Kate Hoffmann
Declan
Book 11 in the Mighty Quinns series, 2006
Prologue
“LEMME SEE!”
Declan Quinn held tight to the high stone wall as his big brother Ian gave him a shove. His grandmother’s opera glasses were clutched in his left hand as he trained them on the girl below. She was dressed only in a bikini, red with little yellow flowers. Lying on her stomach on a beach towel, she’d undone her top, and from the right angle, Dec could almost see her breast.
“Give me the damn binoculars,” Ian whispered.
With a low curse, Declan handed Ian his grandmother’s opera glasses, then swung his leg over the wall and straddled it. Kitty Donahue was fifteen years old and the daughter of their grandmother’s gardener. She usually accompanied her father on his Saturday chores. During the winter months, she sat in the solarium and worked on her studies. But in the summer, Dec and his brothers were treated to the mysteries of the female body as she sunbathed in a quiet corner of the garden.
She reached back to brush a bug from her shoulder and Ian moaned softly. “I can almost see it.”
“See what?”
They both looked down to find their little brother, Marcus, standing below them, a frown creasing his brow. “Nothing,” Dec said. “Go away, Marky.”
“What are you lookin’ at?” Marcus asked. He grabbed the tree that grew beside the wall and scrambled up on the other side of Dec. Searching through the bower of leaves, he finally spied the object of their interest and grinned. “She’s almost naked!” he cried.
“Shhhh!” Dec clamped a hand over Marcus’s mouth. “If you’re going to be up here, you have to be quiet.”
Wide-eyed, Marcus nodded and Dec slowly removed his hand. He took the opera glasses back from Ian and continued his study of Kitty. She was just about the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen-besides his mother and his sisters, Mary Grace and Jane.
He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to picture them in his mind. It had been five years that June since he and his brothers had been home, five years since they’d last seen their parents or their older siblings. There were times when Dec wondered if they’d ever be reunited, or if the three youngest Quinn brothers would spend their entire lives in Ireland, living with their Grandmother Callahan.
Life with their maternal grandmother had been rough at first. Grace Callahan had never been a part of her grandchildren’s lives, living an ocean away in Ireland, estranged from her daughter, Emma. Though it had never been made clear to the boys, some disagreement had caused their mother to stop speaking to their grandmother long before they were born.
Still, every summer there had been an invitation for the Quinn children to visit Ireland. It was only after Emma Quinn had become horribly sick with cancer that she had finally allowed any of her children to go. And then, she’d sent just the youngest three, keeping the older children back to help support the family in the midst of mounting medical bills.
There had been no health insurance, no savings in case of emergency, but that hadn’t stopped Paddy Quinn from searching out the finest medical care for his wife. He and the older children worked at any job they could find, with little left over for luxuries like decent food, new clothes-or a visit to Ireland.
It was Ian who had taken over the role of father figure to the younger boys, appointing himself the boss of everything. Dec didn’t mind. Someone had to watch over them and though Dec was qualified, he had better things to spend his time on-like thinking about Kitty Donahue and all the other pretty Irish lasses who caught his fancy. Kitty was mysterious and fascinating and exciting. And she barely knew he existed.
“I can almost see her titties,” Marcus whispered.
Ian gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Where did you learn that word?”
“Listenin’ to you tossers,” Marcus said. “Besides, that’s what they’re called, right?”
Dec rolled his eyes and Ian suppressed a grin. “Yeah,” Ian murmured. “That’s what they’re called.”
“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Dec said.
“I talked to her once,” Marcus said. He held out the small medallion he’d found in the barn a few years back. He now wore it around his neck on a leather string. “I showed her this. And I told her about the treasure.”
“She’s not interested in your silly old treasure,” Ian said.
“Yes, she was. When I showed her, she wanted me to tell her all about it. And I told her if she ever wanted to borrow my good luck charm, she could just ask.” He paused. “I think she likes me.”
“Not as much as she’s gonna like me,” Dec said. “I’m going down there.”
“Dec, don’t,” Ian pleaded. “She’ll figure out we’ve been watching her.”
“Who made you the boss of me?” Dec asked.
“Ian is the boss,” Marcus said. “Da made him the boss before we left and we’re supposed to listen to him. And if he says-”
“I listened,” Declan interrupted. “But that doesn’t mean I have to do everything he says.” He grinned. “I’m gonna ask her out. Maybe take her to a movie.”
“You are so full of shite,” Ian scoffed. “She’ll never go out with you.”
“We’ll see.” Dec dropped lightly to the ground and waded through the deep perennial beds until he stood on the grass beside Kitty. He glanced back up at Ian who watched him with barely concealed awe. Ian had always been more careful around girls, but Dec had never thought caution was much use. There was no denying that he appreciated a pretty girl, so why pretend otherwise?
He possessed a natural charm that usually appealed to the girls who he found worth pursuing. Girls had become his special talent, ever since he’d first tongue-kissed Alicia Dooley behind the rectory when he was eleven. Since then, he’d kissed a lot of girls. But he’d never approached a girl as worldly and sophisticated as Kitty Donahue. She was seriously out of his league.
But he was thirteen now and he considered himself experienced, enough that a girl like Kitty might just find him interesting. Declan cleared his throat and she glanced over her shoulder.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice tinged with boredom. “You’re in my sun.”
“What are ya readin’?” he asked.
“Jane Eyre,” she replied.
“Interesting?” He approached the blanket and sat down in front of her, then took the book from her fingers. “Would I like it?”
“It’s really not a book for blokes,” she said. “It’s romantic.”
Declan nodded as he examined the back of the book. “Blokes can be romantic.”
She laughed. “When were you ever romantic, Declan Quinn?”
“I wasn’t. Just said I could be if I wanted to be. So what would it take?”
“For what?”
“For you to go out with me?” Dec asked. He’d learned it was always best to use the element of surprise. And to display complete confidence, even if the odds of her agreeing to a date were astronomically low. If he caught her off guard she was more likely to think he’d done this before-and say yes.
“A lot more than you have,” she said.
“Like what?”
“A car for one,” she said. “I’m not going to be ridin’ around town on the back of your bleedin’ bicycle.”
“I have a car. And a chauffeur,” Declan said with a grin. “It’s a Rolls, you know. All the big rock stars have ’em.”
She considered his point for a long moment, as if the thought of riding around in his grandmother’s Rolls Royce appealed to her. “What about nicker?” she asked. “I’d expect you to take me somewhere nice and that will cost.”
“I’ve got money,” Dec said. “My nana gives me a big allowance and I never spend it all. I suppose I’d even have enough to buy you some flowers, or some candy.”