Free Two Brothers by Linda Lael Miller Page B

latter was well and wisely hidden. “I can’t tell you what I feel for Aislinn, exactly, because I don’t really understand it myself,” he said. “There’s something happening here, though, and believe me, I’m not taking it lightly. I never expected to care about anybody again, including myself, after Grace was killed, but all of the sudden …”
    Eugenie offered one of her rare, flinty smiles, a mere twitch of the lips, gone as quickly as it appeared. “I figured you’d be ready to get on with things in time, and I was right. But you remember my warnin’. If all you want is a tussle in the hay, you just stick with that widow-woman of yours, and leave this girl alone. There’s an old homestead she wants to buy and prove up on, and she’s got two brothers to raise as well. She needs a man who’s willing to take hold and make good on his bargain.”
    He hadn’t known about the brothers or the land, but there was no sense in getting ahead of himself. He’d worry about them when and if they became his concern. His attraction to Aislinn was sudden, and it was strong, and for the time being, he had all he could do to grapple with that. And then there was Tristan. “You don’t think I’m a good man?” he asked mildly. He wasn’t looking for flattery or pretty reassurances, not from Eugenie. He just wondered.
    “You’re all right,” she said, and gave him a punch in the upper arm that would probably leave a welt. “For a while there, though, I was scairt the Irish Curse had got hold of you.”
    He’d been afraid of that himself, on more than one morning, when he’d awakened with spasms in the pit of his stomach, drenched in cold sweat and feeling as though somebody had dropped one end of a pool table on his head. He might or might not be cursed, but he wasn’tat all sure he was Irish, though he supposed Killigrew was a name sprung from the old sod. He hadn’t thought to ask Tristan about such things as that, taken by surprise that way. “The drink doesn’t seem to hold much appeal,” he said. “I’m not sure why.” Privately, he suspected that his brother had shocked the craving right out of him, looking the way he did and introducing himself with the tip of a pistol barrel in the middle of the night.
    “Maybe it don’t matter why,” Eugenie said, squinting at him. The noise at the Yellow Garter was rising and getting wilder, like a creek swollen with melted snow and spring rains. Had been for several minutes. “You know,” she mused, “if it weren’t a crazy notion, I’d think there was two of you.”
    Shay had been on his way to retrieve his hat from the porch bench, where he’d left it when Aislinn came outside, but Eugenie’s comment stopped him in midstep. He repressed a grin. “What?”
    She sounded pensive. “It was odd, your comin’ in twice for breakfast this mornin’. And the second time, well, there was something real different about you.”
    Shay grasped his hat and let out a long breath. He was on the verge of explaining when shots sounded from the direction of the Yellow Garter. “Hell,” he said, automatically checking the cylinder of his .45. “I’d better get down there and find out what’s going on.”
    “You take care,” Eugenie commanded, as he sprinted past her.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he promised, without looking back.
    Aislinn sat alone in the kitchen, her chin propped in one hand, watching the light of a single kerosene lantern flicker over the checkered oilcloth covering the table. She would have been the first to admit that she should have been thinking about the possible consequences of being caught breaking Eugenie’s rules, but she could not seem to get beyond the impact of Shay McQuillan’s kisses. Shewas startled when Eugenie spoke, for she hadn’t heard her enter the room.
    “You’d best get to bed, miss. Breakfast time comes around early.”
    Turning on the bench, Aislinn looked up into the older woman’s face. “You’re not sending me