Page 36 of Wine & Warlocks

Surging to her feet, she nearly knocked Castor on his arse to get to Ronan. In three long-legged strides, she was in front of him, ready to do battle. And damned if she wasn’t a fierce sight! Passions high and green eyes snapping, she seemed prepared to tear his head from his shoulders.

Ronan fought a grin as he held up his hands in surrender. “Now, Dove, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“And what way was it supposed to be soundin’? Because from my side of the conversation, it sounded like you were after being an eejit!”

There was a laughing snort behind him, and while normally Ronan would’ve given the snorter what for, he ignored Quentin to placate Dubheasa. “Sure, and I’ll be admittin’ you’re right, love. I was definitely an eejit.” As some of her anger dissipated, Ronan wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her flush against him. “It’s after apologizing, I am.”

“P-whipped,” Quentin coughed into his hand.

Again, Ronan disregarded his cousin. “Please say you forgive me, Dove.”

For one delicious moment, she softened against him, but in the next instant, she leaned back, her palms planted firmly against his chest. “What’s this, then? Are you using your special brand of influence to sway me?”

“If that’s code for the two of you making out, I’m going to need eye bleach,” Quentin quipped.

With a warning glare over his shoulder, Ronan addressed him. “If you don’t shut the feck up, I’ll be littering the field down the lane with what’s left of your remains.”

“Can’t. You need my ability to stop time.”

“Anythin’ you can do, I’m wagering your da can do better.”

Castor grinned. “It does my heart good to see you boys getting along so well, but we need to return to the main issue.” To Dubheasa, he said, “Your boyfriend’s balls might shrivel up at the idea of angering you, but he wasn’t wrong to say you’re nuts if you think to go up against my brother without any magical backup.”

She stiffened within the circle of Ronan’s arms. “So I can’t face him with magic, according to Fintan, but you’re telling me I can’t face him without it. What’s it to be, then?”

“You don’t confront him at all.” Castor was deadly serious, and Ronan silently but wholeheartedly agreed with his uncle’s declaration. He didn’t want her anywhere near his father.

“We still haven’t found Loman’s lair, Dubheasa,” Quentin added. “So all this is a moot point.”

She spun back around in Ronan’s arms and gazed up into his face, searching for what, Ronan didn’t know. He hated how unsettled she appeared, and he desperately wanted to soothe her mind.

“He’s right, love. There’s no sense worrying until we have our sights on the island.”

“Ronan—”

He placed a fingertip over her parted lips. “Please, Dove. I’m not interested in fighting with you when we don’t know what our next move is.” He replaced his finger with his mouth, giving her a light, lingering kiss. Lowering his voice for her ears alone, he said, “And I’ll never use my influence on you. Your thoughts are your own. Always.”

Before she could respond, Fintan spoke up. “Look, and Loman’s prisoner count could be higher than Dubheasa has marked on that map of hers.”

CHAPTER17

“Higher?” Dubheasa’s stomach dropped. How could one man be so evil? She’d met some shady characters in her life, but Loman was the worst of the worst. His relentless quest for more power put him firmly at the top of the arsehole list and made him a lethal adversary. Despite her seemingly naive response of sending nonmagical humans to fight him, she wasn’t completely ignorant. Paying soldiers to do a job seemed wiser than sending novices like her siblings or herself into the mix.

“My guess is that he’s been targeting witches who are easier to abduct than most.” Castor cut her a sharp look. “You’ve never had any real ability of your own due to Goibhniu’s curse, but the O’Malleys are one of the original Six families who descend from the gods and goddesses. Your family’s magic makes all of you a part of the upper echelon of witches and warlocks, and while they possessed it, it made the O’Connors stronger than you could imagine.”

“And Loman would’ve become addicted to that power,” she concluded. “He’d feel weak without it and strive to compile as much as he could to confront us and get back what he lost.”

Castor nodded approvingly. “Now you’re catching on.”

“Are we going to be forced to fight him? My brothers, sister, and me?” The churning sensation the dread created inside her stomach made her want to vomit. Her worry wasn’t for herself. She simply couldn’t bear to have someone she loved die.

Whether Ronan was privy to her thoughts or simply sensed her distress, he was quick to comfort her, drawing her against him and encasing her tightly within his strong arms. A weak part of her wanted him to never let her go. His answering squeeze told her he had indeed read her mind.

“It won’t get that far, Dove. I’m after stopping him before he gets close enough to hurt you or anyone you love.”

Tilting her head, she met Ronan’s potent silver eyes, and her heart stuttered in her chest. In that instant, she realized he fell firmly into the category of those she loved. “I don’t want you to fight him, either.” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat in preparation of her confession. “I love you, Ronan O’Connor. I think it may be that I always have, and I’ll be mighty salty should anything happen to you at Loman’s hands.”

Ronan opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. His audible swallow caused his Adam’s apple to bob between the muscled columns of his throat. And when his lips tightened, Dubheasa understood his reaction. She’d felt a similar response the first time the L-word tumbled from his lips. The knowledge of holding another’s heart in your hands was humbling, and sometimes that emotion was too great in the moment to reply.

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