Page 62 of Beer & Broomsticks

Again, Ruairí snapped his fingers. “Is everyone satisfied we’ve a complete meal prepared, or would you like me to bake some feckin’ scones?”

“Ruairí. Look at me, love.” She lightly pinched his chin between her finger and thumb, trying to tug his face down to hers. When he dipped his head and met her gaze, he sighed.

“Bridg—”

“Don’t ask me how I know, but he’s not here to hurt me,” she said in a low voice. “I need you to trust me.”

“Trust?” He snorted. “Areyouplaying the trust card?”

Her temper sparked. “Aye. I’m playing the trust card because I’ve given you no reasonnotto trust me, unlike your feckin’ games in the past.”

His dark-blond brows clashed together, and he opened his mouth to argue, only to be stopped by Ronan.

“I’ll go with her, Cousin.”

“Sure, and what part of the wordalonedo either of you eejits not understand?”

The stranger laughed and crossed to the table to pick up a plate. As he began piling on food and shoving sausages in his mouth, Damian Dethridge sauntered the room. Both men froze when they saw the other.

“Goibhniu.”

“Aether.”

“Wait, what?” Bridget charged across the room to confront the stranger. “Goibhniu? As in the maker of our sword?ThatGoibhniu?”

He picked his teeth with his pinky, looked at the meaty treasure he dug out, then sucked it off his finger. “Aye.”

“Jaysus!”Swaying—and not because of the disgusting gesture—she used the table for support as she sat down.

He straddled the bench, facing her. “I’m to judge your worth.”

“My worth?”

“Aye. To see if you should remain the Keeper of the Sword and if I should restore your family’s magic.”

Curious, she forked up another sausage and plopped it on his plate. “Bring that and come with me. We’re going to be needin’ that pint after all.”

He grinned and reached to help her up. She took one look at the grease on his fingers, and ignored his outstretched hand.

CHAPTER26

Twenty minutes and two pints later, Bridget stumbled back into the kitchen. Rauirí had been impatiently awaiting her return with her family, Ronan, the Aether, Castor, and Alastair Thorne. They had all gathered around, either at the table, sitting at the counter, or holding up the wall with their brawny shoulders.

“Sure, and this is an odd sight,” she said with a giggle.

“Where’s your friend?” Ruairí asked as he abandoned his chair to let her sit down.

As she passed him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a heated kiss. “You’re my friend,” she murmured with a happy sigh.

He was amused by her unexpected show of affection. “Yeah, and I’d like to know what he used to spike your pint, because I’m going to need whatever it is on days when you’re on a roll.”

With a laugh and a light slap of his cheek, she plopped down in the chair. “Ah, Ruairí O’Connor, never change.” She released a dreamy sigh and propped her chin on her fist, giving them all a happy smile.

“Oh!” She blinked like an owl. “He gave me a present, he did.” She fumbled with the new chain around her neck and withdrew an amulet. It measured roughly seven by five centimeters and had an intricate Celtic knot surrounding a ten-carat, marquise-cut emerald. “Isn’t it grand?”

“Does this mean you’re going steady?” Alexander asked with a laughing look at Ruairí.

After shooting his uncle the bird, he squatted next to Bridget. “May I?”

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