met. I don’t sleep very well, but when I do…” His face went red, but he stepped in even closer, mere inches from her lips. “Let’s just say you’re in them. A lot.”

“What?” She licked her lips against the fall air. Her heart pounded so loud he must have heard it. He stared at her lips like he wanted to devour them. “In these dreams of yours… Were we, uh—?”

“Yes,” he growled, the thirst in his eyes way too transparent to be misconstrued.

“I see. Can you tell me any more about them?” She’d give anything to know if his were anything like hers, or if they were even one and the same. Was that possible?

“I might tell you one day,” he said, moving closer to her lips. “But I’d prefer to show you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. Lark melted into his embrace, dizzy at the heady sense his kisses gave her.

“Dinner,” Pam called from the cracked kitchen window.

They broke apart, and she withdrew from Niall. His gaze burned into her backside as she slipped away, turning to walk toward the house.

“Coming, Mom,” she called back, surprised how out of breath she sounded. She kept her face blank but savored the thrill fluttering in her stomach. He dreams of me too!

When Lark got to the back door, she turned while holding the screen open. Niall leaned against the patio railing, watching her.

Later, during dinner, she was overtalkative and couldn’t look him in the eye. It was like he could see right through her. And despite her education and managerial training, she had no tactics to hide how much she cared about him. He’d wrenched open her heart like a tin can and had its contents on a silver platter right in front of him. So much for playing it cool.

****

The Saturday morning air cooled her cheeks, breathing new life into her as they ran. Niall waited for her outside as she left the house, not a word spoken about the previous night beyond his bright-eyed and eager, “Well, let’s go,” before they’d taken off. Once again, he let her set the pace.

Lark clutched a stitch in her side from the physical activity of the last twenty-four hours, but she didn’t say a word. Niall could probably leave her in the dust if he so chose, for he was cheerful as could be beside her, humming a tune beneath his breath as though they’d gone for a country stroll.

“Hang on, Niall,” she panted, stopping near the last stretch and bending to put her hands on her knees. “I’m dying here. Let me catch a breath.”

“You’ve got it. Wind’s at your back,” he said with zest. Sunlight obstructed his face from her view.

“What?” she puffed, shielding her eyes.

“‘The wind’s at your back.’ It’s something me mam used to say as kind of an encouragement if me or my brothers ever did something spectacular. Which was pretty rare in those days. We were incorrigible.” He laughed. “It goes in line with an old Irish blessing, ‘May the road rise to meet you; may the wind be always at your back—’ Oof.” Niall shifted his left foot around in pain.

“You all right?” Lark frowned.

He crouched and unlaced his sneaker. “Got something in me foot. What the—” He sat on the ground and shook out his shoe. A flattish gray stone, the size of a quarter, fell out. “So that’s the devil that’s been driving me mad the last few minutes.” He chuckled, turning the stone over to inspect it.

“Chuck it to the side,” Lark said, ready to go.

Niall set it on the ground as he put his sneaker back on. He picked it up and stood. “No, this one’s special.”

“A special rock?” Lark laughed as if he were out of his mind.

He glanced at her as he inspected it between his thumb and forefinger. “Aye. Stop for a moment.” He walked over and showed her the stone. “You see the lopsided half-moon there, like a smile, and the two wonky holes above it that look like eyes? This here is a genuine smiley-face rock. He’s a cute little fella.”

Lark couldn’t help smiling as she checked it out. It did bear a resemblance to a smiley face, with an attitude.

Niall’s dark green eyes were gentle and amused. “Keep it.”

Lark blushed. She took her hand off his and resumed walking. “Nah, it’s all right. I’m good.”

“No, come on, take it. He’s cute,” he persuaded, dancing the rock in front of her face as he walked beside her.

“It’s not cute. It’s a rock.”

Niall moved the rock in time to his words as though it were speaking to her in a high-pitched falsetto Irish accent. “Oh, look how cute ah am, Lark. Take me home, oh please—go on, take me home. I’ve got no one. I’m alone on the road. Go on, lass, give us a chance.” He made several kissing noises and moved the rock to Lark’s face as if the rock was going to kiss her.

“No.” She laughed, batting his hand away. “Come on, Niall. What would I want with a stupid old stone anyway?”

Niall’s hand touched hers. They stopped, and she turned around. He studied her with a knowing expression as he placed the rock in her palm and closed his other hand over it. “It’s not a stupid stone. Why, this here could be the smartest rock in the world. The Stephen Hawking of rocks.”

Lark scoffed.

“He’ll write a book someday and call it Diamond in the Rock in a Nutshell. Go on and take it,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “It’ll bring you luck, no matter what happens.”

She faltered under his gaze but kept the stone clutched in her palm. She nodded, and they resumed walking.

“All right, then. Thank you. But I don’t believe in luck. You make your own luck,” she muttered, turning the stone in her hand. She’d learned the hard way during her rising career.

“That’s what you believe?” he asked from the side.

She nodded.

“Oh…I hope you don’t mind this being a personal question and all, but what do you think about faith, then?”

“Faith in God?”

“In anything.”

She didn’t know how to answer him when she was still so unsure of everything. Feigning indifference, she rambled, “I don’t believe in God or anything. I think we’re here for a time, and what you get is what you get. One shot to make your mark. No one does it for you. You push yourself or don’t push yourself as far as you want, and whatever happens, happens.” He appeared to consider her answer. “Why? What about you?”

Niall lifted his eyebrows as they walked. “I’m surprised. You’ve struck me as being spiritual at times. Me? I’m a big believer we’re here for a divine purpose. We’re here to be tested, and what we do in this life will reflect where we go in the next. I don’t think this is our only shot, but I do think it matters what we do with it.”

Lark considered he was at least half right. The rift in their budding camaraderie irked her, knowing they held separate beliefs. “You honestly believe that?”

Niall stopped walking. “Of course I do. Without faith, we’re like a…a group of people, sitting in cold, dark houses, unaware of electricity. Until we acknowledge the switch, we can’t turn the light on and see what darkness was.”

A tremor passed through her, and his words impacted her more than she cared to admit. She laughed.

“Where on earth do you come up with these things?”

“Common sense.” The sparkle in Niall’s eyes went from passionate to playful. “You should try some once in a while; you’ll be amazed what happens.”

“Hey,” Lark jostled his arm and ran away at full speed ahead.

“That’s it, woman,” she heard him say, and she gunned it toward the house, squealing with glee and trying not to trip as he chased her. He had almost reached her when she spotted Charles sitting by the patio deck table, glowering at them. She wiped the ear-splitting grin off her face as Niall halted right behind her.

“Charles.” She said, out of breath. She straightened and walked toward him, keeping her body language subtle. Charles scowled at Niall.

Lark and Niall met each other’s gaze, and he took his cue. “Well, I should, uh, go get ready. Good run, Lark.” He touched her back as he walked past her.

“Yeah, you too.” She grinned.

She swiveled into the empty space beside Charles, caught her breath, and offered him a small smile. Maybe he would work with her on the flat situation. He nursed a cup of coffee, and the newspaper lay on the table, crisp, tri-folded, and still unread. Had he been waiting around for her?

“Am I allowed to talk to you now?” he asked acidly.

Lark considered him and nodded. “All right.”

“The curse has been lifted. Well, don’t you two seem chummy?” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Niall likes to run, and so do I. It’s nice to have someone to run with. Keeps you motivated.” Lark slid the paper toward her and unfolded it.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Let’s say I went somewhere for a week or two. Have you looked at flats? You do realize anywhere in London is bound to be high-end leasing at best, right? And I’m sure Maisie can’t take you in with Graham and their football team of kids.”

She shook her head, pissed at how businesslike he acted about the whole thing. “I would never put her in such a position, and frankly, it’s not your concern what I do from here on out. I’m planning on looking online tonight for places.”

He tilted his head and gave her a shrewd look. “What about work? How do you see this working between us?”

At least he was talking to her about it. Lark leaned forward, scratching her eyebrow. “Well, you’re two floors up, and I’m sure we can be professional and polite to each other. We have separate friends. I don’t see why we couldn’t be civil. We’re both professionals. We make a clean break. Move on.”

“I don’t want a clean break.” He brooded.

It was way too early for an argument, and she couldn’t focus on anything in the paper due to nerves about this whole situation. Figuring she wouldn’t get any real leeway from him, she stood and stretched. “We can set aside time to talk about this later. I’m going to go drink water and hop in the shower.”

“You should,” Charles said, taking the paper from where she’d laid it. He opened it and buried himself in an article. “You smell of sweat.”

Casting a dirty look at his back, Lark walked into the house.

The minute she got to her bedroom she turned on the shower to get the bathroom warmed, then went to get ready. She’d spearheaded negotiations before. There was no reason why they couldn’t break apart on decent terms. She had no desire to get back together with him or seek counseling, despite how uncertain her future seemed. Cheating was the worst possible betrayal in any type of relationship. In any companion she sought, she needed trust. She needed security. After removing the elastic from her hair and releasing her ponytail, Lark spied the smiley stone she’d set on the nightstand. She picked it up and smiled back at it, then deposited it in the pocket of the coat she’d brought over from London.

It’s funny, lackadaisical face gave her hope.