Dark Witch (The Cousins O’Dwyer Trilogy #1)(40)
Author: Nora Roberts

“We did enough, maybe more than.”

“Trouble then? Of a personal sort or a magickal sort?”

“Both, I’m thinking. It started early this morning, as you know, when I shared a dream with her and came to blows with that cursed bastard.”

“You had more trouble from that?”

When Fin gripped his shoulder, Boyle just kept brushing the horse. “Nothing serious or lasting. So I’ll tell you the rest.”

And he did, from the beginning, right on through to when he carried Iona out of the friary. Only grunted when Fin grabbed his hand.

“I told you she fixed it, and Connor had a look as well.”

“I’ll look for myself now.” Once he did, Fin nodded, let Boyle’s hand go. “You said you hurt him. You’re sure of it now that some time’s passed and you’ve thought it through?”

Boyle curled his hand into a fist. “I know when I land a blow, mate.”

“Aye, you would.” Fin paced away and back again. “I’ve given it some thought, and we’ll use that; I’ll think on it more, but use it we will. And I’ve a protection charm for you before you turn in for the night. Is she coming by?”

“She’s not, no. I need a night to myself, don’t I? I’ve work, and I’ve thinking of my own to do without being crowded.”

Fin lifted an eyebrow at the tone. “Had a row?”

“We did not. After I carted her out of the cursed friary, she packed away fish and chips like a starving woman. I took her around to Clew Bay, as she wanted to see the water, then she spotted more ruins, another graveyard, so she wandered about, but there was nothing for her there like the other places. And that was a relief.”

“She handles it well, for someone coming into it later than most.”

“I suppose she does, and it’s a lot on her plate for all her appetite. And it makes me wonder.”

Fin gestured an opening. “Wonder away.”

“I want her here, even when I don’t. Or I think I don’t, then I do.” The words sounded mad to his own ears, but he couldn’t stop them now that he’d started. “And I never have much liked women in my place, as they tend to fuss or leave things behind, or bring little bits over, look to change the order of things.”

“Hmm. And does she?”

“She doesn’t, and that’s suspect, isn’t it?” Boyle jabbed a finger in the air as if his point had been made.

“So if she does those things, she’s encroaching. If she doesn’t, she’s suspect? Mo dearthair, you’re acting the gom.”

“I’m not.” Insulted, Boyle rounded on Fin. “It’s not being a fool to wonder if she’d got some plan under there. She talked of weddings, mind you. Of a wedding at Ballintubber Abbey.”

“Which it’s famed for. Did she propose to you then, along the Stations? I’m seeing no ring on your finger or through your nose.”

“Smirk if you must, but I’m wondering. I think about her too much. ’Tisn’t comfortable. When I have her in bed it’s like nothing else ever was. No one else. So I end up staying, or having her stay, and then there’s breakfast, and on to work. I have to work, don’t I? And she’s pushed into my mind even then. It’s f**king annoying now that I say it out loud.”

“I can see that. It has to be a trial to you, having a woman as pretty as a spring morning, and as fresh and sweet, taking up your time and attention.”

“I’ve a life to live, don’t I?” Boyle snapped back, as every word Fin spoke made him, well, feel as if he acted the gom. “And a right to like that life just as it is—was—before.”

“Sure as I’m standing here I’d trade places with you if I could, to have a woman in my mind and heart who was pleased and willing to have me in hers. But you have, of course, every right to live your life without a sweet and fresh and pretty woman in it.”

“She’s more than that, as well you know. I’ve never seen the like of her, and I’ve seen you, Branna, Connor. But when it’s on her, I’ve never seen the like. It takes my breath. I don’t know why that is.”

“I’ve a speculation on it.”

Boyle mimicked Fin’s gesture. “Speculate away.”

“You sound like a man in love to me.”

“Oh sure and that’s helpful.” Boyle resisted throwing the brush only because it would startle Darling. “I’m telling you, she’s pushed herself into my mind, my life, my bed so I’ve barely a minute to myself. I took a day off work, which I don’t do, as you know, to drive her all around Mayo and Galway. I can’t get away from her even when I’m sleeping.

“I think she’s bewitched me.”

“Oh Christ Jesus, Boyle.”

But Boyle had the bit between his teeth now. “She’s come into it late, as you said, and she’s full of the power of it. So she’s done a love spell to wrap me up this way.”

“Bollocks. Even if she were inclined, and I don’t see it, Branna would never allow it.”

“Branna doesn’t know everything,” Boyle muttered, and glanced over darkly as Alastar kicked the wall of the stall. “She’s new to it, Iona is, testing her footing so to speak. She’s testing it on me so I’m tangled up taking walks and rides and drives and fixing her breakfast after a night of her sleeping wrapped around me like a vine. So if she’s put a love spell on me, you need to break it.”

“Is that what you think?” Very quietly, Iona stepped up to the stall. “I’m sorry but you were too busy shouting to hear me come in. What a lot you think of yourself, Boyle, and how little you think of me.”

“Iona—”

She stepped back, chin jerking up. “Do you really think I’m so weak, so sad, so pitiful that I’d want someone who didn’t want me of their own free will? That I’d use magick to enchant you into spending time with me, having feelings for me?”

“No. I’m only trying to work it out.”

“Work.” Her eyes filled, killing him, but the tears didn’t come. “Yeah, I know it’s so much work to care about me. So I’ll make it easy for you. There’s no need, and there’s no spell. I have too much respect for what I am to use it in such a small, selfish way. And I love you too much to ever use you at all.”

Every word came as a jab to his heart. “Come upstairs now, we’ll talk this through.”

“There’s nothing else for me to say, and I really don’t want to talk to you now.” Deliberately, she turned away from him. “Fin, could you give me a ride home?”

“I’ll take you myself—” Boyle began.

“You won’t. No, you won’t. I don’t want to be with you. I can call Connor if you can’t take me, Fin.”

“Of course I can.”

“You’re not just walking away after—”

“Watch me.” She shot him a look so full of both devastation and fury, he said nothing more when she turned and walked away.

“Let it be for now,” Fin said quietly, “and use some of this famous time and space to learn how to do a proper grovel.”

“Ah, f**k me.”

“And so you have.” He hurried out after Iona, reached down to open the car door for her.

“He’s never felt like this for anyone,” he began.

“Don’t try to smooth it over, please. If you could do me one favor, just don’t say anything. Anything at all. I just want to go home.”

He did exactly as she asked, kept his silence on the short drive. He could feel her pain. It seemed to pulse from her, sharpen the air in the car so keenly he thought it a wonder it didn’t draw blood.

Love, as he knew too well, could slice you to pieces and leave no visible scar.

He pulled up at the cottage, smoke curling from the chimney, an amazing array of colorful flowers twinkling in the evening gloom. And somewhere inside, Branna, as distant as the moon.

“Should I come in with you?”

“No. Thanks for bringing me home.”

When she started to get out, he simply touched her hand. “You’re not hard to love, deirfiúr bheag, but for some, loving is strange and boggy ground.”

“He can be careful where he steps.” Though her lips quivered, she managed an even tone. “But he can’t blame someone else for where he ends up.”

“You’d be right. I’m sorry you heard what was—”

“Don’t apologize. It’s better to see and know you’re a fool than to keep your eyes shut and keep acting like one.”

She got out quickly. He waited until she’d gone in the house before driving away. He half wished he was in love with her himself, and could show her what it was to be cherished.

But as that wasn’t an option, and it likely wasn’t wise to go home and pound on Boyle’s rock-hard head with a hammer, he’d go by and fetch Connor. They’d sit down with a bottle of whiskey, the three of them, and as good mates would, get Boyle drunk instead.

Iona went straight in. She had no intention of crying on Branna’s or anyone else’s shoulder. She had no intention of crying at all. What she intended to do was hang on to the anger, and that would see her through the worst of it.

So she went straight in, and straight back to the kitchen where Branna sat at the table with her enormous spell book with its carved and well-tended brown leather binding, an iPad, a notebook, and several keenly sharpened pencils.

Branna glanced up, cocked her head in question. “What, did you just go, turn around and come back?”

“Yep. I’m having a really big glass of wine,” she said as she walked to the cabinet. “Do you want one?”

Now Branna’s eyebrows drew together. “I wouldn’t say no. What happened? Did you have another encounter with Cabhan?”

“Not everything is about Cabhan and ancient fricking evil.” True to her word, she poured an enormous glass of wine, then a more sedate one for her cousin.

“Well now, here’s a mood that’s come on in under twenty minutes. Wasn’t your horse happy to see you then?”

“I never got to Alastar, which is just one more thing I can be pissed about. I never saw my horse, never got my ride.” She handed Branna the glass, tapped her own to it. “Bloody sláinte.”

When Iona flopped down at the table, Branna took a sip of wine, studied her cousin over the rim. Anger, yes, but hurt besides. Deliberately she kept her voice breezy.

“Not Cabhan or the horse, so what does that leave? Let me see, could it be Boyle?”

“Could be and is. I walked into the stables when he was ranting to Fin about how inconvenient it is for him to have me around all the time, in his space. In his way, in his bed. Wrapped around him like a vine in his words.”

“He’s an idiot, and I hope you gave him a solid boot for it. Men can be loathsome creatures, especially when they put their heads together.”