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passengers emerged from customs. He'd refused to hold the sign his sister had made bearing the woman's name. She could find him on her own or turn around and go back to the States where she belonged.
    His heart thudded louder as each passenger filed past with no sign of a woman meeting her description, and not a single dark-haired lad. Well, fine, then. He swallowed the burning bile in his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets, prepared to leave. Though Mum and Maggie would be disappointed, this was for the best. The woman would've brought them nothing but misery, and Jaysus knew the Mulligans had seen more than their fair share of that.
    Just as he retrieved his keys from his pocket and clenched his fist about them, they appeared—a woman in her late twenties with brown hair curling about her shoulders, and a lad with a headful of nearly black curls. Riley's breath froze as his gaze shifted from the child to the mother.
    The woman stared at him, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. Her already fair skin paled further and he thought she might even have swayed a bit. Was it because he resembled Culley? Even so, just because the woman knew what Culley had looked like didn't mean she'd married the man and given birth to his son.
    Something compelled Riley to look at the boy again. The lad was the image of Culley at the same age. No, it's pure coincidence, Mulligan, and don't be forgetting that again. They started toward him and Riley cleared his throat, returning his keys to his pocket. The lad really did have a Mulligan look about him. Listen to yourself . The world was crawling with dark-haired children.
    He released a ragged sigh as they came nearer. She was a beauty, to be sure, and Culley had always appreciated a comely face. Riley’s gaze lowered and he noticed the way her breasts filled out her green jumper. Aye, Culley could easily have fallen for her charms, but married her...? No, Culley would never have married a woman he barely knew—not with a local lass waiting for him to come home and marry her . Besides, there was the Church to consider.
    This American woman was a scab—after money or the farm, but certainly not Culley’s widow. Keep it straight, you bloody caffler. Girding himself, Riley straightened and squared his shoulders as the pair stopped directly in front of him.
    No one spoke as they stood staring at each other. He grew uncomfortable with her scrutiny and shoved his infernal hair out of his face again.
    "You're Riley Mulligan," she said quietly, her voice quavering a bit.
    "Aye." He gave a curt nod, not bothering with the formalities. He didn't want this woman and her son here, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise.
    "Forgive me for staring, but..." She drew a shaky breath and a nervous laugh followed. "You look so much like..."
    Riley nodded again, not wanting to admit that the woman had recognized him because of the familial resemblance. The explanation was simple—she'd seen a photo of him, or at least of Culley. Any gobshite with eyes could see the resemblance.
    He glanced down at the lad again. His eyes were green like his mother's—not Mulligan blue. Somewhat relieved, Riley allowed himself this one small victory, though he knew the battle ahead would be long and bloody. Something told him this woman would not give up easily.
    Nor would he.
    "You my Uncle Riley?" the lad asked, his head tilted back so he could stare into Riley's eyes.
    Heat crept up from Riley's collar and he bit the inside of his cheek to silence his thoughts before he said something unsuitable for a youngster's ears. Any youngster. Even this one. "I'm Riley Mulligan," he said instead.
    The child released his mum's hand and shoved his right one toward Riley. "I'm Jacob Samuel Mulligan, and I'm right pleased to meet you, sir."
    A rehearsed speech if ever he'd heard one, but Riley couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at his lips. The lad's accent screamed American hillbilly like those Country and Western