Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(49)

“I couldn’t—”

“Not until we’re inside. Not a bloody word about it.”

The dog led the way, always in sight. As she saw the cottage through the trees—at last—Iona watched the hawk circle through the heavy sky.

The minute they were inside, Iona’s teeth began to chatter. As gray teased the edges of her vision, she pressed her hands to her knees, lowered her head between them.

“Sorry. Dizzy.”

“Hold your guts a moment.” Though her voice rang with impatience, the hand Branna laid on the back of Iona’s head stayed gentle, and the dizziness passed as quickly as it had come.

“Sit,” she ordered, giving Iona a shove into the living room, flicking her fingers toward the smoldering fire to have the flames leap up and spread more heat. “You’re having a bit of shock, that’s all. So sit, breathe.”

Briskly she walked to a decanter, poured two fingers of whiskey in a short glass. “And drink.”

Iona drank, hissed a little, drank again. “Just a little . . .” She sighed. “Scared shitless.”

“Why were you off the path, and so deep?”

“I don’t know. It just happened. I didn’t turn off, or don’t remember turning off. I was just walking home, and thinking about stuff. Boyle,” she admitted. “We made up.”

“Oh well, that’s fine then.” With two jerks, Branna pulled pins from her hair, tossed them on the table as it tumbled free. “All’s well.”

“I didn’t go off the path, not knowingly. And when I realized I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, should’ve been, I started back. But . . . the fog came first.”

Iona looked down at the empty glass, set it down. “I knew what it meant.”

“And didn’t call us, or your guide? Called to none of us.”

“It all happened so fast. The trees—they moved, the fog closed in. Then the wolf was there. How did you come? How did you know?”

“Connor was out with Roibeard, and the hawk saw, from above. You can thank him for calling Connor, and me.”

“I will. I do. Branna—” She broke off as the door opened and Connor walked in.

“There’s nothing now. He’s gone to whatever hole he uses.” He walked to the whiskey, poured his own. “And how are you doing now, cousin?”

“Okay. All right. Thank you. I’m sorry I—”

“I don’t want apologies,” Branna snapped. “I want sense. Where’s your amulet?”

“I—” Iona reached for it, then remembered. “I left it in my room this morning. I forgot—”

“Don’t forget, and don’t take it off.”

“Ease back a bit there.” Connor touched Branna’s arm as he walked over to Iona. “You gave us all a fright.” Now his hand stroked Iona’s arm, and the calm seeped into her. “It’s not your fault. It’s not her fault,” he said to Branna before she could snap back. “She’s barely a week under her feet. We’ve a lifetime.”

“She won’t have time or opportunity for more if she doesn’t have the good sense to wear what protection she has, and to call out for her guide and for us when she needs more.”

“And who’s been educating her if not you?” Connor tossed back.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now she’s no more sense than a babe in a pram.”

“Don’t fight about me, and don’t talk over me. It was my fault.” Steadier, Iona rose to go stand nearer the fire, and the warmth. “I took off the amulet, and I wasn’t paying attention. Neither will happen again. I’m sorry I—”

“By all that’s holy, I swear I’ll sew your lips shut a week on the next apology.”

Iona just threw up her hands at Branna’s threat. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Just tell us what happened, in detail, before we got to you,” Branna told her. “No, back in the kitchen. I’ll make the tea.”

Iona followed her back, then crouched to pet Kathel, to thank him. “I was walking home, from the big stables.”

“Why were you there?”

“Oh, Fin sent for me. They gave me a student, for jumping instruction. I rode over on Alastar. We flew a little.”

“Sweet Brighid.”

“I didn’t mean to, exactly, and I stopped. Then Fin had to leave, but Boyle stayed to supervise, to make sure I didn’t screw it up, I’d say. I asked to meet Darling, but first I met Aine, and oh my God, she’s miraculous.”

“I’m not interested in a report on the horses,” Branna reminded her.

“I know, but I’m trying to explain. Then I met Darling, and watched her and Boyle, and I couldn’t stay mad at him. Then one thing led to another because I wasn’t mad at him.”

“Why were you?” Connor wondered.

“Oh, we had kind of a thing this morning when he picked me up.”

“He kissed the brains out of her ears,” Branna supplied, and Connor’s grin broke out.

“Boyle? Did he indeed?”

“Then he was rude and nasty, and that pissed me off. But then, watching him and Darling, I just couldn’t stay mad, so I told him I wasn’t mad anymore, and then it was the one thing leading to another and he just grabbed me and did it again. I’ve probably lost at least twenty percent of my brain cells now. And the lesson went really well, it felt so good to have a student again, so I was feeling good, and distracted,” she admitted, “and thinking that maybe I should ask Boyle out—for a drink or the movies, or something. It was such a good day, after a rocky start, and I was just full of all of it. Then I wasn’t where I should’ve been.”