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Gwen wondered if he was hitting on her. Her heart beat triple time with the thought, but Reilly remained expressionless yet friendly. No overtures of anything, really.

Disappointment flooded her.

She managed to smile at him. “Thanks, but I have to stay until at least the cake cutting. Bridal party,” she muttered.

“That explains the horrid dress.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

Reilly reached over and lifted the tulle overlay, and the scent of him filled her senses. Fresh, outdoorsy, clean. No cologne.

Gwen would never forget that smell.

They both watched the scratchy material float back down to its chiffon counterpart.

Reilly spoke again. “Can you honestly tell me that is a dress you’d choose for yourself?”

“Kristen had a designer make these especially for today.”

“No insult meant,” he returned smoothly. “And that wasn’t an answer to my question.”

She glanced back at his face, unnerved to see he was still watching her, his eyes still concentrated on hers. She shook her head, unable to form any coherent words.

“I thought not. That dress does nothing for your beauty, yet there you stand, somehow still resplendent.”

Gwen blinked. “Th-thank you.”

As though he hadn’t just dropped the most wonderful compliment Gwen had ever heard, he continued, “That color should be outlawed.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier,” she admitted sheepishly. She glanced down and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You’re right, it really is horrid. And with the amount of money I had to drop on this thing…I just think of all the good it could’ve done going somewhere else.”

“Like where?” Reilly asked .

Gwen blushed again, cursing her pale skin, which no doubt now matched her hair.

“Oh, you know…families who don’t have anything.

It could be a mortgage payment.” At his surprised look, she shrugged and fluffed the skirt self-consciously.

“Designer isn’t cheap. And neither is anything about this wedding. ”

“That seems like a lot of pressure.”

“It is. Kristen—the bride—thrives on it. I’d rather be…well, anywhere else.”

“If you could be anywhere right this moment, where would that be?” He seemed genuinely curious as to her answer.

Right here with you , came the immediate thought. Gwen swallowed hard. Her reaction was visceral and overwhelming; she had to get control of herself before she did something embarrassing, such as throw herself against him and beg him to take her with him.

Wherever he went.

He smiled, a mysterious half-lifting of his lips that made her worry that he’d read her thoughts.

He tried another question, as she seemed unable to answer the first. “What do you want to do with yourself, if not be like those people in there?”

“I want to work with people,” she replied without hesitation. “Really work with them, create homes and communities.”

His eyes crinkled at the sides, the only outward sign of his surprise she could see. She wondered how old he was; he seemed older than the twenty-somethings she hung around.

“Fascinating.” It was said honestly, without any derision or mockery. “Though those people in there do good, aye?”

“I guess,” she replied, not quite convinced.

“I’ve learned not to judge until I’ve gathered all the facts. Though they may not be out on the front lines, so to speak, perhaps their money funds those who are. ”

Gwen furrowed her brow. “I never thought of that.”

“You would have eventually. Perspective comes with time.”

A heartbeat passed before she blurted out, “Where are you from?”

If Reilly was surprised by her sudden change of subject, he didn’t show it. “Most recently, right outside Dublin.”

Max banged his fist on the other side of the door, apparently recovered enough to get to it. “Anyone out there?”

“Nay,” Reilly growled, turning his head toward the closed door. His expression went cold, making Gwen’s eyes widen. She took a quick step back. He glanced at her and softened his gaze. “Never a need to fear me, lass.”

“You’re one of the good guys?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, and her insides tightened. “Depends on whose side you’re on.”

She swallowed hard. “I think I’d want to be on your side.”

His smile grew. “Then aye. I’m one of the good guys.”

“Ry!”

Gwen recognized the matchmaker who had orchestrated the meeting between the bride and groom. The matchmaker—Gwen couldn’t remember her name—waved to him from the other end of the hallway. He waved back and held up a finger.

“I’m her ride home,” he explained to Gwen.

“Oh, your girlfriend?” Gwen asked, disappointment clouding her tone. Ridiculous. He’s way too old for me , she tried to reason with herself.

Reilly fished a folded bar napkin from his pocket.

“Nay. Cousin.” He produced a pen, too, and scribbled something on it.

“I’m in town for a few days. Feel free to call me if you want to have a drink or two.

Of course, if you’re ever in Ireland, you can look me up there, too, Gwendolyn.

” He glowered at the door, where Max was making pathetic pleading noises.

“ I’m a good friend to have around, even if you can take care of yourself well enough. ”

“Are there bad guys in Ireland?” she asked, unwilling for him to leave.

“If there are, be reassured that my armor, though dusty, is always ready when needed.”

“What exactly is it that you do, Reilly?”

He flashed her a grin. “I’m just a simple furniture maker. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

He gave her a wink, then gently grasped her wrist and opened her hand. Numb with shock from the sensations skittering across her skin, Gwen watched, breathless, as he slid the napkin into her palm.

“What’s this?” she whispered.

He lifted an eyebrow. “My number. It comes with the offer of friendship, mayhap a chair or table, and a rescue.”

“How many rescues do I get?”

“As many as you need.”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “I might need a chair. But I don’t think I’ll ever need a rescue.”

“Perhaps not. Call me.”

He headed down the hallway, and Gwen stared after him, somehow a different person than she had been just ten minutes earlier. Something in her changed in those moments, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

He turned and gave her one last, long look, then disappeared around the corner. She glanced at the napkin in her hand.

Reilly O’Malley, Knight Extraordinaire

A faraway smile graced her lips. Not just something , she mused, tracing his bold script with her finger. Everything .

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