Page 30 of Whiskey & Witches
Thanks, da.
He tried to push away the unwelcome thoughts of punishment and small black holes he’d been forced to spend time in. None of that would help Roisin in her condition.
Looking down at her still face, he had a moment of panic. His magic was only meant to remove her memories of him and put her to sleep. He’d never meant to send her into a coma, for feck’s sake.
He’d been watching over her since teleporting her to the garden, ready to take action should anyone but her husband come along before she woke. When the others started turning to magic spells they were unfamiliar with to help her, and when Piper decided the risk to her unborn baby was minimal to wake Roisin, Ronan decided to take matters into his own hands. Sure, the chance of exposure was there, but he’d clean up his own bleeding messes and not let Roisin or her family suffer more than necessary.
“How did you know Roisin needed help?” Piper asked, always suspicious of his motives since his affair with her mother all those years before.
“I didn’t,” he lied without expression. “The Witch of the Woods makes balms for my old aunt’s arthritis. I was simply coming by to leave her a note.”
“At this time of the morning?” Cian was skeptical and stepped forward to wrap a protective arm around his mate.
Ronan eyed them with distaste. Not because he didn’t want to see them happy, just not happytogether. They’d fulfilled the first line of that godforsaken prophecy, and although Roisin’s words rang true earlier, he would stop the rest if it was possible. His best bet was the third part. For sure, he’d allow no more to be done to Roisin or Aeden.
“Does it matter what time I slip a note through the slot?” he asked, tone dry as dirt. “I figured she’d get it when she woke, and she could call me to pick up whatever she’d whipped up.”
“Who’s your aunt?” Carrick O’Malley didn’t seem any more keen to trust him than the others, but it didn’t take a genius to see he was at the end of his rope.
“Millie McL—MacLavery.”Shite!He’d almost said McLeary, and wouldn’t that have given away the fact he was in league with Seamus! Ronan rarely, if ever, made mistakes of that nature, but he was tired from lack of sleep, and this entire situation was scrambling his brain matter like eggs in a frying pan.
Cian’s expression hardened, and he shifted into a loose-limbed stance. “Never heard of her.”
Ronan recognized the move; Cian was preparing for a fight. Well, he could ready himself all he wanted because Ronan had no intention of stepping into that trap.
“No? Hmm. Well, that’s a riddle for another day. But sure she exists. My mam’s sister, or rather, half-sister.” Shrugging to show the matter was resolved as far as he was concerned, he faced Carrick. Turning his back on Cian wasn’t the smartest move, but Ronan needed to get in and out of here before too long. The walls were already closing in. “What happened to your sister-in-law, man? She looks like she had a bad dose.”
“What?” Carrick’s expression changed to thundercloud dark.
Ronan gestured to Roisin. “Meg. What’s wrong with Meg?”
The other man needed to either acknowledge Roisin as his wife, or he needed to continue with the ruse they’d used to fool everyone since the accident. They’d gotten away with it because Roisin and Meg were nearly identical in looks, with the exception of their hair. But they must’ve found a way around it to trick so many for so long.
Carrick glanced down at Roisin, and all the love the man felt was in his tortured expression.
“Not Meg then,” Ronan said softly. “Roisin.”
“Yes.” Carrick deflated in front of him, and he sat heavily on the mattress. “Roisin’s in some type of magically induced sleep. We don’t know who the culprit is, but we need to counteract the spell, all the same.”
“I know who I’d pick for the culprit,” Piper muttered.
Ignoring her, Ronan squatted by the bed and reached a hand forward. Before touching her, he looked at Carrick. “May I?”
“Are you trying to say you’ve learned your lesson about touching a married woman?” Piper asked with saccharine sweetness. She accompanied the question with a disbelieving snort. “Right.”
Gritting his teeth, Ronan practically growled his frustration. “Aye, Piper Thorne, I have.”
Once permission had been given, he held out his hands, palm down, over Roisin’s fair head. The disruption in energy pulled him to the same side as her scarred face.
“Here,” he said, gesturing to the spot. “The energy is off. Could be neurotransmitters, could be damage from the accident. She was in a coma if I’m not mistaken?”
“Aye.” Carrick watched him with wary eyes. “We were about to perform a spell before you arrived in hopes of helping her.”
“Mind if I see it?”
They all remained stubbornly quiet for a minute, sharing concerned glances.
“Or not. I’ll leave you to it if you’d rather.” Ronan shifted to go, telling himself he shouldn’t give a shite. These people would crucify him if they knew he wanted to steal their family magic for his own.
