Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

She heard the shouting, the rise of voices, the countdown. Behind her, the mantel clock began to strike.

“It’s going onto midnight.”

Only seconds, she thought, between what was and what is. And from there what would be. She took a step toward him. Then took another.

Would she have walked by him? she asked herself when he pulled her to him. No. No, not this time. At least this one time.

Instead she linked her arms around his neck, looked into his eyes. And on the stroke of midnight met his lips with hers.

Light snapped between them, an electric jolt that shocked the blood, slammed into the heart. Then shimmered into an endlessly longed-for warmth.

Oh, to feel like this, to finally feel like this again. To finally have her body, her heart, her spirit united in that longing, that warmth, that singular wild joy.

His lips on her lips, his breath with her breath, his heart on her heart. And all the sorrow blown away as if it never was.

He’d thought once what he felt for her was all, was beyond what anyone could feel. But he’d been wrong. This, after all the years without her, was more.

The scent of her filling him, the taste of her undoing him. She gave as she once had, everything in a simple kiss. Sweetness and strength, power and surrender, demand and generosity.

He wanted to hold on to her, hold on to that moment until the end of his days.

But she pulled back, stayed a moment, brushed a hand over his cheek, then stepped back from him.

“It’s a new year.”

“Stay with me, Branna.”

Now she laid a hand on his heart. Before she could speak, Connor and Meara turned into the room.

“We were just—”

“Going,” Meara finished Connor’s sentence. “Going back right now.”

“Right. Sure, we weren’t even here.”

“It’s all right.” Branna left her hand on Fin’s heart another moment, then let it fall away. “We’re coming back now. Fin’s been too long away from his own party. We’ll go toast the New Year. For luck. For light. For what may be.”

“For what should be,” Fin said, and walked out ahead of them.

“Go with him,” Meara suggested, and moved into Branna. “Are you all right then?”

“I am. But it’s God’s truth I could do with a drink, and as much as it goes against my nature, a lot of noise and people.”

“We’ll get all of that.”

When she put an arm around Branna’s waist, Branna leaned into her a moment. “How could I love him more now than once I did? How could it be so much more in me for him when what was, was everything?”

“Love can fade and die. I’ve seen it. It can grow and build as well. I think when it’s real and meant, it can only grow bigger and stronger.”

“It’s not meant to be a misery.”

“No. It’s what we do with it that’s the misery or the joy, I think, not the love.”

Branna sighed, gave Meara a long look. “When did you get so bloody wise about it?”

“Since I let myself love.”

“Let’s go toast to that then. To you letting yourself love, to Iona’s party skills, to the New bloody Year, to the end of Cabhan. I feel I might want to get a wee bit snackered.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t get snackered right along with you? Let’s find some champagne.”

11

HE WAS MORE THAN DONE WITH PEOPLE. AT HALF-TWO in the morning, far too many of them lingered in his house, cozied up as if they’d stay till spring. He considered just going upstairs, shutting himself in, leaving them to it. He was brutally tired, and more, that moment—that incredible moment with Branna had cross-wired his emotions so he didn’t know what he felt.

So it seemed easier all around to shut it all off and feel nothing at all.

She seemed perfectly content to sit, sip champagne, chat with whoever remained. But that was Branna, wasn’t it? Strong as steel.

The best thing for him would be a few hours’ escape in sleep. They’d be back to Cabhan in the morning—or later in the morning. And the sooner the better. Ending him would fulfill his obligations. Ending Cabhan would end his own personal torment.

So he’d slip away—no one would miss him by this point.

Then Iona stepped up, as if she’d read his mind, twined her arm with his, took his hand.

“The problem with throwing a really great party is people don’t want to leave.”

“I do.”

She laughed, squeezed his hand. “We’re down to the diehards, and we’ll start nudging them along. Your circle won’t leave you alone with them. Give it about twenty minutes. What you should do is go around, start gathering up the empties since the caterers left a couple hours ago. It’s a sign it’s time to go.”

“If you say.”

“I do.” To demonstrate, she began picking up bottles and glasses, gave Boyle a telling look that had him doing the same.

In moments a handful of those diehards readied to go with many thanks and wishes for a happy and prosperous New Year. And in the case of a few, such as Sean, heartfelt if somewhat sloppy hugs.

Party magicks, Fin decided, and started on discarded tea and coffee cups.

He carted them up to the kitchen, said good-bye to another handful. Two birds, he decided, he’d have the party debris dealt with, and move out the stragglers.

Though it took thirty minutes rather than Iona’s predicted twenty, he wouldn’t complain.

“That’s the last of them,” Iona announced.

“Thank the gods.”

“You gave a lot of people a fun and memorable evening.” She tipped onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “And you had one yourself.”

“I’m happy to remember it now that it’s done. And thank you for all you did.”

“Couldn’t have had a better time of it.” She glanced around the living room, nodded. “And we’re not leaving you with much of a mess. Branna, I can ride with you if you want, just leave my car here. I’m not taking Nan to the airport until afternoon tomorrow, so I can come back for it easily.”

“Best you ride with Boyle.”

“We’ll make a caravan of it,” Connor said as he shrugged into his coat. “A short drive for certain, but it’s still the dead of night. Branna can follow you and Boyle out, and Meara and I will come up behind.”

“I’m not driving home tonight at all. I’m staying here.”

Branna looked at Fin as she spoke. He wasn’t sure how he kept his feet when she’d rocked him back so stunningly on his heels.

“Well then!” Brightly, Meara smiled, and jammed her cap on her head. “We’ll be off. Good night, and happy New Year.”

“But,” Connor began as she all but dragged him to the door with Iona pushing Boyle behind him.

“Would you let me get my coat on?” Boyle complained even as Iona firmly closed the door behind the four of them.

Fin stood exactly where he was. Only one thought managed to eke through the logjam in his mind. “Why?”

“I decided for this time, this place, I wouldn’t think about yesterday or about tomorrow. It may be we’ll both come to regret it, but I want to be with you. I always have, likely always will, but this is only tonight. There can’t be any promises or building dream castles this time around, and we both know that. But there’s need, and there’s finally trust again.”

“You’re content with that?”

“I find I am, and God knows I’ve turned it all over a hundred different ways, but I find I am content with that. We’re both entitled to make this choice. You asked me to stay with you. I’m saying I will.”

So much of the turmoil inside him settled into calm even as all the resignation he’d carried for years dropped away to make room for a tangle of joy and anticipation.

“Maybe I changed my mind on it.”