“I would trust him with my life, and have. I would trust him with the life of my lady, and I love her beyond reason—though she doesn’t believe it. We are six,” Connor repeated, “and he is one of us. We will fight Cabhan. We will end him. I swear it.”
Connor drew Meara’s sword and, taking it, stepped over to the gravestone. He scored his palm, let the red drip onto the ground. “I swear by my blood we will end him.”
He reached in his pocket, unsurprised to find the bluebell. He used the sword to dig a small hole, and planted it. “A promise given and kept.”
He stirred the air with a finger, pulled the moisture out of it, and let blood and water pour on the ground.
Stepping back, he watched with the others as the flower grew, and the blooms doubled.
“I rode away from her.” Eamon stared at the grave. “There was no choice, and it was her will and her wish. Now I come home a man. Whatever I can do, whatever power is given me, I will do, I will use. A promise kept.” He held out a hand to Connor. “I cannot trust this spawn of Cabhan’s, but I trust you and yours.”
“He is mine.”
Eamon looked at the grave, at the flowers, at the cabin. “Then you are six.” He touched his amulet, the twin of Connor’s, then the stone on the leather binding Connor had given him. “All we are is with you. I hope we’ll see each other again, when this is done.”
“When it’s done,” Connor agreed.
Eamon mounted his horse, then smiled at Meara. “You should believe my cousin, my lady, as what he speaks, he speaks from his heart. Farewell.”
He turned his horse, rode off as quietly as he’d come.
Meara started to speak—and woke with a jolt in Connor’s bed.
He sat beside her, a half smile on his face as he studied his bloodied palm.
“Jesus Christ. You never know where you’ll end up when you lie down beside the likes of you. Mind yourself! You’ll get blood on the sheets.”
“I’ll fix it.” He rubbed palm to palm, stanched the blood, closed the shallow wound.
“What was that about?” she demanded.
“A bit of a visit with family. Some questions, some answers.”
“What answers?”
“I’m after figuring that out. But the flower’s planted, as Teagan asked of me, so that’s enough for now. He looked fine and fit, didn’t he, our Eamon?”
“You’d say so as you’ve a resemblance. Cabhan would know they’d come back.”
“They don’t end him, but neither does he end them. Like the flowers, that’s enough to know for now. It’s for us to end, I know that as well.”
“And how do you know?”
“I feel it.” He touched a finger to his heart. “I trust what I feel. Unlike you for instance.”
After an impatient glance she shoved out of bed. “I have to go to work.”
“You’ve time for a bite to eat. You needn’t worry as there’s not enough time for me to poke at you properly about my feelings and yours. But there’ll be time for that soon enough. I love you to distraction, Meara, and while it comes as a surprise to me, I’m happy being surprised.”
She grabbed up her clothes. “You’re romanticizing the whole business, and cobbling it all together with magicks and risks and blood and sex. I expect you’ll come to your senses before long, and for now, I’m using the loo, and getting myself ready for work.”
She marched off.
He grinned after her, amused he had such a fine view of her backside as she stalked through the door of the bath he shared with Iona.
He’d come to his senses, he thought—though it had taken most of his life to get there. He could wait for her to come to hers.
Meanwhile . . . He studied his healed palm. He had some thinking to do.