Chapter 4

Brady Meath shoved away from the desk in his small office in the public library and stood in front of the window facing Puritan Street. Pedestrians walked past and cars drove by. Cherry blossoms were in full bloom and buds beginning to open on the magnolia trees. The grass was finally turning a nice shade of green after a long winter. But the calming, familiar sights didn't appease his restless mind or abate the itch under his skin.

As the town historian and head of the historical society, he had a busy week ahead. Budget plans had gone through for the Minister Bridge reconstruction, which meant he was required to go over the blueprints to ensure the architects had stayed true to original designs. Six Fates Courthouse was undergoing remodeling, so he'd have to pop by often to ensure the construction crew followed his instructions, down to every cornice piece and crown molding strip. And Galloway Lighthouse was in need of repairs. That meant sucking it up and visiting Fiona and Ceara to get their final approval on any plans. Which was more of a courtesy, but the Meaths and Galloways had to play nice. They were the founding families and had to work together. Or, at least, put up appearances.

With just over fifteen-thousand residents, the majority of Six Fates Island was a walking museum, and it was his job to keep it that way, even on days like today when he'd rather crawl back in bed. Slip into dreamland. Wrap the long, caramel-colored hair that smelled like rosemary and sin around his hand. Kiss his mystery woman's full, lush mouth until she hummed in her throat. Watch those blue eyes cloud with a passion only he could pull from her.

Damn. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Either he was six beers short of a case or the Galloways were screwing with him. Probably the latter. Except the mystery woman had been coming to him in dreams since he was a boy, making it highly illogical Fiona or Ceara were the culprits.

Dating back three centuries, the Meaths had always known the Galloways were witches. Tourists flocked to the island for atmosphere and lore. The witchcraft element had been dummied down through the years until the general population believed the Galloways had simply been wronged for practicing Wicca at a time when Christianity was prominent. Hell, a good portion of Meaths believed that, as well.

Brady was usually grounded in fact, but even he had to admit there was a basis for truth among the myth. Galloways had some kind of magick in their blood. Chalk it up to superstition or coincidence, but three-hundred years had passed since the curse had supposedly been cast, and both families hadn't had any luck in the love department. Marriages always ending in divorce. Premature deaths and illness. And that was just scratching the surface.

One eerie verity shoved through the timeline and planted itself forefront in his mind. Brady and his two brothers, Riley and Tristan, were the first generation in three centuries to have three males born. Three by three. He and his brothers all had green eyes. Upon when three sets of eyes of green are born...

Sighing, he ran his hand over his face. He had no idea what his mystery woman had to do with the curse. She probably wasn't even real. It wasn't possible. His whole life, he'd assumed that much.

Yet, things had been screwy lately. The frequency of her appearance. How he kept getting drawn to the replica passage hanging on his office wall of the supposed spell Celeste Galloway had cast. The way he'd been inadvertently bumping into Fiona and Ceara in town. And...how he'd woken up this morning in a dry bed, but sopping wet with rainwater.

Damn, but that made him want to put on a straightjacket.

A knock sounded at his door and he turned. His assistant, Jessica, stood in the entry, clipboard in hand. "What's up?"

She adjusted her pink blouse and tucked a strand of short brown hair behind her ear. Both were signs she was nervous. "How are the blueprints for the bridge?"

Brady glanced at the rolls on his desk. "Haven't looked yet. I'll get to it." She tapped the toe of a ballet flat and smoothed a pleat on her khaki pants. Yep, something was up. "What's on your mind?"

"Don't shoot the messenger, Mr. Meath."

He sighed. "It's Brady. You've worked for me for three years and we went to school together. It's weird using the formality." Typically, she didn't, which made him even more suspicious.

She glanced over her shoulder and back to him. "Whew, she's gone." Jessica stepped deeper into his office. "The mayor was just here. She's requesting a meeting at Tristan's office. You and Riley both."

Perfect. Just what he wanted. Right above a root canal without Novocain and below a lobotomy. "When?"

"In an hour."

"Any idea what she wants with me and my brothers?"

She shrugged. "We peons aren't kept in the loop."

"Well, you're not a peon, but be glad Mayor Bridgeport thinks you are." He rolled his head to loosen his neck. "I'll be there." He needed to talk to his brothers, anyway. They'd both been gone this morning when he'd come down for breakfast.

With a nod, she stepped out, and he turned back to the window.

People bustled along the sidewalk, but to his left, Mara Galloway stood near a bench talking to someone obscured by a tree. He'd recognize Mara's white hair anywhere. Her red skirt caught the breeze as her companion stepped forward and came into view.

Brady's lungs collapsed. It couldn't be.

Instead of pajamas, shehis mystery womanwore a long yellow dress and a white sweater. Wavy blonde hair down to her waist. Slender frame. Pale, milky skin. Plump lips. Blue eyes...

"Holy shit." The frenetic beat of his heart relocated ribs. A buzzing in his ears grew louder until a hive took up residence.

He shook his head. Present was the seductive aura of secrecy that forever encompassed her, along with the graceful mannerisms of someone comfortable in their own skin. She was both strikingly gorgeous and completely natural, and her perceptive eyes said she was not afraid to wield said power over a man.

He'd thunk his head against the pane if he weren't positive he was awake. It wasn't possible that she stood not twenty feet from his office. Because she didn't actually exist.

The two women turned to leave, and panic clutched his windpipe. He tapped the glass. "No. No, no, no." But they kept right on going.

Spinning, he wove around his desk and ran out. Cursing that his office was located in the back of the building, he rushed past his assistant and down the center aisle of books. Jessica called his name, but he kept going. "I'll be right back." The head librarian, Maeve, shushed him. Breezing by her desk, he whispered "sorry" and shoved through the exterior doors.

Vaulting down the steps, he made a hard left and came to an abrupt halt at the bench where he'd last seen her. He scanned the crowd in every direction, searching, searching. She wasn't anywhere. Climbing on the bench, he got a higher vantage point, but he struck out there, too.

Gone, baby, gone.

"Damn it."

Jessica stepped onto the sidewalk in front of him and glanced up. "What are you doing?"

He dropped his hands on his hips and caught his breath. "I have no idea." He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated to no end. "I think I just saw a ghost."

"Uh-huh." She studied him. "The boo kind or the ex-girlfriend variety?"

Unsure how to answer, he hopped down and glanced one more time in the direction they'd gone. He absolutely had to talk to his brothers. "Lock up my office, would you? I'm going to head to the hotel early. I'll look at the blueprints when I return." And then he'd definitely be making a stop at the Galloway house.

"You sure you're okay?"

Nothing a pint of ale and a smack upside his head wouldn't fix. "Yep. Be back soon."