UNCORKING A BOTTLE OF wine at the counter, Bann kept an eye on Cor as he set the table, hampered by Sam weaving his way around boy and chair legs. The aroma of roast beef filled the room when Shay opened the oven door and slid the pan out, the juices sizzling cheerfully. Setting it on the top of the stove, she sliced an experimental sliver off one end, blew on it, then popped it in her mouth. “Oh, man, that’s good.” She sliced off another bite and held it out to Bann on the edge of the knife. “It’s like free-range cocaine. Not,” she glanced over at Cor, “that I ever tried any. Just an expression.”
Bann took it neatly with his teeth, hands still manipulating the corkscrew. He swallowed, then spoke. “For a ‘simple family meal,’ you’ve gone to some trouble. A tactic?”
“Oh, yeah,” Shay said fervently. “I’m all about tactics tonight. That way-too-expensive wine you’re opening is another one.”
“How much longer, Shay? I’m starving!” Cor placed the last spoon on the table, then flopped belly-down over one of the chairs and hung his head. Sam promptly attacked, mouthing and licking the boy’s hair, still damp from a combing.
“Enough of your shenanigans.” Bann carried the wine bottle over to the table, then pulled Cor upright. “I’ve only just managed to tame that mess.” The boy’s hair stuck out in clumps. With a grumble of annoyance, he ran a hand over his son’s head, smoothing it back in place with the help of puppy saliva, then wiped his hands dry on his jeans. A sound of disgust made father and son look over at Shay.
“What?” they both asked at the same time.
“Nothing.” She shuddered.
At that moment, a car pulled into the driveway. Bann and Shay locked eyes.
“And here we go,” Shay murmured. “Cor. Get the door. And don’t forget what you and your dad practiced, okay? And don’t let Sam get out.” As boy and pup scampered away, she nodded at them. “Our frontal assault—Mom won’t be able to resist them.”
“Clever ploy.” He trailed after his son, reaching the door just as Cor opened it, one hand holding Sam’s harness.
“Hello, Cor.” Isobel Doyle stepped inside. A gift bag and a small purse dangled from one hand. She wore a royal-blue cashmere sweater over black slacks and flat-heeled boots. The dark colors set off her pale hair, which was smoothed back and held with a clip at the nape of her neck. Bann wondered how Isobel managed to raise such a tomboy as Shay.
“Céad mile fáilte.” Cor smiled shyly up at the woman.
“Why, thank you.” She smiled back. “And you pronounced it perfectly. Have you been practicing it just for me?” She cut her eyes briefly at Bann, then back to the boy.
Damn, Bann thought. She has caught us out.
“Yes, ma’am.” Cor’s grin widened. “It means ‘a hundred thousand welcomes’ in Gaelic.”
And we’ve just lost the first skirmish.
“Yes, I know.” Not bothering to hide her smirk of triumph, Isobel reached down and patted the dog, who was wiggling himself into a seizure at the prospect of even more attention. “And hello to you, too, Sam.” Straightening, she looked at Bann as Cor closed the door behind her.
“Bann.”
“Isobel.” He held out his hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and held on longer than was necessary, making sure she felt the calluses on his palm and fingertips from years of weapons training before letting go. “May I take your things?”
“No, I’ll just leave my purse here.” She dropped it on the entryway table that already held a pile of car keys and Shay’s cell phone. The bag, she kept with her.
“Hey, Mom.” Shay walked over and gave her mother a quick hug. “Are you hungry? Because Cor is going to drop dead if we don’t eat soon.” She reached over to push his hair from his forehead, then chuckled when he ducked with a practiced move.
“Well, I wouldn’t want that to happen,” Isobel said. “By the way, I brought Cor a little gift.” She handed the bag to him.
Cor’s eyes widened. Before Bann could remind him, he offered a soft “thank you.” He started to reach inside, then paused and looked up. “Can I open it now?”
“If you want.”
Setting the bag on the floor, Cor fished through the sheets of tissue paper stuffed in the top and pulled out a rubber chew toy for Sam. It was shaped like a gingerbread man. “Look, Sammy.” He waved it in front of the pup’s nose. Sam chomped down on it. A high-pitched squeak from the toy sent him scurrying backwards so fast, he tripped over his back paws. Ashamed of his show of fear, he sounded a puppy version of faugh a ballagh and launched himself again. This time, he yanked the toy free and trotted away, head held high. Cor raced after him. They disappeared down the hallway.
“Mom? Would you like a glass of wine while I finish up supper?” Shay asked as her mother walked over to the sofa and took a seat. Flames snapped for attention in the fireplace across from the sofa.
“I would, thank you. Do you need any help? And how is your head?”
“My head is fine. And, no, I’ve got everything under control. Bann did a bunch of stuff earlier to help me out already. He likes to pamper me, you know, even when I’m not hurt.”
A salvo returned, he thought.
As Shay bustled about the kitchen, Bann added another log, taking his time to place it just right, then prodded already-burnt wood with the poker. Silence filled the room. Out of embers to kill, he replaced the tool and stood with an elbow resting on the mantel. He noticed Isobel gazing at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that flanked both sides of the brick hearth. Her eyes were fixed on the display of family photos tucked in between piles of books.
She gestured toward a photo sitting by itself on the mantel near Bann’s elbow. A redheaded man, clearly Hugh’s brother, but clean-shaven, stood arm in arm with a younger Isobel. A stand of blue spruces behind a low stone wall created a rustic backdrop. Side by side in front of the adults, two young children, both towheads, beamed at the camera. A young Shay showed off two missing front teeth.
“Shay was about Cor’s age when that picture was taken,” Isobel said.
Bann studied it, then her. “The Doyle clan has beautiful women.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Trying to charm me?”
“Merely stating a truth. A truth for which I would use young Meggie as support.”
“Oh, you’re good.” A look of respect flitted across her face. “Well struck, Bannerman Boru, using my granddaughter as a weapon.”
“A weapon? I dinna know we were at war, madam.” He let slip his brogue to fight for him. To remind her that he was Éireann born and bred, an old-school Celt in all the best ways, including being willing—nay, eager—to fight for what he wants. And for those he loves.
She must have picked up on his hint, for she leaned back and studied him with grudging respect. “Bann—” she started to say when Shay joined them, carrying a serving tray of drinks.
“Here, Mom.” She passed a glass of wine to her mother and a shot glass half-full of amber liquid to Bann. Her back to the sofa, she winked at him before turning to place the empty tray on the coffee table. “As the mortals would say, sláinte.” She raised her own glass of whiskey.
Bann downed most of the drink in one gulp. Smoke and fire filled his sinuses. He noticed Isobel took a rather deep drink herself. Lowering the glass, she stared into its depths as if it were the Cauldron of the Tuatha Dé Danaan itself.
No doubt rallying for the next round. Bann found himself suddenly weary of the game. He took another drink. If she will not welcome me into her daughter’s life, then so be it. He wondered what the real reason was she did not want him marrying Shay.
As if reading his thoughts, Isobel glanced at the hallway, then leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “May I be blunt?”
“When haven’t you?” Shay said under her breath.
Isobel ignored the comment. “Bann,” she began again, her gaze fixed on him in a manner that was so Shay, it was uncanny. “I respect Hugh’s opinion, not just because he is our clan leader and my brother-by-law, but because he is one of the most level-headed men I’ve ever known. Ann, as well. They both sing your praises. And, yes, your bloodline is impressive, but—”
“Mom,” Shay interrupted her. “When are you going to let it go and just accept—”
“But—” Isobel raised her voice, overriding her daughter as she went for the killing blow. “My greatest concern is that my only daughter is marrying a man who was unable to prevent his first wife from being killed by the same monster that now threatens us.”
And there it is. It took everything Bann had to not flinch. Instead, he saluted her with his glass. “Well struck, yourself, Isobel Doyle, using the one weapon I cannot fight against. ’Tis true, I was unable to prevent Cernunnos from killing Elizabeth. Just as you were unable to prevent those Amandán from killing your husband. Would that both our mates be alive right now.” He straightened. “But would you have given up the love you shared with your husband, and the two fine children you bore him, to side-step the pain of losing him?”
Isobel sat in silence, gazing at the photo. The crackle of the fire and the boyish voice of Cor playing with Sam filled the room with an odd normalcy. A long minute passed.
Then Isobel sighed. “I would not. I treasure every day I had with Liam.” She drained her glass, set it on the coffee table, and rose. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped around the table and extended her hand to Bann, who put down his own drink.
He hesitated, then took it. “A truce?”
“No, a victory. For you, Bannerman Boru. You’re right—in spite of the risk, I do want Shay to have the same happiness I had with her father.” She tilted her head, studying him. “And I have a feeling that you will do whatever it takes to make her happy and keep her safe. What else can a mother ask of her future son-by-law?”
Bann raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, looking at Isobel through his lashes.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Are you always such a flirt?”
“As needs be.”
“Shay?” They all turned when Cor appeared, jiggling from one foot to the other as he hesitated in the hallway entrance. “Um…”
“What’s the matter, buddy?”
“Sam threw up on the bed.”
“Which bed?” Shay asked.
“Yours.”
Bann and Isobel both laughed. “Welcome to parenthood,” they said in unison.
Three hours later, and with his head buzzing from too much whiskey, Bann waited by Isobel’s car as mother and daughter said their farewells on the porch. He opened the door as the woman walked down the drive. With a word of thanks, she slid behind the wheel and started the engine, then powered down the window. At her signal, he bent closer and rested his elbows on the open frame.
“I was dreading this evening, Bann,” Isobel said. “I was certain things were going to get ugly. And that you might cause a rift between me and my only daughter.”
“I see where Shay gets her honesty from. One of many traits I admired in her from the moment I met her.” He glanced over at Shay waiting by the front door. The porch light cast a halo around her head. “I could not help falling in love with her. But I must admit—she was first a friend to me and Cor. And, oh, did we sorely need one.” He looked back at Isobel. He was surprised to see the glint of tears in her eyes.
“And love founded on friendship makes a strong marriage—I should know. I now see why Hugh and Ann think so highly of you. And I do trust Shay’s judgment. She seems so happy with you and with Cor.” She glanced at the boy standing next to Shay, yawning from being up an hour past his bedtime. Her face softened. “Looks like someone is ready for bed.”
“You are speaking of the boy, eh?”
“Funny.” She smiled and patted his arm. “I’ll see you soon, Bann.”
“A safe journey back to Aspen tomorrow.”
Stepping away, he raised a hand in farewell as she backed down the driveway and drove off. The purr of her sedan faded when she disappeared around the corner of the cul-de-sac. With a sigh of relief, he raked his fingers through his hair, then dug his fingers into his scalp, massaging away the tension.
Shay joined him. “Well, that went a lot better than I thought it was going to.”
“Aye.”
After tossing a coin to see who would clean the kitchen and who would wrangle Cor into bed, Bann stood at the sink, humming to himself as he dried his hands. On the stove, the teakettle was whistling along with him. “Shay?” He called over a shoulder. “Would you care for a cuppa?”
“I’d rather have a stick,” she answered from down the hall. “So I can beat a certain boy who won’t stop screwing around and get his butt in bed!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He clicked off the burner under the kettle before the whistle could turn into a shriek. After pouring the hot water into two mugs already set up with sachets containing an herbal tea of Shay’s own creation, he let them steep while he gave the fire a final poke. The flames cast a warm glow around the room. It never gets old, he thought. The simple joy of tea in front of one’s fire.
The sound of Shay’s voice pulled him toward his son’s room. Lingering in the doorway, he watched her as she sat on the edge of the bed and read aloud to Cor from a book. In his crate, Sam sat braced against the metal door, ready to go in case someone decided that they needed a puppy to hold.
“‘The beagle usually reaches maturity between the age of eighteen months to two years,’” she read. “‘A mature beagle will—’”
“What does ‘maturity’ mean?” Cor asked.
“It means grown up.”
“Are you and Dad mature?”
“I am. Your dad is not.”
“I’m standing right here, you know,” Bann said.
Cor shared a grin with Shay. It faded after a moment. “Does Isobel like you now, Dad?”
Bann was blindsided by both the abrupt change in subject and the question itself. “What are you talking about?” he asked, knowing exactly what the boy was asking. My son is nothing if he is not perceptive.
Cor’s gaze flickered from man to woman and back to man again. “She didn’t like you at first. When we went to Hugh and Ann’s house. Remember? But now she does, right?”
“She does, indeed,” Shay said before Bann could speak. She closed the book and placed it on the bedside table. “My mom likes Bann because he’s a pretty special guy. But she also likes him, and you, because I love him, and you, very much.” She tucked the covers higher under Cor’s chin. “Does that make sense?”
Bann could see that new notion churning away in his son’s head. His brows puckered for a moment. “But what if she didn’t ever like us? Would you still marry Dad?”
“Yup.”
“Really and truly?”
“Yup.”
“No matter what?”
“No matter what. You guys are stuck with me for the rest of your lives.”
And aren’t we the blessed ones? Bann thought.