Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(26)

She took him up to a pretty canter—God, he had beautiful lines—back to a trot.

And felt alive.

“She’s more than words on paper,” Meara murmured.

“Maybe so. Good seat, good hands—and for some reason that devil seems to like her.”

He thought she looked as if she’d been born on a horse, as if she could ride through wind and wood and all but fly over the hills.

Then he shifted his feet, annoyed with his own fanciful thoughts.

“You can take her out with you—not on that devil—see how she does on a guide.”

“He’ll breed well, you know. Fin’s got the right of that.”

“Fin’s rarely wrong. But when he is, it’s massive. Still, she’ll do. Until she doesn’t. Have her put Alastar in the paddock. We’ll see if he stays there.”

“And you?”

“I’ll see to her paperwork.”

“When do you want her to start?”

Boyle watched her slide into a fluid lope. “I’m thinking she already has.”


*


SHE DIDN’T GET TO THE VILLAGE. HER PLANS CHANGED IN the best possible way as she spent the rest of her morning mucking out, grooming, signing papers, learning the basics of the rules and rhythms from Meara.

And best of all, she tagged along on a guided ride. The pace might have been easy to the point of lazy, but it was still a ride on the cheerful Spud. She tried to remember landmarks as they rode placidly along the hard path, through the deep green woods, along the dark hum of the river.

An old shed, a scarred pine, a tumble of rocks.

She listened to the rise and fall of Meara’s voice as she entertained the clients—a German couple on a brief getaway—and enjoyed the mix of accents.

Here she was, Iona Sheehan, riding through the forests of Mayo (employed!), listening to German and Irish, feeling the cool, damp breeze on her cheeks and watching the fitful sunlight sprinkle through clouds and trees.

She was here. It was real. And she realized with a sudden, utter certainty she was never going back.

From this day forward, she thought, this was home. One she’d make herself, for herself. This was her life, one she’d live as she wanted.

If that wasn’t magick, what was?

She heard other voices, a quick rolling laugh so appealing it made her smile.

“That would be Connor,” Meara told her. “Out on a falcon walk.”

When they came around a curve she saw him down the path, standing with another couple. A hawk perched on the woman’s gloved arm while the man with her snapped pictures.

“Oh, that’s amazing!” Dazzling, Iona thought. And somehow out of time. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Otto and I have booked for tomorrow,” the German woman told her. “I look forward, very much.”

“You’ll have so much fun. I have to try it. That’s my cousin,” she added, unabashedly proud. “The falconer.”

“He’s very handsome. You have your cousin, but you have not done a falcon walk?”

“I just got here yesterday.” She beamed as Connor lifted a hand, sent her or Meara, probably both, a cheeky wink.

“’Tis a Harris’s hawk you see there,” Meara said. “As you’ve booked a walk for tomorrow, you should be sure to take the time to tour the school. I’m wagering the falcon walk will be one of the highlights of your visit to Ashford, and it’s more complete if you see the other hawks and falcons, and learn a bit about them.”

The hawk took wing, glided up to a branch. The two groups gave room to each other.

“Good day to you, Connor,” Meara said as they passed.

“And to you. Out for a ride, cousin?”

“I’m working.”

“Well, that’s brilliant, and you can buy me a pint to celebrate later.”

“You’re on.”

And now, Iona thought, she’d have a beer with her cousin after work. It really was magick.

“I’m sorry. My English is sometimes not good.”

“It’s excellent,” Iona disagreed as she shifted to look at the woman rider.

“This is your cousin. But you’re not Irish.”

“American, Irish descent. I’ve just moved here. Literally.”

“You came only yesterday? Not before?”

“No, never before. I’m actually staying at the castle for a few days.”

“Ah, so you are visiting.”

“No, I live here now. I came yesterday, got this job today, and I’m moving in with my cousins next week. It’s all kind of wonderful.”

“You just came, from America to live here? I think you’re very brave.”

“I think I’m more lucky. It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

“Very beautiful. We live in Berlin, and work there. It’s very busy. This is quiet and . . . not busy. A good holiday.”

“Yes.” And an even better home, Iona thought. Her home.


*


BY THE TIME SHE’D RUBBED DOWN SPUD, PUT AWAY HER TACK, met the other staff on duty that day—Mick with his ready grin, whose oldest daughter turned out to be the waitress who’d served her dinner the night before—and helped feed and water the horses, Iona deemed it too late to visit Cong or the falconry school.