"That's not what I'm saying," Morgan said, barely audibly. "I want you to do what you want to do, what you need to do. I want you to be happy, to be fulfilled. I'm saying that I know that won't be with me in Cobh, with a garden and a cat." She brushed the sleeve of her sweater over her eyes.

Hunter was quiet. Morgan pulled the long ends of her sweater sleeves over her hands and leaned her face against them. Once this was over, she would breathe again. She would go back to the bed-and-breakfast, get in the shower, and cry.

"What if… things were different?" Hunter said at last.

Morgan drew a pained breath. "But things aren't different."

"Things are up to you and me," Hunter said. "You act like this is beyond our control. But we can make choices. We can change our priorities."

"What are you talking about?" Morgan wiped her eyes, then forced herself to take a sip of tea. It was thin and bitter.

Quickly Hunter reached across the table and took her hands in his, his grip like stone. "I think we need to change our priorities. Both of us."

"To what?" How could he manage to always keep her so off-kilter, even after four years?

"To each other," Hunter said.

Morgan stared at him, speechless.

"Morgan," Hunter went on, lowering his voice and leaning closer to her,"I've been doing a lot of thinking, too. I love what I'm doing with the New Charter, but I've realized it just doesn't mean much without you there to share it with me. I know we're two very different people. We have different dreams, different goals. Our backgrounds are very different, our families… But you know we belong together. / know we belong together-I always have. You're my soul mate-my muirn beatha dan."

Morgan started crying silently. Oh, Goddess, she loved him so much. "I knew when I met you that you were the one for me," Hunter said, his voice reaching only her ears. "I knew it when I disliked you, when I didn't trust you, when I feared your power and your inability to control it. I knew it when you learned Ciaran MacEwan was your father. I knew it when you were in love with my bastard half brother, Cal. I've always known it: you are the one for me."

"I don't understand. What are you saying?" It was frightening, how much she still wanted to hope they could be together. It was such a painful hope. She felt his hands holding hers like a vise-as strong as the hold he had on her heart.

"You came here to break up with me forever," Hunter answered. "I won't stop you, if that's what you want. I want you to be happy. But if there's any way you think you can be happy with me, as opposed to without me, then I'm asking you to try."

"But how? We've been over this." Morgan said, completely confused.

"No, not this," said Hunter. "This definitely needs to change. But I can change. I can change whatever I need to if it means that you'll be with me."

Morgan could do nothing but stare. "With you in what way?"

Hunter turned her hand over and traced the carvings of her claddagh ring. "In every way. As my partner, the mother of my children. Every way there is. I need you. You're my life, wherever you are, whatever you're doing."

Morgan quit breathing.

"Look, the one constant in our lives is our love," he said. "It seems like we're squandering our most precious gift- having a soul mate. If we let that slip away, nothing else will make sense." Morgan gaped at him, a splinter of sunlight seeming to enter her heart. Oh, Goddess, please. Please.

He went on. "I can phase out the field work I'm doing for the New Charter. There's any number of things I can do based out of Cobh. We could live together, make a life together, wake up with each other more often than not with each other. I want to see you grow old, I want us to grow old together. I want to have a family with you. There can be cats involved, if you like."

Could this possibly be true? Could this really be happening? After her despair of the last two weeks the sudden, overwhelming joy Morgan felt seemed almost scary.

"I still have Dagda," was all that Morgan could think of to say. Her once-tiny gray kitten was now a hulking sixteen- pounder who had developed a distinct fondness for Irish mice. "But-can you do this? Do you really mean it?"

Hunter grinned. It was the most beautiful thing that Morgan had ever seen. He moved his chair till they were close, side by side. His arm went around her waist, and she leaned against his warmth, his comfort, his promise. The faded half life she had resigned herself to had just burst into brilliant colors. It was almost too much. It was everything.

"Do you want to be with me, Morgan?" he said softly. "You're my heart's love, my heart's ease. Will you join me in handfasting-will you be my wife?"

"Oh, yes. Yes," Morgan whispered, then rested her head against his shoulder.

Dawn. Dawn is the most magickal time of day, followed of course by sunset, Morgan thought dreamily. She stretched her feet toward Hunter's warmth and let sheer happiness, hopefulness, and contentment wash over her like a wave of comfort. From her bed Morgan could see a small rectangle of sky, pale gray, streaked with pink. It was the dawn of a whole new life, Morgan exulted. The life where she and Hunter would always be together. They would have a hand- fasting, she thought with a shiver of mixed awe and delight. They might have children. Goddess, Goddess, had anyone ever been so happy? Her eyes drifted closed, a smile still on her face.

"Sweet," Hunter whispered, kissing her ear. Morgan reluctantly opened her eyes, then frowned as she realized Hunter was out of bed and already dressed.

"What are you doing?" she demanded sleepily. "Come back here." Hunter laughed and kissed a line of warmth beneath her ear.

"My last New Charter meeting, over in Wexford," he explained. "I'm taking the eight-oh-five ferry. I'll do my meeting, tell them to get a replacement, and be back by dinnertime at the latest. We can go get some of that fried stuff you love, all right?"

"All right," Morgan said, stretching luxuriously.

She saw a familiar roguish gleam in his eyes as he watched her stretch, then curl up again under the covers. He looked at his watch, and she laughed. "You don't have time," she told him.

"Love you," he said, grinning, opening the door.

"Love you, too," Morgan replied. "Forever."

Morgan felt as if she'd closed her eyes for only a moment when she was awoken by a loud banging. Frowning, she looked at her watch. Eight-twenty. So Hunter had been gone only half an hour. What was all that noise? She sat up. The lash of rain made her look over at the window. It was pouring outside, thundering and lightning. So odd after the clear dawn.

Downstairs, people were shouting and running, and doors were banging. What could possibly be the matter? A fire? There was no alarm. Had the roof sprung a leak? That wouldn't cause this much commotion.

In a minute Morgan had pulled on her jeans and sweater and shoved her feet into her boots. She put her head out the doorway and sniffed. No smell of fire. She cast her senses, sending her consciousness out around her. She picked up only choppy, confused feelings-panic, fear. She grabbed her coat and trotted downstairs.

"Help!" someone was shouting. "Help! If you've got a boat, we need it! Every able-bodied seaman! Get to the harbor!"

A man in a burly coat brushed past Morgan and ran out the door, following the man who had shouted the alarm.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked the desk clerk. The woman's lined face was drawn taut with worry, her black hair making her face look even paler. "What's happened?"

Outside the front door two more men ran past, their hats pulled low against the driving rain. Morgan heard one shout, "Get to the harbor!"

"The ferry," said the woman, starting to tie a scarf around her head. "The ferry's gone down in the storm."