“I’m here now. I’ve known you near to all our lives, before the mark came on you and after. I know who you are. And because I do, I’ll swear it to you, Fin, if that’s what you need. What I have comes from my heart, as you said, and my heart knows you. So you’ll have your brood, and I’ll say you’ve earned it. And tomorrow we’ll be back to it.”
“All right then.” Steadier now, Fin sipped his whiskey. “I have earned a brood.”
“That you have, and I’ll brood with you until I finish my whiskey.” Connor sipped and sat awhile in silence. “We both love her,” he said.
Fin leaned back, shut his eyes. “That’s the fucking truth.”
And love, Connor knew well, pulled stronger than any dark promises.
10
FIN CONSIDERED HIMSELF SOCIABLE ENOUGH. HE KNEW when to stand a round in the pub, was a good guest who could make conversation at dinner. If he had mates over to watch a match or play some snooker, he provided plenty of beer and food and didn’t fuss about the mess made.
He hadn’t been raised in a barn, after all, so he understood as well as any man the basic expectations and duties when hosting a party.
Iona reeducated him.
In midafternoon on the last day of the year, she came to his door with her sunlight crown of hair tucked into a bright blue cap he remembered her Nan had knit her for Christmas. And loaded down with shopping bags.
“Didn’t we just have Christmas?”
“Party supplies.” She pushed some bags in his hand, carried the rest with her as she walked back to his kitchen. After dumping them on the center island, she pulled off her coat, scarf, hat, gloves, then her boots—and took all of them into his laundry room.
“We’ve got candles,” she began.
“I have candles. I bought some from Branna not long before Yule.”
“Not enough, not nearly.” Both firmness and pity lived in Iona’s shake of the head. “You need them everywhere.”
She dug into a bag, started taking things out. “These are for the living room mantel. You’ll get a twelve-hour burn, so you want to light them about a half hour before you expect people to start coming.”
“Do I?”
“You do,” she said definitely. “They’ll set a pretty, celebrational yet elegant atmosphere. These are for the powder room up here, and for the bathroom downstairs, and the main bath upstairs. No one should go into your master suite unless invited, but there’s extra so you should put some there, just in case. And these are guest towels—pretty, simple, and disposable.”
She laid out a wrapped stack of white napkins embossed with silver champagne flutes.
“So people don’t have to dry their hands on the same cloth towel someone else dried their hands on.”
Fin let out a quick laugh. “Seriously now?”
“Fin, look at my face.” She pointed to it. “Deadly serious. I got some extra candles for your dining room in case you didn’t have enough there, and others for the mantel on your lower level. Now, it’s essential you make sure there’s plenty of TP in the bathrooms. Women hate, loathe, and despise when they’re sitting there and there’s no TP.”
“I can only imagine. Fortunately.”
“I plan to do an hourly check on the bathrooms, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’re a comfort to me, Iona.”
She laid her hands on his cheeks. “I got you into this, and I said I’d help. I’m here to help. Now. The caterers will pretty much take over the kitchen, and they’ll know what they’re doing. I checked on them, and they’re supposed to be
stellar. Good choice.”
“Thanks. I do what I can.”
She only smiled. “We’ll just want to be sure the servers understand they’ll need to cover your lower level with food and drink because you’re going to have a lot of people gathering down there to play games, dance, and hang out. You’ll have fires going, of course.”
“Well, of course.”