"I brought you some tea."

"That's lovely. Thanks." She took the cup, smiling at him. Her eyes were still dreamy from her song, "I thought maybe you'd gone on to work already. I'm glad you didn't."

She moved closer to touch her mouth to his. She felt soft everywhere from wishing he'd take her back to bed to make love again as they had in the night.

"I was about to come up and wake you." Wanting her clouded his brain, just as the steam clouded the bath. So he stepped out, kept the door open. "You beat me to it."

She sipped the hot tea as the air in the bedroom shivered in and chilled her. "And what did you have in mind for after you'd waked me?"

A man with a single-digit IQ and no libido would have caught the invitation. Stay on track, Trevor warned himself. "A walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah." He moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn't intend to touch her and lose focus, but that didn't mean he couldn't watch her dress and torture himself. "You usually walk down to the village anyway. So we'll take a walk, then I'll drive you down."

She was pink and warm and fragrant from her shower, naked but for a towel, and the man wanted to go tramping around in the mist. A woman with less confidence, Darcy thought, would wonder if she'd misplaced her sex appeal during the night.

It didn't mean she couldn't be miffed.

"Don't you have to work?" Prepared to pout, she turned to the closet.

"I can take the morning. Mick's coming in to keep an eye on things. Between him and Brenna I can spare a couple hours."

The fact was, he could have spared days. Even weeks. It would have been more sensible to return to New York, handle the business he had there up front rather than long distance. But he watched Darcy slither into underwear and knew he wasn't going anywhere in the near future. Not alone.

"Mr. O'Toole should be at home yet. Recuperating."

"'I've had me fill of women fluttering around me person day and night.' " Trevor's very passable mimic of Mick's disgust had a smile tugging at Darcy's lips.

"Nonetheless."

"You want to try to keep him down? Be my guest. Me, I don't have the heart."

"Well." She pondered over a shirt. "As long as he doesn't overdo. It's not that he's old, but he's not as young as he was, either. And being a man, he'll want to do more than he should."

"Meaning men show off?"

"Of course they do." She shot an amused and female look over her shoulder. Indulgent and insulting. "Don't you?"

"Probably. But Brenna isn't liable to let him overdo. She doesn't flutter, she just watches him like a she-wolf watches a pup. I think he likes it. Men also like being pampered by a woman. They just have to pretend it annoys them."

"As if having two brothers I didn't know that already. I'll lure him into the kitchen for a hot meal and some pampering and tell him how strong and handsome he is." She did up the buttons of the shirt. "He likes the flattery as well."

Holding her trousers by one finger, her shirttail skimming her thighs, she turned. "And, as I can attest you're a man as well, wouldn't you like some of the same? I might be persuaded to fix you a meal downstairs in the cozy kitchen and tell you you're strong and handsome."

Adam's temptation for an apple was nothing compared to Darcy's smile. But there were priorities. "I had a bagel." He grinned at her. "It was great."

"Then I'm pleased." Baffled, but pleased. She stepped into her trousers, slipped on her shoes. "Just let me fix my hair and face, and I'll be right with you."

"What's wrong with your hair?"

"It's wet, for one thing."

"It's damp out, so it won't matter." Impatient now, he rose to take her hand. "If I let you go into that bathroom, you won't come out for an hour."

"Trevor." Exasperated, she tugged to try to free her hand as he pulled her down the steps. "I'm only half done here."

"You look beautiful." Moving quickly, he grabbed her jacket. "You always do." Then ignoring her protests, he bundled her into it.

"What's your hurry?" But she decided to be mollified with the compliment and let him have his way.

That, she liked to think, was a fine give-and-take in a relationship. Letting a man have his way when it didn't really matter one way or the other.

It wasn't particularly damp out, not to her way of thinking. The fog was thin, a lovely filter on the air that turned ordinary shapes into fanciful ones. Bright colors in the cottage garden were softly muted, the hills beyond wonderfully mysterious. Already she could see some breaks in the clouds, hopeful little patches of quiet blue among the gray.

The world was so hushed, they might have been alone in it. All the warmth and intimacy of the night before flowed back into her when he took her hand as they walked.

They went over the field, circling, and for a time she was silent, lost in the romance.

"Where are we heading?"

"Saint Declan's."

A chill ran up her spine. Nerves, superstitions, anticipation, she couldn't be sure. "If I'd known we were going by Old Maude's grave, I'd've brought some flowers."

"There are always flowers on her grave."

Magic flowers, she thought, put to grow there by powers beyond the mortal. In the distance, through the thinning fog, the stone ruin stood, like something waiting. She shivered.

"Cold?"

"No. I-" But she didn't mind when he released her hand to tuck his arm around her. "It's an odd place to come on a misty morning."

"Too early for tourists. It's a great spot. Terrific view if the fog lifts."

"Too early for tourists," she agreed, "but not for faeries." In such a place who knew what was sleeping under a hillock of grass or in the shadow of a stone? "Are you looking for Carrick?"

"No." Though he wondered. "I wanted to come here with you." He passed the well and its crosses, moved with her into the ancient, roofless church where Maude lay. The rough stones that marked ancient dead tilted up through ground and haze. In contrast, flowers swept lovingly over Maude's and thrived.

"They don't pick her flowers."

"Hmm?"

"The people who come here," Trevor said. "Tourists and students and the locals who walk this way. They don't pick her flowers."

"It would be disrespectful."

"People don't always give respect, but they seem to here."

"This is holy ground."

"Yes." He still had his arm around her, leaned down almost absently to press a kiss to her damp hair.

And the thrill moved through her, fast and bright. Alone in the world on holy ground, she realized. The morning after they'd loved each other, and in a way had discovered each other. He'd brought her here, to the cliff above sea and village, in the mist and the magic.

To tell her he loved her. She closed her eyes, trembled a little from the soaring joy of it. Of course, nothing could be more perfect. He wanted such a place to tell her his heart, to ask her to be his wife.

What could be more romantic, more dramatic? More quietly right?

"Fog's lifting," he murmured.

Together, standing on the windy hill, they watched the veil tear gently, and the sun shimmer through, silver-edged, to touch the air with its pearly light. Far below was the village that was home, and the sea that guarded it swam slowly clear as if hands had drawn open a filmy curtain.

The beauty of it, what she saw with her eyes, what she saw with her heart, brought tears stinging. Home, she thought. Yes, Aidan was right. This would always be home, no matter where she traveled with the man beside her. Her love for it filled her as gently as the sunlight that brushed through the clouds.

"It looks perfect from here," she said quietly. "Like something from out of a storybook. I forget that when

I'm down in it, going from day to day doing what's needed to be done."

Swamped with emotions, she rested her head on Trevor's shoulder. "I used to wonder why Maude chose to rest here, away from family and friends, and most of all away from her Johnnie. But this is why. This was the place for her, and she's not away from her Johnnie at all. She never was."

"That kind of love's a miracle." He wanted one for himself, and meant to make it happen.

"Love's always miraculous." Tell me, tell me quickly, she thought. So I can tell you back.

"It seems to be the order of the day around here."

Now, she thought, and wondered if a body could die of sheer happiness.

"It is beautiful, and full of charm and drama. But there are other places in the world, Darcy."

She frowned, puzzled, then almost instantly smiled again. Of course, he thought he needed to prepare her, to explain how he had to travel for his work before he asked her to go with him.

"I've always wanted to see those other places." She could ease the path for him. Another give-and-take, she thought, nearly giddy, in a relationship. "To go and see and do. Just recently I came to realize that wanting that doesn't mean I don't love and appreciate what I have here. Wanting to go just means coming back."

"You can see all those other places." He drew her away, his hands on her shoulders, his gaze intent.

She had the sudden thought that here, now, finally, she was going to be offered her heart's desire. And the only man she'd ever loved would propose to her when her hair was wet and her face naked.

Damn.

The foolishness of it made her laugh and reach for him. He loved her just as she was, and that was a wonder. "Oh, Trevor."

"It'll be work, but exciting work. Satisfying, fulfilling. Lucrative."

"Of course, but I-" The romantic haze parted, much as the fog over the sea, and let the last part of his statement swim clearly into her mind. "Lucrative?"