Her emerald eyes hid beneath lids edged with thick dark lashes. He knew the exact shade of them since he’d looked into them so often in the past. They were eyes no man could forget.

Her normally unruly black hair was pulled back in a twist and away from her heart shaped face.

When they were kids he used to love it when she left her hair down. The tight curls of it bounced over her shoulders like springs when she ran. He’d seen her like that once last year when he’d been home for a couple days during Christmas. They’d been invited to join the Conneelys, but he’d convinced his father not to go. He couldn’t bear being in the same room with her for so long, but she’d delivered food and he’d suffered anyway.

He recalled how he’d stiffened just watching her walk across the farmyard. As he did now. He mentally shook himself. This wasn’t the time or place to get an erection. The business at hand was the will and what she was doing here now. Not the fact that just looking at her could make him stiff.

Clearing his throat, he repeated, “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Her eyes fluttered open. The look she gave him made his heart skip a beat. His groin tightened again watching her tongue smooth its way over her lips. She had no idea just how erotic that simple act was. She was about to speak when a door opened behind him. Both of them spun to face Tighe Lynch.

“Mickleen,” Tighe exclaimed, using the common endearment and thrusting his hand into his. “Welcome home, lad. I just wish it were under different circumstances. I can’t tell you how much Donal will be missed.”

Mick could only tip his head at the man’s kindness. Words were still too hard to come by.

Tighe grasped Kate by her shoulders as she stood to greet him and kissed her on both cheeks. “Kate. Lovely as ever. Won’t you both step into my office?”

Not one to stand on ceremony, Mick strode through the door ahead of Kate and Tighe and went right into the solicitor’s office. He knew where it was. Was it really only a little more than two years ago he’d been here to discuss his mother’s will?

His scowl deepened when Kate walked through the office door ahead of Tighe. He got the perfect look at her shapely bum as she was forced to step between him and the desk to the seat beside him. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and pulling his coat around him to hide his erection. He kept his mind on wondering why she was at the reading of his father’s will to keep his libido under control.

Surely, she’d earned a regular wage for the time she spent cleaning his father’s house and cooking his meals. She was hired help and would have been paid accordingly. So there should be no reason why she should be here today. Unless there was something the solicitor knew and wasn’t telling them. Yet.

“I thought this was just a formality, Tighe. Why is she here?” He couldn’t even use her name. Just the feel of it in his mouth would leave him tongue-tied.

Tighe stopped him with an upheld hand. “If you’ll both bear with me, I will explain.” The solicitor turned to a folder on his desk and opened it, extracting two documents. Holding one before him, he said, “This is your father’s will, Michael. It’s all very straight forward. In it, the farm, the stock, the land—almost everything is left to you.”

“Almost?”

“We’ll get to that, lad,” Tighe said.

Tighe looked at Kate and held up the second document. “This is the addendum to the will.”

“Addendum?” she asked.

“An addendum means that instead of making up a whole new will, Dad just changed it.” Mick, not looking at her, directed his statement to the solicitor and waited for the shoe to drop.

Leave it to his father to make this more difficult on him than it already was. Wasn’t it bad enough he couldn’t get rid of the tremendous feeling of guilt for not spending more time with him? He never wanted to believe—or admit—his father was that sick. Sure, Kate called him regularly with updates. He heard everything she’d said, but why the hell hadn’t he listened to her!

“Changed the will?” she asked. “Is that right, Mr. Lynch?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Tighe replied. “It means he added something into the original will.”

“When was this?” Mick asked.

“If you’ll allow me, I’ll read what Donal has bequeathed. If you have any questions we can go from there. Right?”

Both Mick and Kate nodded agreement. Tighe read the will as it stood and then the addendum. Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That bastard!” he muttered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wide glares both Kate and Tighe gave him at the curse.

“Mr. Lynch.” Kate’s voice came on a whisper. “What does this mean? I don’t understand it.” Her eyes were big as she clutched the arms of her chair now, knuckles as white as her face. Gone was the cool Kate he’d seen in the waiting room. In a matter of minutes she’d gone from radiant to ashen. He was sure he wasn’t looking too good right about now either.

“Yes, Tighe. Can you explain it in plain English?” he asked. Why do will readings always have to be so damn dramatic?

“In plain English, your father left everything to you, Michael. However, the addendum states if you try to sell the farm, I have instructions to give everything to Kate.”

“Everything?” whispered Kate, shaking her head.

“That’s insane,” muttered Mick.

Tighe sat back in his tucked leather chair and clasped his fingers together on the desk. “Your father was quite sane at the time, lad. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Knew what he was doing? He’s giving the farm to her. That’s sane?” He flung his arm toward Kate as he bellowed. She flinched. Good. Her weakness meant she wouldn’t fight him when he contested the will. And he meant to.

“He was well within his rights, Michael. But Kate gets everything only if you try to sell.”

“What am I going to do with a bloody farm?” It was a rhetorical question. He raked his trembling fingers through his hair.

Silence settled around the office. It was a moment before he realized Tighe was staring at him. “Ah no, Tighe. There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Your father gave Kate full custody of Molly. It was his opinion that since she raised the dog because he couldn’t, she should have the dog.”

“Bollocks!” he spat, ignoring Kate’s sharp intake of breath. “I gave him that dog. She’s part of the farm. By rights, she’s mine.”

“You two will have to work out where the dog will live, but Molly is Kate’s dog now.”

He threw himself back in the chair. “And what if I contest the whole thing?”

“Try, lad. It won’t get you anywhere. Your father was determined to give Kate something for everything she’s done for your family.”

“But, Mr. Lynch, I haven’t done anything,” Kate finally spoke. “I only kept his house and made a meal or two. That was nothing less than I’d have done for my own family.”

Tighe looked at her with seriousness and understanding. “Kate, you were an important part of Donal’s last years and he was grateful to you. He told me everything you did for him, and for Mary when she was dying from the cancer. And without so much as a euro in payment. Don’t be so modest, girleen. The world needs more lasses such as yourself.”

“Yeah, right.” Mick couldn’t imagine Kate putting her life on hold for so long without a cent in payment.

Tighe turned to Mick, exasperation written all over his face. “Everything's completely documented, Michael. Kate hasn’t accepted a cent for everything she’s done the past few years. She took complete care of both of your parents in their final years.” The glare Tighe shot him was clearly meant to cut him down to size—and it worked. Suitably berated, he slunk back in his seat. “You should be thanking her, not doubting her.”

He glanced at Kate, her face pink from Tighe’s comments, but she didn’t say anything. The only telling sign of her emotion was the tear rolling down her cheek and the quiver of her chin. He had a sudden desire to kiss that tear away and still her trembling. Instead, he mentally slapped himself to remind him what was happening. He was going to lose the farm. He’d already lost the dog.

“I know this must be very hard for you, lass,” the lawyer continued. “Donal told me often enough how he and Mary loved you like a daughter.”

Kate sniffled heavily. Her voice was a mere whisper and she spoke through trembling lips, the same lips Mick still longed to kiss. “He always told me that, but I thought it was just because he missed Mick so much. I never realized he meant it. And now it’s too late to tell him I loved him, too.”

She buried her face in her palms, bringing Tighe from behind his desk. He withdrew a hankie from his breast pocket and handed it to her, patting her on the shoulder. “He knew, dear. Actions often speak louder than words.”

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I—I’m sorry. He was such a lovely man and I miss him so.”

Mick was caught between anger at what his father had done and the urge to push Tighe aside and comfort Kate himself.

What was he to do about his father’s wishes? He could contest, but Tighe said he didn’t stand a chance. Supposedly his father had been sane when he wrote the will, and the addendum.

What was he going to do with the farm? Farm life wasn’t for him. His life was in Dublin. He had a great job there in the museum. It was the ideal situation to use his history degree. He had friends and a new flat. He couldn’t just up and leave it all behind. He wouldn’t. There had to be another way. If there were any way out of this, he’d find it.

Mick cleared his throat. Tighe looked up. “Are we done here then?”

“Aye, Michael, as soon as you sign these forms. Just a formality.” Tighe explained the final paperwork that closed the file.

Signature in place, Mick rose and begrudgingly lifted his hand to Tighe’s. “Thank you, Tighe. I think.” He turned and left the office, not bothering to look at Kate. He couldn’t. By all rights her grief should be his. If he’d only listened to her . . . Now, instead of grief, guilt overwhelmed him.

* * * *

Kate stepped up to the park bench in front of the solicitor’s office on Eyre Square where Mick was sitting. His feet were on the bench seat with his bum hanging off the backrest. He was bent over with his elbows resting on his knees, his dark curly hair falling over his eyes, and a cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

“Did you pick up that habit in Dublin?”

He cast her little more than a glance through the curls and took a long drag on his cigarette. She ignored his glare and sat on the opposite end of the bench. She extended her hand toward him, inclining her head at the cigarette. He hesitated for just a moment before giving it to her.

Fool.

She dropped in on the pavement in front of her and squashed it out.

“Hey!”

“Smoking doesn’t suit you, Mick.” She bent to retrieve the butt and stuffed it into the cigarette box on the side of the bin next to her.

“What I do is no concern of yours.”

She crossed her legs and arms, then shook her head back and forth, watching the people in the park. “You don’t get it, do you? Your father just died because he’d spent a lifetime smoking them fags. Yet, here you sit with one hanging out of your mouth and right from the reading of his will. What did they teach you at that fancy school of yours, anyway?”

She looked up at him as she spoke. His moss colored eyes darkened at her commen. For a moment they stared at each other. He didn’t bother to brush the hair out of his eyes. She had to suppress the urge to reach up and do it herself.

Since he’d walked into the solicitor’s office in his tailored charcoal suit, her heart had pounded in her chest. His dark hair was full of wavy curls that framed his face. His gaze bore into her, heating her in the pit of her belly, and threatened to steal her breath. She relented and backed down, looking away.

There was something in his eyes she couldn’t read. When she was fifteen, she thought she could see into his soul through his eyes. That was when she thought there was something more between them than friendship. She’d loved him as a friend. Possibly even more, but certainly never as a brother.

Then something happened. She never knew what drew him away. She’d even sent him notes asking him to meet her at the stone circle, which had been their secret place growing up. The circle was on the property lines of both Conneely and Fairhill farms. They spent countless hours there together. Growing up and growing close. But he’d never come to meet her.

In time, she stopped trying. She didn’t want to be a clingy female begging for his attention. He’d told her once to mind her own business, so she had.

That didn’t mean the sight of him didn’t tear out her heart. She lived for years with an ache she couldn’t name. It was only when Mick moved to Dublin that she’d been able to get on with her life. There’d been no chance of meeting him in the village or seeing him again. His life was in Dublin now and she could get on with hers in Connemara. With his absence she’d tried to let her heart heal.

Since his move, she hadn’t seen him except on the very rare occasion, like holidays and the funeral yesterday when he’d stood as far away from her as possible. And today. The sight of him stole her breath. As always, there had been that brief instant where she expected him to open to her. Instead, the anger in his eyes snapped her back to reality quick enough.

Looking into his eyes now she could almost see him as she had when she’d been fifteen—full of hope and expectations. He must have sensed her scrutiny and erected a wall between them, challenging her to get through it. Her heart lurched, and almost instantly the feelings she’d thought buried deep inside her surfaced.

She turned away before she made a fool of herself. There was no denying what she felt. God help her, even through all the heartache and his retreat from her, she still loved him.

So deep in her revelation she almost missed what he said next.

“I suppose you’d also deny a man a pint as well.” There it was again, the bitterness he seemed to throw at her for no reason.

Well, she wouldn’t let him hurt her again. She might still love him, but not enough to let him walk over her. And that’s just what he’d done the last ten years.

She picked at a non-existent speck on her skirt, then stood slowly before turning toward him. She needed time before she could face him. When she finally did she wished she had a few more moments, because now that she looked back into his challenging eyes, she wanted to turn and run. But she stood her ground. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. There was too much at stake since the will had been read.

She had to find a way to help Mick keep his farm.

Looking into his eyes, she knew she was right. Anything they had between each other was just the result of growing up in farms that were side by side, and the fact their fathers had been close friends. Nothing more.

Was it hatred she saw in his gaze or jealousy? Whatever it was, she would ignore it. She would help him find a way to keep the farm, then be out of his life forever.

“No, Mick,” she finally said, letting herself breathe again. “As a matter of fact, I’ll buy it for you. Come on.” She turned on her heel and strode across the park without looking back.

REVIEWS

***** FIVE STARS! Kemberlee Shortland has written a heartwarming story that will long remain in my mind. Recommended!
~ Reviewed by Detra Fitch of Huntress Reviews

A Piece of My Heart is terrific romantic/suspense fiction to savor and share with family and friends.
~ Viviane Crystal, Crystal Reviews

Available now from Highland Press

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