Wild Irish Soul (20 page)

"Fiona! I would have given you one," Aislinn said, her mouth dropping open.

"Absolutely not! I can dine out on purchasing your work for years to come and I'll raise my nose in the air and crow about knowing a famous artist that shows in Dublin." Fiona's eyes twinkled up at her and Aislinn bent to crush the old woman to her chest, not caring if the flowers got damaged.

"You saved me, you know."

"Nonsense. You saved yourself. Now, think about what I've said. Choices to make," Fiona said and then pulled away to follow a waiter with a tray of champagne.

Aislinn looked down at the poppies in her arms.

Choices.

She spied Martin through the crowd and moved through people, holding her hand up politely as people rushed to talk to her. Finally reaching Martin, she pulled him aside.

"Those poppies are fantastic," Martin enthused, looking down at her flowers.

"Martin, don't sell The Revelation," Aislinn whispered to him.

A stricken look crossed the man's face.

"Darling, I'm sorry, I've just completed the paperwork."

"What? You sold it already?"

"Yes, there was a huge line of people that wanted it. I sold to the highest offer. Astronomical price. You'll make out quite handsomely." Martin smiled down at her and Aislinn pasted a polite smile on her face as her heart cracked.

Turning, she walked to her paintings and stood before them, ignoring the crowd of people that surged around her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she struggled to breathe as she realized what she was giving up.

And the realization that it was more than just her paintings.

Chapter Forty

Late that night,
Aislinn was still trying to wipe the silly grin off her face. The show had been a smashing success and every painting had sold.

Including The Revelation.

Aislinn shook her head as she forced herself to tamp down on the panic that raced through her at the thought of losing those paintings. With the proceeds from the sales, she planned to harass Martin until he gave her the name of the buyer and then she would buy them back.

Aislinn approached the night manager at the front desk. He smiled brightly at her as she tottered towards him on her heels, half-buzzed from the champagne she'd drunk at dinner after the show.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes, can you tell me if the man in room 338 has checked out? Baird Delaney?"

"One moment, please."

The man scanned his computer and then smiled politely at her.

"Yes, it looks like he checked out around 6:00 pm today."

Before her show. It hadn't been Baird that she had seen at the show after all.

Aislinn tried to push away the sadness that covered her.

Nodding her thanks, she went to the elevators to head to Fiona's room. She had an extra bed in her suite and tomorrow, Aislinn had agreed to ride home with Fiona on the train. It would give her time to decompress from the show without having to talk to people for hours in the car. Fiona knew the power of silence for healing the heart and Aislinn had had her fill of people, of emotions, of absorbing the impact of having an extra gift in the crowds of people that wanted to interact with her. It was positively exhausting trying to keep her mental shields up.

The next morning
, Aislinn found herself squished against the window of a train, idly watching the countryside zip by in a state of sheer exhaustion.

She was right, she thought. She did sleep better with Baird around. Aislinn allowed her eyes to unfocus a little so that the countryside blurred past her and she tried to convince her mind to nod off and sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, continuing the refrain that had plagued her all night.

Why hadn't she told Baird that she loved him?

Not that he was off the hook for hurting her, but – and this was the downside to her gift – she also knew how he felt about her. Like,
really knew
. And, there had been no subterfuge in his behavior or any underlying motives the day that they had gone to his school. She would have been able to feel it a mile away.

So why did she let herself become enraged with him if she knew – truly knew – that he had meant her no harm?

It was still hurtful, what he had done, she reminded herself. Through the night, as she had tossed and turned, the real reason had finally worked its way to the foreground of her mind.

She was afraid of commitment.

Maybe because she came from a broken home. Or, perhaps it was because she viewed commitment as a responsibility and much of her life as an artist had been based on eschewing responsibilities and following her own path. And, she'd finally reached the conclusion that just because she was afraid of something didn't mean that she shouldn't try it. Typically when something frightened her, she challenged it or jumped in feet first. She couldn't be scared of being hurt, Aislinn lectured herself. Look at the beautiful paintings she had created in the midst of her fury. Could she really call herself an artist if she refused to allow herself to feel the full spectrum of human emotion, both good and bad?

Uncomfortable with the turn that her thoughts had taken and knowing that she most likely owed at least a small portion of an apology to Baird, Aislinn sighed again.

“Huffing and puffing isn’t going to make this train move any faster,” Fiona murmured and Aislinn shot her a grin.

“I’m glad that you came with me, thank you," Aislinn said.

"Of course. I can't wait to hang my paintings when they arrive."

"I could have had Morgan bring them back with her."

"Nonsense. And miss having the cute delivery man come to my cottage? Never."

Aislinn chuckled at Fiona, loving her presence and enjoying the soothing effect that Fiona inevitably had upon her. It was easy to lose herself in the rhythm of the train, the clicking of the wheels against the rails, the exhaustion that pressed against her eyes. She promised herself that she would take a sleeping pill when she got home, just simply fall face down in her bed and hide from the world. Just for a day.

"Ah, Fiona. What am I going to do?"

"Paint more paintings, become world famous, let Morgan run your shop." Fiona shrugged her shoulders.

"You know what I'm talking about," Aislinn said.

Fiona dipped her head and looked at Aislinn over her reading glasses. "Sure and you aren't thinking that I'm going to tell you what to do with your love life."

Aislinn looked back out of the window, the green landscape sliding past her, and grimaced.

"I think that I owe him an apology."

"So apologize," Fiona said simply.

"You make it sound so easy," Aislinn protested.

"It is. Nobody ever feels worse after giving an apology, you know," Fiona commented.

It was hard to argue with Fiona's wisdom. "But don't you think that he owes me an apology as well?"

"Yes, he does. You both do. So do it and be done with it. Why waste time being miserable?"

"Because that's what artists do, duh," Aislinn laughed at her.

She was right though, Aislinn thought as she settled back into silence. Why waste time being miserable indeed?

Chapter Forty-One

Her shop looked
barren, its walls bereft of paintings. Aislinn closed the door behind her and went inside, tossing her bags on her desk before walking in a circle around the empty shop.

The room seemed to echo the emptiness she felt inside and she realized how much she had gotten used to hearing Baird's voice every day. It was like a light had extinguished in her soul.

With a shake of her head, she snagged her luggage from the desk and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. All Aislinn wanted to do was not think about anything for a moment and slip beneath her covers for a good solid nap.

"Oh, yeah, this is what I need," she murmured to herself as she stripped down to her tank and underwear and slid beneath the cool sheets. In a matter of moments, the exhaustion finally caught up with her and she slipped into sleep.

A
pounding on the back door awoke her. She sat straight up and for a moment, couldn't remember where she was. The room was dark and as she whipped her head around, she remembered that she was in her own bed.

"Coming!" Aislinn shouted down and flipped on the light by her bed. She bent over the side of the bed and snagged her jeans. Grabbing a sweatshirt from a coat hook by her bed, she pulled it over her head and tossed her curls back, allowing them to tumble down her back.

Aislinn padded down the stairs and opened the door a crack, peeking out into her back courtyard.

Nobody was there.

"Hello?" Aislinn called and stepped onto her back stoop.

Her heart skidded and skipped a beat as she saw a single red poppy sitting on her picnic table. Aislinn's breath hitched and she stepped further into the courtyard.

"Baird?"

Silence greeted her words and that is when she saw the second poppy. This one lay on the ground, a few feet from the table. Confused, Aislinn walked closer and saw another poppy a few feet further from the second. Bending to pick up the first two, she moved closer to the third, bent to pick it up, raised her head and saw another at the open gate to her courtyard.

The gate was never left open, she thought, and scurried to close it, picking up another poppy on the way.

As her hand fell on the smooth wood of the gate, she saw another poppy a few feet out. Aislinn leaned over the gate and tilted her head to see a row of poppies lining the sidewalk and disappearing around the corner.

A laugh, bordering on slightly hysterical, broke from her lips and Aislinn raced down the sidewalk, bending to collect the flowers, following her heart as she raced down the flower trail that Baird had left for her. The flowers wound down the sidewalk in front of her store and as she brought her head up, she realized that they ran all the way into the village. She began to laugh harder as she saw people looking at the flowers and at her in confusion.

Not caring, she began to run, stopping to scoop up the flowers, following the path that Baird had left for her, down to the harbor, past Flynn's restaurant until she found the last flower. Panting, she looked around for the next flower, for a clue, for something.

Aislinn turned in a circle, her arms full of flowers, and then she saw it.

Like a punch to the gut, love overwhelmed her. She sobbed into the flowers, so happy, wanting desperately to see Baird.

Above her, in the second-floor windows that ran the length of Baird's apartment, were her paintings, facing out and lit from below.

The Revelation.

They looked glorious in the windows, with the lighting playing off the waves that both ravaged and loved the painting. He'd bought it. Baird had been the buyer. Aislinn's breath shuddered out of her and she tried to wipe the tears from her face with her arms full of flowers.

"I get it now," Baird's voice said from behind her and Aislinn's entire body stiffened. She turned, her heart full of hope.

"The glow?" Baird gestured to the painting. He looked tired, just as weary and mussed as she probably looked, Aislinn thought. She wanted to run to him, to hug him, but she sensed he needed to have his say.

"Yes?"

"It's true love, isn't it? The cove glows for true love."

Aislinn's eyes filled with tears again and she blinked against them, Baird turning into a blurry image of color and shape.

"I believe in you, Aislinn. I believe in us. But, I have to ask you, do you?"

Aislinn choked out a sob, and nodded. "I do. I don't think that I fully realized it until I painted this painting. And even then, it wasn't until it was gone that I did. I painted my emotions without being able to see them."

"But you knew…didn't you? What the cove glowing meant?"

"I did. I didn't want to believe it. Wasn't ready to," Aislinn whispered, her body trembling, feeling awful for not telling Baird how she felt.

"Are you ready now?"

"I am, oh, Baird, I'm so sorry. I should have known you wouldn't hurt me like that," Aislinn said and rushed to him, wanting to shout in joy when his arms came around her, crushing the flowers between them.

"I should never have emailed Matthew in the first place. It was a lesson in not needing to know all the answers right away. If I had just waited, I would have had all the answers I needed."

Aislinn blinked up at him through tears and warmth spread through her as he brushed the gentlest of kisses across her lips.

"Can you tell how I feel? Can you?" Aislinn asked, pulling his hand to touch her heart beneath the flowers.

Baird laughed at her. "The Revelation told me everything that I need. Aptly named, at that." He winked at her and then his face sobered. "Feel me, Ash. Go ahead."

Aislinn dropped her mental shields and allowed his love to wash over her, a pure, fresh love that would tarnish and grow stronger with age. The type of love you built a foundation on and would hold up over the years.

The perfect kind.

"I love you," Aislinn whispered against his mouth.

"Aye, I know," Baird laughed at her and Aislinn felt her heart grow fuller for it.

"I'm going to have to buy that painting back from you," Aislinn said, putting her business face on.

"We'll talk."