Page 25 of Whiskey & Witches

“Here, you’ve not heard it from my lips yet.” He toasted her with his glass. “Could be it is.”

“But probably it isn’t,” she snapped. “Get on with it. I’m tired, and my body aches. No thanks to your lot.”

Ronan set his tumbler down and crossed to her. Squatting to make his face level with hers, he took her measure and met her wary gaze. “I can ease your pain if you’d let me.”

The war between trust and suspicion waged in her turbulent eyes. “And what is it you’ll be wanting in return?”

She read him so easily. Only one woman before her ever had: Rebecca Walsh-Thorne. Roisin reminded him of his ex-lover. Although opposite in looks and style, they both had a direct look and don’t-fuck-with-me vibe that were fair warning to anyone who paused to take note.

“I want to keep my magic.” He surprised himself with the truth as much as he shocked her. Sitting back on his butt, he wrapped his arms around his raised knees and clasped his hands together. Absently, he studied them. Those two large palms of his could conjure mayhem and maim another with ease. Not that he wanted to retain his abilities for those reasons, but he didn’t ever want to be vulnerable again. Not like he had been as a child facing his evil-incarnate father. “If the O’Malley family fulfills the prophecy, I lose everything,” he confessed, meeting her eyes. “But nothing changes for all of you if they don’t.”

“And your desire for power was worth this?” She pointed to the ruined side of her face. “Worth the life of my sister?” Her voice rose with every question, but it was the next one that struck Ronan where it hurt. “Worth destroying a small boy and causing him physical injury?”

Ronan was no match for the angry tears racing down her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry, Roisin. More than you’ll ever know.” When she scoffed her disbelief, he shook his head. “It’s the god’s-honest truth. Seamus and Moira are madder than March hares and harder to control. The accident was done before I’d ever discovered what they were planning.”

She stared at him, and he was certain she saw down to his base layer. Down to where all his childhood fears resided. Down to the secret place where his demons lived. Those fecking demons. They were always telling him he wasn’t good enough, clever enough, or brave enough to take what he wanted.

“Look, a prophecy is exactly that, don’t ya know. They’re unbreakable, and they always come to pass.” Roisin actually looked at him with pity, and he wanted to throw up to ease the ache in his belly. “You can’t stop it, Ronan O’Connor, no matter how many car accidents or fires you cause.”

“Fire?” He clenched his jaw, and he feared he’d crack his damned molars if he wasn’t careful. Inhaling and exhaling a long, slow breath, he asked, “Whatfire?”

If Roisin didn’t know better,she’d actually believe Ronan was telling the truth. He certainly seemed surprised by her presence in his beastly castle and by the vandalizing of her cottage.

“Earlier tonight. Someone set fire to my home—with me in it.”

Instantaneous anger flooded the man’s face, and Roisin leaned back in the chair, fearing Ronan’s white-hot rage.

“Regardless of whether it was one of them or not, I’ll see to the repairs,” he growled.

“Oh, there’s no doubt it was Seamus, to be sure. The fecker still has the gravel from my drive on his knees.” She glared at him. “And I don’t want your help, O’Connor. Any repairs will be done by me or mine.” She didn’t know where she had the courage to argue, but she’d be damned if she’d take charity from the likes ofhim.

He snorted derisively. “And where will you be finding the funds, huh? It’s not as if your family is flush with cash, Roisin.”

Embarrassment fired her cheeks, and she lifted her chin. “It doesn’t make a blind bit of difference, O’Connor. I’ll not take your hand-outs.”

He threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat and rose to glare down at her. “Fine. Let the whole fecking building fall in on itself, for all I care.”

To make herself feel less small, she stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “I’m going home. You can remove the wards, or I’ll reduce your ugly castle to rubble. The choice is yours.”

His anger vanished as quickly it appeared, and his silvery eyes sparkled with his amusement. There was something akin to admiration in his gaze as he shook his head. “It’s necessary to remove your memory of this conversation first.”

A shiver of unease snaked down her spine. It was important she remember tonight, remember all who were a threat to her family, so she could prepare for the coming battle. Good versus evil, so to speak. “No.”

“Look, I’m not giving you a choice, Roisin, and it’s sorry I am for that. But I can’t take the risk of either the O’Malleys or the Thornes coming after me.”

She could’ve made a mad dash for the door, but what would’ve been the point? At no time in any universe would she be faster or stronger than Ronan O’Connor with his long muscled legs.

But perhaps she was smarter.

“I’ll make a pact with you. You keep those jackals away from my son, and I’ll keep your secret.”

He frowned, and his eyes narrowed on her as he tried to gage her truthfulness.

She tried to portray the picture of innocence and trust.

It wasn’t easy.

With a resigned sigh, he shook his head. “I wasn’t born yesterday, woman. But I’ll do my best to keep those two at bay, all the same. C’mere, and I’ll take you home.”

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