Page 93 of Shadow Spell

“The one that smells of apricots and honey? It’s lovely.” He kissed Branna’s cheeks. “So that’s thanks on a magickal and a romantic sort of level. I should’ve known the pair of you would add precautions. For me, she’s never out of Roibeard’s sight unless she’s in mine.”

“Well, give her over to Merlin for an hour or so—Fin would be willing. And go hawking.” With a hand on his shoulder for a boost, Branna rose. “Put the potatoes in the little cellar and take your hawk out for a bit. I expect you could both use the time.”

“What about the boiling and blanching and all the rest?”

“You’re dismissed.”

“And the soup?”

She laughed, gave him a light knock on the head with her fist. “Here’s my thought. Tell Boyle I’ll need Meara around here in...” Branna looked up at the beaming sun, calculated the time. “Three hours will work. Then the rest of you should be here by half-six. We’ll have your soup, and a rocket salad as I’ll have Iona cut it fresh, some brown bread, and cream cake.”

“Cake? What occasion is this?”

“We’ll have acéili. It’s long past time we had a party here.”

Brushing his hands on his pants, Connor pushed to his feet. “I can see I need to develop a sour mood more often.”

“It won’t work a second time. Go store those potatoes, go find your hawk, and be back here at half-six.”

“I’ll do all that. Thanks.”

She went back, picked more tomatoes as now she’d be making the soup for six, and glanced over at Iona after Connor had gone.

“He doesn’t know yet,” Iona said. “He’d tell you if he did. You if no one else. So he doesn’t know he’s in love with her.”

“He doesn’t know yet, but he’s coming around to it. Sure he’s loved her all his life, so realizing it’s another sort of love than he let himself believe takes some time.”

Branna looked toward the cottage, thought of him, thought of Meara. “She’s the only one he’ll ever want a life with, or a lifetime. Others have and could touch his heart, but none but Meara could break it.”

“She never would.”

“She loves him, and always has. And he’s the only one she’ll ever want a life with, or a lifetime. But she hasn’t his faith in love or its power. If she can trust herself and him, they’ll make each other. If she can’t, she’ll break his heart and her own.”

“I believe in love and its power. And I believe that when given the choice, Meara will reach for it, hold on to it, and treasure it.”

“I hope more than I hope for almost anything else you’re right.” Branna let out a breath. “Meanwhile, the two of them haven’t yet figured why no one else in the world has ever made them feel as they do now. The heart, it’s a fierce and mysterious thing. Let’s get all this inside, scrubbed off. I’ll show you how to start the soup, then we’ll see how much we can jar before Meara comes.”

***

SHE ARRIVED, TIMELY AND OUT OF SORTS.

Once she’d stalked through to the kitchen, she fisted her hands on her hips, frowned at the shining jars of colorful vegetables cooling on the counter, the soup simmering low on the stove.

“What’s all this? If you’ve called me here to do kitchen work, you’re to be sorely disappointed. I’ve had enough work altogether today.”

“We’re nearly done,” Branna said pleasantly.

“I’m having a beer.” Meara completed her stalk to the fridge, yanked out a bottle of Smithwick’s.

“Is everything all right at the stables?”

Meara snarled at Iona. “All right? Oh, sure it’s been more than all right with us having a summer day in October and every blessed soul within fifty kilometers deciding nothing would do but they ride a horse today. If I wasn’t taking out a group, I was doing rubdowns or hauling saddles in, hauling them out.”

She waved the beer in the air before opening it. “And didn’t Caesar take it in his head to bite Rufus on the arse, and this after I told the Spanish lady riding him to give the horses some space. So then I had a near hysterical Spanish lady on my hands, and I can barely understand her as she’s hystericalinSpanish, and doing half the talking with her hands so the reins are flying about giving Caesar the notion she wants a fine gallop.”

“Oh God.” Iona spoiled the attempt to sound concerned by choking off a laugh.

“Oh sure it’s an amusement to you.”

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