The Mighty Quinns: Kellan. Kate HoffmannЧитать онлайн книгу.
Praise for Kate Hoffmann from RT Book Reviews
The Charmer “Hoffmann’s deeply felt, emotional story is riveting. It’s impossible to put down.”
Your Bed or Mine? “Fully developed characters and perfect pacing make this story feel completely right.”
Doing Ireland! “Sexy and wildly romantic”
The Mighty Quinns: Ian “A very hot story mixes with great characters to make every page a delight.”
Who Needs Mistletoe? “Romantic, sexy and heartwarming.”
The Mighty Quinns: Teague “Sexy, heartwarming and romantic … a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then re-read.”
Dear Reader,
Another Quinn trilogy is coming to a close and this one has been a lot of fun to write, especially since it took me back to one of my favorite places, Ireland.
Though I’ve only been to Ireland once, I’ve spent the last year thinking about all the wonderful and picturesque towns I visited. Someday, I hope to return for another visit, maybe even during the holidays. I could even search out my one lonely Irish ancestor. I’d drive past the spot on the coast where Ballykirk should be and wander down the country road where Winterhill might have stood. And if I’m lucky, I might even meet a man who looks a little bit like Kellan Quinn. You couldn’t ask for a better Christmas present than that.
If you’ve never had a chance to visit the Emerald Isle, I hope this Quinn trilogy has given you a little taste of one of my favorite places.
Happy holidays,
Kate Hoffmann
About the Author
KATE HOFFMANN began writing for Mills & Boon in 1993. Since then she’s published sixty-five books. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys music, theater and musical theater. She is active working with high school students in the performing arts. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe.
The Mighty Quinns: Kellan
Kate Hoffmann
MILLS & BOON
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Prologue
KELLAN STARED out at the water from the narrow beach, the morning sun gleamed off the glassy surface of the Atlantic. He drew a deep breath and smiled. It was the perfect summer day. Warm without a hint of the damp wind that usually roared along the coast.
“We should sleep here tonight,” he said to his brothers. “Up on the cliff. Da would let us take the tent.” Glancing over his shoulder, he found Riley and Danny squatting down and digging in the sand.
Smuggler’s Cove had become their secret getaway. Just five or six kilometers from their cottage outside Ballykirk, the hidden cove could only be reached from the water. But Danny, Kellan’s youngest brother, had discovered a path down through the rocks, making the spot accessible.
“I’m not spendin’ the night,” Riley said. “There’s ghosts in that old house up there.” He was talking about the abandoned castle and manor house that overlooked the cliff. None of them had ever been brave enough to venture inside, although Kellan had heard the older kids used the place for parties all the time.
“Me, neither,” Danny said.
“What the feck are you two about?” Kellan asked, watching as they scraped sand aside with their fingers.
“There’s something buried in the sand,” Danny said, burrowing after it like a terrier after a bone. “Come here and help, ya lazy git.”
“No way. You’ve been digging in that sand for two years now and you haven’t found a thing. Considering the smugglers are long gone, it’s probably just an old piece of wood. You and your fantasies. They’re a waste of time.”
Riley stopped for a moment. “If Kell doesn’t dig and it is treasure, then he doesn’t get a share.”
“Agreed,” Danny said.
“Yeah,” Kellan said. “Agreed.” But to Kellan’s surprise, Danny and Riley pulled a small tin box out of the sand. “What the feck,” he muttered, striding over to them.
“See,” Danny said smugly. “Told you. Now you don’t get a share.” He brushed the sand off the top of the old biscuit tin.
“Open it,” Riley urged.
Danny reached for the top, then hesitated. “I don’t know. What if it’s cursed? It could be like … like …”
“Pandora’s box,” Kellan told him. “Jaysus, you two are always letting your imagination run away with you. It’s a feckin’ biscuit tin.”
“Should we open it?” Danny asked, looking to Kellan for an answer. They always looked to him for answers. That’s what it was to be the oldest boy in the Quinn family.
Kellan shrugged. “You found it. You open it.” He turned away, determined not to show his interest. But as he did, he caught sight of a movement among the rocks on the cliffside. He stared at the spot for a long moment, then shook his head. But there it was again. A flutter of pale green fabric in the breeze and a slender form scrambling behind another rock.
“There’s someone up there,” he muttered. “Watching us.”
The boys looked up from their examination of the box, following Kellan’s nod. “Right up there.”
“Maybe it’s a fairy,” Riley said. “And maybe this is her box of magic. Let’s go see if we can catch her.” Riley shoved the box at Danny and leaped to his feet, then took off for the path at the bottom of the rocks.
“Wait,” Danny called. “What if it’s a ghost from the house?”
Kellan heard a tiny cry from above him and he watched the girl scamper along the path, climbing up and over the rocks. She looked like a fairy, her long, golden hair draped over her back and crowned by a wreath of wildflowers. But she didn’t have wings, at least none that he could see. She was dressed in an old gown made of a sheer fabric so light it floated around her.
Cursing to himself, Kellan followed his brothers. What was he thinking? He knew fairies weren’t real. Maybe his little brothers believed, but Kellan was far too pragmatic to put any faith in Irish myths and legends. “Leave me to it,” he said, hurrying past Riley. “I can climb faster than you.”
Kellan scrambled up the path, but each time he looked for her, she was putting more distance between them. If she really were a fairy, she’d just fly away. No, this was a girl, a girl he’d never seen before.