A Lost Touch of Magic
Chapter One
Northumberland, 1213
Cai's warning growl came an instant before Padruig MacCoinneach found himself
gazing at his sister Brona. The only problem with her sudden appearance was that Brona
was dead.
"Padruig," she said softly, her gossamer form gaining substance.
He stared at her, his gut clenched in shock, his heart tight with the beloved sight
of her. So, it has come to this, he thought. "Brona, you have good cause to haunt me, I
ken, but I would prefer to be left alone."
Her pale lips quirked in a familiar smile that brought back the pang of memory.
"I've not come to haunt you, Padruig."
He looked down into his cup, wondering just how much wine he'd drunk this eve.
"I am no delirium brought on by drink," she rebuked.
"I must be going mad at last. Mayhap I should be thankful for it."
"Nay." With a tinkle of laughter, she drifted closer and settled on a stool. "You
are not mad."
Cai growled again, and crouched down as if to leap upon her.
"Down, wolf," Brona said.
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