Page 113 of Shadow Spell

As she struggled to remember, Connor slowly eased away.

“You took it off?”

“I was that mad. I took it off, stuffed it in my jacket pocket. I snapped at poor Mick—and everyone else as well, so Boyle... Yes, Boyle sent me out to the compost pile. I put on one of the barn coats, left my own jacket behind.”

“You weren’t wearing it at all? And the pocket charms I made you?”

“In my pocket—in the jacket I left in the stables. I didn’t give it a thought because... Connor.”

He stood abruptly, and in his face she saw only cold rage.

“You took it off, left it behind because I gave it to you.”

“No. Yes.” It was all such a muddle. “I wasn’t thinking properly, don’t you see? I was so angry.”

“Because I love you, you were angry enough to go out, without protection.”

“I wasn’t thinking of it that way. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was stupid. I was beyond stupid. Connor—”

“Well then, it’s done, and you’re safe enough now. I’ll send Branna up with the broth.”

“Connor, don’t go. Please, let me—”

“You need the quiet now to finish the healing. I’m not able to be quiet now, so I can’t be with you.”

He went out, closed the door between them.

She tried to get up, but her legs simply wouldn’t hold her. Now she, a woman who’d prided herself on her strength, her health, had to crawl back into bed like an invalid.

She lay back, breath unsteady, skin clammy, and her heart and mind spinning with the consequences of one careless act done in temper.

When Branna came in with a tray she could have wept with frustration.

“Where’s he gone?”

“Connor? He needed some air. He’s been sitting with you for hours.”

Branna arranged the tray—an invalid’s tray with feet so it would sit over the lap of the sick and the weak. Meara stared at it with absolute loathing.

“You’ll feel stronger after the tea and broth. It’s natural to be shaky and weak just now.”

“I feel I’ve been sick half my life.” Then she looked up, cleared her own frustrations enough to see the fatigue and worry in Branna’s eyes. “I’m poor at it, aren’t I? Never been sick more than a few hours. You’ve seen to that. You always have. I’m so sorry, Branna. I’m so sorry for this.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Eyes weary, hair bundled up messily, Branna sat on the side of the bed. “Here now, have some of the broth. It’s the next step.”

“In what?”

“Getting back to yourself.”

Since she wanted that—she couldn’t mend things with Connor when she could barely lift a spoon—she began to eat. The first taste was like ambrosia.

“I thought I was starved, but I couldn’t really feel much of anything. It’s wonderful to feel hungry, and this is brilliant. I can’t piece it all together. I remember it, most of it, clear enough until I started back to the stables, then it goes dim.”

“Once you feel yourself again, you’ll remember. It’s a kind of protection.”

“Oh God.” Meara squeezed her eyes shut.

“Is there pain? Darling—”

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