Celtic Evil: A Fitzgerald Brother Novel: Roarke Read Free Page A

“You’re
interesting,” was her reply, opening a small notebook. “You were a
member of the famous Fitzgerald brothers who even sang for the
Queen.”
    “I was eight and hardly
remember that.” Mac shrugged it off, reaching for a glass of tea on
the table and shooting a look that clearly spoke volumes but if the
reporter caught it, she chose to ignore it.
    “You’ve got licenses in
medicine, law and veterinary medicine.” Maggie went on easily,
looking up. “You seem to want to be a lot of things.”
    Mac’s smile was easy, the
one he used when wanting to distract. “I get bored easily so I have
a lot of ways to go.” He poured her tea out of manners his mother
pounded into him.
    “You stopped singing when
you were sixteen.” Her eyes took on a curious look. “Around the
same time as when your parents died.”
    This time his smile stayed
but it tightened, as did his eyes that Maggie saw actually spark.
“That’s a closed subject,” he replied evenly, refusing to speak to
anyone about that.
    Sensing that he meant it,
Maggie let it drop. Figuring it time to change the subject, she
looked to the fields. “You raise horses?”
    “Sometimes, mostly it’s a
hobby.” On safer ground, Mac followed her eyes but he also felt
something in the distance that was making his lunch twist in his
stomach. “We toured the States once and my father showed us some
Appaloosas on a farm in Virginia. I like them a lot.”
    The woman felt that love when he spoke of
the horses but also caught the loss when he spoke of his
family.
    After a couple minutes of
silence, she coughed and looked at her book again. “My editor gave
me a couple mandatory questions he insisted I ask you so I’ll
apologize in advance.” She laughed lightly but couldn’t quite cover
the unease she had.
    “Uh-oh, that’s never good,”
Mac grinned to put her at ease because he did like this quirky girl
and sensed her unease. “Ask away. Trust me, I’ve been asked
everything.”
    Maggie wasn’t sure about
that but took a deep breath. “Well, the main thing he wanted me to
ask was how you manage to do it all?”
    “All?” Mac’s brow rose.
“Like what?”
    “Do everything you do,
travel like you do and still manage to be… a practicing
witch?”
    If he was startled by the
question outwardly, Mac didn’t let on as he grinned easily at the
woman, but inside his gut was twisting.
    “Your editor must have a lot of guts to try
that since it’d be real easy for a libel suit on that one.” He
sipped his tea in order to gain some time, to gauge how much this
perky redhead may actually know.
    Maggie took a deep breath
but didn’t flinch from the cold eyes that were now aimed at her.
“How right is he?” she countered then raised a hand to begin
ticking off points on her fingers. “You were born in Fitzgaren in
County Kerry. The town was founded by your ancestors and legend has
it the Fitzgerald family has long held the power. Your mother was
Brenna Kerrigan whose own mother never made any denial that she was
a…”
    “My mother is off-limits.”
This time there was no denying the edge to Mac’s voice but before
he could go on, a sudden snarling f rom the fields where a lovely white
stallion was heard making all kind of noise.
    Looking away from the equally firm green
eyes, Mac stood to see what the issue was when he saw the large
black wolf in the fenced off area with the horse.
    “What the bloody hell?” He
whispered, instinct had him laying a hand on the patio fence to
jump it and try to help the horse when the wolf raised its head and
blazing red eyes stared into his, and he felt the blow to his
chest.
    “Oh my God!” Maggie
screamed as the wolf jumped on the horse and began to shred it, but
she also knew she couldn’t leave Mac in this shape as she dropped
to her knees next to him, shocked to see what she saw but also shocked to see his eyes.
    His smoky gray-blue eyes
had gone totally to smoke and his words, muttered to himself,