“Was he there or wasn’t he?” Boyle demanded.
“He was, but more a shadow. It’s a new thing, and something to discuss tonight when we’re all together. But I’d feel easier if I knew you were with her until I’m done.”
“I’ll keep her with me.” Boyle pulled out his phone. “And be sure Fin does the same with Iona. And Branna?”
“Roibeard’s keeping a watch on all, and Merlin’s with him. But I’ll be happier altogether when the six of us are together at home.”
* * *
IT TOOK NEAR AN HOUR TO SETTLE THE BIRDS FOR THE night, and clear up some paperwork Kyra left meaningfully on his desk. He took more time to add yet another layer of protection around the school. Cabhan had gotten into the stables once. He might try for the hawks.
By the time he’d done all that needed doing, locked up tight, the brightness had gone out of the day. Just shorter days, he thought as he stood a moment, opened himself. He felt no threat, no watchful presence. He let himself reach out to Roibeard, join with the hawk—and saw clearly the stables, the woods, the cottage, peaceful below, through his hawk’s eyes.
There was Mick, squat as a spark plug, climbing into his lorry, giving a wave out the window to Patti as the girl swung onto her bike.
And there, spread below him, Fin’s grand stone house, and the fields and paddocks. Iona soaring over a jump with Alastar.
A short glide, soaring on the wind and, below, Branna picking herbs in her kitchen garden. She straightened, looked up
, looked, it seemed, right into his eyes.
And she smiled, lifted a hand before taking her herbs inside with her.
All’s well, Connor told himself, and though there was always just a hint of regret, came fully back to earth. Satisfied, he climbed into the lorry.
He drove around to the stables—and felt a warm hum in his blood as he watched Meara come out with Boyle. She was a beauty for certain, he thought, an earthy one in a rough jacket and work pants, and boots that had likely seen hundreds of kilometers, on the ground and on horseback.
Later, he’d have the pleasure of removing those worn boots, those riding pants. And unwinding that thick braid so he could surround himself with waves of brown hair.
“Boyle, are you wanting a lift?” he called through the open window.
“Thanks, but no. I’ll follow you over.”
So he leaned left, shoved the door open for Meara.
She jumped in, smelling of horses and grain and saddle soap. “Christ Jesus, this was a day and a half shoved into one. The McKinnon party is leaving no stone unturned. We’ve got groups of them coming tomorrow up through two o’clock, with the wedding, I’m told, at five.”
“The same for us.”
Since she made no move, he put a hand on the back of her head, drew her over for a kiss. “Good evening to you.”
“And to you.” Her lips curved. “I wondered if you’d feel a little off center after thinking it over for a day.”
“Not much time to think, but I’m balanced well and good.”
He turned the lorry, headed away from the stables with Boyle falling in behind.
“Did you see the wolf?” he asked her.
“I did, yes. Boyle couldn’t say much as we had the crew about nearly till you came, but he said you did as well. But as with me, it was more a shadow.”
She shifted to face him, frowned. “Still, not only a shadow, as he bared his fangs, and I saw them clear, and the red stone. Did you send Roibeard?”
“I didn’t have to; he went to you on his own. But I knew from him the wolf only kept pace with you for a minute or two.”
“Enough for the horses to sense it. My biggest worry, to tell the truth, was that the horses would spook. Which they might have done, but I had a group of experienced riders. And they themselves? They saw and sensed nothing.”
“I’ve been thinking on the whys and hows of that. I want to see what Branna and Fin and Iona have to say. And I want to ask you to stay tonight at the cottage.”