Page 23 of Over Verdant Irish Hills

“Not on your life,” Donal said, stopping beside his car along with his father. “You going over to Bets now?”

He raised a brow at his friend. “You really asking me that?”

“Of course he is.” Eoghan drilled a finger in his belly. “If Sorcha says you’re meant, you’re meant. Now, what more can we do to help with the situation?”

He really loved these guys, but talking about Sorcha with them was going to give him heartburn. “You can go back to France and see your girlfriend.”

“My dear Sandrine,” Eoghan said, clutching his heart. “To think I would never have met her if it hadn’t been for you.”

“We’re all grateful that Sophie wants to come to Ireland as an artist. I wish I could say I’d had a hunch you’d hit it off with Sophie’s longtime assistant before our trip, but… Tell them all hi for me.”

“I will at that,” Eoghan said. “Sophie is wrapping up some final projects before she arrives next month. Her glass work is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She makes the most exquisite glass flowers. They’re so real, you’re sure you can smell their perfume.”

“You have a romantic heart, Eoghan.” Linc gripped his shoulder with affection. “Well, I’m off.”

“Make sure you take the road to Bets’.” Donal pointed in that direction as if Linc were an idiot. “She needs you, but she’s too proud to say.”

He knew exactly how stubborn she could be. “We’re finding our way, Donal. Stop being a busybody.”

“He’s being a busybody for your own good,” Eoghan said in that lilting voice of his. “She’s scared, Linc, and she’s got reason. Mary’s proven she’ll stop at nothing. It’s an old Irish story.”

“And one that doesn’t always end happily,” Donal added darkly.

His belly knotted like he’d swallowed barbed wire. “I’m working on the Mary problem. You think I’m going to let this continue? She’s a burr in our proverbial saddle, and it’s time to pluck her out.”

Donal nodded slowly. “Good. Then we can leave here with easier hearts. We’d thought it might be better to stay on until the rose competition.”

They’d been thinking about staying? “What were you planning on doing?”

“I suggested sitting up in lawn chairs outside Bets’ remaining rose garden with shotguns,” Donal replied, “but she thought that might be going too far.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve stayed up all night outside with a shotgun,” Eoghan muttered.

Linc was oddly intrigued. His friends had talked about County Mayo being the last refuge for banditry and lawlessness. Until now, he hadn’t really seen any evidence of that. “Do you really think it would work?” he asked curiously.

“Word would certainly get around,” Eoghan said, scratching the thin hair on his head. “Sometimes all you need is the stick.”

A shotgun certainly wasn’t no carrot. “I was hoping to stop the violence. Not ratchet it up more.”

“Tell that to Mary.” Eoghan’s face fell in the shuttered light from the lampposts. “You didn’t see what she did to those roses, Linc. She saturated them in lye, but only after she cut the canes into little bits.”

“Had a right party, killing those roses,” Donal told him in a harsh tone. “She might even have been singing as she did it.”

He was good and sick to his stomach now. “You’ve made your point. I’ll head over to Bets’.”

“Don’t let her kick you out,” Donal advised. “The Lucky Charms have a way of stirring each other up about us men, but you stick to the plan. Stay close to her, Linc.”

He planned to. “Anything else you want to impart before you go?”

“Only that I’ll miss you and that funny Yank accent of yours.” Donal slapped him again on the back.

“Not as much as I’m going to miss your big nose sticking itself in my business,” he shot back as he nudged him in the ribs. “We really bonded when I stayed at your house, didn’t we?”

“Call if you need anything,” Donal instructed with a laugh.

“We’ll handle Mary.” Linc cracked his knuckles.

Donal turned grim and Eoghan muttered a Gaelic swear word under his breath.

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