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Praise for Kate Hoffmann from RT Book Reviews
The Charmer “Hoffmann’s deeply felt, emotional story is riveting. It’s impossible to put down.”
Your Bed or Mine? “Fully developed characters and perfect pacing make this story feel completely right.”
Doing Ireland! “Sexy and wildly romantic”
The Mighty Quinns: Ian “A very hot story mixes with great characters to make every page a delight.”
Who Needs Mistletoe? “Romantic, sexy and heartwarming.”
The Mighty Quinns: Teague “Sexy, heartwarming and romantic … a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then re-read.”
Dear Reader,
Another Quinn trilogy is coming to a close and this one has been a lot of fun to write, especially since it took me back to one of my favorite places, Ireland.
Though I’ve only been to Ireland once, I’ve spent the last year thinking about all the wonderful and picturesque towns I visited. Someday, I hope to return for another visit, maybe even during the holidays. I could even search out my one lonely Irish ancestor. I’d drive past the spot on the coast where Ballykirk should be and wander down the country road where Winterhill might have stood. And if I’m lucky, I might even meet a man who looks a little bit like Kellan Quinn. You couldn’t ask for a better Christmas present than that.
If you’ve never had a chance to visit the Emerald Isle, I hope this Quinn trilogy has given you a little taste of one of my favorite places.
Happy holidays,
Kate Hoffmann
About the Author
KATE HOFFMANN began writing for Mills & Boon in 1993. Since then she’s published sixty-five books. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys music, theater and musical theater. She is active working with high school students in the performing arts. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe.
The Mighty Quinns: Kellan
Kate Hoffmann
MILLS & BOON
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Prologue
KELLAN STARED out at the water from the narrow beach, the morning sun gleamed off the glassy surface of the Atlantic. He drew a deep breath and smiled. It was the perfect summer day. Warm without a hint of the damp wind that usually roared along the coast.
“We should sleep here tonight,” he said to his brothers. “Up on the cliff. Da would let us take the tent.” Glancing over his shoulder, he found Riley and Danny squatting down and digging in the sand.
Smuggler’s Cove had become their secret getaway. Just five or six kilometers from their cottage outside Ballykirk, the hidden cove could only be reached from the water. But Danny, Kellan’s youngest brother, had discovered a path down through the rocks, making the spot accessible.
“I’m not spendin’ the night,” Riley said. “There’s ghosts in that old house up there.” He was talking about the abandoned castle and manor house that overlooked the cliff. None of them had ever been brave enough to venture inside, although Kellan had heard the older kids used the place for parties all the time.
“Me, neither,” Danny said.
“What the feck are you two about?” Kellan asked, watching as they scraped sand aside with their fingers.
“There’s something buried in the sand,” Danny said, burrowing after it like a terrier after a bone. “Come here and help, ya lazy git.”
“No way. You’ve been digging in that sand for two years now and you haven’t found a thing. Considering the smugglers are long gone, it’s probably just an old piece of wood. You and your fantasies. They’re a waste of time.”
Riley stopped for a moment. “If Kell doesn’t dig and it is treasure, then he doesn’t get a share.”
“Agreed,” Danny said.
“Yeah,” Kellan said. “Agreed.” But to Kellan’s surprise, Danny and Riley pulled a small tin box out of the sand. “What the feck,” he muttered, striding over to them.
“See,” Danny said smugly. “Told you. Now you don’t get a share.” He brushed the sand off the top of the old biscuit tin.
“Open it,” Riley urged.
Danny reached for the top, then hesitated. “I don’t know. What if it’s cursed? It could be like … like …”
“Pandora’s box,” Kellan told him. “Jaysus, you two are always letting your imagination run away with you. It’s a feckin’ biscuit tin.”
“Should we open it?” Danny asked, looking to Kellan for an answer. They always looked to him for answers. That’s what it was to be the oldest boy in the Quinn family.
Kellan shrugged. “You found it. You open it.” He turned away, determined not to show his interest. But as he did, he caught sight of a movement among the rocks on the cliffside. He stared at the spot for a long moment, then shook his head. But there it was again. A flutter of pale green fabric in the breeze and a slender form scrambling behind another rock.
“There’s someone up there,” he muttered. “Watching us.”
The boys looked up from their examination of the box, following Kellan’s nod. “Right up there.”
“Maybe it’s a fairy,” Riley said. “And maybe this is her box of magic. Let’s go see if we can catch her.” Riley shoved the box at Danny and leaped to his feet, then took off for the path at the bottom of the rocks.
“Wait,” Danny called. “What if it’s a ghost from the house?”
Kellan heard a tiny cry from above him and he watched the girl scamper along the path, climbing up and over the rocks. She looked like a fairy, her long, golden hair draped over her back and crowned by a wreath of wildflowers. But she didn’t have wings, at least none that he could see. She was dressed in an old gown made of a sheer fabric so light it floated around her.
Cursing to himself, Kellan followed his brothers. What was he thinking? He knew fairies weren’t real. Maybe his little brothers believed, but Kellan was far too pragmatic to put any faith in Irish myths and legends. “Leave me to it,” he said, hurrying past Riley. “I can climb faster than you.”
Kellan scrambled up the path, but each time he looked for her, she was putting more distance between them. If she really were a fairy, she’d just fly away. No, this was a girl, a girl he’d never seen before. Kellan knew all the girls living around Ballykirk and not one of them was half as beautiful as this one.
Breathless, he reached the top of the cliff only to find her halfway across the meadow. She turned once and laughed, then took her crown of wildflowers and threw it into the air.
“Wait!” Kellan called. “Don’t go. I want to talk to you.”
She spun around and stood, staring at him, waiting as he ran toward her. When he reached her, Kellan stopped, his heart pounding, gasping for breath. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, features so perfect that they couldn’t belong to anything human.
“Open the box,” she said, the musical tone of her voice ringing in the still summer air. “I put it there for you.”
Kellan heard his brothers behind him, calling his name. “Who are you?”
With a laugh, she came closer and dropped a kiss on his lips. “I’m a dream,” she said. “Close your eyes and I’ll disappear.”
Kellan glanced back to see his brothers quickly approaching, but when he turned to the girl again, she had already run from him. This time, Kellan decided not to follow.
“You’re letting her get away,” Danny called. “Go after her, Kellan.”
“She’s not a fairy,” Kellan said when Danny and Riley reached him. He touched his lips, still warm from her kiss. “She’s just a girl. A silly old girl.”
They watched her retreat together, then Kellan grabbed the tin from beneath Riley’s arm. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
“I thought Danny said it might be cursed.”
“Do you believe everything he says?” Kellan asked. “Riley, sometimes you’re as thick as a post.”
He tugged off the top and peered inside. The tin was filled with a variety of items—a seashell, a few pretty stones, a necklace made of flowers, braided string.
“Aw, it’s nothing but junk,” Riley said.
Danny swore. “I was hoping it might at least be worth a few quid.”
“I think we should bury it again,” Kellan said. If they did, she might come back for it. He could hide in the rocks and watch for her. Catching a fairy was powerful luck, wasn’t it?
“I’m not climbing back down.” Danny started off toward home. “I’m hungry. And Ma will have lunch for us soon.”
Riley followed him, a dejected look on his face. “I thought it would be treasure. I thought we’d be rich.”
Kellan sighed softly, then plopped down onto the grass. Crossing his legs in front of him, he reopened the tin and carefully picked through the contents. There were jeweled buttons and a penny whistle, a scrap of lace and three pieces of butterscotch candy. Why the girl had decided to bury it in the sand, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t help but be intrigued.
Who was she? Would she return to the cove or was she really a visitor from another world? For the first time in his life, Kellan felt an odd attraction, a strange fascination with a girl.
Would he ever understand the opposite sex? The girls in school were annoying. Though they were constantly following him about, whispering and giggling, they were all uninteresting to his eyes. And his two older sisters, Shanna and Claire, were a complete mystery and a royal pain in his arse. But this … this lovely creature was magical. He closed his eyes and lay in the grass, letting his imagination wander, back to the kiss she’d given him.
He’d never kissed a girl. He was nearly fifteen years old and though most of his friends had enjoyed the experience at least once or twice, Kellan had never taken advantage of his opportunities, until now.
He grinned. If he ever saw the fairy girl again, he’d do it even better. He’d grab her and kiss her, right on the lips, and see what she had to say about that. Now that he knew exactly what he wanted in a girl, what he’d been looking for, everything made sense.
She had to be … extraordinary. He’d settle for nothing less. Someday soon, maybe she’d come back to the cove, looking for her tin of treasures. He’d find a proper place to hide it until then.
1
THE WEATHER WAS unusually warm for late November. Kellan Quinn stared out at the sea from his spot above Smuggler’s Cove. He walked over to the rocky edge of the cliff to look down at the narrow strip of beach where he and his brothers used to play. He hadn’t been down the path in years, not since before he left for university.
But the little beach, sheltered from the wind, would be a perfect place to think, to find some solitude and clear his head. Life in Ballykirk had turned into a whirl of activity since his younger brothers had both found mates, and though he was happy for them, lately he’d felt like the odd man out.
Riley would be getting married in just over a month and though he and Nan had planned a simple New Year’s Eve ceremony at the village church and a reception at the pub, it promised to be the biggest social event Ballykirk had seen in quite some time. Both Danny and Kellan would be standing up with Riley, which didn’t sound like much. However, Kellan had learned that serving as a groomsman meant that you were at the beck and call of the groom until he left for his honeymoon.
Kellan still couldn’t get over how quickly things had changed for the Quinn brothers. Riley and Danny had both fallen for American girls in the space of a few months. Of course, everyone assumed Kellan would be next and to that end, they’d started to put interested single girls in his path. But he knew better.
When it came to romance, Kellan Quinn was a realist. The chances of finding lasting love were slim at best. Though he’d turned thirty last year, he really hadn’t ever come close to marriage, or enjoyed a long-term relationship. Perhaps it was because he’d never found a woman who could hold his attention. A woman who was more interesting than his career.
His reputation as an architect was growing with every project he completed and he was usually at the top of the list for any major historical renovation in Ireland. Though it wasn’t really cutting-edge architecture, Kellan enjoyed doing his part to preserve pieces of Ireland’s past.
Sixteen-hour days didn’t leave much time for a social life, but he did manage to date occasionally when he stayed at his flat in Dublin. There were women who were happy to have him warm their bed, no strings, no expectations. But the relationships lacked an emotional component, existing purely for physical release.
Kellan drew a deep breath of the damp air. Riley and Danny had found their perfect matches. It was as if both women had just dropped out of the sky and into their beds. Had they been searching, waiting, wondering?
The wind buffeted his body and Kellan pulled his canvas jacket closed. In the past few days, a strange restlessness had come over him. Something was about to change. He could feel it inside, like the sky darkening before a storm.
He’d had an offer to do a project in France and he’d been considering the opportunity. It would mean moving to Brittany for a year to supervise the renovation of an old armory into a World War II museum. Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe he needed something new in his life … just like his brothers.
Raking his hands through his windblown hair, Kellan walked to the rocks and searched for the way down. The descent was easy once he found the right path. As he clambered over the jagged traverse, he noticed something odd lying on the beach.
At first, it looked like a pile of debris and seaweed. But as he got closer, his heart started to pound. It was a body! He made out a long, slender arm and the unmistakable curve of a woman’s hip. Kellan jumped down the last five feet and ran over to her, almost dreading what he was about to discover.
But the moment he touched her, she jerked, then sat up, brushing the damp strands of hair from her eyes. She looked at him through eyes so pale they were almost colorless.
“Are you all right?”
A tiny frown worried her brow, but she made no attempt to speak.
“What are you doing down here? How did you get here? Were you in the water?”
She reached out and smoothed her sand-covered palm over his cheek, her gaze studying the details of his face. And then, without warning, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his. She tasted of salt water and smelled of the ocean breeze.
The kiss was so surprising, he jerked back. But she was determined and slipped her hand around his nape, pulling him closer, drawing him down into the sand with her. Kellan normally exercised a great deal of self-restraint around women. But the moment her lips touched his, his control dissolved into an overwhelming need.
Her lips parted on a sigh and he took the chance to taste, his tongue delving into the sweet warmth of her mouth. She responded immediately, writhing beneath him as if trying to get closer. Her body trembled and when he finally drew back he realized it wasn’t from the impact of their kiss but from the cold.
“Are you all right?” he asked again. “What’s your name?”
Her eyes fluttered and then closed as she went limp in his arms. Kellan grabbed her chin and turned her head. She was still breathing, but just barely. Cursing, he scrambled to his feet and picked her up, hoping that she’d regain consciousness. She was dead weight in his arms, like a rag doll.
Kellan looked up to the top of the cliff. The only way to get her up was tossed over his shoulder. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but there was no other option.
The dress she wore was barely enough to keep her warm in midsummer much less late autumn. Just a thin layer of green silk. He shrugged out of his canvas jacket and struggled to get her into it, buttoning it up once he had. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you should count yourself bloody lucky I came along.”
He bent down and grabbed her thighs, her body folding over his shoulder. The path was narrow but navigable, even with a passenger. He had to be cautious of her head, careful not to bump her against the rocks. When he finally reached the top, Kellan set her down in the grass and took a deep breath.
Her eyes fluttered again and for a moment she opened them. “Can you stand up?” he asked.
Her lips curled into a sleepy smile and she shook her head and closed her eyes again.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered. “If the hike home doesn’t kill you, it will probably kill me.”
He couldn’t leave her here alone. But he could probably run home and fetch his car in less time than it would take to carry her. The hike to the road was only about half a kilometer. Home was nearly five.
He had his mobile. He’d ring the pub and see if one of his brothers could drive out. Meanwhile, he’d try to get her warm and awake. He flipped open his phone and to his relief, Danny answered almost immediately.
“I need your help,” Kellan said. “I need you to drive up the coast road and park your car just around the bend by the dry stone fence, before you get to Castle Cnoc. Right where we used to leave our bikes when we’d come down to the cove.”
“Why?” Danny asked.
“Just do it. I’ll explain when you get here.”
“Riley and Nan have me stuffing invitations for their engagement party. This is important stuff I’m workin’ on, Kell. I can’t just be hopping off for no good reason.”
“It’s an emergency. Maybe even life or death. Leave now. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“I’m on my way.”
This time, when Kellan hefted her over his shoulder, she groaned and fought against him. “That’s right,” he said. “It’s not so comfortable, is it? Maybe if you could summon the energy to walk, we might both be spared the trouble of me lugging you through this meadow like a lumpy sack of potatoes.”
“Ow,” she said.
“What were you doing on that beach, anyway? If I hadn’t come along, you’d be on your way to dead right now. Dead and washed away by the tide. That’s no way to leave this world. What about your family? They might never have known what happened to you.”
“I— Oh, sick,” she muttered. A few seconds later, she retched and he felt the back of his leg go damp. After that, she seemed to settle down.
“Lovely. Brilliant.” Kellan tried to calm his own stomach. If there was one thing he couldn’t handle it was— He felt a wave of nausea overtake him and he stopped and drew a deep breath through his mouth. “I don’t know if you’re drunk or just crazy, but you’ll be thanking me for this later.”
By the time he reached the road, Danny was waiting in his battered old Land Rover. His brother jumped out of the driver’s side and ran up to him. “What the devil! Where did you find her?”
“On the beach at the cove. She’s cold and I think she might be drunk. Or sick. I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do with her?”
“Take her back to the cottage. I’ll get her warm and call Doc Finnerty.”
“Maybe we should drive her directly to the hospital?”
“All the way to Cork? Let’s get her out of these wet clothes first and warm her up. If she doesn’t come round, I’ll take her.”
When they got her settled in the backseat, Kellan slid in beside her, resting her head on his lap. Danny turned the car around and raced back toward town. At the fork in the road, he turned up toward the cottage.
Kellan had been living in Ballykirk for the past couple weeks, taking a break from life in Dublin while his family planned for the upcoming wedding. The small, whitewashed cottage had been his childhood home, set on a high rise above the seaside village. On occasion, it was let out to tourists, but when it wasn’t, Kellan often stayed there.
When Danny pulled the car to a stop, Kellan got out and carefully scooped the woman up into his arms. “Do me a favor. Give Doc Finnerty a call and if he doesn’t answer, see if you can find him.”
“I know where he is,” Danny said. “He’s having a pint at the pub. He was there when I left.” He ran up the garden path and opened the door for Kellan. “I’ll go get him, then.”
Kellan turned toward the bedroom, then realized that the sofa was a better choice. He could light a fire and it would provide the warmth she needed. He set her down, then hurriedly laid peat and kindling in the hearth. A few minutes later, a flicker of flame licked at the sod, smoke curling up into the chimney.
“There,” he said. He leaned back on his heels, then realized the fire would do only half the job. He had to get her out of her wet clothes and into something warm. Though he didn’t relish undressing a woman without her permission, Kellan figured if he didn’t look at her in a sexual way, it would remain a purely practical matter.
He strode into the bedroom and grabbed the quilt and a wool blanket off the bed, then returned to the sofa. She was so still, curled up in front of him. Kellan gently sat her up, then slipped his jacket off her shoulders.
If she were conscious, he could put her in a warm shower. But there was no way she could stand unless he joined her.
Her hair was tangled with sand and bits of debris from the beach. He managed to skim her damp dress up along her legs, but was forced to pull her to her feet to get it over her head. To his relief, she seemed able to stand on her own for a few seconds.
He tossed the dress aside, then grabbed the quilt, wrapping her up in it and trying not to dwell on the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Why should that surprise me?” he murmured.
She had a beautiful body, slender and long-limbed. Her skin was pale and soft as silk, but so cold to his touch. His gaze slipped lower, to her lovely breasts, the curve of her hips and the junction of her legs.
He drew a ragged breath and pulled her against him, rubbing her back with his palms until the friction created warmth. What she really needed was a long, hot bath. But the cottage had only a shower. A bath would require hauling in the old tub that they’d used as kids.
A sharp knock sounded on the door and a few seconds later, Danny stepped inside followed by Jimmy Finnerty. Dr. Finnerty was the closest thing the town had to a local doctor. He had retired from his practice in Cork three years ago and now lived a quiet life with his wife in his vacation home on the bay, spending his days fishing and only coming out of retirement for the occasional emergency.
“What have we here?” he asked, setting his bag on the end of the sofa.
“I found her on the beach,” Kellan said.
“The beach? What beach?”
“A little spot I know just up the coast. She was lying in the sand.”
“Naked?”
“No, she was dressed. I took her dress off to try to get her warm. I think she’s a bit better. I had her standing. But she hasn’t really opened her eyes.”
The doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial, then cracked it and held the smelling salts under her nose. She jerked back, then waved her hand in front of her face, moaning softly. “Well, she’s not unconscious. She seems to be under the influence.”
“Of what?” Danny asked.
“Pills. Liquor. Can’t say for certain. Why don’t we start with some nice hot coffee and see if that helps.” He glanced over at Kellan. “You say you found her on the beach?”
Kellan nodded. “She threw up while I was carrying her out to the road.”
“That’s a positive sign.”
“Not for me,” he muttered.
“You don’t suppose she’s a—”
“A drunk?”
“No, a mermaid,” Finnerty said with a chuckle. “She could be a mermaid washed up onshore.”
“Look at her,” Danny said. “She has that look about her.”
Kellan stared at the woman, frowning. “She looks … I don’t know. Pretty. But she has feet. Don’t mermaids have … fins?”
“Naw. Not after they come ashore,” Finnerty said as he slipped on a blood pressure cuff. “The skin is so pale and the hair like spun silk. I’ve seen pictures. This is what they look like. Otherworldly. Was she combing her hair when you first saw her?” He looked up. “That’s how they cast their spells, you know.”
“I don’t believe in mermaids,” Kellan said. “And neither do you two. She was unconscious when I found her.”
Finnerty listened to her pulse, then removed the cuff. “Well, she’s here. And her vital signs are strong. What are you going to do with her?”
“I thought you could take her. To hospital, if need be.”
“She appears to be slightly hypothermic and possibly hungover. Now that she’s getting warm, she’ll probably wake up and be just fine. I expect the best place for her is right here—at least until she’s feeling better. Then you can take her back where you found her.”
“What? I can’t put her back on that beach.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll sort it all out,” Finnerty said as he rose from the sofa. “You’re a smart lad, Kellan. Now, my wife has dinner waiting and I’m late. If you need me, give me a ring and I’ll come back. Danny, let’s be off and leave your brother to nurse this pretty merrow back to health.”
Danny gave Kellan a shrug and followed the doctor out the door. “Bring me up some soup from the pub,” Kellan called. “And a bottle of whiskey.”
“No problem,” Danny said. “And I’ll fetch a bushel of kelp and some herring, too.” He was still chuckling as the door slammed behind him.
Kellan stared down at the woman lying on the sofa. He reached down and brushed the flaxen hair from her eyes, taking in the perfect features of her face. Finnerty was right. She had a look about her, something … extraordinary. “Otherworldly,” he murmured.
And familiar. Kellan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before. And yet, he certainly would have remembered meeting her. A woman this beautiful would have stuck in his mind.
“If you are a mermaid,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over her temple, “then we’re going to have a very interesting conversation when you wake up.”
GELSEY WOODSON SNUGGLED into the warm recesses of the blanket wrapped around her naked body. Her head ached from the bottle of champagne she’d drunk the night before and her skin itched from salt water and sand, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
She listened distractedly to the male voices, realizing they were talking about her. The one man was obviously a doctor and she stifled a moan as he took her blood pressure. There was another voice, her rescuer. The man who’d carried her up from the beach. She liked his voice. It was like liquid chocolate, smooth and dark and just a bit sweet.
Their conversation turned to mermaids and for a moment she was confused, until she realized that they thought she was a mermaid. That nearly made her laugh out loud. She’d always been one to indulge in fantasies. From the time she was a child, she’d woven a rich imaginary life for herself where she was a princess one day and a fairy queen the next, or a sorceress or an elf or a pixie with powers that could change her world in the blink of an eye.
And now she was a mermaid. Maybe that was for the best, she mused. For she certainly didn’t want to be Gelsey Woodson anymore.
Her stomach growled and she winced, remembering the humiliation of vomiting over the man’s shoulder. Though she was used to overindulging, bouncing around as he carried her had been a recipe for disaster.
She pulled the blanket up more tightly around her nose. Just a few more hours of rest would be enough. Then she could face the world again. But even though she wanted to sleep, she couldn’t help but be curious about the man who’d plucked her off the beach.
When the house went quiet, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around. A fire flickered on the hearth and the acrid smell of peat teased at her nose. She glanced under the quilt. Though she was certain she hadn’t undressed herself, she couldn’t remember who had.
Her mind wandered back to the previous night. Though she’d done her share of stupid things, especially when it came to her relationships with men, this might just top the list. A late-night phone call, an argument with her ex-fiancé and too much to drink had ended with her tossing a nine carat diamond ring into the sea before passing out on the beach. It seemed as if all her problems had become too heavy to bear. Not just the breakup, but the everything that had come before it—the fights, the paparazzi, the Italian police and the “incident.”
That’s what she’d taken to calling it. That’s what her Italian attorney called it. And that made it sound so benign. But punching a photographer was a serious offense, even if she’d done it while under the influence of another very expensive bottle of champagne and the misunderstanding that the photographer was trying to grope her.
And so she’d run away to Winterhill, to lick her wounds and await her hearing scheduled for late January. Her grandmother’s country house in Ireland was a place she’d remembered so fondly from her childhood. The windswept cliffs and brilliant green meadows had been her playground every summer, creating fantasies for a girl used to a solitary existence. She’d come back to find the center in her life again, to hide from everything that confused and frightened her. Though she’d lived all over the world, Ireland had always felt the most like home.
She drew a deep breath and winced, her head throbbing and her mouth dry as dust. Was this what all her therapists had talked about? Everyone had been predicting it. Had Gigi Woodson, tabloid princess and celebrity heiress, finally hit rock bottom?
