Limerick, Ireland
1861

"Truth or Hazard, Eloise? Have you ever allowed your betrothed liberties beyond a kiss on the hand or cheek?" Sheila O'Brien challenged her guest while refilling her tea cup.

The question drew Meaghan Reilly’s gaze from the edition of The London Times Uncle Gill had given her earlier in the day.

A blush and giggle confirmed Eloise Farrell’s answer before the slender blond even opened her mouth. "Well, I'll only tell you...," she spoke with husky excitement while the arch of her delicate brows invited the whole assemblage to listen, “... because you may all soon find yourselves in the same situation."

The rest of the girls crowding the O’Brien salon gasped and clustered closer as the soon-to-be bride strove to describe in hushed tones the ecstasies of the courtship liberties her swain attempted to cajole from her during their moments of stolen privacy.

The sweet cream of Limerick society had gathered ostensibly for tea and embroidery this afternoon, but their needles and hoops were quickly cast aside, replaced by cozy gossip and boisterous parlor games. Meaghan rolled her eyes, imagining her three brothers reaction to such a gathering. Although now that they were all married and settled with families they were no doubt learning to cope with such social occasions in their own homes.

The image of her three handsome brothers balancing teacups and struggling with pithy conversations not involving ships or ship building elicited a soft giggle and she returned to perusing her periodical. She might have no interest in exchanging fashion tips or recipes for spiced beef, let alone disclosing to her cousin's friends intimacies best kept private-–but she would surely survive this afternoon with little harm to show and perhaps an ally or two gained for a project that truly mattered. If only she could find the right opportunity to introduce the subject.

She shifted uncomfortably on the gold satin tufted settee. Everyone of the nine hoops on her new crinoline seemed determined to raise her peridot tea dress to ungainly and uncomfortable angles. How she longed for the simple skirts and blouses she'd worn during her travels in Italy and Switzerland with her parents or at home on Beannacht.

"Oh, no!" Sheila squealed good-naturedly as she snatched the pages from Meaghan's hands. "You're not going to hide in some moldy old tome today, Meggy. You're supposed to be enjoying your visit here. I invited my closest and dearest friends for tea today just so you could get to meet them without the crush of a party or theater outing to distract them from getting to know you."

"Closest and dearest? All fifteen of them?" Meaghan raised a skeptical brow as she looked past her cousin to the gaggle still squawking over Eloise's swain's attempted kiss during a turn in her garden the evening before.

Sheila laughed, the small brown ringlets fringing her face dancing. "One can never have too many friends, dearest. If your parents hadn't made you practically a vagabond traipsing through the Continent these past few years, you'd realize how much you missed in not making your bow to society."

"You're so right, cousin." Meaghan agreed in a mock serious tone. "What could Da and Mama have been thinking to force me into touring all those magnificent art collections and ancient architecture or by introducing me to some of the greatest medical minds of the modern age."

"Exactly." As usual, Sheila missed the joke. "Now come and join the others. I imagine you have a tale or two worth hazarding."

She pulled Meaghan to a stand with a smile that lit the depths of her soft brown eyes. "Especially about the handsome and titled gentlemen you must have met during your tours."

Meaghan shook her head, but allowed her cousin to lead her toward the rest of the party. How naive. And Sheila though she was the one who needed to be brought up to snuff. "Not much to tell. I had a far better time talking to the other patients or the clinic workers. I had very little tolerance for the spoiled dilettantes we occasionally met who had too little to do beyond seeing to their own selfish entertainments."

Having listened to the most titillating tidbits of Eloise's courtship, the rest of the girls shifted their attention to Sheila as she returned.

"I believe it's Meaghan's turn," Sheila announced.

Eloise's perfect bow mouth puffed downward in a small pout for a moment. She obviously was not quite ready to relinquish being the center of attention. Meaghan noticed a dangerous light leap to life in the blonde’s eyes as a sly smile quickly replaced her frown. "Well as the last player, I get to challenge her."

Meaghan heaved a inner sigh. If only Mama and Da had taken her with them to America rather than sentenced her to this duration in society.

"Very well," she agreed with a casual shrug. "What would you like to know?"

"Have you ever kissed a man not of your family? And how many times? Truth or Hazard." Eloise wore a smug smile as she leaned forward slightly to hear the reply.

A fleeting memory of a casual gratitude turned to magic on a sun-warmed bench not fifty yards from this very room flew into Meaghan's thoughts accompanied by the years she had spent trying to repeat the wondrous experience with any boy she could persuade to pucker up.

Disappointment had long ago led her to the certainty she'd imagined the whole experience–that it had grown larger and grander from the viewpoint of a child. The high-flung emotions and romance novels spoke of, that these girls craved, did not exist. Not for her. She far preferred her studies and plans to make the world a better place.

She hesitated answering. Disclosing all of this was not the way to make friends and win converts to her cause. And she'd promised Mama and Da not to stir-up any controversy while they were away in America. Lying and disemblance were not among her talents. Yet, she was not about to let honesty over childhood indiscretions jeopardize her visit or her plans. The glimmer of sly satisfaction in Eloise Farrell's wide eyes and the expectant silence from the rest told her she was teetering on some unforseen brink. Neat trap and she'd sailed right into it.

“That's two questions. And besides, they are not fit questions to ask someone who is not attached." Sheila protested as Meaghan's silence stretched on.

"I'll take the Hazard." Meaghan said at last. How bad could it be--balancing a teacup on her head or showing them her lack of talent as a singer?

The collective gasp told her she might have spoken too soon.

"The same as always--" Eloise began with a galling look of triumph.

"You must kiss the first man to walk through the door," one of the two flame-haired Jasper twins blurted out.

"No one's ever taken the challenge," her sister exclaimed.

Kiss the first man? With none of Sheila's brothers in residence that would either be her Uncle Gill or Jacobs, the O'Brien's butler, Meaghan guessed. A quick kiss on the cheek would suffice. Either one would be startled at the warmth of such a greeting, but nothing scandalous would occur.

"Very well," she shrugged again, ignoring the sympathetic looks from several of the other girls as she tried to swallow her anger at being forced into this situation. She should have claimed a headache and retired to her room earlier with the latest article detailing the progress at Miss Nightingale's newest venture.

“It must be a true kiss not a mere brush of the lip.” Eloise clearly wanted full measure for her victory. Resentment flared in Meaghan. What had she ever done to this girl?

Stifling her qualms, she turned to Sheila. "May I pour myself a fresh cup of tea? Mine has grown stale, I'm afraid."

Sheila nodded. “Of course. Help yourself. Who would like to look through the latest issue of Belle Assemblee? I saw the most charming riding hat in there when Mama brought it to me and I want all your opinions."

Bless Sheila for changing the subject. Meaghan added a bit more cream to her cup as she delayed returning to the group now clustered about the fashion magazine giggling and exclaiming over the illustrations.

What on earth had she been thinking to accept Eloise's challenge once she knew its true depth? She shook her head, acknowledging the painful truth. She hadn't thought at all. Perhaps Da had been right not to let her stay with Quin and Siannon on the island or to go to Bryan and Emilynne. She could surely benefit from a few weeks experience in polite society. Her glance slid to Eloise as she exclaimed over a design she found especially enticing. Meaghan certainly could learn a thing or two about cunning that might come in handy if she was going to be of any use to the local Nightingale Society.

She could almost hear her mother's sigh--That's your father's temper, Meaghan-–reacting before all the consequences have been thought through. Difficult at best for a businessman, and not at all suitable for a young lady.

With any luck it would be another half-hour or more before Jacobs came to collect the tray and by that time surely the company would either be thinning or would have forgotten their challenge.

Stalwart footsteps just outside the salon's entrance sank her hopes. Her gaze flew to the polished oak double doors. The conversation over which milliner could best match the hats in the magazine ceased as the doorknob turned. She swore she could feel every pair of eyes in the room boring into her back.

Meaghan put her cup and saucer down with a chink and swallowed. She'd accepted the challenge and she'd live through this. Kissing Jacobs’s wrinkled cheek would cause him far less consternation than would the damage to her integrity should she quibble.

She advanced toward the door as it opened part way. Anticipation thickened in the salon like clotted cream. Was that her heartbeat racing or the stampeding echo from everyone else's?

"Mr. O'Brien?" A deep, but unfamiliar, voice called into the room as the door continued its inward swing.

"Dabhail," she whispered her brothers' favorite curse. Devil indeed. The clipped voice was decidedly not Jacobs’s. Not even Irish. It was an English voice.

The tall gentleman who entered the room wore an expensive brushed brown wool suit which hugged his broad shoulders and fell smoothly past his trim hips. His dusty brown hair was a trifle long for the first order of fashion, but it suited his chiseled features and softened the jut of his chin. The bluest eyes she had ever seen scanned the salon's interior in confusion for a second. He was quite clearly the most handsome man Sheila’s company had ever encountered given the mooncalf looks of surprised adoration they all cast in his direction.

"I beg your pardon, ladies," he nodded his head at the assemblage clustered by Sheila and smiled thinly. "I have clearly taken a wrong turn. Could someone direct me to Mr. O'Brien's study?"

Practically gap-mouthed, the girls remained frozen as they drank in the unexpected appearance of this god in their midst. He was younger than the men she'd expected to face in this challenge, but clearly he was old enough to handle the resulting awkwardness and view it as the prank it was clearly meant to be.

"I'd be happy to direct you to the study." Meaghan stepped forward as he turned to face her. Something familiar about the blazing blue of the gaze that locked with hers tugged at her memory, but she could not place it. Heat burned her cheeks and she swallowed hard. "But first, let me welcome you to Ireland."

She felt more than heard the collective intake of breath from the cluster across the room. Drawn from scandal or envy? He was an extraordinarily handsome man. Before she could back down from the challenge, she stretched up and kissed him, square on the mouth.

From the instant they touched she was lost. This was not going to be the polite peck given a relative or the brief salute she'd hoped would satisfy the foolish challenge she'd accepted. Vivid images of broad muscled chests, of warriors's fierce pride and men who knew how to claim a woman’s heart exploded inside her. A maiden's wish–a devil's curse. This kiss flamed to life a portion of herself she had given up as fantasy many years ago. The certainty shook her as much as her own boldness.

“Mo loach grian,” she whispered against his mouth. A sun warrior.

Despite the avid crowd watching them as their lips brushed it seemed as if the two of them stood alone in a Alpine meadow surrounded by majestic peaks. Instead of cool mountain breezes though, a wave of heat, stronger than the sun on a Mediterranean beach, streaked through her to undulate low in her belly. The high-pitched sound of unseen children's laughter, pure and joyous echoed through her, chased by a rainbow of colored stars.

The Blessing, with all the trappings she'd heard her brothers deny and then extol. As she experienced herself once before. This time The Blessing reverberated richer...deeper, reaching through her from across centuries of Reillys.

‘Tis a sound once heard that lingers on. A sight once seen and never forgotten. A feeling once felt, always remembered.... Granny Reilly’s words, oft repeated by her brothers, echoed through her.

At first stiff with surprise at her assault, the man growled softly in his throat and met the touch of her lips with a stronger pressure from his own. Heartbeats drummed in her ears–her own? His? His lips drank from hers like a man parched. His hands slid over her back, molding her to him in an intimate embrace the like of which she'd never experienced.

The tingling intensity of her response surprised her, rending her defenses and the stiff strictures of polite society. Sunlight and breezes skipping over sand dunes, the exhilaration of cutting across the waves with a stiff wind filling the sails, moonlight glistening on snow covered peaks--all tumbled together through her.

Overwhelmed, she pulled away, but not soon enough to stop the wild spiral of dizziness sweeping through her. Had the kiss lasted for the briefest of seconds or for an eternity? She'd lost all track. All reason.

Her knees trembled, refusing her silent command to step back.

Clutching his lapels, she rested her forehead against the cool worsted wool of his jacket. A tantalizing mixture of oranges and mint seemed to rise from her memory of a long time ago.

His arms slid around her waist as if he too needed to hold something. He gulped several deep breaths. Her skin burned from the contact of his hands on her dress as if chemise, stays and silk had melted away. She felt lighter than air and heavier than stone and she could only close her eyes and hold onto him, certain she would fall if she didn’t.

This was what kissing should feel like. This was what she had been waiting for practically her whole life. This could not be happening. She'd told Quin even girls could have a Blessing. She'd told them all. 'Tis in the blood of all Reillys. But she'd never expected to find her heritage in a stranger’s kiss. An Englishman's kiss. Her Blessing. Her Curse? Uncertainty stole the remainder of her breath. What fearsome choice was she being asked to make? Accept The Blessing or suffer The Curse...fer a blessing missed is a curse indeed. So Devin had been wont to tease.

"This is not how I remember being greeted the last time I visited your island." The Englishman still clutched her waist, but icy disapproval frosted his tone. "But then, I was only a boy."

"You have been to Beannacht?" She drew back and blinked in confusion. Surely, if he'd come to visit her father at Reilly Ship Works she'd remember. Worse, if he proved to be a friend of any of her brothers she'd be sunk once they heard of her shocking behavior.

He frowned at her as if she were a half-wit. "I referred to Ireland. Miss--?"

"I beg your pardon?” She drew back and blinked in confusion, uncomfortably aware of the watchful silence provided by Sheila and her friends.

"Your name, my dear? I generally like to know whom I am...addressing." He quirked a brow at her and allowed his gaze to drop from her face.

Fresh heat stung Meaghan's cheeks. As his hands dropped away from her side, relief flowed through her followed by a disconcerting sense of loss. She stepped back and offered him her hand. "Reilly. Meaghan Reilly."

He stared at her fingers as if they had suddenly sprouted talons and kept his clenched by his side. "Of the shipbuilding Reillys?"

It was Meaghan's turn to be surprised. Her hopes for a quiet passing of this debacle sank even lower. He must know one of her brothers. Quin perhaps? Or Bryan. Either one would be sure to lecture her quite forcefully on this brazen behavior. Best to meet things straight on, she could almost hear Bryan's advice. Her chin came up.

Regret for her impulsive acceptance of an unknown challenge, and embarrassment over the intimacy she had just experienced flooded her as her gaze locked with his. This Englishman was a victim far more than her. His obvious disdain scoured her and the continued silence from the room's other occupants made matters all the worse.

She didn't trust her voice, especially with his pointed refusal to meet her verbal greeting half way. She nodded her acknowledgment of her family ties and dropped her hand.

He looked her up and down for what seemed a breathless eternity as she waited for him to spill the scathing remarks crackling behind the icy condemnation in his eyes. “I'd heard you were a remarkable family--"

"My Lord?" A familiar voice called from far down the hall interrupted the rest of his observation. Meaghan's heart seized with new panic. Aunt Edna! She must be seeking this very man. What would she have to say about what had just transpired in her home?

"The footman said he thought you might have taken a wrong turn." Aunt Edna closed in on her quarry. Meaghan wished for all her life she could sink into the very carpet.

"Ah." The visitor smiled, but little humor touched his eyes. "It would appear my hostess has set out to find me and guide me to the study herself. It appears I will not be needing your...services after all."

Abruptly, he turned on his heel with a polite nod of farewell toward the group which clearly did not include Meaghan. “Ladies, pardon my interruption."

The last arrogant look he cast in her direction so clearly dismissed whatever he was going to say previously, dismissed what just rocked her very foundation as trivial, she couldn't stifle the spark of indignation that flared. He hadn't even afforded her the chance to explain, to apologize.

Still stunned by it all, Meaghan watched his easy gait as he walked away, terminating their encounter as no more than an annoyance and leaving her to deal with the consequences of her own making.

He had the stride of a man who knew his place in the world and was comfortable with it. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving no doubt his place was definitely not in this room.

The girls exploded with a volley of comments and exclamations as they streamed toward Meaghan. She couldn't sort through all their questions as she struggled to quell both mortification and the lingering echoes from the sudden uncontrolled longing rippling on inside her.