Acclaimed New York artist, Naomi Boyd, and music therapist, Keith Wilson, loved one another five years ago, until her grandfather with his influence over Naomi separated them.
That root of bitterness keeps them apart until a letter from Keith’s grandmother, Ruth, draws Naomi to Londonderry to find she’s too late. Ruth has passed on. After the death of his beloved grandmother, Keith has also come to Londonderry only to open the door to his past…Naomi...beautiful as ever, the girl who broke his heart.
A mysterious painting in Ruth’s attic brings up questions about their grandparents’ entwined past and their own broken romance. But more comfortable with the unspoken languages of art and music, Naomi and Keith find it difficult to share their old hurts and true feelings.
Will the majestic coastline of Northern Ireland inspire them to speak the words to bring peace to their grandparents’ memory and to rekindle love?
Excerpt:
Blowing
wind and the keening of puffins and other seabirds were the only sounds.
At
the bottom of the cliff the ground grew rough where the inlet opened up. Forty
thousand, interlocking, basalt columns—the result of ancient volcanic
eruptions—stood up from the crashing sea. A handful of tourists scampered from
column to column that in all created a small hill.
He
had eyes only for Naomi, standing with her hands tucked into her jacket pockets,
her slender shape in faded jeans, her blond, chin-length hair kissing her
cheeks. Without a word, he took her hand to help her climb over the columns to
stand on one of the highest and closest to the ocean. Waves spewed upward as
the surf surged and swirled around the causeway, and she released his hand to
grab hold of him around the waist.
Laughter
rippled from her as each wave hissed and lapped at the column.
“You
remember the legend?” He wrapped his arms around her, clasping his hands at her
back to hold her close.
“About
Finn McCool’s fight with the Scottish giant across the sea who hurled an insult
at the great Irish warrior?”
“Yeah,
that’s the guy. Good old Finn McCool. Then the two giants picked up pieces of
rock and started to pelt each other with great hunks of land. Thereby creating
this fine piece of landscape we’re standing on. Nothing at all to do with any
geological phenomenon.”
She
laughed up at him, setting his heart to swell. “No of course not.”
He
drew her closer so that his chin grazed her cheek, his voice going husky. He
was going to take this moment no matter what. “Who cares about logical,
scientific explanations when there’s a romantic legend instead?”
Her
hands at the base of his spine opened up and flattened against his back. “There
are times when logic should simply be ignored,” she whispered while lowering
her lashes. Her eyes fluttered open. “Don’t you think?”
If
he moved, lowered his head two inches, their lips would touch. This was what he
wanted with all his heart. What he’d anticipated. She stood warm in his arms,
her face lifted to his. Just like five years ago. “Do you remember the last
time we stood together on this coast?”
“Yes.”
Her sea-gray eyes grew wide, her mouth tremulous.
Barely
able to breathe, he pulled her closer and bent his head to brush his lips
across hers.
At
the meeting of their mouths, all thought left him. His heart drummed in rhythm
to the pulsing sea around them as her lips moved with his. Though his feet were
firmly planted on the column, he felt it as he and Naomi swayed. He caught her
closer still, bracing their weight with his stance. A tingle ran along his
spine as her hands moved upward along his back, pulling him deeper into her
embrace.
Her
breath hitched, uneven, like his. A small sigh escaped her when they parted for
only a moment. They came together, and he kissed her again, longer, slower.
At
last they stood apart, her hands grasping his forearms that held her from him,
supporting her. He slowly exhaled, and sunlight danced inside him at the
euphoria awash on her face. Her lips parted, her eyes half closed, she swayed
again, and he wanted to scoop her up into his arms and lay her down somewhere
soft, warm and cozy, and never let her go.
It
seemed forever before she spoke. With a little swallow she smiled up at him. “I
always did lose my mind when you kissed me.”
His
hands moved up her arms to cup her shoulders. “That goes two ways.”
She
cleared the huskiness from her throat, but remained quiet. Nor did he feel the
desire to talk. At this moment they didn’t need words. If only they could just
keep on communicating in this language.
www.christinelindsay.com
ABOUT CHRISTINE LINDSAY
Christine Lindsay was born in Ireland, and is proud of the fact that she was once patted on the head by Prince Philip when she was a baby. Her great grandfather, and her grandfather—yes father and son—were both riveters on the building of the Titanic. Tongue in cheek, Christine states that as a family they accept no responsibility for the sinking of that great ship.
It was stories of her ancestors who served in the British Cavalry in Colonial India that inspired her Multi-award-winning, historical series Twilight of the British Raj. Book 1 Shadowed in Silk, Book 2 Captured by Moonlight, and Christine is currently writing the final installment of that series called Veiled at Midnight to be released August 2014.
Christine makes her home in British Columbia, on the west coast of Canada with her husband and their grown up family. Her cat Scottie is chief editor on all Christine’s books.
CONNECT WITH CHRISTINE:
Please drop by Christine’s blog site www.christinelindsay.org or follow her on Twitter and be her friend on Pinterest and Facebook and Goodreads
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