Blood Magick by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

problems—just some Christmas details.” Without being asked she got out flatware to finish what Connor started, and Boyle put the kettle on for tea.
    So Branna’s kitchen filled with voices, with movement—and she could admit now that she’d had coffee—with the warmth of family. And then excitement as Meara dashed in, grabbed Connor and pulled him into a dance.
    “I’m to pack up the rest of my mother’s things.” She did a quick stomp, click, stomp, then grabbed Connor again for a hard kiss. “She’s staying with my sister Maureen for the duration. Praise be, and thanks to the little Baby Jesus in his manger!”
    Even as Connor laughed, she stopped, pressed her hands to her face. “Oh God, I’m a terrible daughter, a horrible person altogether. Dancing about because my own mother’s gone to live with my sister in Galway and I’ll not have to deal with her on a daily basis myself.”
    “You’re neither,” Connor corrected. “Are you happy your mother’s happy?”
    “Of course, I am, but—”
    “And why shouldn’t you be? She’s found a place where she’s content, where she has grandchildren to spoil. And why shouldn’t you kick up your heels a bit, as she won’t be ringing you up twice a day when she can’t work out how to switch out a lightbulb?”
    “Or burns another joint of lamb,” Boyle added.
    “That’s the bloody truth, isn’t it?” So Meara did another quick dance. “I’m happy for her, I am. And I’m wild with joy for my own self.”
    When Fin came in Meara launched herself at him—and gave Branna a moment to adjust herself, as she had to do whenever he walked in her door.
    “You’ve lost a tenant, Finbar. My ma’s settled once and done with my sister.” She kissed him hard as well, made him laugh. “That’s thanks to you—and don’t say you don’t need it—for the years of low rent, and for holding the little cottage in case she wanted to come back to Cong.”
    “She was a fine tenant. Kept the place tidy as a church.”
    “The place looks fine now, it does, with the updates we’ve done.” As Iona took over the table setting, Connor grabbed his first coffee. “I expect Fin will have someone in there, quick as you please.”
    “I’ll be looking into it.” But it was Branna he looked at, and into. Then saying nothing, took Connor’s coffee for himself.
    She kept her hands busy, and wished to bloody hell she’d done that little glamour. No restless night showed on his face, on that beautiful carving of it, in the bold green eyes.
    He looked perfect—man and witch—with his raven black hair damp from the rain, his body tall and lean as he shed his black leather jacket, hung it on a peg.
    She’d loved him all her life, understood, accepted, she always would. But the first and only time they’d given themselves to each other—so young, still so innocent—the mark had come on him.
    Cabhan’s mark.
    A Dark Witch of Mayo could never be with Cabhan’s blood.
    She could, would, and had worked with him, for he’d proven time and again he wanted Cabhan’s end as much as she. But there could never be more.
    Did knowing it pained him as it did her help her through it? Maybe a bit, she admitted. Just a bit.
    She took the platter heaped with pancakes she’d already flipped from the skillet out of the warmer, added the last of them.
    “We’ll sit then, and eat. It’s your Nan’s recipe, Iona. We’ll see if I did her proud.”
    Even as she lifted the platter, Fin took it from her. And as he took it, his eyes met and held hers. “You’ve a story to go with them, I’m told.”
    “I do, yes.” She took a plate full of bacon and sausage, carried it to the table. And sat. “Not an hour ago I sat here and had a conversation with Sorcha’s Brannaugh.”
    “She came here?” Connor paused in the act of sliding a stack of pancakes onto his plate. “Our kitchen?”
    “She did. I’d had a restless night, full of dreams and voices. Hers among them. I