A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,80

one, with people stretching as far as the eye could see. She played for them, and for the invisible people beyond the edges of the light. A wild and delirious song, one that screamed of battles won and souls lost and held thousands captive with every note.

He'd known she was a star - but he'd never felt it.

And in her dream, Cassidy Farrell reveled in it.

Marcus backed away, watching the dream go black. Looked down on his girl, utterly content in the arms of a woman who lived for the stage. And felt anguish rip him in two.

He scooped Morgan into his arms, deaf to her instant protests.

And glared down at bleary green eyes. "You can't be halfway here."

Confusion looked back up at him.

"Go. I won't have you breaking her heart." An impossible bravery fought to the surface and pushed out two more words. "Or mine."

His eyes weren't gentle anymore.

Cass struggled to wake up, brain still clogged with music and dreams and the cries of a bereft small girl.

And then his mind punched again. Go.

Pain slicing her soul into tiny shards, she stumbled to her feet. Blood drained as she ran, his eyes chasing her out into the cold, biting wind of the village where she no longer belonged.

Boots two sizes too big slapped at her feet. Not hers.

Cass stumbled to a stop, agonized, underdressed, and still dazed from sleep. Stood in the middle of the only road of Fisher's Cove, blanket pulled tight in helpless defense against the wind.

And raged.

She had no words. Only fury and torment.
Chapter 20
It hadn't taken much work to find their wounded Irish witch. Lizzie and Kevin had been sitting sentry duty at the bottom of the stairs, their eyes hurting. Respecting the privacy of a witch whose heart was cracking.

So many had fallen in love so quickly.

And if Moira's instincts told her right, she was about to add to the hurt.

She paused at the top of the inn's main staircase, catching her breath and checking in with the healer's wisdom that had guided her path for so many years. Sometimes pain was necessary to make things right - but it still made her shudder to do it.

She made her way along the hallway on the second floor, reaching out to touch the bits of beauty Aaron had adorning walls and various nooks and crannies. He was a man who understood the value of nurtured roots.

It was time another soul heard that message.

Moira rounded the corner to the reading nook, a great gray expanse visible through the panes of glass. Cass sat huddled in a corner of the window seat, a picture of misery.

And covered in three wooly blankets, all knit by witchy hands.

Moira touched the top one, a swirling mix of lavender and teal. "Sophie dyed the yarn for this one. I knit it up myself last winter." Good and warm, which was useful after you'd fled out into the winter's cold half-dressed.

The eyes that tipped up to hers had long since run out of tears. "I screwed up."

"Perhaps." Moira took a seat - close enough for comfort, far enough away not to push on a fragile heart. "Or perhaps not."

Cass stared out the window, her eyes as bleak as the landscape. "I make friends easily, everywhere I go."

It was the way of the bard. "That's not a failing, my lovely girl."

"They're going to hurt when I leave. Not just Morgan. Kevin, too." Cass swallowed hard. "They're just children - I forgot how easily they love. It didn't occur to me to take more care with them. Keep my distance."

"You're neither foolish nor blind enough to believe that." Moira let the harsh undertones in her voice stand - she wanted her words to be heard.

"It's time for me to go."

Not for those reasons. "Aye."

Astonished eyes met hers. "I didn't expect you to agree with me."

Oh, they were far from agreement just yet. Moira looked out the window herself, always enjoying this bird's-eye view of her gardens. "Do you know where you'll be headed?"

"I don't know." The honest confusion of a heart adrift. "Maybe it doesn't matter - I go back on tour in a few days."

A few days was enough time to change a life. "It seems to me that a traveler ought to know her next destination." Journeys were a good thing. Aimless wandering was a different matter entirely. "Some place calls to you, no?"

Cass shook her head in momentary defiance. "I don't have time to go to Ireland."

"That's not the kind of