Page 52 of Wine & Warlocks

His blood turned to ice at her ill-timed joke.

She placed her palm over his heart. “Ronan?”

“I’m sorry for checking out like that. But maybe you don’t joke about dying, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“You weren’t, Dove. The situation could use some levity, but a spirit walked across my grave when you mentioned dying tomorrow. I’ve a right powerful aversion to your death.”

“But not Loman’s?” she teased.

“Never his.” Cupping the nape of her neck, Ronan hauled her against him. “Thinking about my da is the other thing that shrivels me bollocks. How about we discuss other more pleasant topics?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“How about you kiss me and we’ll talk about the first thing that comes up?” he suggested with a low growl.

Her peal of laughter turned the others’ heads. “Ronan O’Connor, you’ve got a naughty streak a mile wide, ya do.”

“Only with you, Dove.” He lowered his head and kissed her breathless. “Only with you.”

* * *

“Walk with me, love,”Ronan said.

Dubheasa took the hand he offered and rose to her feet, eager to be away from the gloom and doom of the upcoming battle with Loman. Castor and Alastair had drilled the rules into everyone for hours, and she was sick of the repetitiveness of the plan.

“Don’t go far,” Castor warned.

“Feck off. I’m after doin’ what I want,” Ronan replied, but he winked to take the sting from his words.

“Kids these days.” Alastair shook his head, but a smile teased his mouth.

“Truth,” Castor said with a hearty sigh. “They’re never willing to listen or learn from those with experience, are they?”

With a chuckle, Ronan led Dubheasa to the back garden, where members of Alastair’s security team were busy arranging flowers and chairs for the ceremony.

“Is this what you would want for our wedding if you could choose for yourself, Dove?”

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Ronan O’Connor?”

“Nah. You’ll be the one to propose to me because you’re a modern-day woman.”

She laughed at his jest. Pausing to consider his question, she viewed the venue as a whole. A white runner ran the aisle between five rows of six white folding chairs. Wide-mouth planters overflowed with violet-blue hydrangeas at the beginning and end of every row. A low-rise wooden platform served as the main stage for the couple and was as wide across as the area for the guests. Pillar candles rested in the holders of five-foot-tall candelabras on all four sides of the platform. A six-foot-wide arbor with English ivy was centered per Ronan’s odd request.

Dubheasa had no problem imagining him standing up there in a smart blue suit as he straightened his cuffs and fiddled with the buttons of his starched white shirt. He’d be nervous she might not show, but hopeful all the same. The moment she set foot on the runner, he would focus on her with the right amount of fervor to steal her breath away, and a beatific smile would transform his face from severe to blissful and loving.

“Yes. This is exactly what I would want,” she said with a soft smile. “And you? Is it what you would want for your wedding?”

“The vision you just had? Aye.” His voice was rough with emotion, and his eyes were full of a love so great that it was impossible to deny.

“You saw that?” Their link had grown stronger over the last twenty-four hours, and she shouldn’t have been surprised he’d bore witness to her fantasy, but she was.

“It was a beautiful sight.” He lifted his arm and, in a brilliant flash of light, created a perfect blood-red rose. With the velvety edge of the pedals, he brushed her jaw, then presented it to her. “One I’ll hold next to my heart until the day we can make it a reality.”

“Me, too.”

Ronan kissed their joined hands. “Are you worried about the binding of your abilities?”

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