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He looked around the pub, where a mandolin had joined the pipe and the air smelled of spiced meat and fresh bread.

“Been some years since I’ve been to the Capital. Too low to the ground for my liking, and too many in it, but this pub serves a good ale. Not my first Judgment, but the first I’ve seen ya holding the staff. Ya do well enough there, and a credit to yer da, who I knew. He could play a tune and swing a sword, could Kavan O’Broin.”

“That he could.”

“So we’ll have another round”—Loga signaled—“and raise a cup to him.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On a day when the rain came and went, Breen walked with Bollocks from Marg’s to the farm.

She’d seen Marco and Brian off that morning, on the trip to Meet the Family.

“He should probably be there by now, or nearly,” she said to Bollocks. “He was so nervous! How many times did he change his mind about what to wear, what to take? I lost count. And tonight, tomorrow for sure, Brian’s going to ask him.”

Beside her, Bollocks executed a full-body wag to show enthusiasm.

“I feel the same way! But we kept it zipped, right? As promised. ThankGodthat’s almost over. Looks like just you and me tonight.” She reached down to tousle his topknot. “What do you say, popcorn and a movie? We’ll get all cozied up and—”

She broke off when Bollocks leaped into a dance, let out joyful barks, then sprinted ahead.

She expected to see Aisling’s boys in the field, and there they were. So was Keegan.

And so, she noted, were the archery targets.

As she watched, Harken came out of the barn with the pup prancing beside him.

Darling and Bollocks tore toward each other as if it had been weeks rather than hours since they’d last met. As they wrestled, and the boys raced to them to join in, Keegan turned.

“He’s got you set up—barely back, and already at it,” Harken said as they crossed paths.

“So I see. He’s just back?”

“Not an hour ago. He’s tired. He won’t say it, but I can see it clear enough. You might have to call out some patience, as he can get snappy when he’s tired out.”

“Oh well.”

“I’ll be well out of the way of it.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Morena’s giving Finola and Seamus a hand with things today, and Finola’s taking pity on us by sending some of her roast chicken and such. So I’ve the excuse of going in to clean up.”

He rubbed at a smear of grease on his trousers.

“Good luck to you.”

“Thanks.”

She waved to the boys as she walked to where Keegan waited.

“You’re late,” he said by way of greeting.

“Brian thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow or the day after, so I planned to work with Aisling on my healing skills.”

“You were skilled enough to heal Loga.”

“I’m not sure I could have if it had been worse than a single wound, and on a Troll as strong as Harken’s prize bull.”

“Skilled enough there, so Aisling can wait for another day. With bow, you’re lacking.”

Tired, she reminded herself, because she could see it just as Harken could. And still.


Tags: Nora Roberts Paranormal