Emerald Isle | Maria Christine

Emerald Isle

A paranormal romance that tests the power of true love.

(Excerpt)

Chapter One

Returning Home

Miranda, an independent businesswoman, was in dire need of an extended vacation. She left her penthouse in the United States and traveled alone to the picturesque and serene fishing village of Kilcrohane, County Cork, Ireland.

It had been a long trip, yet a journey her heart had ached for. The nearer she came, the more she anticipated the road ahead and left her anxieties behind.

As she approached her destination, Miranda surveyed her surroundings; the lush green moors, and the breathtaking view of Dunmanus Bay. Like lovingly open arms, the mystical Ballyhoura Mountains seemed to graciously welcome her home.

It was dusk when Miranda arrived at the cottage. She hadn’t been there since childhood. She stood at its door and breathed in the familiar vanilla scent of winter heliotrope and traces of primrose beginning to blossom. She felt renewed, at total peace, and she smiled from her soul for the first time in her recent memory. She was home.

The cottage was away from town, quiet, and charming. She cherished the memories of time spent there with her grandmother. She grinned happily as she traced the back of a chair with her fingertips and when she took the antique tea set from the hutch. She’d inherited the old cottage when her grandmother passed, but had not been there since she was very young. The caretakers had kept the place just as she remembered. She knew she would have to return to the hustle and bustle of the city and her work at some point, but right now she forced it out of her mind. Kansas City, Missouri seemed a world away now. She was in Ireland to rejuvenate, to renew her senses, to relocate the magic she once felt in her heart. Somehow, she knew she would find it there.

Once night had fallen, Miranda took her tea and a quilt across the dirt road in front of the cottage and sat on the grass looking out at the sea. She was lost in the tranquility of her thoughts when someone spoke softly to her. “You don’t see many primroses in these parts,” said a dusky voice.

Miranda was startled half out of her mind and nearly dumped her tea. She turned to see a very tall gentleman standing in the moonlight. He was holding a covered basket that smelled delicious. “Who are you?” she blurted.

“My sincerest apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. He politely held back a chuckle.

“Oh!” she replied, somewhat suddenly. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to jump. I suppose I was wrapped up in my own thoughts.”

She struggled to stand up without tangling her feet in the blanket and he extended his hand to help. She took it right away and he pulled her upright.

“You didn’t even spill your tea,” he said.

“I guess I didn’t,” Miranda laughed.

Absentmindedly, she still held onto his hand. Now that she was closer, she could see his face more clearly. Even in the limited light she could see that this was an attractive man. He was very tall and powerful looking. He was younger than she expected, not too much older than she, and his smile seemed warm and generous. She felt her cheeks begin to blush and was thankful for the lack of light. She quickly let go of his hand and secured both hands on her teacup.

“My name is Patrick. It’s a pleasure meeting you,” he said.

“Is that Patrick as in Saint Patrick?” she asked playfully.

“Not quite,” he said. “I hope I haven’t ruined your night, interrupting you like this.” He broke his gaze and turned away slightly.

“Not at all,” she insisted. “My name is Miranda. I was just out here enjoying the moonlight on the water and some primrose tea.”

“Ah yes, the primroses,” said Patrick. “Like I said, you don’t often see them this far south, but Anna could always make them flourish.”

Miranda was taken pleasantly aback. “You knew my grandmother?” she asked.

Now, Patrick was bemused. “Anna Kelly was your grandmother?”

“Yes, I spent the summers here when I was a child.” She smiled at that memory. “This is her favorite tea.”

“Oh,” said Patrick. “Well, if that’s her favorite tea, then I’d say it’s got a splash of whiskey in it, eh?” he jested.

“A little bit more than a splash,” she admitted.

The two laughed together for a few moments, but Patrick looked around and noticeably came to some realization. “I must be getting back home,” he said. “I was just on my way there from town, but it was wonderful meeting the granddaughter of Miss Anna Kelly. Absolutely wonderful.”

“Do you have to go?” Miranda asked. “You’re more than welcome to come inside for a spell.” She grabbed the quilt and turned toward the cottage. To Miranda, Patrick seemed such a gentleman, and since he seemed to have known her grandmother well, she felt the least she could do was be hospitable.

“No, no. I can’t,” Patrick replied. “Thanks for asking. I’d really better go now.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” said Miranda. “Will we see each other again?”

Patrick took her hand and kissed it gently as he stared into her eyes. “If I am truly that fortunate,” he said.

His words unexpectedly surged through to her heart. His voice was like delicate thunder, and the soft touch of his lips against her skin dazed her momentarily. He then slipped away into the darkness.

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