He has a voice like his country, full of music and poetry. He runs the pub in the village of Ardmore that his family has owned for generations, and runs it well so that it's a warm and friendly place. I've often seen him behind the bar, listening to stories or telling them while music plays and customers drink their pints.

He has charm in abundance and a face that draws a woman's eye and that men trust. His smile is quick, his temper slow, but both are potent. When he sat in the quiet of my kitchen on that rainy afternoon, this is what he told me.

Jude lifted her hands, pressed them to her lips. Over them, her eyes were bright and shining with discovery. There, she thought. She'd begun. She'd begun and it was exhilarating. It was hers. God, she felt almost drunk on it.

Drawing another steadying breath, she tapped keys until she'd moved Aidan's tale of Lady Gwen and Prince Carrick under her introduction.

She reread the story, this time inserting how he'd spoken, what she'd thought, the way the fire had wanned the kitchen, the beam of sunlight that had come and gone in a slant over the table.

When she was done, she went back to the beginning and added more, changed some of her phrasing. Driven now, she opened a new document. She needed a prologue, didn't she? It was already rushing through her head. Without pausing to think, she wrote what pushed from her mind to her fingers.

Inside her head there was a kind of singing. And the lyrics were simple and wondrous. I'm writing a book.

Aidan stopped at the garden gate and just looked at her. What a picture she made, he thought, sitting there surrounded by all her flowers, banging away on the keys of that clever little machine as if her life depended on it.

She had a silly straw hat perched on her head to shade her eyes. Glasses with black wire rims were perched on her nose. A brilliant blue butterfly danced over her left shoulder as if reading the words that popped up on the screen.

Her foot was tapping, making him think there was music in her head. He wondered if she was aware of it, or if it played there as background to her thoughts.

Her lips were curved, so her thoughts must be pleasing her. He hoped she'd let him read them. Was it the influence of love, he wondered, or did she really look stunningly beautiful, somehow glowing with power?

He had no intention of disturbing her until she was done, so he simply leaned against the gate with what he'd brought her tucked in the curve of his arm.

But she stopped abruptly, snatching her hands from the keys and pressing one to her heart as her head whipped around. Her eyes met his, and even with the distance he could see the variety of sensations play in them. Surprise at seeing him, and the pleasure. Then the faint embarrassment that seemed to cloud them all too often.

"Good day to you, Jude Frances. I'm sorry to interrupt your work."

"Oh, well-" She'd felt him there, felt something, she thought, however ridiculous that sounded. A change in the air. Now she was caught. "It's all right." She fumbled with the keys to save and close, then took off her glasses to lay them on the table. "It's nothing important." It's everything, she wanted to shout. It's the world. My own world. "I know it's odd to be set up out here," she began as she rose.

"Why? It's a lovely day for being outside."

"Yes- yes, it is." She turned off the machine to save the battery. "I lost track of time."

Because she said it as if confessing a sin to a priest, Aidan laughed as he unlatched the gate with his free hand. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and getting things done. Why worry about the time?"

"Then I'll just say it's the perfect time for a break. I imagine the tea's cold now, but-"

She trailed off as she noted what he carried. Her eyes lit with delight and she hurried toward him. "Oh, you have a puppy. Isn't it sweet!"

It had been lulled to sleep during Aidan's walk from the village, but stirred now as the voices woke it. The fierce yawn came first, then dark brown eyes blinked open. He was a ball of black and white fur, all floppy ears and big feet, with a thin whip of a tail curled between his legs.

He let out an excited yip and immediately began to wriggle.

"Oh, aren't you adorable, aren't you pretty? And so soft," she murmured when Aidan passed the puppy into her hands. When she nuzzled his fur, he immediately covered her face with adoring licks.

"Well, now, there's no need to ask if the two of you like each other. It's the love at first sight that our Jude claims not to believe in."

"Who could resist him?" She lifted the pup into the air, where he wiggled in ecstasy.

"The Clooneys' bitch had a litter a few weeks back, and I thought this one had the most character. He's just weaned and ready for his new home."

Jude crouched, setting the puppy down so he could climb up and over her legs and tumble onto his back for a belly rub. "He looks ready for anything. What will you name him?"

"That'll be up to you."

"To me?" She glanced up, then laughed as the pup nipped at her fingers for more attention. "Greedy, aren't you? You want me to name him for you?"

"For yourself. I brought him to you, if you're wanting him. I thought he could keep you company on your faerie hill."

Her hands stilled. "You brought him to me?"

"You're fond of the O'Tooles' yellow hound, so I thought you might like having a dog of your own, from the ground up, so to speak."

Since she only stared, Aidan backtracked. "If you're not inclined to dealing with one, I'll take him myself."

"You brought me a puppy?"

Aidan shifted his feet. "I suppose I should have asked you first if you were interested in one. My thought was to surprise you, and-"

He broke off when she sat abruptly on the ground, gathered the puppy into her arms, and burst into tears.

He didn't mind tears as a rule, but these had come without warning and he hadn't a clue of their direction. The more the puppy squirmed in her embrace and licked at her face, the tighter she held him and the harder she wept.

"Oh, now, darling, don't take on so. There now a ghra, there's no need for all this." He squatted down, digging out his handkerchief and patting at her. "Hush, now, it's all my fault entirely."

"You brought me a puppy." She all but wailed it and sent the pup into sympathetic howls.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I should have thought it through first. He'll be happy at the pub. It's not a problem at all."

"He's mine!" She curled herself around the pup when Aidan reached down. "You gave him to me, so he's mine."

"Aye." He said it cautiously. God above, a woman was a puzzle. "You're wanting him, then?"

"I always wanted a puppy." She sobbed it out, rocking back and forth.

Aidan dragged a hand through his hair and gave up. He sat down with her. "Have you, now? Well, then, why didn't you have one?"

Finally, she lifted her tear-drenched face. Her eyes continued to brim and spill over with tears. "My mother has cats," she managed and hiccoughed.

"I see." As much, he supposed, as he could see through a fog of pea soup. "Well, a cat's a nice thing. We've one of our own."

"No, no, no. These are like royalty. They're gorgeous and aloof and prissy and sleek. They're purebred Siamese, and really beautiful, but they never liked me. I just wanted a silly dog that would get on the furniture and chew up my shoes and-and like me."

"I think you can depend on this one for all of that." Relieved, Aidan stroked her cheek, wet with tears and puppy kisses. "So you won't curse me when he leaves a puddle on your floor or gnaws one of the nice Italian shoes Darcy's always admiring?"

"No. It's the most wonderful present I've ever had." She reached out for Aidan, sandwiching the delighted puppy between them. "You're the most wonderful man in the world."

Much as the dog had done to her, she covered Aidan's face with adoring kisses.

Perhaps he'd brought the dog to charm her, but there was no point in feeling guilty about it because it had worked, was there? How could he have known he would be filling a deep childhood longing with a flop-eared mongrel pup?

He tucked the uneasy sensation away and managed to cover her enthusiastic mouth with his.

He wanted her happy, he reminded himself. That was the important thing.

"I need a book," she murmured.

"A book?"

"I don't know how to train a puppy. I need a book."

Because it was such a typical reaction, he grinned and drew back. "First off, I'd recommend a lot of newspapers to cut down on those puddles, and a stout hunk of rope to save your shoes."

"Rope?"

"So he'll chew on that instead."

"That's clever." She beamed now. "Oh, and he'll need food and a collar and toys and shots. And-" She lifted the pup into the air again. "Me. He'll need me. Nothing ever has before."

/ do. The words were in his mind, struggling their way to his tongue, but she leaped up, to whirl herself and the pup in a circle.

"I have to put my things back inside and run down to the village and get him everything he needs. Can you wait and drive down with me?"

"I can, yes. I'll put the things inside. You stay out and acquaint yourself with your new friend there."

As Aidan walked to her table, he let out an unsteady breath. It was best he hadn't said it, he told himself. It was too soon for both of them to change the level of things. There was plenty of time to bring up marriage.

Plenty of time to figure how it would best be done.

She bought him a red collar and leash, and dishes of bright blue. Aidan found her some rope and tied it into a sturdy hank. Still, she filled a sack with other things she deemed essential to her puppy's happiness and well-being.