Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(48)

Iona, in a short sheath of dark, deep silver, had her hands on her hips as she took—he had no doubt—eagle-eyed stock. Beside her, Meara had her hair tumbling loose over the shoulders of a gown the color of carnelian that clung to her curves.

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” he said and had both his friends turning to him. “Why have I invited people here tonight when I could have two beautiful women all to myself?”

“That’s just the sort of charm that will have all your guests talking about this party for months,” Iona told him.

“I was going to say bollocks, but it’s charming bollocks,” Meara decided. “Your home looks absolutely amazing on top of it all.”

“I didn’t have much to do with it.”

“Everything,” Iona corrected. “You just let me play with fire.” Laughing, she walked over, hooked her arm in his. “And Cecile and her team are the best. Honestly, Cecile, the food looks too good to eat.”

Cecile, a tall blonde in black pants and a vest over a crisp white shirt, flushed with pleasure. “Thanks for that, but eating it’s just what we want everyone to do. We did some stations downstairs as Iona suggested,” she told Fin. “And have a bar set up there as well. We’ll have servers passing through regularly up here, down there, to be sure all your guests are well seen to.”

“It all looks brilliant.”

“You haven’t seen downstairs.” Iona led him to the stairs and down. “I went a little mad with the candles, and got nervous, so I did a protection spell. They can’t burn anything or anyone.”

“You think of everything.”

More candles and greenery, pretty food and flowers. He walked to the bar, to the fridge behind it and took out a bottle of champagne.

“You should have the first drink.”

“I’ll take it.”

He opened the champagne with a muffled pop, poured her a flute, then poured one for himself. “It was a happy day when you came into our lives, deirfiúr bheag.”

“The happiest of my life.”

“To happy days then.”

She tapped her glass to his. “To happy days, for all of us.”

Within the hour it seemed he had half the village in his house. They swarmed or gathered, gawked or settled right in. They filled plates and glasses, sat or stood in his living room or, as Iona had predicted, wandered downstairs where the band he’d hired began their first set.

He found himself happy enough with a beer in his hand to move from conversation to conversation. But of all the faces in his house, there was one he didn’t see.

Then as if he wished it, she was there.

He came back upstairs to do his duty with his main-floor guests, and she was there, standing in his kitchen chatting with the caterers.

She’d left her hair down, a black waterfall that teased the waist of a dress of velvet the color of rich red wine. He thought Iona could have found a hundred more candles and still not achieved the light Branna O’Dwyer brought into his home.

He got a glass of champagne, brought it to her. “You’ll have a drink.”

“I will indeed.” She turned to him, eyes smoky, lips as red as her dress. “You throw a fine party, Fin.”

“I do, as I follow Iona’s orders.”

“She’s been half mad with excitement and anxiety over tonight, having pushed you into it. And all but bought me out of candles. I see she made good use of them.”

“They’re everywhere, as she commanded.”

“And where is our Iona?”

“She’s downstairs. Meara’s down there as well, and Boyle and Connor, and Iona’s Nan.” But he guided her toward the dining area as he spoke. “Will you eat?”

“Sure I will as it looks delicious, but not just yet.”

“Do you still have a weakness for these?” He picked up a mini cream puff drenched in powdered sugar.

“A terrible one, which I usually deny. But all right, not tonight.” She took it, tried a small bite. “Oh, that’s a sinful wonder.”

“Have two. Oiche na Coda Moire.”

She laughed, shook her head. “I’ll come back for the second.”

“Then I’ll take you down to your circle, and the music.”

He offered a hand, waited until she put hers in it. “Will you dance with me, Branna? Put yesterday and tomorrow aside, and dance with me tonight?”

She moved with him toward the music, the warmth, the glowing light.

“I will.”

? ? ?

SHE NEARLY HADN’T COME. SHE TRIED TO FIND REASONS TO stay away, or failing that to simply pay a courtesy visit, then slip out again. But every reason devised rang the same way in her ears.

As cowardice. Or worse, pettiness.

She couldn’t be so petty, so cowardly as to snub him because it distressed her to be in his home, to see, to feel the life he’d built himself without her.

Her choice, without him. Her duty, without him.

So she’d come.

She’d spent a great deal of time on her hair, her makeup, the whole of her appearance. If she was to celebrate the end of one year, the beginning of another in his house, in his company, she’d bloody well look amazing doing it.

She found the downstairs of his home, what she thought of as a play area, so very him. Good, rich colors mixed with neutrals, old refurbished furniture mixed with the new. Small pieces obviously bought on his rambles. And plenty of entertainment.