Irish Meadows by Susan Anne Mason Page B

could be advantageous to your career.”
    Gil swallowed. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. Thank you.”
    Gil stood with Mr. O’Leary on the porch until the Hastings family’s automobile drove out of sight.
    â€œThe nerve of the man—trying to steal you out from under my nose.” James scowled as he leaned against one of the white columns. “If I didn’t need to be on his good side, I’d have had a few choice words for the rotter.”
    Gil frowned. “I thought you liked him.”
    James pulled a pipe out of his jacket pocket, followed by a box of matches. “Not particularly. But I respect his business sense.” He lit the pipe, drew in a long breath, and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Which brings me to the next order of business. It’s obvious Aurora is smitten with you. I need you to begin a formal courtship as soon as possible.”
    The evening breeze snaked the smoke across the porch. Gil shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to think of what to say.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? You’ve seen how attractive the girl is.”
    â€œShe’s very attractive.”
    â€œSo? What’s the problem? I’m not asking you to marry her—at least not yet.” He boomed out a hearty laugh. “We’ll wait and see how much money I need first.”
    Gil couldn’t make himself laugh at the joke. Surely James didn’t expect him to marry Aurora for financial gain. Gil loosened his tie and undid the confining top button of his shirt.
    James sobered. “All kidding aside, we really need your help.” His stare bored into Gil. “I know you’d never want to see us lose our home.”
    The last shred of resistance leeched away, and Gil’s shoulders sagged. How could he refuse this man who’d given him so much? He sighed. “They’ve invited me to Belvedere. I’ll make a point of going soon.”
    The relief on Mr. O’Leary’s face erased the worry lines from his forehead. He squeezed Gil’s shoulder with a beefy hand. “Thank you, son. I knew I could count on you.”

    Rylan clapped with all the other guests as the music ended. Cousin Kathleen was indeed accomplished on the piano. Right now, flushed with pleasure at the applause, she resembled a girl of twenty instead of a woman twice that age. In fact, if Rylan could picture her as a young woman, he imagined she’d look just like Colleen. He wondered if Kathleen had been as precocious as her daughter, or if she’d always been the devout, focused woman she was today.
    Rylan frowned, picturing that beast, Jared Nolan, pawing at Colleen. Though she’d hissed like an angry cat when he’d broken up their little tryst, Rylan hadn’t missed the relief that had crossed her features when Jared first released her.
    Rylan pushed away from the wall, intent on finding another glass of delicious punch. As he made his way past the couples, he thanked the heavens above he didn’t have to worry about such things. Being a priest had the advantage of making him unavailable and therefore un-noteworthy to the single females. He fingered his white collar, worn tonight for that very reason.
    Rylan ducked into the dining room, happy to find it empty for the moment, and headed straight for the crystal punch bowl on the sideboard. He used the ladle to pour the beverage into a ridiculously small cup and swallowed it down in one gulp. How was a man to quench his thirst with these thimblefuls?
    The tap of heels on the tiled floor made Rylan glance at the door, just as Colleen swept inside. She stopped cold upon seeing him.
    â€œHello again, Miss O’Leary.” He raised his empty cup in a salute.
    â€œHello.” She moved swiftly past him and chose a glass.
    â€œAllow me.” Rylan picked up the ladle and poured the cherry-colored liquid into her cup, thankful he didn’t spill a drop. “And where is your future husband