A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,22

competence. And if the scones were any indication, Dave's rival in the kitchen.

She might leave that last part out of her report back to Margaree. Or not - the Scots always appreciated a little friendly competition.

Aaron pulled out a couple of forms from behind a gorgeous vase of flowers, eyes twinkling. "I can offer you pretty much any room in the house. Will anyone be joining you while you're here?"

Cass lifted her violin case. "Nope, just me and my fiddle. Will it be a problem if I practice in my room? I can keep it to standard daylight hours if I might disturb anyone else."

Aaron's eyes lit. "You play?"

"A little." Her automatic answers kicked in as she leaned over to fill out the guest card. "You listen?"

"Yeah." He shuffled papers behind the desk. "My grandparents live just outside of Margaree on Cape Breton. I spent summers with them as a boy. If you haven't been out that way, some of the best fiddling in the world happens in that town."

She looked up, intrigued by the connections. "I just came from there. Dave at the Normaway Inn sent me your direction."

"Wow." Aaron grinned, clearly honored. "I'll see if I can whip up something for breakfast tomorrow that can hold a candle to his porridge bread."

She'd landed in the right place - her certainty was increasing by the minute. "Don't worry, I'm not a picky eater. Just a hungry one."

"Noted." He took her guest card, glancing at the details. And then his jaw dropped. "Oh, my God. You're Cassidy Farrell."

Okay, maybe this wasn't quite the end of the earth. He most definitely knew who she was. "Yeah."

"I knew I'd seen your face somewhere." He took in her battered violin case with new eyes. "And that's Rosie."

Shoot, the last thing she needed was some innkeeper fretting about keeping her instrument safe. One too many articles about her million-dollar fiddle. The last guy in Maine had nearly driven her to drink. "Don't worry, I'll keep her close by. She's my responsibility."

He looked at her blankly.

Damn, she was getting paranoid in her old age. "Sorry. Some people seem to think she's the queen's jewels or something."

"Ah." He smiled and handed her a room key. "Those would be perfectly safe here too. Everything will be, whether you choose to lock your door or not."

She grinned. "I usually forget." The Irish were not big on locks and keys.

"Then you'll be right at home here." Aaron came around the desk and picked up her bag. "Your room's on the second floor. It's one of our smaller ones, but very cozy, and the best view in the house." He headed up the stairs. "And it's right above the desk here, so I might catch a few notes if you decide to do some practicing."

He meant it. No stars in his eyes - just easy appreciation. The kind of fan she found in Margaree and not nearly often enough anywhere else. "That sounds perfect, thanks."

His smile was growing on her already. "There's nobody else here right now and we live in the cottage beside the inn, so feel free to play at whatever hours move you." He took the stairs two at a time, just like her brother Rory.

Cass picked up Rosie and followed him. "I might take you up on that - I'm a bit of a night owl."

He turned around on the top landing, eyes twinkling. "Well, you might find my wife or me wandering around then too. One or the other of our twins is often up in the wee hours."

She never minded company. "If you'd enjoy it, I'll bring my fiddle down to the kitchen later."

The quick pleasure in his eyes told her what she needed to know. She'd be spending a lot of time in the kitchen.

It wouldn't be a hardship.

She stepped through the door of the room he indicated and realized that it wouldn't be a hardship either. Fluffy white sheets and colorful hand-knit throws pulled her, body and soul, toward a bed that was a tired musician's dream.

Comfortable furnishings, bright splashes of color and old photographs on the walls, and a squishy round rug under her feet. "Oooh." She turned back to Aaron. "I'll be staying a few more days than however long I told you."

She hadn't said, and they both knew it. But she knew her innkeepers - he'd hear it as the compliment she meant it to be.

He grinned and backed out of the room. "You wouldn't be the first. There's