“I feel good this morning, thank you.”
A grin lit his face. “Yes. You do feel good.” The grin turned speculative. “I wonder…”
He interrupted his own comment to pull her close again, lowering his mouth to hers. When she opened her mouth to gasp in astonishment, he took advantage of the situation, his tongue darting in quickly to dance around her own.
He let go of her, his grin back in place. “Yes. Well, that answers my question. I’ll be seeing you, Sarah.” Leaning down, he picked up the suitcase she hadn’t noticed before and walked past her.
Fragments of thoughts scampered through her mind, all of which began with What the hell…? but she didn’t manage to verbalize any of those.
“What question?” She was rapidly learning that what came out of her mouth these days frequently bore little relation to what was in her mind at the time.
A white limousine pulled into the drive, a uniformed man jumping out and opening the door before taking the suitcase. Ramos turned back to her, grin still in place.
“I simply wondered if you’d taste as good as you look and feel.” He lifted a hand to wave as he climbed into the car, but leaned out at the last minute. “And you do, by the way.”
Sarah stood, hands on her hips, watching the car drive away. If she took every unusual event she had lived through in her whole entire life, she doubted she’d have enough to equal what she’d experienced since she’d stepped off that plane in Glasgow.
After more than thirty years of feeling every single emotion of every single person she came into physical contact with, suddenly everything she had come to expect had turned upside down.
Since she’d been here, she’d bumped into so many people whose touch was like none she’d ever experienced before. From the all-encompassing evil of Reynard Servans to the vague all-over goodness of Dallyn. Now she could add Ramos Servans to that list of unusual encounters.
Shaking her head, she turned to find an intense pair of blue eyes looking up at her from the doorway.
“The very person I came to see.” She reached out and ruffled the already messy blond hair on Will’s head.
“You should be with Uncle Ian. Where is he?” He looked at her reproachfully as he reached for her hand, pulling her into the foyer and down the hall toward the back of the house.
“Taking a shower.” How did this boy constantly make her feel like the child in their encounters?
They entered the kitchen and Will led her to a small table where two bowls were already filled with cereal. A pitcher of milk sat between them.
“He’s going to be angry with you.” The boy shook his head as he took a seat. “Eat your breakfast.”
“This is mine?”
He nodded. “I knew you were coming.”
“Oh really?” She sat down and reached for the milk. “I thought you said we were alike. I don’t know what’s going to happen before it does. How come you do?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen before it does either. But I know the way you feel and I felt you getting close.”
Why fight it? Will had more improbable answers for her improbable questions than anyone she’d ever known. She decided perhaps she should listen.
Will smiled and gave her a classic little-boy look, a roll of his eyes. “I said you were like me, Sarah, not exactly like me. Your mommy and daddy didn’t tell you any of the stories, did they?”
“No, honey, they sure didn’t.”
“None of us are exactly alike. It depends on which of the gifts we have. See, in the beginning, when Faeries and men lived together in our world, the Fae were very powerful. They each had all the different gifts. But after the Great Spell, their powers didn’t work the same in the world anymore. Since we only have some Fae in us, we only have a little bit of their gifts.”
Cereal crunching was the only sound in the kitchen as Sarah thought that over.
“What’s this Great Spell?” She took another big bite and waited for her teacher to finish with his own mouthful.
“Duh. It’s what the Earth Mother did to stop the fighting in our world.”
“There’s still plenty of fighting in our world, junior.”
The eye roll again. “Yeah, but that’s only Mortals.” He took another bite and Sarah waited patiently. “It was really bad in those days and the Mortals were taking the worst of it. I mean, think about it. The Fae were stronger, smarter and had all those special skills. Mortals didn’t stand a chance. So the Earth Mother fixed it so the Faeries couldn’t fight when they were in the Mortal Plain. Boy, my dad says that really made the Nuadians angry.” He laughed and wiped a trail of milk from his chin, followed by another large bite.
“Who are the Nuadians?”
Will’s eyes grew very large, and for a moment she feared he might have tried to swallow too much in that last bite. Finally he answered.
“They’re the bad guys. The really bad guys. They’re Fae who messed up everything in the Faerie Realm by trying to take over. So they got kicked out. That’s why there was all that fighting that the Earth Mother had to stop. They gave themselves a new name when they got here to the Mortal Plain. Nuadians. For Nuada of the Silver Hand, a king of the Tuatha de Danann.”
“So, let me make sure I have this straight. We live on the Mortal Plain, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And the Faeries aren’t here anymore because they live in this Faerie Realm. Right?”
Will nodded and continued to spoon cereal into his mouth. “But they’re here sometimes,” he mumbled around his food.
“Okay. Well, if these Nuadians are Faeries who got kicked out of the Faerie Realm, where do they live?”
The little boy shrugged. “Here, somewhere. They can’t get through the Portals.”
Breakfast was finished in silence as Sarah considered which of the two of them was actually the better storyteller. She may be the fiction writer, but the child sitting across the table from her had her beat when it came to imagination. He had an amazing fantasy world going on in that little head.
She also considered her strange response to the boy. His feelings passed to her more strongly than any she’d experienced before. She suspected it might be because of the connection she felt to him. A connection she chalked up to his being such a loving child.
Sarah stood and reached over to ruffle his hair again. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with one day, William Daniel Martin Stroud.”
“I know.” He stood on his chair and put his arms around her neck, giving her a hug. “What are you going to tell Uncle Ian?”
“About what?”
His slowly shaking head and the little tsk-tsk sound he made had her smiling until he answered her question.
“About that Ramos man kissing you.”
“I hadn’t thought to tell him anything about it.”
“Why aren’t you going to tell him?”
“Because it meant nothing. And, anyway, it’s not like he’ll ever know about it.”
“He’ll know.”
“Well, even if he did, why would it make any difference to him?”
“Because I’m no fond of sharing, that’s why.”
At the sound of Ian’s voice, Sarah spun around. He filled the doorway, looking larger than she remembered from just an hour ago.
Larger and much, much angrier.
* * *
The longest seven hours of her life.
Ian hadn’t said three sentences to her the entire drive back to Scotland. When they’d stopped for gasoline, he’d waited for her to get out of the car and go into the little shop, staying close, but saying nothing. Even this afternoon, when they’d arrived at Thistle Down, he’d silently carried her bags to the cottage, leaving them inside the door. He’d hesitated, just outside, and she’d thought he might turn and speak to her at last, but he didn’t. He’d walked away without a word.
Sarah sat at her computer, the blinking cursor mocking her continuing inability to communicate wi
th her inner muse. Some great author she had been for the last six months. Nothing. She had nothing.
She placed her index finger on the lighted OFF button and pressed, with only the tiniest twinge of guilt as the screen went to black. Leo, the computer guru at her favorite repair shop, had warned her repeatedly about how bad it was to do that, but the action gave her some perverse sense of control. At worst, she would mess up her computer. Not like it was doing her any good anyway. Not like she was messing up anything important. Not like she was messing up her whole life.
“Ha. I think I might have done that already.”
Honestly she couldn’t understand why Ian was so angry. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, she’d left the cottage when he’d told her not to, but, if anything, she should be the one who was angry at that. Not him. Where did he get off telling her where she could and couldn’t go?
It couldn’t be Ramos, could it? It made no sense that he’d be jealous, and yet one of the last things he’d said had been that remark about not sharing. Even if that were the problem, she hadn’t kissed Ramos; he had kissed her. When he had, she’d felt…nothing.
Literally nothing from the man, as if he somehow held all his emotions tightly locked away. Nothing from her except surprise and confusion that he’d done it. Certainly no attraction. Not at all like when Ian kissed her.
When Ian kissed her it felt right, like she was complete. A whole person. But there was no point in going there now.
She rose from her chair, walking aimlessly through the cottage and out the back door. With no particular destination in mind, she strolled across the lawn and into the gardens, finding and following the main path until eventually she came to the crossroads.
Once again she felt the strong pull to wander down the fork Ian had warned her against, but she resisted, going only as far as the tree she’d almost collided with on her first trek down the path. She knelt, running her fingers over the bark, trying to understand what force drew her in this direction. The tree gave her no answers.
“Maybe there are no answers,” she whispered as she turned to sit. Her back cradled against the broad trunk, she closed her eyes. “Maybe it’s just Will’s Faeries calling to me.”
“That verra well may be.”
Sarah’s eyes flew open at the quiet sound of his voice. Ian, framed in the glow of the sun at his back, stood by her outstretched feet, looking down at her.
She raised her hand to shield the glare from her eyes. “I didn’t know you were anywhere around. How did you sneak up on me so quietly?” Her eyes had been closed only a minute.
“I dinna sneak. Call it a talent…or a gift.” He shrugged and then put his arms behind his back, bringing to Sarah’s mind a soldier at parade rest. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Dinna make this more difficult than it already is, Sarah.”
“I’m not trying to. What do we need to talk about?”
Ian sighed deeply and squatted down to her eye level, reaching out and taking her hand between his two. “Everything that’s happened. Faeries and feelings, danger and safety. Trust. We need to talk about us.”
“Is there an ‘us’ to talk about?” She asked the question, not sure she wanted the answer, regardless of what it would be.
“I guess that’s what we need to talk about.” A small, almost forced grin flitted across his face as he rose, pulling her to her feet. “Henry’s out this evening, dining at the home of a lady friend. Come up to the main house tonight and have dinner with me. We can talk then.”
“I don’t know, Ian. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
“No, I didn’t mean about dinner. I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” he interrupted. “But for now, say you’ll have dinner with me. We’ll worry about the rest of it tonight.”
This time the smile he bestowed on her was genuine. It dazzled her, beguiled her into smiling in return.
“Seven?”
“Okay.” How could she refuse him? “Dinner at seven.”
He lightly kissed the back of her hand before striding away down the path in the direction she wasn’t supposed to take.
Sarah watched him disappear into the thick foliage, shaking her head. Dinner and a talk, that’s all it would be. A chance to clear the air so they could go back to being friends.
Was that really all she wanted?
“Yes,” she said out loud in an attempt to reinforce the thought. “Dinner and a talk. That’s all. No ‘us.’ Only dinner and a talk.”
But it was Shakespeare’s line about the lady protesting too much that bubbled through her mind as she made her way back to the cottage.
* * *
“So it’s Reynard we’re dealing with. Was there anyone else—any other Fae with him?” Dallyn was perched on a tree limb a couple of feet off the ground, his back resting against the trunk.
Ian paced back and forth in front of the Portal. “No one but Ramos, though he’s no a full-blood. There was another Fae there earlier. Spying on us, I believe.”
Dallyn stilled on his perch. “Do you have any idea who it might have been?”
“He goes by the name of Flynn O’Dannan. Why?”
“Ah. Flynn.” Dallyn nodded as if to himself, seeming to relax again. “No reason. So, you left Reynard at Glaston House?”
“No, he was already gone. He apparently left right after Sarah’s collapse, while Danny and I were still at the cottage.”
“Why didn’t you deal with him then and there when this first happened?”
“I think you know the answer to that. There were too many innocent bystanders.”
“And Sarah to look after.” Dallyn swung down off the limb, coming to stand in front of Ian.
“Don’t be thinking to complain to me of that. Yer the one who put her under my protection. Yer the one who insisted I take her with me and expose her to that vile horror.” He shook his head and started to pace again. “I should have refused in the beginning. I should have left her here.”
“And what would you have done had he come here instead while you were at Glaston House and she here alone, unprotected?”
“She would have been safe here.”
Dallyn’s laugh was short and without humor. “Don’t deceive yourself, young Ian. You make a serious mistake if you think a Fae of Reynard’s power can’t find a way around your defenses.”
“No.” Ian felt the intended sting of rebuke in Dallyn’s address to him, but he refused to give in to it. “No. The only mistake I made was in listening to yer plan to put Sarah in jeopardy. I’ll no do that again, General.”
Dallyn walked toward the Portal, stopping to glance back before he entered. “Consider well your actions. Each small movement in the pond results in ripples, each ripple having far-reaching consequences.”
Ian shook his head and turned his back on the Fae, heading down the path toward the manor house.
“We’ll speak of this tomorrow, Ian.”
He heard the Fae but didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge the comment, as he stalked angrily toward home.
Ponds and ripples and consequences.
They all spoke in riddles. The more important the message, the greater the riddle. Even after all these years it still irritated him that he’d yet to meet a full-blood Fae who would just say what he meant.
* * *
“Pardon?”
Ian had been looking right at her across the dining table, watching her delicious pink lips move. Unfortunately he had no idea what words had come out of them. He’d been watching her all through dinner, so consumed with the sight and smell of Sarah that he couldn’t eat. He had no desire for the food in front of him, only for the woman who sat across the table.
She wore the same pale gauzy gown she had the morning he’d secretly watched her in the yard. Even now the thought of how she had looked with the first rays of sunlight glowing around her, the breeze molding that dress to her body, warmed him, stirred his o
wn body to life.
“I was asking if you’d changed your mind about our talk? You’ve been remarkably quiet all evening for someone who wanted to discuss…everything.”
He bit back a smile at her carefully chosen words. There hadn’t been much conversation throughout dinner. He’d found himself oddly reluctant to begin with Martha serving the meal and then separated from them only by the door between the dining room and kitchen. She had cleared the table a few minutes earlier and they were relaxing over their wine.
“Sorry. I’m thinking a bit more privacy might be in order.” He glanced at the door to the kitchen with a raised eyebrow, turning to find her looking in the same direction.
“Agreed.”
“I know,” he said, rising from his seat. “Bring yer glass and come with me.” He clasped his glass and the wine bottle in one hand, catching up her hand with his other.
He led her to a back door and out into the gardens behind the house, down a side path to a cozy gazebo covered in climbing roses. They ducked inside, where a continuous bench lined the walls. A small table sat in the center with a lamp hanging down from the rafters above it.
After setting the bottle and his glass on the table, Ian lifted one of the generous cushions covering the bench to reveal a hidden drawer. He removed a box of matches and pulled the lamp down to light the candles it held.
“Privacy at last.”
He smiled and watched her slip off one sandal so she could tuck her leg under her when she sat. The gauzy gown settled around her, and he noticed for the first time as he sat next to her tiny threads in the material that reflected the glow of the candlelight.
He topped off both their glasses and leaned back against the cushion, still undecided how much to tell her. Enough to ensure her safety, certainly, but how much would be enough? He didn’t want to go too far. Too much could be overwhelming and she’d never believe him.
She sipped her wine, then put the glass on the table and turned to him. “Where do you want to start?”
The time to plan his speech had passed.
“When did you first start to have those feelings about people?”
Highland Guardian Page 17