Captain Gallagher

Chapter 15

Orla's cheeks were pink, but she held Eamon's gaze. "Love?" Eamon echoed. "You felt love for me after one song?"

Orla nodded again. "I know that sounds odd, but..." She shrugged. "I know that love - true love - doesn't just appear like that." She snapped her fingers and continued, "but I think that it can...blossom...in the blink of an eye. Or a wink," she added, glancing at Eamon from the corners of her eyes. "I'm thinking that's what happened to me. My feeling blossomed when you sang, and when you sold me this shawl."

"Hm." Eamon considered Orla's words and nodded slowly. "I'm thinking it could happen that way. I know that when I saw you, there was a...a spark?" He grimaced at the overused analogy.

"Is there still a spark?"

"Tá. Sure, it's more of a fire now, but it's there. Orla, tell me something," Eamon said suddenly. "Why are you telling me so much so soon? We've only just learned each other's names, yet you're telling me about your family."

"I told you, Eamon." Orla smiled. "I have this feeling that won't go away. I think that we should be married."

Eamon's eyebrows shot up. Here's a girl who knows what she wants. "You know nothing about me!"

"Then tell me," she said firmly. "Tell me about your family."

Eamon nodded. "I live with my aunt Catriona in Swinford."

"Swinford! That's far away." Orla looked surprised. "Small wonder you don't come to town often."

"My parents are dead," Eamon said bluntly, "but Catriona's been like a mother to me."

"Dead?" Orla echoed, pausing like a deer in the middle of a step. "How...if I'm not prying?"

Eamon smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "My father was killed in the rebellion, and my mother died of fever." He paused. "My uncle died in the rebellion, too."

Orla frowned, pursing her lips. "So you've only got your aunt for company?"

"Níl. I have Niamh, my horse, and Tadhg - the man who came with me last time - and his family."

Orla was silent for a moment. Did I say too much? Eamon wondered, unconsciously increasing his pace. "I thought you said you wanted to walk slowly!" Orla said suddenly. "Slow down!"

"Tá brón orm. I was just...thinking." Eamon slowed his pace and looked up at the sky. I should be going soon...but I can't just leave abruptly. "Are you hungry?"

"Hungry?" Orla quirked an eyebrow. "Why...ah, I know. You're wanting to have your meeting with Cínaed, aren't you?" She stared up at him, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"I..." Eamon shrugged. "Sure, I suppose you could say that." That's not the whole truth, but it's not an untruth.

"Then I suppose I could be hungry if you'd buy my meal at the pub."

"I will." Eamon started towards the pub, then stopped. "Wouldn't it be more proper if I were to talk with Cínaed alone?"

Orla snorted in an unladylike manner. "Eamon, nothing either of us has done today has been proper."

"That's true, it is." Eamon shrugged, squared his shoulders, and held the door open for Orla. "Well...eat whatever you'd like," he said grandly. He waited for his eyes to become adjusted to the dim interior of the pub, then he and Orla made their way over to where Cínaed sat alone, drinking from a tin mug.