Irish Meadows (5 page)

He gave a full-bodied laugh, revealing even, white teeth. “A bit of mud never hurt anyone.”

“Very well. I suppose it's worth a try.”

He followed her to the front of the carriage and held out a hand to assist her. She remembered then she was in her stockings. “Just a moment while I put on my shoes.” She ducked her face to hide the heat rising in her cheeks.

What was wrong with her? She never blushed.

Stumbling in her haste, she sat down heavily on the blanket and snatched up her shoes. She stuffed one foot in and then the other, not bothering with the laces.

“Allow me.” Kneeling on the blanket, the man reached over to tie one of her shoes.

Colleen swallowed her surprise and quickly tied the other herself. For a second time, he helped her up, this time holding her hand a moment longer than necessary.

“And where are you off to this fine day?”

Gazing into the brown depths of his eyes, Colleen couldn't remember for the life of her where she was headed. “Into town,” she finally managed.

“Let's see if we can get you on your way, then.” He picked up the blanket, tossed it into the carriage, and helped her onto the tilted seat. “When I say ready, give the reins a good, hard slap and tell the horses to giddy-up.”

Seconds later, he yelled, “Ready.”

She whipped the reins and called out to the horses. They lurched forward, and the carriage rocked, but sank back into the same position.

The man appeared at her side. “Let me talk to the horses before we give it another try.”

Her mouth fell open. “Talk to the horses?”

“Aye. If I ask them nicely, I'm sure we'll do better next time.” He winked at her before jogging over to the beasts.

Colleen watched in fascination as he spoke some foreign
language to them while stroking each on the nose. Then he turned back, touched the brim of his cap in a mock salute, and returned to the back of the carriage.

“Ready.”

She repeated her actions, slapping the reins and calling out loudly to the horses. The wagon rocked and groaned, then suddenly jerked forward, up and onto the road. Relief spilled through her tense shoulders. She tugged the reins to stop the horses and turned to thank the stranger for his help.

When she didn't see him, she hopped down from the bench and rounded the back of the carriage. Dismay rushed through her at the sight of the poor man on his hands and knees, dripping in mud. The wheels had spewed filth all over him.

“Oh, dear. I'm so sorry.” Without thinking, she rushed to help him, tugging on his arm. Too late she realized her shoes had become bogged in the mire. They squished in the brown sludge as she fought for footing. Before she could react, the man lost his balance and slid backward down the slight incline, pulling her with him into the soft mud.

Colleen shrieked as wetness soaked her backside.

So
much for chivalry.

Rylan fought the rise of laughter at the spectacle before him. The striking red-haired young woman sat sprawled in the mud, streaks of dirt dripping from her furious cheeks. He swiped ruefully at his own soaked attire. This was not the type of impression he'd hoped to make when he met the distant relatives who'd been kind enough to take him in. In fact, this whole day had not gone at all as planned.

No one had arrived to greet him at the train station as promised, and he'd had to set out on foot—a fair distance indeed. Then he'd happened upon this young lady sleeping at the side of the road beside a drunken-tipped carriage, and
he couldn't very well leave her there without offering his assistance.

He pulled himself to his feet, grimacing at his besmirched clothing.
God must have an odd sense of humor.
Once he regained his balance, he held out a hand to the lady.

“No, thank you. I'll manage on my own.” She glared at him as she tried to pull herself up, only succeeding in sliding farther into the mire.

“Please, I feel terrible.” He bit his lip to keep from smiling at her comical attempts to rise.

“You
should
feel terrible. This is all your fault.” She flailed her arms, flinging muck in all directions.

He couldn't keep the laughter in as he trudged closer.

Her eyes blazed blue thunder. “You, sir, had better not be laughing at me.”

“I'm laughing at this whole daft situation.” Despite her protests, he put a hand under her elbow and lifted her out of the dirt. “I never expected to spend the afternoon wallowing in a mud pit with a beautiful woman.”

She speared him a furious glare and yanked away from his hold, only to lose her balance a second time. Rylan caught her before she tumbled once again. She landed against him with a thud, and the frantic beat of her heart fluttered against his chest. His amusement faded as his gaze locked with eyes the color of spring lilacs. Delicate skin and full lips startled Rylan, sending currents of electricity racing through his veins. He couldn't remember the last time he'd held a woman in his arms. And never one of such startling beauty it robbed him of breath.

The girl seemed as momentarily stunned as he. Taking advantage of her hesitation, he picked her up and carried her to a drier spot, where he managed to navigate the short incline to the road. Once beside the carriage, he set her gently on her feet.

“A fine pair we are.” He took out a handkerchief from his pants pocket and attempted to wipe the mud from her face.

“Give me that.” She snatched the cloth away from him and dabbed at her cheeks, smearing the dirt even more.

“I doubt you'll be wanting to go into town without a bath first.” He tried to joke with her, to ease the lines of worry from her face, but to his dismay, tears bloomed in those amazing eyes.

“I was supposed to meet someone at the train. My mother will be furious with me.”

He stopped brushing at the grime on his pants. “You're not by any chance from the O'Leary house, are you now?”

Her fingers froze, her eyes widened. “Yes. I'm Colleen O'Leary. How did you know?”

He shook his head and bit back another grin. God was having a very good time with him today. “I'm Rylan Montgomery. Pleased to meet you, Colleen.”

She took a step backward, her hand clutching the fabric at the neck of her dress as she scanned him from head to toe. “You . . . you can't be Rylan Montgomery. You're not a priest.”

He laughed again. “Not yet. But one day soon, God willing.”

“Oh.” The handkerchief fluttered to the road. The misery on her face clutched at him.

“Come now. It's not so bad. You found me after all, and other than getting a wee bit dirty, we're all in one piece.”

She huffed out a defeated sigh, and he suddenly longed for a return of the temper he'd glimpsed earlier.

“Let's turn the horses around. I'm sure we can get cleaned up before your mother even knows what happened.”

The fluttering of hope in her eyes matched the hint of a smile on her lips. “Maybe we can. Mama's out at a meeting for the afternoon.”

“There you go. She'll be none the wiser.”

Colleen bent to retrieve a small straw hat from the grass, then primly pinned it on top of her mud-encrusted hair. He hid his amusement as he guided her onto the carriage bench, then hopped up to join her.

She sat, as regal as a muddy queen, upon her throne. “Would you do me a favor, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Don't you think you should call me Rylan? After the adventure we've had, Mr. Montgomery sounds far too formal.”

She lifted her chin. “Very well, Rylan. Would you mind driving the carriage back? I think I've had enough of horses for one day.”

G
IL
SAT
BACK
AT
THE
DINNER
TABLE
and observed the new O'Leary houseguest. Rylan Montgomery was the most unlikely-looking priest he'd ever seen. The man seemed far too at ease in his own skin and much too charming with his dark good looks and that strong Irish brogue, which seemed to have captivated everyone at the table.

“So, Rylan, what exactly will you be doing at St. Rita's?” Mrs. O'Leary beamed a smile across the table.

“Learning the ways of a parish priest for the most part. Though I will be helping out at an orphanage a few days a week. I won't know all the details until I meet with Reverend Filmore tomorrow.” He pushed his plate to one side and patted his stomach.

“And why is it you can't stay at the rectory?” Colleen sounded angry, though Gil couldn't fathom why.

Rylan only chuckled at her rude glare. “The rectory is undergoing renovations. Reverend Filmore is staying with his sister until the work is done.” He turned to Mrs. O'Leary. “Which
is why I was ever so grateful to learn my mother had a distant cousin here in Long Island.”

“Well, we're more than happy to have you.” Mrs. O'Leary passed a platter of pastries down the table. “You didn't say how Colleen found you at the station this afternoon. I trust everything went smoothly.”

“Smooth as mud, Mrs. O'Leary.”

Colleen choked on her tea, then quickly pressed a napkin to her mouth. Gil noted with interest the bloom of hot color in Colleen's cheeks. Something had the girl off kilter—a rarity indeed.

“Forgive me for saying so,” Gil said, “but you don't look Irish.”

Rylan grinned. “That's my Italian blood showing. My grandmother on my father's side was Italian. Hence the brown eyes and ruddy skin. The dimples, however, are all Irish.”

Deirdre and Brianna laughed at his exaggerated facial expression, while Colleen scowled at the tablecloth.

Maybe having Rylan Montgomery around wouldn't be such a bad thing. Especially if the good reverend-in-training kept the eldest O'Leary sister duly preoccupied for the near future.

Colleen tapped an impatient foot on the floral carpet in the parlor. If she had to listen to one more story from Rylan Montgomery about growing up in Ireland, she'd scream. He was the most infuriating man she'd ever met. And it was criminal the way he went around in ordinary clothing, charming everyone with his dreamy eyes and dimples. He should be forced to wear his priest's garb so unsuspecting girls wouldn't think . . .

She pulled herself upright against the cushioned back of the settee. The white-and-gold clock on the mantel chimed nine o'clock. She shot to her feet, smoothing out the silk skirt of her lilac dress and feigned a deep yawn.

“If nobody minds, I think I'll head up to bed early. I'm especially tired tonight.” She moved to kiss her mother, trying not to notice Rylan's gaze following her.

Mama patted her arm. “The carriage ride into town must have worn you out.”

Rylan's laughter rang out over the room. “More than you'll ever know, Mrs. O'Leary.”

Colleen stumbled, her foot catching in the hem of her dress. By sheer willpower, she righted herself.

A frown crossed her father's features. “What do you mean by that, young man?” He turned his attention to Colleen and pinned her with a withering stare. “Nothing happened to the carriage, I hope.”

Colleen gritted her teeth while planting a kiss on her father's cheek. “It was nothing, Daddy,” she fibbed smoothly. “The horses gave me a bit of trouble, that's all. Cousin Rylan drove on the way back, and everything was fine.”

She kept her gaze averted from the side of the room where Rylan was seated, sure he was mocking her with his trademark grin.

Her mother rose from her seat. “Tomorrow I'd like your help collecting some items to give Rylan for the orphanage. Maybe you could accompany him to the church if we're ready in time.”

Using all her self-control, Colleen smiled sweetly at her mother. “Of course, Mama.”

She bid the room a cordial good night, and on the way upstairs, silently planned to develop one of her famous headaches in the morning.

Rylan whistled on his way down the grand central staircase of the O'Leary home the next day. Cousin Kathleen, as she insisted he call her, had surely done well for herself. His gaze swept the tiled marble entranceway and the crystal chandelier suspended
high above the ornate railing. This mansion was indeed a far cry from his family's thatched cottage back in County Cork.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rylan stopped to peer into the gold-framed mirror and make sure his clerical collar wasn't crooked. In honor of his first day as an intern with Reverend Filmore, he figured he should dress the part. Truth be told, he was having trouble adjusting to the tightness of the collar, as well as the drabness of the black shirt and pants that made up his uniform. He supposed he'd get used to it eventually. The most important thing was witnessing his dear mother's tears of pride the first time she'd seen him in his priestly attire. Her joy made every itch of the uncomfortable cloth bearable.

“Good morning, Rylan.” Kathleen appeared from the direction of the dining room. “I hope you'll take some breakfast before you leave.”

He smiled at the handsome woman, so fresh in her white blouse and rose-colored skirt, auburn hair swept up on her head. “Ah, yes. I'm a firm believer in a good breakfast to start the day off right.”

Kathleen laughed. “Well, go on in and enjoy. I'm on my way to get those things I promised you for the orphanage.” She glanced at a small watch pinned to her blouse.

“I'll be sure and check with you before I go, then.” He paused. “Will anyone be joining me for breakfast?”

“I'm afraid not. Brianna and the children have left for school. James and Adam are out on business, and Gil is already working in the study.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked up the stairs. “Only Colleen is unaccounted for, but that will be rectified in short order.”

His lips twitched. “Does she always sleep this late?”

“Only when she's trying to avoid work. But don't worry, she'll be ready when you are.”

He didn't even try to hide his amusement. “Really, Cousin Kathleen, I can find the church on my own.”

“Nonsense. That girl needs something to occupy her time and keep her from plotting against the unsuspecting male population. Thank goodness she's safe with you.”

As Kathleen swept up the staircase, Rylan wondered if
he
would be safe with Colleen.

Half an hour later, after a fortifying breakfast, Rylan picked up one of the boxes of clothing Kathleen had left in the foyer and made his way outside to the waiting buggy. When he'd hefted the last box into the back and brushed the dust off his hands, he turned to find Kathleen marching across the lawn, her hand firmly around Colleen's upper arm. “Oh good. You haven't left. Here's Colleen now.”

The girl wrenched herself free and crossed her arms in front of her. Her vibrant red hair was pulled back with some type of ribbon that matched her dress. “I'm only staying long enough to give Reverend Filmore these boxes.” She shot Rylan a dark look. “You'll have to find your own way home.” Chin raised, she flounced by him, ignoring his offer of assistance into the buggy.

Kathleen stormed over, her face thunderous. “Colleen Elizabeth O'Leary, you will treat Cousin Rylan with the respect he deserves. I've not raised any child of mine to be rude. For penance, you can ride back out to pick Rylan up before dinner.”

Mother and daughter glared at each other, but Kathleen's withering stare won out. Colleen lowered her eyes. “Yes, Mama.”

Rylan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. He wanted to say he could walk home but didn't dare interfere with the power play in progress. Instead, he bid his cousin good-bye, hopped up on the bench seat, and guided the horses down the road. He and Colleen rode in silence for some time, with Rylan asking directions only when necessary. Finally, conscious of the anger shimmering off Colleen in waves, he decided he'd best smooth things over if they were to live under the same roof in some semblance of peace.

“I'm not sure what I've done to incur such loathing, but please
let me offer my sincerest apologies for any offense I may have committed.” He slid a glance sideways to gauge her reaction.

She stared straight ahead, her back as rigid as the plank seat beneath them.

“What have I done that's so unforgivable?” he asked in a soft voice.

She lifted one shoulder. “I don't know. You just rub me the wrong way.”

“I see.”

She whirled to face him then, her expression murderous. “First, you drag me into the mud and ruin my dress. Then you make fun of me for it. And now I have to waste my day as your escort—to the church of all places.”

Rylan made sure his lips didn't curve even a little. He kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, letting her anger roll off him. “I've apologized at least three times for the mud. If you recall, I was only trying to be a gentleman and help get your carriage free.”

Colleen shifted on the seat, paying a great deal of attention to the flow of her skirts around her knees. “Yes, well, you enjoyed the situation entirely too much.”

His stomach shook with the laughter he could no longer contain. “I'm afraid I tend to see the humorous side of most things. It's a character flaw that confounds my calling to be a priest, since for the most part, clergymen are pretty serious fellows.” He glanced over at her, still chuckling. “You have to admit, we must have looked rather silly, wallowing in the mud that way.”

Her lips twitched before she pressed them into a firm line. “I suppose we did.”

“As for your mother, I'll speak with her tonight and let her know I can manage without you as my personal escort.”

“That would be . . . appreciated. Thank you.”

“So we can be friends?”

She clutched the side of the buggy as they hit a bump. “I guess so.”

A small concession at best, but he would take it. “Good. Now, maybe you can tell me more about your family. Exactly where does Gilbert Whelan fit in with the whole O'Leary clan?”