Page 73 of Highballs & Hexes

Ronan’s silver gaze darted to where Dubheasa was laughing with Eoin and Brenna over something Fionola was saying.

“I’ll not take offense if you tell me no. You owe me nothing.”

“I’m not telling you no, but I am intent on signaling Dove should my body turn up in a ditch, the next village over.”

His dry humor was something Patrick appreciated.

“Did you work out a code between you prior to arriving tonight?”

A quicksilver grin came and went, and Ronan’s eyes showed barely suppressed laughter. “Sure, and if I tell you we didn’t, you may get away with murder. If I tell you we did, I look weak, and that’s no way for a Guardian such as myself to appear.”

“I’m not one to tell another they’re weak. If it weren’t for you, I’d be lying bloody in that cell still.”

A pained expression crossed Ronan’s face. “I’m after apologiz?—”

“No, son. You’ve no need.” Expelling a breath, Patrick led the way outside the parlor doors to the edge of the terrace, with the assumption the other man would follow. His gaze landed on the spot where Fionola gave him a second chance after his mind was healed, and he took courage that if she could forgive him his sins against her, then maybe Ronan could, to a lesser degree. “I’m the one who owes you the apology, boyo.”

He faced his daughter’s mate and offered up a conciliatory smile. “You’ve been good to my family, saving them time and again, earning yourself the hatred of your family.”

“Sure, but most of them hated me prior to my defection, so it wasn’t so great a loss. The only one who never wavered was Ruairí.”

“And Reggie.”

Ronan’s brows shot up. “You know Reg?”

“Aye. I know that day was a bad one for you, but you may recall, his was the cell diagonal from mine. There was many a time when we talked art, philosophy, and books. He was as good a companion as I could hope for, considering the situation.”

“I’m surprised my father allowed conversation at all.”

Patrick nodded. “He’d hoped to use Reggie as a weapon one day. He’d said as much to both of us, but your cousin refused to give him the satisfaction.” He smiled in memory of Reggie’s wit, and how, more often than not, he’d taunted Loman from behind the safety of his bars. “He knew your da couldn’t retaliate without walking into the cell, and Loman feared going inside. Maybe he expected Reggie to trap him; your cousin is sure clever enough.”

“He is.” Ronan leaned back against the rail and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “Why didn’t you capture him with the others?”

“He’s a slippery one. And clever. The part of me in control at that time likely feared he’d see through the charade when I couldn’t myself.”

“Aye. There’s a semblance of truth to that, I suppose.” Ronan frowned. “But I’ve not heard from him in some time, and I’m worried for him.”

“You shouldn’t be. The man is smarter than all of us combined.” Patrick smiled as he lifted his drink in a toast to the absent Reggie, but sobered as he recalled what happened the day Dubheasa confronted Loman. “If I know your cousin, he hasn’t forgiven himself for his part in my daughter’s death. How would he know she returned from the Otherworld?”

“Both Eoin and I sent him messages in the days following her return. He knows.” Running a hand through his shaggy white-blond hair, Ronan grimaced. “He’ll come around or he won’t, but he’s been informed none of us hold ill will for him.”

“It’s happy I am to hear it.” Patrick settled back against the stone railing beside Ronan, and it allowed him to see his family as a whole as they milled about, laughing, eating, and making merry. ’Twas the one and only time Bridget agreed to shut down the pub for the night. “Will you forgive me for being an old fool?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Paddy. Your mind was not your own.” Ronan straightened. “Why would I hold it against you? And to tell ya true, I wasn’t a good man before Dove. Your family taught me what it was to be a decent human being. I owe them for their willingness to set aside their animosity, to forget that ridiculous feud, and for caring about me when I had no self love at all.”

“Aye, but you’ve developed into a person anyone would be proud to call son, brother, cousin, husband…friend.” Patrick held out a hand. “Can we be friends, Ronan O’Connor? Can you try to place your trust in me as I’m ready to do with you? Can we end this war for good this time?”

A smile curled Ronan’s generous mouth, and the man was quick to accept the peace offering. “I don’t make war on women, children, or incapacitated old men. You were lucky I knew about your injury, or this might’ve had a different outcome.”

“You knew…What are ya sayin’, boy?”

A twinkle sparked in the silvery depths of his eyes. “I’m sayin’ a Guardian sees the truth if he looks hard enoughandif he has the help of an Oracle and a Goddess to tell him what to expect.”

“Ya fecker! You couldn’t have toldme?” Patrick demanded, aghast that others had seen the outcome long before it happened.

“You wouldn’t have met Fi if I had.” After sipping his scotch, Ronan sighed. “I’ve come to understand knowing and telling can have two vastly different outcomes. The Aether and the wee Beastie have taught me that. But Anu had her reasons for allowing you to do what you did, and she told me to let you have your head in this race.”

“Her offer?”

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