Wild Irish Heart (The Mystic Cove Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

her own mind. Did you know that Grainne is the Celtic name for Grace?" Margaret asked. Both Keelin and Margaret's middle name was Grainne.
    "I did not," Keelin said.
    "Almost all of the women of a particular bloodline in Grace's Cove carry that name. It isn't because of the town name. It is because our bloodline is that of Grace O'Malley."
    "Shut up." Keelin was thrilled. She was related to a famous pirate queen? How cool was that?
    "Keelin, do not say shut up."
    "Sorry, Mom."
    "Yes, you are a descendant of Grace O'Malley, for whom Grace's Cove is named. Your grandmother has a direct connection and experiences the effects of it."
    "Of what? I don't understand. Is ol' Grandma a pirate or something?" Keelin asked.
    Margaret smiled. "No, not quite. Grace was rumored to have powers other than her formidable ones as a pirate queen. Some say magick. Others say a healer. Others point to almost a psychic ability to predict potential threats. It isn't really known what all surrounded Grace, yet almost all will agree she had a level of power."
    Keelin began to nervously pick at her nails. She pulled at a loose hangnail and winced as blood came to the surface. Without thinking she covered it with her hand and the wound slowly faded.
    "The cove itself is rumored to be enchanted. Almost no one will go there. Well, aside from your grandmother. And a few others. I've gone there. I never will again."
    "Wait. What. You're kidding me, right?" Keelin said. She pictured the stunning images of the cove that she had seen on Google. It was impossible to think that people wouldn't spend time there.
    "The Irish are a very superstitious people, Keelin. Nobody will go there. People who do are often swept out to sea or injured on the rocks. They say that the moon won't reflect off the water there – yet at times the sea glows from within."
    "Okay, Mom, stop. There are perfectly plausible explanations for these things. Oftentimes coves have whirlpools or riptides that will pull people out to sea. As for glowing from within, there are certain types of phosphorous plankton that can create a glowing illusion on the water. I'm sure it is all just a superstition," Keelin said.
    Margaret smiled and shook her head. "You're so smart. And typically, I would agree with you, had I not seen the power for myself. I won't go back there. My mother went into the cove regularly and never had a problem but she had her own way of doing so."
    "Mom, why is it named Grace's Cove? What is the connection?"
    "Well, it is rumored that Grace O'Malley hid the Chalice of Ardagh there and that the one in the national museum is a companion piece to the real chalice."
    "What! Mother. No. That is insane. The Chalice of Ardagh is part of Irish national pride. If that were true there would have been expeditions. Divers would have found it. The cove is not that big."
    "Oh, there have been expeditions. Many. They've all failed. The government got sick of spending money on it and now dismisses it as a silly superstition and warns people against going to the dangerous waters of the cove. The official statement is that there is a powerful current that will sweep you out to sea. The unofficial statement is that it is cursed."
    Keelin stared at the pond. The ducks swam lazily, picking at the offerings of bread. The science side of her mind concurred with the official reason for the cove's problems. The "other" side of her that stayed awake at night with visions, hummed. Her mom's words were like a balm of truth to her soul. Conflicted, Keelin rubbed her hands together, not seeing that her nail wound had completely healed.
    "How come Grandma could go there? How does the book play into all this? Is this why you left?" Keelin had so many questions.
    "Your grandmother and I had a difficult relationship. It was one of the reasons that I left with you. Her plans for you didn't coincide with my plans. I needed to give you a chance at a normal life," Margaret said again, nervously twisting a gold band