‘You’re so beautiful, Maggie. So, so beautiful. The minute I set my eyes on you I was under your spell.’ His words are filled withlonging. ‘I haven’t fancied a woman like this in so long. You are something special.’
I can’t speak. Then he leans in. He brushes his lips off mine, oh so softly at first and I gasp a little. His touch so gentle, so hot. He moves back.
‘S-sorry.’ His eyes stay connected with mine. ‘I just need to look at you again.’ He takes me all in, then his lips find mine once more, harder this time. Passion erupts inside me as I taste him. Never have I experienced anything like this before. It’s a connection that’s unexplainable and suddenly the hall lights whirr on above us, and the whole room is illuminated like a sun blast. I pull away.
‘I have to go! I have to file my article tonight.’ I jump up, suddenly terrified of having my heart broken again.
SIXTEEN
I barely slept a wink, tossing and turning, not quite able to believe I let Dan kiss me. Or that it was the greatest kiss I’ve ever shared. I’m more than mad with myself. I don’t want to leave this place and we’ve only kissed once and I don’t know him at all and I’m an idiot! Okay, so I got over Cooper a long time ago and, yes, I could have opened my heart up again. But I chose not to and I’ve been just fine.
I wait for the green Fendt tractor to chug past me.
The farmer waves down. ‘Afternoon,’ he shouts with a friendly smile, and lifts four fingers from the titanic steering wheel.
‘Afternoon!’ I shout freely and wave back with one hand as I carefully cross the icy road. I’m carrying a huge plate from Gráinne that I collected at the pub, all warm and safely wrapped in layers of tinfoil for Esther and Michael’s lunch. My MacBook, Dictaphone and camera are in my satchel cross body. This morning’s hailstones mixed with last night’s snowfall gather in pools in the dip in the valley of the village. I have to make sure to tread carefully in my boots.
‘Morning, Maggie.’ Clare, the librarian, is coming toward me.
‘Hi, Clare,’ We stop to chat as Clare sits on a stone wall of a white cottage, a To Let sign in the garden.
‘How are ya getting on?’ she asks, her breath swirling on the cold air.
‘Yeah, it’s going well. This is such a cute little cottage?’ I look at the overgrown garden, the rusty gate swinging off its hinges and the peeling paint on the door.
‘Rosehip Cottage, yeah it’s been To Let for ages, it needs a lot of work. No one has been brave enough to take it on. Where are you off to?’
I have to tear my eyes away from Rosehip, it’s so quintessentially Irish and beautiful. ‘Just heading to see Esther and Michael.’ I move the hot plate in my hands.
‘Fabulous. Did you read about the Castlemoon family in that book I recommended?’ Her phone rings in her bag.
‘Eh, no, not yet, Kate suggested I meet them,’ I say as she takes her phone out of her fanny pack.
‘Speak of the devil!’ Clare raises her phone to show me the incoming call. It’s a picture of Kate and Clare on the top of a mountain, each waving an Irish flag. ‘Ya never guess what she wants from me this morning? A load of thick spine books so she can stand on them for her pre-wedding pictures so that Jimmy isn’t towering over her! Catch ya at the céilí. Hello.’ Clare stomps off as my own phone rings.
I pull it from my pocket. It’s Frederick again. I ignore the call and shove the phone back.
Unable to sleep, I had eventually got up for a walk around the castle with my camera. Obviously, I hadn’t sent that report to Frederick last night as he demanded, as I didn’t have one, or a photograph of the book. I had fired him off a text saying the WIFI was down – to keep Salma from the door! However, on my way past an empty reception this morning I saw the registration book open. Though I felt terrible, I’d opened it and quickly taken a photograph of the first page on my phone. I was about to email it to Frederick when I had second thoughts. Instead, I emailedhim.
from: Maggie Grace [email protected]
to: Frederick Macken [email protected]
date: Dec 20, 2025, 6.18AM
subject: Castlemoon
Dear Frederick,
I have found the registration book. However, it is never unattended. I will keep trying. Report to follow.
Maggie.
It buys me some time to see what he will say in response. Although I’m mad with myself for the Dan situation, I do feel so grateful on this bright Irish morning and I can’t help but suddenly laugh as I recall the trad band from the pub last night, standing in Heartwell Hall, staring up at myself and Dan kissing on the couch.
‘Sorry Dan, man, we’ve a late practice in the hall for Friday night’s céilí,’ one of them shouted as Dan had jumped up and grabbed my hand as I was making my excuses about needing to write my article while trying to run away.
‘No worries, Seán .?.?. we were just leaving. Just showing Maggie here around.’ Dan had picked up the bottle of wine and glasses and cleared them away.
