Tadhg had to duck to fit inside. “It’s yours if you want it.”
Mine.
The six cupboards, the chipped tea set, the drystack fireplace burning logs of fragrant turf, the lonely brown sofa and rickety dining chairs.
All mine.
I’d never owned anything more than dresses and a few jewels I’d inherited from my mother.
Now I had all of this.
The rest of my cottage took fifteen steps to see. The larger bedroom had a door leading to a backyard swallowed by brambles. If I pruned them back, I’d have blackberries in September. Not that I’d know what to do with the things beyond gorging on them raw. But they’d be mine too.
I could plant a vegetable patch along the stone wall. If there was a market nearby, perhaps I could sell a few.
Mine.
Bits of furniture more broken than not cluttered the smaller bedroom and tiny bathing room in between.
Mine.
What was that delicious smell? Bread—two loaves, tucked away inside a basket next to a second one full of fruit and veg.
My food in my house sitting on my table next to my stove.
Tadhg’s nose wrinkled when he stuck a finger into one of the holes on the sofa’s upholstery.
It didn’t matter what he thought.
I loved it. More than loved it.
Far from perfect but beautiful in its mismatched glory, this place was mine. No one could take it from me.
Mine, all mine.
A cottage by the sea with a garden.
My wish.
This place had to be from Rían.
Outside, the orange sun sank toward the horizon. I clutched my black robes to keep them from tangling with my dirty boots, stepping from one creaky floorboard to the next. “Bring him to me. Please.”
Tadhg frowned down at his flexing hands. “There’s no telling when he’ll turn again. You need to let him go.”
Let him go.
Now wasn’t the time to let Rían go. Now was the time to hold him tighter.
“You love my sister and would do anything to save her, right?”
Tadhg’s dark eyebrows came together. “Aveen—”
“Am I right?”
He gave a reluctant nod.
“That’s how I feel about Rían. It’s my turn now. My turn to save him.”