Shadow Spell by Nora Roberts

certain it would work. But I missed something, just as Sorcha missed something when she sacrificed herself and poisoned Cabhan all that time ago. Every one of us since has missed something. We need to find what’s missed.”
    â€œAnd we will. But you can’t leave us out of it, Branna. You didn’t miss, the whole of us did. Fin—”
    â€œI know I have to work with him. I have, and I will.”
    â€œDoes it help to know he suffers as you do?”
    â€œA little.” She leaned her head on his shoulder a moment. “Small of me.”
    â€œHuman of you. A witch is as human as any, as Da always told us.”
    â€œSo he did.”
    For a few moment they sat quiet, side by side, as swords rang.
    â€œCabhan’s healing, isn’t he?” She said it quietly, just to him. “Gathering himself for the next. I feel . . . something in the air.”
    â€œI feel it, too.” Connor watched, as she did, the deep green shadows of the woods. “As his blood, Fin would feel more. Is there stew enough for the whole of us?”
    She sighed in a way that told him she’d already thought of it herself. “I suppose there is. Ask them,” she said as she rose, “and I’ll make sure of it.”
    He took her hand, kissed it. “As human as any, and braver than most. That’s my sister.”
    â€œThe thought of Guinness stew’s made you sentimental.” But she gave his hand a squeeze before she went inside.
    It wasn’t the stew, though Christ knew it didn’t hurt a thing. But he worried about her more than she knew.
    Then Iona feinted left, spun, struck from the right, and it was Meara who stumbled, slipped, and landed on the wet grass.
    Iona immediately let out a whoop, began to jump in circles, sword raised high.
    â€œWell done, cousin!” he called out over Meara’s strong, throaty laugh.
    Iona made a flourishing bow, then on a squeak, straightened fast as the flat of Meara’s sword slapped her ass.
    â€œWell done indeed,” Meara told her. “But I could’ve sliced open your belly while you were dancing about in victory. Finish me off next time.”
    â€œGot it, but just one more.” She whooped again, jumped again. “That should do it. I’ll put the swords away, and go brag to Branna.”
    â€œThat’s fair enough.”
    Iona took the swords, waved them both high, did another bow for Connor, then dashed inside.
    â€œYou trained her well,” Connor commented as he rose to walk over and offer Meara what was left of his tea.
    â€œCheers to me.”
    â€œDid you let her knock you down?”
    â€œI didn’t, no, though I’d considered doing just that to give her a boost. Didn’t prove necessary. She’s always been quick, but she’s learning to be sneaky as well.”
    She rubbed her ass. “And now I’m wet where I wasn’t.”
    â€œI can fix that.” He moved in a little closer, reached around her. His hands trailed lightly over the butt of her wet trousers.
    Warmth seeped over, through, and his hands lingered. Something in her eyes, he thought, something in those dark, exotic eyes. He caught himself on the point of drawing her in when she stepped back.
    â€œThanks.” She polished off his tea. “And for that as well, though I could use a glass of that wine Branna’s so fond of.”
    â€œThen come in and have one. I’m calling on the others to come. There’s Guinness stew and a fresh round of bread.”
    â€œI should go on.” She shifted back, glanced toward her lorry. “I’m all but living here these days.”
    â€œShe needs her circle, Meara. It would be a favor to me if you’d stay.”
    Now she looked over her shoulder, as if sensing something sneaking up behind her. “Is he coming already?”
    â€œI can’t say, not absolutely. I’ll be hoping Fin can say more. So come