Page 83 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

“Consider it a job well done,” Eoin muttered. He nodded toward the main section of the house. “What’s Dubheasa carryin’ on about?”

“What else? Ronan Fucking O’Connor.”

“Should I head back into the studio, then?”

“I would.” Fintan shot a look toward the hallway as if demons lurked just around the corner. “As a matter of fact, I might be takin’ up art meself.”

“You’re afraid of my sister?” Eoin was incredulous that the towering fella next to him was scared of a woman. Dubheasa was a force of nature all her own, but she had a softer side, all the same.

“Nother.” Fintan turned his back and headed the way he came. “Save yourself the headache, O’Malley. Lock yourself in the studio, and don’t come out for the next week and a half.”

“Sure, and now you’ve got me curious.”

“It’s your head, man.” With an abrupt wave, Fintan was gone, leaving Eoin with a burning curiosity.

“Feck.”

He trudged down the long corridor from the south wing toward the main stairwell, questioning his sanity in seeking out Dubheasa while she was in a temper. But he felt her unspoken disquiet, and it was what compelled him to continue until he found her. Eoin entered the salon, crossed to kiss Brenna, then flopped on the sofa, one arm behind his head. “What did I miss?”

“Ronan Fucking O’Connor!” Dubheasa threw her hands up. “We need to kill the man!”

Thunder boomed overhead, and the ground rumbled in response.

A single check showed Brenna behind his sister, frantically shaking her head.“Don’t get her started again. It’s the Guardian-mate thing.”

“She’s in a snit because he refuses to give up on courtin’ her?”

Brenna gave a single nod, and as she selected a pastry from the tray, one of her newly designed silver bracelets clinked against the plate. And as she bit into apain au chocolat, her eyesrolled back in ecstasy, not dissimilar to her expression from last night.

Turned out, her charmed jewelry worked brilliantly to keep her Siren contained while they made love.

She caught his stare and frowned slightly.

Eoin grinned, when she misinterpreted his look.

“I still don’t know how Fintan anticipates all our needs. But that man is a miracle worker.”

“He’s a Seer, love. It’s his gift.”

“How—”

“Eoin! Are ya even payin’ attention to me here?” Dubheasa demanded, interrupting his telepathic conversation with Brenna.

“Aye. You’restillright fierce in your determination to shun Ronan O’Connor and avoid becoming a Sentinel of Magic.” He gestured to the window with his thumb. “Was the thunder your doing? That’s new.”

Taryn Stephens, Dubheasa’s best friend and coven mate, snorted and choked on her tea. When she had her coughing under control, she shoved her thick titian- and mocha-colored hair behind her ears.

It occurred to Eoin that she was just the type of woman to appeal to Fintan, and he understood exactly why the man was hiding; he was running from his feelings. Fintan and Dubheasa were two peas in the same pod. Both feared what would happen if they fell for their prospective mates.

But Eoin could’ve told them to stop running and give in to fate’s design. Because the last month with Brenna had been the best of his life.

Heaven on earth.

“That’s exactly how I would’ve described it. I love you, Eoin.”

From across the room, he met her sparkling, soul-stealing eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me four years to wake the fuck up, love.”

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