Swordfights & Lullabies
“Swordfights & Lullabies (A Modern Witch Morsel) June 19. Alanna. Her life had changed so very much.Cass turned left onto the beach highway, loving the feel of the wind whipping her hair. A small voice cooed from the back seat, Morgan entirely happy with the view from her chair, too. Finding a snappy convertible that held a car seat hadn’t been an easy task.Especially with Marcus Buchanan in tow.Cass looked over at the man in question, heart overflowing with amused love. He didn’t clutch th...e door handle when she drove any longer. That was a good sign.So much of the last three months had been about him learning to let go.And about her learning to hold on.She kept her eyes on the road and felt for his mind, pleased when the connection was ready and waiting for her. That had been hard for him—he was so used to being alone. “Just one more day. One last show.” An unassuming Irish pub in North Charleston. She’d been convinced by their stew. Tommy had rolled his eyes and set up the gig.The last stop on the Swordfights & Lullabies tour.Marcus’s fingers joined hers on the gearshift. “You okay?”A lot more than okay. “I’ve had three months to say good-bye.” And three months to say hello to her new life. “Tommy and Gail just closed the deal on a house down the street from Nonna.” She smelled babies in his future. And lots of lasagna.“He’s a fraud.” Marcus chuckled over the sounds of blowing wind and ocean-faring seagulls. “Puts on that sad face of his, but he can’t wait to settle down.”Cass squeezed his fingers. Tommy wasn’t the only one. “We’ve been on the road together a long time.” It had been a big day in her career when she’d been rich enough and disorganized enough to hire a manager. “Almost fifteen years.”“We can visit.”They could. And they would—Realm’s magic transport beams made that easy. “I’m going to drag you over half the world, aren’t I?” New Jersey, Margaree, Ireland. And that was just the next six months.He lifted one wry eyebrow. “Worried I won’t survive?”Hardly. Survival was written in his bone marrow. “You weren’t born to travel.” It had taken him two months to stop walking into the wall of their beach house in the night. And he still lost things on the bus.“Well, you and Morgan were, so I guess I’d better get used to it.” He leaned his head back, letting the sun shine down on his face.Cass grinned. Marcus Buchanan, sun worshipper. Just one of the many little things she’d learned in the last three months that brought her quick, sneaking joy. Maybe they could squeeze in a trip to somewhere warm and full of light, too. “Wawawawawawawa.” The singsong from the backseat carried tones of impatient demand. Someone wanted water and waves. Now.“Almost there, cutie pie.” Cass glanced at the baby in the complex system of mirrors they’d set up to see her face. “If I go any faster, I’m going to make your da very nervous.”She didn’t have to look to know he was scowling. And let her laugh loose into the wind—an ode to the delight of simply feeling happy.On a day like today, it was impossible to mourn for tomorrow.-o0o-“There you go, sweetheart.” Marcus set Morgan’s bare feet down on the warm sands of North Myrtle Beach and kept a close eye on her—the sand was her favorite plaything, but the small, placid waves ran a close second.She was going to get a rude shock when they went back to Fisher’s Cove and she tried to stick her toes in the frigid waters.Morgan eyed the ocean and then plunked down in the tan sand. “‘Ovew!”Cass grinned and dutifully dug out the hot-pink shovel that was toddler treasure. “Going to find gold today, a leanbh mo chroí?”Marcus’s heart hitched. His girl might already be busy tossing sand with a shovel, but her mind leaned into the familiar Gaelic words. Comforted. Safe in the knowledge that she belonged.She had gone there so very easily, his tiny child of the naked toes and lavender eyes. A shining beacon for his crusty old soul. He reached for Cass, the feelings still sending him off balance. Marcus Buchanan belonged, too—and that still threatened to knock him off his feet every single day.Green eyes looked up at his, bright with laughter and things deeper. And then Cass tucked her head into his chest, eyes still watching the girl who had become theirs.On days like this, it wasn’t so hard to believe that happiness might be his to keep.He slid his hand into his pocket, feeling for the ring. Fashioned in the dark of a Fisher’s Cove night from a pile of sand. Good, sturdy Fisher’s Cove sand. And some from Margaree, sent by a very pleased Dave who had asked no questions. A little from their favorite beach here in South Carolina, and a handful of grains borrowed from the rocks of Ireland.He’d stood on the beach of home, the rocks vibrating under his feet and Evan laughing from above, every earth witch he knew at his side for power, and two old Irish grannies adding the blessing.And him, one meager, love-struck man, holding tight to three pebbles and making a fervent magical wish.That night had been for the witch. This bright, sunny afternoon was for the man.Carefully, terrified of dropping something, he pulled the ring and the three pebbles out of his pocket. And opened his fist under Cassidy’s nose.For a moment, neither of them breathed. Her head tipped up, almost quizzical.He’d had pretty words ready. Poetic ones, even. Ones that told of holes filled and wings spread and glorious, crazed hope and the wondrous feeling of waking up in the night to the sounds of her breathing. And he couldn’t get a one of them out.Hands shaking, he tipped the pebbles and the ring onto her palm and wrapped his big hands around the whole mess. Looking deep into his heart and hers, he found the only words that mattered. “Marry me, Cassidy Farrell. I love you so very much.”Something strong and untethered blasted into Cass’s eyes.And then she was in his arms, and the last shards of bachelor curmudgeon melted into the sands of North Myrtle Beach.MoreLess
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