Free A Celtic Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 6) by Debora Geary

moment.”
    Sophie wasn’t as convinced of the fates as their resident mystic—but she didn’t entirely discount them, either.  “For now, she’s only a guest at the inn.”  Her witchy status and future love life were entirely hypothetical.
    And yet oddly appealing.
    “Ah, now you’re seeing it, aren’t you?” 
    In her romantic teenager heart, yes.  The adult healer still thought this was insane.  “He practically ignored her.”  In between occasional growls.
    “Indeed.”  Moira’s needles were speeding up now.  “But his eyes drifted her way often.”
    It chagrined Sophie to realize she’d missed that—after giving Marcus a graceful way to hide in the corner, her attention had largely been for their intriguing guest.  She traced the rich old letters on the front of her herbals log.  “Really.”
    “Aye.  She’s a woman used to having an audience, that one is.”  The words were pensive, thoughtful.  “Used to being looked at.”  A tiny smile lit Moira’s face.  “But I think perhaps she’s not used to being seen.”
    The mystic was in full dudgeon today.  But that didn’t mean she was wrong.  Sophie considered the words carefully.  If Moira was right, the next few days could get rather interesting.
    Fisher’s Cove was very good at seeing people exactly as they were.
    -o0o-
    The inn might be in the middle of nowhere, but Cass knew a world-class innkeeper when she met one.
    Aaron qualified.  Outgoing, easy welcome, and laidback competence.  And if the scones were any indication, Dave’s rival in the kitchen.
    She might leave that last part out of her report back to Margaree.  Or not—the Scots always appreciated a little friendly competition.
    Aaron pulled out a couple of forms from behind a gorgeous vase of flowers, eyes twinkling.  “I can offer you pretty much any room in the house.  Will anyone be joining you while you’re here?”
    Cass lifted her violin case.  “Nope, just me and my fiddle.  Will it be a problem if I practice in my room?  I can keep it to standard daylight hours if I might disturb anyone else.”
    Aaron’s eyes lit.  “You play?”
    “A little.”  Her automatic answers kicked in as she leaned over to fill out the guest card.  “You listen?”
    “Yeah.”  He shuffled papers behind the desk.  “My grandparents live just outside of Margaree on Cape Breton.  I spent summers with them as a boy.  If you haven’t been out that way, some of the best fiddling in the world happens in that town.”
    She looked up, intrigued by the connections.  “I just came from there.  Dave at the Normaway Inn sent me your direction.”
    “Wow.”  Aaron grinned, clearly honored.  “I’ll see if I can whip up something for breakfast tomorrow that can hold a candle to his porridge bread.”
    She’d landed in the right place—her certainty was increasing by the minute.  “Don’t worry, I’m not a picky eater.  Just a hungry one.”
    “Noted.”  He took her guest card, glancing at the details.  And then his jaw dropped.  “Oh, my God.  You’re Cassidy Farrell.”
    Okay, maybe this wasn’t quite the end of the earth.  He most definitely knew who she was.  “Yeah.”
    “I knew I’d seen your face somewhere.”  He took in her battered violin case with new eyes.  “And that’s Rosie.”
    Shoot, the last thing she needed was some innkeeper fretting about keeping her instrument safe.    One too many articles about her million-dollar fiddle.  The last guy in Maine had nearly driven her to drink.  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her close by.  She’s my responsibility.”
    He looked at her blankly.
    Damn, she was getting paranoid in her old age.  “Sorry.  Some people seem to think she’s the queen’s jewels or something.”
    “Ah.”  He smiled and handed her a room key.  “Those would be perfectly safe here too.  Everything will be, whether you choose to lock your door or not.”
    She grinned.  “I usually