Page 1 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

CHAPTERONE

Sophie Giombetti had expected a welcoming party upon her arrival in Dublin.

She hadn’t expected a gorgeous man to be among them.

Her excitement had skyrocketed as they flew in over the rolling Irish hills, shaded every color of green imaginable. She could all but feel her restlessness and dissatisfaction, both personally and professionally, fly away from her as the plane thundered down the runway to a stop. When she’d decided to come to Ireland to reach a new level of artistry in her glass work, she’d known it would have personal ripples for both her and her daughter.

Already, it was surprising her.

Her daughter, Greta, grabbed her hand as they approached the security barrier and the women shouting their names and waving enthusiastically just behind it. Although Sophie had never met Ellie Buchanan in person, she felt she knew her through her father, Linc—the very man who’d convinced her to accept a residency at the Sorcha Fitzgerald Center for the Arts. The other woman was Kathleen O’Connor, Ellie’s closest friend and another artist at the center, whom she recognized from photographs on the center’s social media accounts. While Ellie was a stained glass artist, Kathleen’s medium was metal, and she’d designed an enormous metal pirate ship sculpture for the center.

They were known to her. They wereexpected. But not so the man who stood with them—the third in their small party. He was tall and had fathomless cobalt blue eyes that captivated Sophie’s attention as she wheeled their luggage toward them. Although both Ellie and Kathleen were married, she’d seen photos of their husbands—he wasn’t one of them.

She loved using blue glass in her installations to convey calm and endless peace, and she saw both qualities in this man with the unruly mop of brown hair. He drew her in with his warm gaze and casual stance, hands tucked into simple gray pants that worked nicely with his white button-down shirt.

An answering warmth spread languidly through her, and her heart unfurled like a flower in the sun. She almost stopped in place to savor the feeling. She had never felt such a strong and immediate attraction to a man, not even the man she’d divorced.

Was this love at first sight?

An artist knew herself and her emotions, and Sophie knew he could be important to her if she let him.

“Mama, who is that man with Mr. Buchanan’s daughter?” Greta asked in her inside voice, pausing just as the baggage claim doors closed behind them.

“He’s obviously a friend to Ellie and Kathleen,” she said, bending at the waist to assure her incredibly shy daughter, “so he must be nice.”

She watched as Kathleen gave the blue-eyed man a playful punch, making him break eye contact with her.

She’d heard stories about Ellie and Kathleen for some time from Ellie’s father. They’d been best friends for years, and Kathleen had followed Ellie to Caisleán. Their story got even more charming—they’d recently married a pair of brothers. While they were about the same height, the women couldn’t look more different. Ellie had long honey blond hair and a casual style while Kathleen had short black hair and looked like a badass in all black with matching canvas high-tops. Their bond was a rarity between professional artists and women, and Sophie couldn’t help but envy it.

Greta looked back at the group and crossed her arms, her brown eyes narrowing as she took her time assessing them. Sophie had cultivated her daughter’s skill in sizing people up. It was an ability she’d learned the importance of early in life, as the daughter of two famous—and often infamous—artists.

“He looks nice, Mama,” she finally declared.

High praise, Sophie thought, glancing over to see him still smiling warmly at them. “I like the look of him too. Let’s go meet everyone, shall we?”

They navigated the cordoned-off space and people hugging enthusiastically in reunions. When they reached the group, Ellie thrust out a mixed bouquet of late summer flowers from behind her back, grinning. “Welcome to Ireland! We thought you’d like flowers since you’re famous for your glass flowers. Gosh, it’s so great to have you here, Ms. Giombetti.”

“It’s Sophie, please,” she said, biting her lip to contain her smile. “I’m only a few years older than you.”

“Not in the artist community,” the younger woman continued, bouncing on her heels. “You’ve been a legend since you hit the scene at twenty-one with your ‘Secret Garden’ installation. I about melted when I saw it!”

“Ellie,” Kathleen warned.

“I know, but I’ve been a huge fan of Sophie’s—yours—for years,” she gushed. “I mean, everyone is saying you’re the next Dale Chihuly—”

“Okay, enough fangirling,” Kathleen said, elbowing her gently. “I mean, I’d like to have her autograph too. Big fan. But we’re here to welcome you and Greta. Not make you fear spending the next three hours alone with us in a car.” Then she hummed theTwilight Zonemedley, making Sophie fight back a laugh.

“It was nice of you to offer us a ride to Caisleán.”

“It was easier to secure a long-term car for you locally, and it’s sitting in your new driveway,” Ellie said. “The center is still working out the best way for insurance—”

“She doesn’t need to hear about that snore topic, Ellie,” Kathleen countered. “She just arrived, and you’re already talking her ear off.”

“Maybe Sophie and Greta will ride with me to escape you mad lunatics and your chatter,” the mystery man said with a quiet smile. “I’m Jamie Fitzgerald. Greta’s new teacher. We wanted to make Greta feel welcome at her new school.”

Sophie’s mouth parted at the news, and then her brow shot up as he sank to his haunches to be at Greta’s level. His name was familiar, and it only took a moment for it to click into place. “You’re also on the board of directors for the arts center, along with your brother, Carrick, who’s married to—”

“Angie Newcastle, the painter, after his first wife, Sorcha—ah—passed away,” Ellie broke in. “Who the center is named for, among other things.”

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