Page 47 of Beer & Broomsticks

“Must be why you like me.”

She laughed and opened her arms for a hug, which he obliged with an added kiss to her temple.

“GiGi will be sorry she missed this, but our cousin Leonie and her new husband, Matt, are having their first child, and she was determined to be there for the birth.”

“Another baby to spoil. She’s in her element, she is.”

“Truer words were never spoken. Now come. We need to discuss Loman O’Connor and how to stop him for good this time.” He spared Ronan a glance. “That is, unless you don’t care to stand up to your father, but Castor assures me you will.”

“I hate the man, and the sooner his reign of terror is done, the better it’ll be for all involved.” The edge of steel in Ronan’s voice left no one in doubt of his commitment to ending that reign.

“There may be hope for you yet, boy.”

“I’ve spent forty-two years on this earth, man. I think I’ve outgrown the title of boy.”

Alastair’s engaging smile started slowly and spread across his handsome visage. “I can understand what Rebecca saw in you.” The smile dropped as his eyes turned frosty. “But don’t mistake me, Mr. O’Connor. You’re not in charge here. You’ll follow any plan Castor comes up with, and you’ll do it without question. Do I make myself clear?”

Ronan’s defiance was in every line of his body and as obvious as the perfect nose on his face. Submission wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Alastair raised a brow.

Bridget locked eyes with Ruairí, silently giving him the do-something cue.

He clapped a hand on his cousin’s back and gave an abrupt laugh. “He’ll do what’s necessary. Weallwill,” he added when Alastair and Ronan continued their staring contest.

“See to it.” Without a by-your-leave, Alastair Thorne turned his back on them and held out his arm to Bridget. “Come, my dear. We’ve much planning to do.”

With a worried glance over her shoulder, she allowed herself to be led away.

“Do you think you were a bit harsh, Al?”

“No.”

She snorted. “Sure, and would you admit if you were?”

“Probably not.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The truth is, I get a conflicted energy from him. It could be fear, it could be he plans to betray us all, but he needs to be pushed hard to make a decision. Either he’s one hundred percent with us, or he isn’t.” He shrugged. “He can’t sit both sides of the fence.”

“We have Ruairí and Alexander. Ronan seems to care for them, so I believe he’ll fall in with your plans when it’s necessary.”

“Good. We won’t get a second chance to stop Loman, and he’s lethal.” He glanced down and gestured to the weapon in her opposite hand. “It looks as if you’re preparing for a battle all your own. Is that what I think it is?”

“I believe so.” She frowned as she lifted it for him to inspect. “But I don’t think it holds the magic I assumed it would.”

“Ah, the final part of your family’s prophecy.” He nodded sagely. “Perhaps you haven’t welcomed the proper Enemy at the Gate.”

“That’s exactly what I was wonderin’ a short time ago.”

“We’ll work it out. I’ve no doubt your magic will be fully restored soon.”

* * *

Ronan was quitecertain Alastair Thorne was determined to test him at every turn. He’d started with the initial verbal challenge and hadn’t let up since. But Ronan was an old hand at confrontation and pecking orders. It had taken every magic trick in his arsenal to keep his cousins in line. Theirs was a large family, and there were more O’Connors, Doyles, and McLearys than he could shake a stick at. Their family rivaled the Thornes in size, but while the Thornes were made up of stellar individuals who all supported one another, Ronan’s family was the polar opposite. They were likely to slit each other’s throats rather than band together for the good of the whole.

Ruairí was the exception. He was the best of them. Which was why Ronan was willing to go face down the formidable Bridget while she was in high dudgeon over the perceived betrayal. Had she truly understood Ruairí and saw what was in his heart, she’d never believe he’d intended any harm.

Alexander Castor caught Ronan’s eye and gave him a small, understanding smile as if he knew what was running through his mind. Perhaps there weretwogood souls in the lot. The last one remained to be seen. It was hard to believe Alexander and Loman were twins. Not in looks—that was quite eerie—but their personalities differed so greatly, it was disconcerting.

“Okay, to recap, Loman O’Connor is on the loose, he’s somehow restored the bulk of his abilities, and he’s determined to steal back the Sword of Goibhniu. Do I have this straight?” Damian Dethridge held out his hand to Bridget, who promptly handed over the weapon in question. His long, slender fingers caressed the blade as he examined it in the light. “And this is it? What everyone is squabbling over?”

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