The Irish Lover Read Online Free

them
means more than you’ll ever know. Everyone has been so kind and
welcoming.”
    “Ireland is your home.”
    She smiled, leaning her head against the
doorframe. “Yes, it is. I hadn’t expected to feel a connection with
this place.”
    “Mary?”
    “Yes?” She tipped her head, looking at him
through her lashes. Her lips were pink and soft, parted just a
bit.
    Michael cursed mentally, trying to think of
anything but how much he wanted to kiss her. “Would you like to
have tea tomorrow, with my mother?”
    “Your mother?”
    “I think she knew your parents, and if she
didn’t know them personally she’d be able to help you look at
records.”
    “Oh, thank you. I would like that.”
    “Would tomorrow, or later today as it seems,
around two o’clock work?”
    “Yes. Can you write down the
address?”
    “I’ll come and collect you just before
two.”
    “Okay. Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Michael didn’t kiss her, but
he touched her cheek with one finger. “Goodnight, Mary.”
    “Goodnight, Michael.”
    ****
    The next day at precisely two o’clock Mary was
in the hotel foyer. As she waited, she smoothed her palms against
her hips, checking to make sure that the gray wool skirt she wore
with black tights, boots and a blue sweater was in
place.
    “Can I help you with something?”
    The redheaded woman she remembered from last
night approached Mary. Today her nametag was pinned to a pretty
green jacket that made her hair look even redder.
    “Uh, no, I’m fine. I’m waiting for
someone.”
    “You’re Mary Callahan, aren’t you?”
    “Yes.” Mary shook the redhead’s offered
hand.
    “I’m Sorcha, guest relations manager. Welcome
to Glenncailty Castle, and welcome home.”
    At her words tears formed in Mary’s eyes, and
she had to look away, blinking. Before coming to Glenncailty she
would never have considered Ireland home. Home was Chicago. After
last night, “home” seemed like a much more complicated term than
she’d imagined it to be. It didn’t really make sense—she’d left
when she was two—but Glenncailty was starting to feel like
home.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you
upset.”
    “I’m not.” Mary waved her hand, laughing a
little. “I must be tired, or jet lagged, because this is happening
a lot. Are you from around here?”
    “Not from Glenncailty, no. Who are you waiting
for?”
    “Michael Baker. I met him last night and he
said his mother knew my parents.”
    “I don’t know Michael well since he lives in
Dublin, but Mrs. Baker is a lovely woman.”
    The massive front door opened. The wind
whistled as it pushed though the opening. Michael entered, shutting
the door. He wore corduroy pants and a collared shirt with a fleece
sweater or jumper over the top. His hair—she’d been right, in
daylight it was more gold than brown—was rumpled and tossed by the
wind.
    “Michael, I hear you’re taking one of my guests
out to tea.” Sorcha smiled, then winked at Mary. “I’ll expect her
back at a decent hour.”
    “Ah, Sorcha, you wound me thinking I’d step
even one toe out of line with a lady like Mary.”
    Mary felt herself blush. She knew they were
just teasing by pretending this was a date, but it hit a little too
close to home. Michael was one of those guys who was so nice every
woman around him had a crush on him, and hoped he liked her in
return. Mary had made the mistake of thinking kindness was
something more in the past, and so she was being careful not to
misread Michael. She was going to chat with his mother, nothing
more, and it didn’t mean anything.
    Last night had been wonderful, but hearing
stories about her parents and how they fell in love also reinforced
how alone she was. Her life back home wasn’t exactly going to plan,
but it was easy to forget that when she could fill her days and
nights with friends and activities. Since landing in Ireland she
was more aware than ever that she was missing something in her
life—the kind