Page 65 of Whiskey & Witches

“Ah, yes. The return of your magic. It does that.” She picked up her wineglass then headed to the French doors to stare out at the expansive gardens. “The constant hum of power coursing through your veins can take time to get used to, but I’ve no doubt you’ll adapt soon.”

Turning to face him, she said, “You’re finding it hard to hate Ronan, and you want to be sure your trust isn’t misplaced. So in answer to your original question, there is a lot to admire about him. At heart, I believe he’s a good man.”

“He keeps saying he doesn’t make war on women and children, but they’re both the first to suffer in a war.” He brushed his fingers over Roisin’s scarred cheek. “My wife and child almost died because of his machinations.”

Rebecca frowned down into her wine. “I don’t know the circumstances surrounding their accident, but I can tell you, it’s no fault of Ronan’s. He doesn’t have it in him to hurt them.”

Against his better judgment, Carrick believed her, and he’d developed a grudging admiration for the man. Still, he’d be unwise to trust him. Especially now that O’Connor’s power was gone. The man would be highly motivated to get it back.

“I thank you for your honesty, Dr. Walsh. You’ve given me a lot to mull over.”

“Of course.” She drained her glass and set it on the sideboard. “Don’t think too harshly of him. His life until now hasn’t been easy. The affection he gained from our relationship was probably the first he’d ever encountered in his life. It’s a wonder he isn’t a bitter bastard.”

“Who said I’m not?” Ronan asked in a raspy voice.

“Ah, it wakes,” Rebecca quipped. “Are you done being a lazy lay-about?”

“I seem to recall you liked when we lazed about, Bec,” he countered.

She flushed and cleared her throat. “Stop, or I’ll call Hoyt to nurse you back to health. I can promise, you won’t like him for a caregiver.”

“A fate worse than death, to be sure.” Ronan yawned and rolled onto his back with only the slightest wince. “Should I feel like a newborn babe?”

Carrick met Rebecca’s worried gaze, then eased his family off him to stand. “I’ll tell him.”

Folding one arm over his eyes, Ronan sighed. “You don’t need to, O’Malley. I know my magic is gone.”

“How?”

“It’s like a lost limb, and my body aches to have it back. Like an itch where it was amputated.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Carrick said as he looked down on Ronan’s covered face. “Truly.”

Lifting his arm, Ronan’s tired gaze focused on him. “Now why would you be?”

“I’ve been without magic my entire life, never believin’ I’d ever have it.” He glanced at his sleeping family and shrugged. “It’s not that I didn’t envy those who possessed it, but I shoved down my feelings and concentrated on other things.” He squatted beside Ronan and placed a hand on his bare shoulder. “To have it, to be used to relying on it for everything… yeah, the loss has to be painful.”

“If my da ever gets free of his prison, you’ll need to be prepared, Carrick.” Ronan’s eyes were haunted. “He’ll have felt the drain due to the first two parts of the prophecy coming to pass, and he’ll want it back. The man’s ruthless, to be sure, and I won’t be around to stop him.”

“Where will you be?”

“Likely dead if Moira has her way. But you heed my words, yeah? Stay alert.”

Carrick watched him for signs of falsehood and only saw a world-weary truth. “I promise.”

“That’s grand. Now, go away and let me sleep.” Ronan released a jaw-cracking yawn.

Ronan closed his eyes,half wishing Damian would’ve let him die. His life would alter drastically from this moment on. No conjuring the things he needed, no swaying the stock market to fund his extravagances. Hell, he’d need to learn a trade to feed and clothe himself. For sure, he’d never afford the upkeep of his family’s estate. But the loss of that rubble wouldn’t be a hardship. He’d always hated the place, with the exception of the ocean view.

He had enough money in his account to keep him in comfort for a time—ifMoira hadn’t found a way to get to it first. If he returned home, the probability was high that his guards and staff would be under her control—the poor buggers.

Sensing Carrick’s stare, he pretended another yawn. Yeah, and he was too stressed to sleep, but the other man didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever you need, Ronan, you’ll have,” Carrick promised him softly.

Throat tight, he opened his eyes and met the man’s compassionate green gaze. “You’re too nice for your own good, O’Malley. It will be your downfall, just as my soft heart was mine.”

“What’s life without kindness? The lessons in my books teach that to small children, and it’s my belief that, as adults, we should’ve already learned it.”

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