Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

“You’ll look after her, won’t you, Meara? You and Iona will see to her. I won’t be long at Fin’s unless I’m needed. And we’ll stay here tonight.”

“Give Fin what he needs, and we’ll see to Branna.”

“Without making it like you’re seeing to her.”

She shot the fretting brother a glance. “I’ve known her near as long as you, Connor. I think I know how to handle Branna O’Dwyer as much as any can. We’ll give her a bit of female time, then leave her alone. She’ll do best with the quiet and alone.”

“True enough. I’ll run over to Fin’s, and be back as soon as I can.”

“If you need to stay, you’ve only to let us know.” She turned her face for a kiss when he came over, smiled at his quick, hard hug.

She finished up Branna’s tea while Connor put on his outdoor gear, and turned to Boyle when they were alone. “It looks like you’re left with the dirty dishes.” Meara gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as she sailed out.

He looked around the empty kitchen, sighed. “Ah, well.” And rolled up his sleeves.

• • •

CONNOR WALKED STRAIGHT INTO FIN’S AS HE HAD SINCE the day the front door went up. Before, come to that, as he’d installed the door himself.

He found Fin with another whiskey in front of the living room fire, the little stable dog Bugs curled up sleeping at his feet.

“I’ve orders to check in on you,” he announced, and thought it was good he had. Fin looked as worn and bruised as Branna.

“I’m fine, as you can see plain enough.”

“You’re not, as I see plain enough,” Connor corrected, and helped himself to a whiskey, then a chair. “Iona’s after drawing Branna a bath, and Meara’s making her tea. She’s letting them, which tells me she needs the fussing. What do you need?”

“And if I ask it, you’ll give it?”

“You know I will, though it’s a mortifying thought I may be drawing your bath and tucking you up.”

Fin didn’t smile, only shifted his gaze from whatever he saw in the fire, met Connor’s eyes. “It was a hard pull, a bloody brutal pull. For a moment I could feel all it promises. That power beyond what any of us hold. It’s black and it’s cold, but it’s . . . seductive. And all I have to say is, I’ll take it.”

“You didn’t. And you won’t.”

“I didn’t, this time. Or times before, but it’s a call to the blood. And to the animal that’s inside all of us. So I’ll ask you for something, Connor, as you’re my friend as near as much a brother to me as you are to Branna.”

“I’m both.”

“Then you’ll swear to me, on your own blood, on your heart where your magick roots, if I turn, if the pull is too much and I fall, you’ll stop me by whatever means it takes.”

“You’d never—”

“I need you to swear it,” Fin interrupted, eyes fierce. “Otherwise I’ll need to go, I’ll need to leave here, leave her—leave all of you. I won’t risk it.”

Connor stretched out his legs, crossed his boots at the ankles, stared at them for several moments.

Then slowly, he lifted his gaze to Fin’s.

“Listen to yourself. You want his end more than the three, more than the three we come from, but you’d step away, on the chance you’ve put in your block of a head you could fall when you’ve stood all this time.”

“You weren’t in the cave. You didn’t feel what I felt.”

“I’m here now. I’ve known you near to all our lives, before the mark came on you and after. I know who you are. And because I do, I’ll swear it to you, Fin, if that’s what you need. What I have comes from my heart, as you said, and my heart knows you. So you’ll have your brood, and I’ll say you’ve earned it. And tomorrow we’ll be back to it.”

“All right then.” Steadier now, Fin sipped his whiskey. “I have earned a brood.”

“That you have, and I’ll brood with you until I finish my whiskey.” Connor sipped and sat awhile in silence. “We both love her,” he said.

Fin leaned back, shut his eyes. “That’s the fucking truth.”

And love, Connor knew well, pulled stronger than any dark promises.

10

FIN CONSIDERED HIMSELF SOCIABLE ENOUGH. HE KNEW when to stand a round in the pub, was a good guest who could make conversation at dinner. If he had mates over to watch a match or play some snooker, he provided plenty of beer and food and didn’t fuss about the mess made.

He hadn’t been raised in a barn, after all, so he understood as well as any man the basic expectations and duties when hosting a party.

Iona reeducated him.

In midafternoon on the last day of the year, she came to his door with her sunlight crown of hair tucked into a bright blue cap he remembered her Nan had knit her for Christmas. And loaded down with shopping bags.

“Didn’t we just have Christmas?”

“Party supplies.” She pushed some bags in his hand, carried the rest with her as she walked back to his kitchen. After dumping them on the center island, she pulled off her coat, scarf, hat, gloves, then her boots—and took all of them into his laundry room.

“We’ve got candles,” she began.

“I have candles. I bought some from Branna not long before Yule.”

“Not enough, not nearly.” Both firmness and pity lived in Iona’s shake of the head. “You need them everywhere.”

She dug into a bag, started taking things out. “These are for the living room mantel. You’ll get a twelve-hour burn, so you want to light them about a half hour before you expect people to start coming.”

“Do I?”

“You do,” she said definitely. “They’ll set a pretty, celebrational yet elegant atmosphere. These are for the powder room up here, and for the bathroom downstairs, and the main bath upstairs. No one should go into your master suite unless invited, but there’s extra so you should put some there, just in case. And these are guest towels—pretty, simple, and disposable.”

She laid out a wrapped stack of white napkins embossed with silver champagne flutes.

“So people don’t have to dry their hands on the same cloth towel someone else dried their hands on.”

Fin let out a quick laugh. “Seriously now?”

“Fin, look at my face.” She pointed to it. “Deadly serious. I got some extra candles for your dining room in case you didn’t have enough there, and others for the mantel on your lower level. Now, it’s essential you make sure there’s plenty of TP in the bathrooms. Women hate, loathe, and despise when they’re sitting there and there’s no TP.”

“I can only imagine. Fortunately.”

“I plan to do an hourly check on the bathrooms, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’re a comfort to me, Iona.”

She laid her hands on his cheeks. “I got you into this, and I said I’d help. I’m here to help. Now. The caterers will pretty much take over the kitchen, and they’ll know what they’re doing. I checked on them, and they’re supposed to be stellar. Good choice.”

“Thanks. I do what I can.”

She only smiled. “We’ll just want to be sure the servers understand they’ll need to cover your lower level with food and drink because you’re going to have a lot of people gathering down there to play games, dance, and hang out. You’ll have fires going, of course.”

“Well, of course.”

“I know everyone will have plenty to eat and drink. It’s not called The Night of the Big Portion or . . . wait.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Or Oiche ne Coda Moire , for nothing.”

Now he grinned at her. “You handled the Irish brilliantly.”

“I’ve been practicing. We don’t have to get into the New Year’s Eve tradition of cleaning the house—I read up on Irish traditions—because yours is already spotless. You’re as scary as Branna there, so I’m going to put these candles where they belong, and the guest towels, and oh—” She reached into another bag. “I picked up these pretty mints and these candied almonds. The colors are so pretty, and it’s a nice thing to have here and there in little bowls. Oh, and Boyle’s picking up the rolling rack I borrowed from Nan’s friend’s daughter.”