Page 57 of Wine & Warlocks

As he arrived beside Dubheasa, the woman turned chocolaty eyes his way, and he realized the O’Malleys’ remarkable emerald shade must’ve come from their father’s side. Her gaze was assessing, and though they’d never met before, recognition flashed across her face. Seconds later, she adopted an innocent air.

“Sure, and this must be your future groom,” the woman purred as she looked her fill. “You’re a big ride, yeah? I can see why Dubheasa is so smitten with ya.”

When she would’ve touched him, he stepped out of her reach and pinned her in place with a blazing hands-off stare.

“I’ll not have ya acting maggot at my wedding, Mam,” Dubheasa snapped.

Bridget wedged herself between them. “Go back to whatever hole ya crawled out of and keep out of our lives. You’re not wanted here, ya horrid wagon.”

“Aye, and it hurts that me own daughters are so unwelcomin’.” With a sniff, she delicately dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

Ronan suspected the action was as fake as the rest of her.

“Mam.” Cian wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders and directed her away from the O’Malley sisters. What words he spoke to soothe her were swallowed by the noise of the pub patrons, but Bridget’s few choice statements were enough to make Ronan’s ears scarlet from embarrassment.

“Don’t tell me he’s that gullible,” Castor said from behind him.

“Aye,” Bridget snapped. “He’s got a soft spot for her, and he’s taken in by her lies time and again. For so clever a brain, he’s a feckin’ fool when it comes to our mam. Just like our da was.” She shook her head. “Da called her his ‘Wild Red Rose’ and doted on her—until the day he didn’t.”

“You think she learned about the wedding via the Authority’s community-wide enchantment?” Castor murmured.

Ronan shrugged, not caring one way or the other. He shifted to face Dubheasa and rested a hand on her hip as he stroked the tension from the back of her neck. “Are you all right, Dove?”

“After all these years, you’d think I’d be numb to her presence, but she still makes my blood boil. It feels like ants crawling under my skin.” She shook out her arms with a shudder. “And I know she’s a chancer, but I don’t know why I hate her as I do.”

Trevor arrived to hear Dubheasa’s comment. “She’s soulless and selfish,” he stated flatly. “Her kind lives for the trouble they can cause.”

“Can you sense it, then?” Bridget asked.

“To a degree, but it’s more about her microexpressions.” He shot Ronan a sharp glance. “You witnessed them, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Aye.” And like Dubheasa, it felt as if ants were crawling under his skin.

* * *

“The wedding isa ploy to lure you away from here,” Rose Doyle-O’Malley told Loman as he poured her a generous glass of red wine. She glanced at the label and smiled. Only the highest quality was stored in his cellar. As she savored the fruity notes of her first sip, she met his calculating gaze. “You’re not surprised.”

“My son isn’t as clever as he likes to think he is.” He picked up a book of poetry and dropped it with a resounding thud. “And I was after lurin’ him here first, I was.”

“By reciting poetry?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh. The immediate backhanded slap he gave her knocked her into the wall, and she cringed as he lifted his arm a second time. “I didn’t mean anythin’ by it, Loman. I was just havin’ the craic.”

“Well have it somewhere else, woman. I’ll not tolerate your insolence in me bed or out of it,” he warned.

Rose suppressed a shiver to hide her building terror. Loman O’Connor was not a man to be crossed, and she’d do well to remember it.

“How is it ya tricked Ronan?” she asked, infusing curiosity and deference into her question and hoping to distract him.

For a painful heart-pounding minute, he watched her through narrowed eyes, as if he were trying to decide whether to give his temper free rein or to believe she’d been suitably punished. She prayed it was the latter. With a sneer, he lifted his glass tumbler and guzzled half his drink, and Rose decided she was going to find a way to escape for the night before he turned meaner than usual under the influence of the hard liquor he preferred.

“There are cameras in the cells. All cloaked, yeah, and I’ve paid special attention to Reginald’s actions. He was too keen on the contents of that bleedin’ book, to be sure.” Finishing off his whiskey, Loman slammed the glass on the bar next to him, then poured himself another. “He found a way to talk to the outside world through his magic book. Clever boy.”

She could almost believe Loman held a special place in his heart for his nephew—except he didn’t possess one. Only an empty black hole existed in its place, and it sought to drag everything and everyone into its orbit to consume and destroy.

After downing the contents of his glass, he poured yet another. It wouldn’t be long before his fists did the talking for him. One day, if she wasn’t careful, he’d kill her.

“Yeah, and I slowly fed Reggie what I wanted the Seer to know, I did,” he eventually revealed.

A trap.

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