Take them, and me.

But the answer was no, had to be no. It was not her country. Not her home. Not her family. Couldn't be until there was strength in her, trust in them, love from him.

Then she was alone in the dream, standing at the window while the rain washed the gla.s.s, because in all the promises he'd made, there had not been a single word of love.

When she awoke, the sun was streaming bright, and the sound of the woman's weeping was her own.

Her mind was fuzzy from lack of sleep, and her body felt frail, as if she'd awakened old and ill. Self-pity, Jude thought, recognizing the symptoms all too well. Encroaching depression. After her marriage had been yanked out from under her feet, she'd fallen into that pattern for weeks.

Restless nights, endless unhappy days, clouds of misery and embarra.s.sment.

Not this time, she promised herself. She was in control now, making her own decisions. And the first was not to wallow, not even for an hour.

She gathered up flowers, tied a pretty ribbon around their stems, and with Finn and Betty for company set out on the walk to Maude's grave.

The storm that had threatened the night before had never struck. Though there were still some clouds brooding in the southwest, the air was beautifully warm. The sea sang out its song, and on the hills, the b.u.t.tercups sunned their faces. She spotted a white-tailed rabbit seconds before the yellow hound scented it. Betty took off, a sleek bullet after the bounding white blur, only to romp back moments later. Her tongue lolled in a sheepish expression as if she was embarra.s.sed to have once again been lured into the chase.

Five minutes of watching the puppy race around Betty, tumble, and yip put Jude in a better mood.

By the time she reached the grave site, she was soothed, and sat down as was now her habit to tell Maude the latest news.

"We had a wonderful ceili last night. Everyone said it was good to have music in the cottage again, and people. Two of Brenna O'Toole's sisters came with their young men. They look so happy, all four of them, and Mollie just beams when she looks at them. Oh, and I danced with Mr. Riley. He seems so old and frail I was afraid I'd just shatter him, but I could barely keep up."

Laughing, she shook her hair back, then settled down on her heels for the visit. "Then he asked me to marry him, so I know I'm accepted here. I baked a ham. It was the very first time I ever did, and it worked. I didn't even have sc.r.a.ps left for the dogs. Late in the evening Shawn Gallagher sang 'Four Green Fields.' There wasn't a dry eye. I've never given a party where people laughed and cried and sang and danced. Now I don't know why anyone gives any other kind."

"Why don't you tell her about Aidan?"

Jude looked up slowly. It didn't surprise her to see Carrick standing on the other side of Maude's grave. Another wonder, she supposed, that such a thing didn't seem the least odd to her now. But she raised her brows because there was temper glittering in his eyes and a snarl on his mouth.

"Aidan was there," she said calmly. "He played and sang beautifully, and brought enough beer from the pub to float a battleship."

"And the man took you out in the moonlight and asked you to be his wife."

"Well, more or less. He took me out in the moonlight and said he needed a wife and I would fill the bill." Jude glanced down as her puppy sniffed around Carrick's soft brown boots.

"And what was your answer?"

Jude folded her hands on her knee. "If you know that much, you know the rest."

"No!" The word exploded out of him, and the gra.s.s shivered and lay flat. "You tell him no because you haven't the sense of a carrot." He jabbed a finger at her, and though they were feet apart she still felt the impatient stab of it against her shoulder. "I took you for a bright woman, one with a fine mind and manner, with a good strong heart as well. Now I see you're fickle and fainthearted and mulish."

"Since you think so little of me, I won't subject you to my company." She got to her feet, jerked up her chin, then gasped when she turned and rapped straight into him.

"You'll stay where you are, madam, until you're given leave otherwise."

For the first time, she heard royalty in his tone, the threat and power of it. Because she wanted to tremble, she stood her ground. "Leave? I'm free to come and go as I please. This is my world."

As his eyes flashed with fury, the skies shuddered and went storm-dark. "It's been mine since your kind still huddled in caves. It will be mine long after you're dust. Have a care and remember that."

"Why am I arguing with you? You're an illusion. A myth."

"And as real as you." He gripped her hand, and his flesh was firm and warm. "I've waited for you, a hundred years times three. If I'm wrong, and must wait for another to begin it, I'll know why. You'll tell me now why you said no when the man asked you to wife."

"Because that was my choice."

"Choice." He let out a half laugh and turned away from her. "Oh, you mortals and your blessed choices. They're always such a matter to you. Fate will have you in the end anyway."

"Maybe, but we'll choose our own direction in the meantime."

"Even if it's the wrong direction."

She smiled a little as he turned back to her. His handsome face was such a study in honest puzzlement. "Yes, even if it's wrong. It's our nature, Carrick. We can't change our nature."

"Do you love him?" When she hesitated, it was his turn to smile. "Would you bother to lie, colleen, to an illusion and a myth?"

"No, I won't lie. I love him."

He threw up his hands and groaned. "But you won't belong to him?"

"I won't be anyone's convenience ever again." Her voice rose, snapped with a different kind of power. "The belonging, if it ever happens, will be on both sides, and be complete. I gave myself once to a man who didn't love me, because it seemed the sensible thing to do and because-"

She closed her eyes a moment, realizing she'd never admitted it, never once even to herself. "Because I was afraid no one ever would. I was afraid I'd always be alone. Nothing seemed more frightening to me than being alone. That's just not true anymore. I'm learning how to be alone, and to like myself, to respect who I am."

"So the fact that you can be alone means you must be?"

"No." She threw up her hands this time, whirled around to pace. "Men," she muttered. "Why does everything have to be explained step by step to men? I don't have to be married to be happy. And I'm certainly not going to change the life I've just started, risk marriage again and throw myself into someone else's vision unless I d.a.m.n well want to. Until I know I come first for a change. Me, Jude Frances Murray."

Her voice rose as she jabbed a hand at her own heart. And Carrick's eyes went narrow and thoughtful.

"I'm not settling for one inch less than all. Just because I'm in love with Aidan, just because we're lovers, doesn't mean I'm going to swoon from the thrill of being told he's decided he needs a G.o.dd.a.m.n wife and I'm the one he's picked out. I'll do the picking out this time, thank you very much."

Flushed and out of breath, she glared at Carrick. And there, she realized, was everything she hadn't put into words before. Hadn't understood was inside her to be put into words. She would never, never again settle for less than everything.

"I thought it was mortals I didn't understand," Carrick said after a moment. "But I'm thinking now it's just female mortals I don't understand. So explain this to me, would you, Jude Frances? Why isn't love enough?"

She let out a quiet sigh. "It is, when it is."

"Why are you speaking in riddles?"

"Because until you solve it yourself, it doesn't do any good to be told. And when you do solve it, you don't need to be told."

He muttered something in Gaelic, shook his head. "Heed this-a single choice can build destinies or destroy them. Choose well." Then, flicking his wrists, he vanished in a ripple on the air.

Aidan was no less frustrated with women than Carrick at that moment. If someone had told him his ego was badly bruised, he would have laughed at them. If someone had told him that was panic that kept sneaking up to tickle the back of his throat, he would have cursed them as a lying fool. If they'd mentioned that the clutching around his heart was hurt, he'd have snarled them out of the pub.

But it was all those things he felt, and confusion along with them.

He'd been so certain that he understood Jude. Her mind and heart as well as her body. It was lowering to realize he'd missed a step somewhere. It was true enough he'd jumped his fences, so to speak. But he hadn't expected her to be so cool and casual in her response to his proposal.