He looked up, smiled a little. "Aye. She's waiting. I wonder if time stretches out for her, or if a year is only a day."

He switched off the engine so they sat with the rain drumming until the figure faded away.

"You did see her. You're not just saying that."

"Of course I saw her, as I have before and will again." He turned his head, studied Jude's profile. "You're not uneasy, are you, staying out here with her?"

"No." Because the answer came so easily, she laughed. "Not at all. I should be, I suppose, but I'm not the least bit uneasy here, or with her. Sometimes-"

"Sometimes what?"

She hesitated again, telling herself she shouldn't keep him. But it was so cozy there in the warmth of the car with the rain pattering and the mists swirling. "Well, sometimes I feel her. Something in the air. Some-I don't know how to explain-some ripple in the air. And it makes me sad, because she's sad. I've seen him too."

"Him."

"The faerie prince. I've met him twice now when I've gone to put flowers on Maude's grave. I know it sounds crazy-I know I should probably see a doctor for some tests, but-"

"Did I say it sounded crazy?"

"No." She released another pent-up breath. "I guess that's why I told you, because you wouldn't say it. You wouldn't think it."

And neither did she, not any longer.

"I met him, Aidan." She shifted on her seat, her eyes bright with excitement as she faced him. "I talked to him. The first time I thought he was someone who just lived around here. But the second, it was almost like a dream or a trance or- I have something," she said following impulse. "I'd like to show you. I know you probably want to get back, but if you have just a minute."

"Are you asking me in?"

"Yes. I'd-"

"Then I've time enough."

They got out of the car and walked through the rain. A little nervous, she pushed at her damp hair as they stepped inside the cottage. "It's upstairs. I'll bring it down. Do you want some tea?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Just, well, wait," she said and hurried upstairs to her bedroom where she'd buried the stone among her socks.

When she came down, holding it behind her back, Aidan was already lighting the fire. The glow of it shimmered over him as he crouched by the hearth, and Jude's heart gave a pleasantly painful little lurch.

He was as handsome as the faerie prince, she thought. See the way the fire brings out the deep red tones in his hair and shifts and plays over the angles of his face, shoots gold into those wonderful blue eyes of his.

Was it any wonder she was in love with him?

Oh, God, she was in love with him! The force of it struck like a blow in the belly, nearly made her groan. How many more idiotic mistakes could she make in one single day?

She couldn't afford to fall in love with some gorgeous Irishman, to break her heart over him, to make a fool of herself. He was looking for something entirely different, and had made no pretenses about it. He wanted sex and pleasure, fun and excitement. Companionship, too, she imagined. But he didn't want some moony-eyed woman in love with him, particularly one who'd already failed at the only serious relationship she'd allowed herself.

He wanted a love affair, which was a world away from love. And if she wanted to succeed here, with him, to give herself the pleasure of a relationship with him, she would have to learn to separate the two.

She would not complicate this. She would not over-analyze this. She would not ruin this.

So when he rose and turned, she smiled at him. "It's lovely having a fire on a rainy night. Thanks."

"Then come closer to it." He held out a hand.

She was walking into the fire all right, she thought. And she wouldn't give a damn if she got burned. She crossed to him, kept her eyes on his. Slowly, she brought her hand from behind her back, spread her fingers. The diamond nestled in the center of her palm, shooting light and glory.

"Sacred heart of Jesus." Aiden stared at it, blinked. "Is that what I think it is?"

"He poured them like candy out of his bag. Jewels so bright they hurt my eyes. And I watched as they bloomed into flowers over Maude's grave. Except for this one that stayed as it was. I shouldn't believe it," she murmured, thinking as much of love as of the stone in her hand. "But here it is."

He took it from her hand to hold it in the light of the fire. It seemed to pulse, then lay quiet. "It holds every color of the rainbow. There's magic here, Jude Frances." He lifted his gaze to hers. "What will you do with it?"

"I don't know. I was going to take it to a jeweler, have it analyzed, the same way I was going to have myself analyzed. But I've changed my mind. I don't want it tested and studied and documented and appraised. It's enough just to have it, don't you think? Just to know it is. I haven't taken enough on faith in my life. I want to change that."

"That's wise. And brave. And perhaps the very reason it was given into your keeping." He took her hand, turned the palm up. After laying the stone on her palm, he curled her fingers around it. "It's for you, and whatever magic it holds. I'm glad you showed it to me."

"I needed to share it." She held the stone firmly, and though she knew it was foolish, thought she gathered courage from it. "You've been so understanding, and very patient with me. My outrageous behavior, then the way I dumped all my neuroses on you. I don't know how to repay you."

"I'm not keeping a balance sheet."

"I know. You wouldn't. You're the kindest man I know."

He managed not to wince. "Kind, is it?"

"Yes, very."

"And understanding and patient as well."

Her lips curved. "Yes."

"Like a brother might be."

She managed to keep the smile in place. "Well, I- hmmm."

"And are you in the habit of throwing yourself into the arms of men you think of like a brother?''

"I have to apologize for that, for embarrassing you."

"Haven't I told you that you apologize too often? Just answer the question."

"Urn, well- Actually I've never thrown myself into anyone's arms but yours."

"Is that the truth then? Well, it's flattered I am, though you were in some distress at the time."

"Yes. Yes, I was." The stone felt like a lead weight in her hand now. She turned, grateful to have her back to him for a moment, and laid it on the mantel.

"Are you in distress at the moment?"

"No. No, thank you, I'm fine."

"Then let's try it again." He spun her around, and as her lips parted in surprise, captured them. Her body jerked, that instant of shock he always found so arousing. "Are you thinking I'm kind and patient now?" he muttered and bit lightly at the curve of her neck.

"I can't think at all."

"Good." If there was anything more potent than a woman stumbling over her own passion, he'd yet to come across it. "I like you better that way."

"I thought you'd be angry, or-"

"You're thinking again." He nibbled his way up to her temple. "I'll have to ask you to stop that."

"All right. Okay."

Her breathy agreement made him yearn. "Mavourneen dheelish. Let me have you tonight." His mouth came back to hers and sent her already scattered thoughts spinning. "Let it be tonight. I can't go on just dreaming of you."

"You still want me?" The stunned pleasure in her voice nearly dropped him to his knees. It humbled him, her complete lack of vanity.

"I want all there is of you. Don't ask me to go tonight."

She'd followed her heart to this place, and had found him. Now she would follow her heart again. "No." She tangled her fingers in his hair, met his mouth with all the newly discovered love and passion in her. "No, don't go."

He could have lowered her to the floor, taken her there and delighted them both in front of the fire. Neither of them was a child, and both were eager. But he remembered a promise made and scooped her up in his arms. When he saw the dazed surprise on her face, he knew it was right.

"I told you that the first time it would be slow and sweet. I'm a man of my word."

No one had ever carried her before. The romance of it was stunning, an erotic fantasy with gilt edges. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears like thunder as he carried her up the steps, down the little hall into the bedroom.

She was grateful for the dark. It would be easier not to be shy in the dark. When he sat her on the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes. Then they sprang open again when he turned on the bedside light.

"Pretty Jude," he murmured, and smiled down at her. "Just sit a moment, and I'll light the fire."

A fire, she thought. Of course, a fire would be good. She linked her hands together and tried to settle the nerves, smooth out the needs. It would add atmosphere as well as warmth. He'd want atmosphere. Oh, God, why couldn't she think of something to say? Why didn't she have some wonderful negligee or lingerie to change into and dazzle him?

Speechless, she watched him straighten from the fire once it began to flame, then begin to light the candles scattered around the room.

"I was going to call you tonight and ask you to dinner."

The idea was such a surprise, such an intriguing one, she stared. "You were?"

"That'll have to wait for another time now." He kept his eyes on her, seeing her nerves, enjoying them a bit, as he switched off the lamp again. And the room was washed in shadows and shifting light.

"I'm not very hungry."

He laughed. "I'm after changing that, right quickly then." To her complete shock, he crouched down and began to untie her shoes. "I've had an appetite for you since you first walked into the pub."

She swallowed. Hard. It was the best she could do. Then he ran a finger lightly over the arch of her bare foot and the breath strangled in her throat.