A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,64

sure you have a copy of whatever Aaron's captured on that toy of his."

Both men blushed, Kevin far deeper. "He's not going to record this part, is he?"

No. The student would hear only the mistakes - not his talent. She winked at Aaron and began, leading the boy on the stool through the music measure by measure.

He had a good ear, and she'd been right. The ballad suited Kevin down to the ground. Slow notes made the mechanics easier for a beginner - and let through something else she'd been positive was there.

He leaned into the notes. Felt them. Told a story with eight simple notes and a horsehair bow.

He was going to make a damn fine musician.

It would be worth the drive every year just to hear him get better. Maybe she'd even make the trek more than once a year. Come in summer. Smell the flowers.

Her fingers clenched around Rosie's strings. You couldn't be a musician halfway. And the temptation to stay would only get stronger.

Just as it did every time she visited home.

Cass set Rosie on her knee and let her student play alone. Hearing his tentative, stumbling notes fed something she hadn't known was hungry - and it settled her. She could do this. And she could visit. Maybe even more often.

Life had more than two choices. She just needed to find them.

And whatever the tangle of her larger purpose here, this hour was pure magic. Cass waited until Kevin worked his way through the little ballad several more times. And then, fairly sure her student had his notes now, she shouldered Rosie and started picking out a gentle counterpoint to his melody. Simple harmonies. Quiet ones that wouldn't disrupt a beginner and his playing.

Kevin grinned, listening as he played. And Aaron pushed a little button that Cass was quite sure had his iPod recording again.

She knew what he would capture. The shaky beauty of a new musician and a jaded old one, caught up in the insidious pleasure of making music together.

Today, she would revel in it. There were plenty of other days to play alone.
Chapter 16

Marcus stood outside Moira's back gate and contemplated the inn's side entrance. In Realm, he'd invoke invisibility, waltz up to the second floor, and leave his package outside Cassidy's door.

In real life, he had a toddler holding his hand, the package was wrapped in screaming pink tissue paper, and Tuesday was the day Aaron scrubbed the inn from top to bottom.

They would be about as invisible as a Las Vegas casino sign.

Maybe he could bribe Lizzie to make the delivery - but he'd have to walk the entire length of the village to do it. He looked down at the bright pink tissue paper and cursed for about the hundredth time of the morning. In the dead of night, it had looked boring and gray.

So many things that seemed sane at 2 a.m. turned out badly. He looked down at his daughter. "Let's go home, shall we?" They could just pretend it had been a nice walk, deep-six the package in the back of the hall closet, and get on with the rest of their day.

Morgan looked up at him, a classic Buchanan scowl scrunching her features. "G'an. Fowers."

Moira was the last person on earth he wanted spying the package under his arm. "We'll get flowers later, sweetheart."

"Fowers." Said in the tone of voice that suggested his daughter was going to have no trouble locating the terrible twos.

In the summer, there were flowers all over the village. In the dead of winter, his options were very limited. Marcus bent down, resorting to sheer bribery. "How about we go bloom a whole bunch of flowers right in front of our cottage?"

It was an excellent offer - she'd been asking every time they passed through their rather barren yard. So far, he'd managed to convince her that Buchanans didn't festoon their land with flowers, mostly by the expedient method of picking her up and carrying her inside.

Morgan tipped her head, considering. And then gave him one of her classic impudent grins and turned back to the gate. "G'an. Fowers."

Hecate's hells. The gods must be laughing at him this morning. Marcus racked his brain for a better bribe - and then heard footsteps behind them. He offered up a quick, wordless prayer for a minor earthquake. Or a moose to fall out of the sky.

Anything that might distract the three women standing behind him.

"Good morning to you, nephew." Moira leaned past him