Maggie swallowed, feeling nauseous.

Even in New York, she’d rarely seen a creature so elegant.

And she wasn’t about to shame herself by butting into their intimate rendezvous.

Shaking, she took a step backwards, but something that felt like a firm hand stopped her. She tried to wheel around, but couldn’t.

«There’ll be none of that now.» An old woman’s voice lilted the words. «No running away after all the years of waiting and the long miles you’ve crossed to be here.»

«Wait!» Maggie still couldn’t move. «I don’t know who you are, but I can’t go out there. Conall»—

«Conall has been foolish. But he’s a good lad and he needs you.» Then the crone gave her a nudge, just as she’d done twelve years before.

Maggie caught a fleeting glimpse of two small black boots with red plaid laces and then she was stumbling forwards, out of the wood and into the open sheep field. She caught herself quickly and whirled about, staring at the path.

The old woman wasn’t there.

It didn’t matter.

She’d regained her legs and was leaving. But she’d only taken three steps back into the woods when she heard a shout behind her.

«Maggie!» The surprise and joy in Conall’s voice stopped her.

She turned slowly, because she was afraid to believe what her heart was telling her. Conall was sprinting over to her, his dog hard on his heels. The raven-haired beauty was striding in the opposite direction, away from the Seven Sisters and across the field towards the Flanagan farmhouse.

She looked furious.

Maggie swallowed, sure she knew why.

«You still have Booley.» She spoke when Conall was almost upon her. «I’m so glad to see him.»

«You’re glad to see my dog?» Man and beast skidded to a halt. «After all these years, you’re finally here, and you’re more interested in Booley than me?»

Booley pranced, clearly approving the sentiment.

«I’ve always loved dogs.» Maggie couldn’t believe her voice was so calm. «You know that. Unless»— she couldn’t help herself «—you’ve forgotten such things.»

«I haven’t forgotten anything, Maggie.» He stepped closer, set his hands on her shoulders. «Not one single moment we shared and not an hour since. Hours I’ve spent missing you and regretting that I let you go. Hours that»—

«And the woman you were with just now?» Dear God, had she really said that? «Does she know about those hours?» she added, unable to stop. «I’m assuming she’s your wife. She looked quite angry»—

«She was livid.» Conall’s lips twitched. «And with good reason, because she’s one of Dublin’s top estate agents and she just lost the land deal of the century.»

Maggie blinked. «She’s not your wife?»

«God forbid.» Conall slid his hands down her arms, linking their fingers. «She’d sell her own granny’s false teeth if it’d put money in her pocket. She was here to persuade me to let her hand-sell my land to someone wanting to build a community of executive homes. I declined the offer.» He glanced at the Seven Sisters, then back to her. «You of all people should know I could never love such a woman.»

But do you love any woman?

Do you love me?

The words snagged in Maggie’s throat. «So»— she braced herself «—you’re not married?»

«Would I marry a woman I don’t love, Maggie Gleason of America?»

«That’s not an answer.»

«It is if you’re listening with your heart.» He raised her hand then and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles. «Do you really not know what I’m telling you?»

«I.» Maggie’s voice broke. «It’s just. damn!» She jerked free, pressing her fingers to her lips.

«You’re looking fine, Maggie.» He circled his arms around her from behind, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. «You’ve become a beautiful woman and»— he kissed her hair «—I can tell by your upset, that you’re still the wonderful girl I fell in love with all those years ago. I love you still, Maggie.» He turned her to face him, used his thumbs to smooth the tears from her cheeks. «I’ve always loved you. And I’m hoping that your being here means you still care for me?»

Maggie rubbed her eyes, blinking rapidly. She never cried. She ached, but she never shed tears. «You know how I feel. I told you back then and nothing has changed. But I didn’t come here looking for you. I came to forget you, to make peace with the past and move on with my life. I never expected you to be here.» She was so glad that he was! «I thought you were in Spain and»—

«I came back three years ago. But that’s a story I’ll tell you later. Just now»— he pulled her close and kissed her deeply «—the only thing that matters is that you’re here. And this time I’m not letting you go. Unless you think you might get homesick for America?» He looked at her, his eyes twinkling. «You might grow weary of Ireland,» he teased, dimples flashing. «All the storytelling and fiddle music, our turf fires and castle ruins. The long cold nights with the wind howling round the»—

Maggie slipped her arms around his neck, stopping him with a kiss. «I’m not going to answer that. But I think you already know how likely it is that— Oh, my God, look!» She jumped back, pointing to the Seven Sisters.

The sky had darkened with heavy black clouds rolling in from the sea and turning day into night. But the stone circle shone brightly, each tall, graceful stone glimmering with an eerie blue light. Thick mist, equally luminous, swirled and eddied everywhere. And the soft humming Maggie had heard earlier now sounded like low singing.

Beautiful female voices raised in a sweet, rhythmic chant.

Most amazing of all, a seventh stone now rose from the middle of the circle. Not quite as tall as the other stones and just a bit more slender, the new stone shone with the most brilliant blue of them all.

It was also translucent.

Maggie stared, her jaw dropping.

Conall reached for her hand, gripping tight.

Booley squeezed between them.

«She’s the seventh sister.» Conall’s gaze was riveted on the glowing stone.

Chills raced down Maggie’s spine. Her entire body tingled. «But how»—

«Shhh.» He spoke low. «Just watch.»

And she did, looking on in wonder as the stones shimmered and sang. The beautiful blue light seemed to come from deep within them, though their edges glittered like sapphires. Maggie was sure sparkles danced between them, connecting the stones like a web of brilliant jewels.

Then the mist whirling around the stone circle spun faster and — Maggie’s mouth went dry — the Sisters began to dance. They swayed and rocked, tipping slowly in one direction, and then twirling in another. The humming increased, almost sounding like cries of joy, when suddenly the stones rushed together in a dazzling blaze of white-blue light.

It lasted only seconds. Then they snapped apart, springing back quickly. So fast Maggie wasn’t even sure she’d seen them move at all. But she knew they had.

And when the swirling mist settled and slipped back out to sea, she saw that the seventh stone was gone.

She turned to Conall, this time not hiding her tears. «Did we really see that?»

He glanced at her, but kept on stroking Booley’s trembling shoulders. «I’m for saying we did.»

«The seventh sister, too?»

«Aye.» Conall’s gaze warmed. «Her most of all.»

«You don’t sound surprised.» Maggie could hardly speak.

Conall shrugged. «I’m Irish.»

«And that explains everything?»

«It’s as good an answer as any.» He tweaked her nose. «Or would you hear what the tale-tellers would say about what we just saw?»

Maggie nodded. «I’m for the tale-tellers.»

«Then»— he pulled her to him again «—you might be interested to know there’s an important part of the legend that I didn’t tell you years ago.»

«Oh?» She waited.

«The six remaining sisters weren’t the only ones who wept when the raiders stole the Princess across the western sea. There was someone else in the King’s household who grieved her loss.»

«The story is that she was a wise woman who travelled the land helping those in need where and when she could. Some say she hailed from Scotland, others insist she was Irish. Whoever she was»— he paused to glance at the sea — «she was often an honoured guest in the King’s hall and she loved all seven sisters dearly.»

«So when she saw that the other sisters’ sorrow had turned them to stone, she vowed to use her greatest powers to grant them a reunion with their lost sister.»

Maggie rested her head on his shoulder, listening. Each word sent shivers rippling through her and her heart was beating so fast she had to strain to hear above the rush of blood in her ears.

Booley was watching them both, his eyes sharp.

«Maggie Gleason of America, it’s said that every seven generations, the seventh sister returns.» He paused to smooth her hair, the touch gentle. «And when she does, she and her sisters dance and sing and are able to embrace each other once more. Such is the gift of the old wise woman who loved them like the daughters she never bore.»

«But that’s so sad!» Maggie could hardly speak for the thickness in her throat. «They were only able to be together for one fleeting instant. Their dance, the embrace, was over in a flash.»

«Aye.» Conall nodded, looking suspiciously untroubled.

«Doesn’t that bother you?»

«Not really.» He glanced at the stones, so silent and still now. «I’m Irish, remember.»

Maggie dashed at her cheek, not liking his story at all.

«I thought you were Irish, too?» He lifted her chin with a finger, peering deep into her eyes. «Can you not guess why I’m not worried about the Sisters?»