“I’ll guide you. It’s already in you, but needs the route, the signs, the... finesse. I’ll give you some books to read and study. Take your week at the castle, and think about what you want, Iona Sheehan. Think carefully, for once it begins, you can’t go back.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“I don’t mean to America, or your life there. I mean from the path we’ll walk.” She flicked her hand again and, with it empty, picked up her tea. “Cabhan, what is left of him, may be worse than what was. And what is left wants what you have, what we have. And he wants our blood. Your power and your life, you’ll risk both, so think carefully, for it’s not a game we’d be playing.”
“Nan said it had to be a choice, my choice. She told me he—Cabhan—would want what I have, what I am, and do whatever he could to get it. She cried when I said I was going to come, but she was proud, too. As soon as I got here, I knew it was the right choice. I don’t want to ignore what I am. I just want to understand it.”
“Staying is still a choice. And if you decide to stay, you’ll stay here, with me and Connor.”
“Here?”
“It’s best we stay together. There’s room enough.”
Nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing in her life measured as amazing a gift. “You’d let me live here, with you?”
“We’re cousins, after all. Take your week. Connor and I have committed, have taken an oath if the third came, we’d accept. But you haven’t had a lifetime, so think it through, and be sure. The decision has to be yours.”
Whatever it was, Branna thought, would change all.
4
THE RAIN SOAKED HER AGAIN ON HER TREK BACK,but it didn’t dampen her mood. After warming her bones in the shower, Iona dug out flannel pants, a thermal T-shirt, then, dumping her suitcase on the floor—she’d unpack properly later—she crawled into bed.
And slept like the dead for four solid hours.
She woke in the dark, completely disoriented and starving.
Though her thoroughly disorganized possessions taunted her, she rooted through for jeans, a sweater, warm socks, boots. Armed with her guidebook and one of the books Branna had lent her, she took herself off to the hotel’s cottage restaurant for the food, the company.
A fire snapped in the hearth while she dug into a bowl of roasted vegetable soup and pored over her books. She liked the comfort of the mix of voices around her, Irish, American, German—and, she thought, possibly Swedish. She dined on fish and chips, and since it was her first night, treated herself to a glass of champagne.
The waitress had a smile as brilliant as her bright red hair, and gifted Iona with it as she refilled the water glass. “Are you enjoying your meal then?”
“It’s wonderful.” Drawing her shoulders up and in, in a self-hug, Iona beamed a smile back. “Everything’s just wonderful.”
“Would it be your first time at Ashford?”
“Yes. It’s amazing. It still feels like a dream.”
“Well, they say we should have better weather tomorrow if you’re after rambling about.”
“I’d like to.” Should she rent a car? Iona wondered. Try her luck on the roads? Maybe just a walk to the village, for now. “Actually, I took a walk through the grounds, the woods this afternoon.”
“In all that drench?”
“I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see my cousin. She lives nearby.”
“Is that the truth? Sure it’s nice to have family while you’re visiting. Who is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“They, really, though I only met Branna today. Branna O’Dwyer.”
The girl’s smile didn’t dim, but her eyes showed new focus. “A cousin to the O’Dwyers, are you now?”
“Yes. Do you know them?”
“Everyone knows Branna and Connor O’Dwyer. He’s a falconer. The hotel will book hawk walks through the falconry school, and that Connor manages. It’s a very popular activity with the guests here. And Branna... she has a shop in Cong. She makes soaps and lotions and tonics and the like. The Dark Witch, it’s called, after a local legend.”
“I saw her workshop today. I’ll have to check out the shop and the falconry school.”
