Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(94)

“I’ll treasure them. Thank you. Thank you,” she repeated, taking Branna’s hand, then Connor’s, linking the three. “You’ve opened up my life in so many ways.”

“You’re part of ours. Come then, we’ll eat. I’ve prepared a special meal anticipating your success here. Bring your wine, as you’ve yet to drink it.”

“One day I’ll pay you back for all you’ve done.”

“It’s not a matter of payment, and can’t be.”

“You’re right. That was the wrong term. Balance. One day I’ll find the balance.”

She started on it by setting the table, and telling Connor he was banned from kitchen cleanup. He didn’t argue. Her mood, lifted from seeing Nan, from the gifts, went rising higher when she sampled the little feast Branna had prepared.

“God, this is so good! I know I’m hungry, but this is just amazing. I swear you could open your own restaurant.”

“That’s something I won’t be doing now, or ever. Cooking, like tools, is necessary. No reason it shouldn’t be good.”

“I wish mine was. I really have to learn.”

“Plenty of time for it, and more important things to learn now. Connor, Frannie at the shop tells me Fergus Ryan got drunk as two penny whores on holiday and walked into Sheila Dougherty’s house, thinking it was his own, stripped down to the skin and passed out on the living room sofa. Where a none-too-pleased Sheila Dougherty—she who’s about seventy-eight and mean as a rattlesnake—found him in the morning. What do you know of that?”

“I know of the black eye Fergus is sporting, and the knot raised on the back of his head from the whack of Mrs. Dougherty’s cane. And how he managed to grab only his boots and his aching head while trying to defend himself, and ran straight out with the old woman chasing him and flinging curses and whatever else came to hand.”

“I thought you would.” Branna picked up her wine. “Tell all.”

So the conversation turned to local gossip, business, stories. The kind of meal, Iona would think as she dealt with dishes and pots, she’d had only rarely growing up, and had craved all the more from the lack.

So, like the gift of her tools, she’d treasure it, and all those that came.

For now, she tried to embrace the quiet, as Branna and Connor were upstairs or about somewhere on their own devices. She had work yet. The cleansing for tonight. And tomorrow she’d imbue and recharge what was now hers.

A good day, she congratulated herself. She’d gone to work, had her first face-to-face with Boyle, and gotten through it without humiliating herself.

Major points.

And she’d flown to Nan’s kitchen, a personal high point.

She’d worked seeking spells, and had the priceless reward from it.

To cap it, she’d had a meal with her cousins full of talk and laughter.

And tomorrow, she’d do whatever tomorrow brought her way.

To start on that balance, she cleaned the kitchen to a sparkle. The next time Branna walked in, she thought, giving it all a narrowed eye, it would damn near blind her.

Satisfied, she started to walk through to the workshop to begin her last task of the day, when the knock on the front door stopped her.

Normally, the prospect of company would have pleased her, but she really wanted to get started on her tools. Probably one of Connor’s mates or prospective lady friends, she thought. She’d yet to meet anyone who didn’t love Connor, or seek him out when they wanted a good time, or needed a shoulder for a bad one.

When she opened the door, her greeting smile faded, as there was Boyle standing there with a big, bright spring bouquet.

She managed an “Oh.”

He looked so sexy, so appealing, big, scarred hand around stems, his face just a bit flushed, his eyes full of embarrassed determination.

And he shifted his weight and nearly did her in.

“I’m sorry. I need to tell you I’m sorry. These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful.” Better, she thought, so much better for herself if she just sent him on his way. But she couldn’t do it, not when he’d brought her flowers and a sincere apology. “Thank you,” she said instead, and took the flowers. “They’re really beautiful.”

“Will they get me in the door, for a minute or two?”

“All right. Sure. I want to go back and put these in water.” She led the way back to the kitchen, using every trick she’d learned to keep her mind, her heart, quiet and steady.

“It shines in here,” he commented.

“I’ve been balancing some scales.” She found a large, pretty vase of mossy green, Branna’s kitchen flower scissors, and the flower food her cousin made herself. And set to work.

“I’m sorry, Iona, for upsetting you, for hurting you. I never would have meant to.”

“I know that.” The flowers, so lovely, the scents, so poignant, helped her with her own balance. “I’m not angry with you, Boyle. Not anymore.”

“You should be. I earned it.”

“Maybe. But you weren’t completely wrong in what you said to Fin. I did push, and I did get in your way.”

“I’m not one to be pushed if I’m not wanting to be. Iona—”

“You were attracted to me. I used that. I never used magick.”