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Colin grinned. “It’s a fine arse, though, isn’t it,” he said and he swung his hips in an exaggerated manner as he walked back to tune his guitar. Niall chuckled and went to take the wine to his mother.

He passed a table with two young female tourists, a blonde and a brunette looking at something on one of their phones. “Be right with you,” he said.

The brunette eyed him up and down. “Take your time,” she called, then whispered something to her friend and they both giggled.

Americans, Niall thought and rolled his eyes.

“Here you are then, Mam,” he said, placing the wine in front of her. “How’s it going, Alison. Róisín.” He cleared his throat. “Cordelia.”

But Cordelia didn’t seem interested in glaring at him today. “Hi,” she said with an exuberant smile.

“Can we have some Cabernet please, Niall?” Alison asked.

“And a whiskey,” Róisín added. “Neat.” She was smiling too.

“Right,” Niall said, looking around at the happy faces. “You all celebrating something or what?”

Cordelia reached down into her bag. “My new camera came,” she said excitedly.

“She took some pictures of me and Brigid this morning,” Róisín said. “Show him, girlie. She’s got an eye, this one. Going to be the next – what was his name again?”

Cordelia laughed. “Henri Cartier-Bresson. And no, probably not, but it’s easy to take good photos when I’ve got a good subject.”

“Ah, go on,” Róisín said, but she looked pleased.

Cordelia held the camera out to Niall. “Don’t break this one,” she said. He started, about to argue, when he realized she was teasing him.

Oh. Well. That made for a nice change. He gave her a half smile and took the camera with exaggerated care.

“Just press that button there,” she said. “To see the other ones.”

But Niall was looking down at one of the most expressive and moving photographs he’d ever seen. It was black and white. Brigid was nuzzling her nose against Róisín’s face, Róisín’s hand curving about the mare’s long neck. There was such raw intimacy – it was framed in a way to give a hint of the thick impending clouds in the top right-hand corner.

“Jesus,” Niall said.

“It’s grand, isn’t it?” Alison said. “She said she’d take a few of me and Gran. I’d like to hang one in the cottage.”

Niall couldn’t stop staring at the picture. It was like Cordelia had seen into Róisín’s soul and brought it forth, capturing her very essence. Without thinking he said, “She offered to take some of me and Mam as well.”

“She didn’t,” Fiona said, sitting up and pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh, Cordelia. That would be lovely.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened.

“But maybe you’re busy,” Niall said quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said. Then she smiled at Fiona. “I’d love to. After a week of drawing plants, I’m itching to get back to photography.” She looked down, her smile softening, like the sentence had a deeper meaning than Niall could guess.

“I’ll get that wine for you,” he said, handing her back the camera. Their fingers brushed together and Niall felt a jolt like static zipping across his skin. He put his hands in his pockets and headed back to the bar.

He didn’t have much of a chance to talk to anyone as he hurried around taking orders, delivering food, and pouring drinks. Once he thought he caught Cordelia looking at him, but she turned away so fast he couldn’t be sure.

Why does it matter? he thought to himself. Who cared if she looked at him? He decided he was glad she wasn’t glaring at him anymore, that was all. The brunette American, on the other hand, kept glancing over with hungry eyes.

He brought a second round of drinks to his mother’s table, catching a whiff of Cordelia’s bergamot-and-pine scent as he leaned over to take her empty wineglass. Fiona ordered some food for the table as Colin crouched down by Alison and Cordelia, chatting away. Niall tapped his watch.

“Right, let’s get this started,” Colin said, standing.

Cordelia slipped her camera strap over her head. “Is it okay if I take some pictures?” she asked.