‘Must be swamp gas,’ said Jimmy.
‘Or maybe the whisky fumes have reached critical mass,’ someone else joked.
Kieran grinned at Beth. ‘You really have got a magic touch tonight.’
She laughed weakly, wiping her hands on her apron.You have no idea.
The hours dragged on. Rain hammered the roof like applause. The old men swapped stories about the last great flood of whatever year sprang to mind.
Beth moved quietly among them, topping up bowls, checking blankets, her presence calm and practical. She sensed Kieran watching her and her earlier frostiness melted.
Lisa eventually dozed off, her head tipped back, snoring faintly through a flimsy chiffon scarf.
‘She’ll catch cold,’ Beth murmured, covering her with a spare blanket.
‘You’re too kind,’ Kieran said.
‘I’m just keeping the peace.’
‘Still kind.’
Their eyes met. For a second, the noise of the pub faded. All that existed was the candlelight between them and the steady drumming of rain.
Then Gigi, ever impatient, decided to help things along.
A gentle nudge of magic, a flicker of power – and every candle in the room suddenly flared, golden and romantic. The villagers cheered.
Beth screwed up her eyes. ‘I’m going to strangle him.’
‘Who?’ Kieran asked, bewildered.
‘The – boiler. Still temperamental.’
He chuckled. ‘You’re full of surprises, Beth.’
‘That’s me,’ she said softly.
By dawn, the storm had spent itself. Cranley was drenched but standing.The Jekyll and Hydehad held fast, mostly thanks to Beth.
As villagers drifted into the washed-out morning, Kieran lingered at the door. ‘You were incredible last night,’ he murmured.
‘I only made soup.’
‘You kept everyone calm. Including me.’
Beth smiled. ‘Then I did my job.’
Lisa’s voice floated up the street. ‘Kieran! The cottage is stilldamp!’
Beth sighed, half-amused, as Kieran walked after her.
From the basement came a smug whisper: ‘You’re welcome.’
Beth smiled to herself. ‘You’re grounded,’ she muttered, though she couldn’t hide the warmth in her voice.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘The woman is a legend.’
