“You make me feel out of sorts.”
“In what way?” He made her feel exactly the same. Allowing herself a certain freedom, she gently traced along his lips, softly back and forth and a hungry growl rumbled from deep within his chest, one which caused a strange heat to gather in her own core and surge through her, a heat that also made her heart beat faster and her soul lift higher. She stroked down over the cleft in his chin then dipped to the V of his white tunic. His black leather jerkin lay fastened loosely overtop of his shirt, the tails flapping free underneath. More emotions arose within her. Surprise and shock coursed strongly, but so too did desire. She touched him so freely, and he’d touched her so freely as well. Such shouldn’t feel so right unless she stood with her chosen one. More and more, the signs pointed to a mated bond having formed between them, only how?
Driven to test these new emotions further, she reached up on the tips of her toes and pushed her hands through the silky softness of his black hair. Touching him made her belly flutter, this moment one she didn’t wish to have ever end.
“What are you doing?” He snagged her wayward hands, pressed them to his cheeks and rubbed his skin against her palms. “Hell, and what am I doing? You’re naught more than an annoyance to me.”
“Aye, I am, as you are for me.”
Perhaps he’d taken a far harder knock to the head when he’d fallen than he’d realized. Never had another woman ever brought such fierce and hungry emotions to blazing life within him. Only why Ella Matheson? She was a compeller with the ability to command his very thoughts, of which she’d already done a number of times. He stepped back from her, gave her a firm nod. “We should leave. Do you have all you need?”
“I left my bag at the inn when I first arrived, afore the fires were lit. I’ll go and collect it.” She stepped away, a soft smile lighting her eyes before she turned and disappeared inside the stone inn next to the stables.
Candlelight glowed from the inn’s windows and a puff of smoke swirled from the chimney and floated away on the nighttime breeze. From the first day he’d seen her atop Dunscaith’s battlements she’d intrigued him and now, even more so. This woman held strong fae blood, just as he did through his mother’s line, not that he could ever allow her to learn of that secret. So few knew the truth and that’s the way it needed to remain.
Aye, eight years of age he’d been when he and his twin brother had first learnt the truth about their heritage. Their father’s second-in-command had rapped on the door and awoken him and Coll in the middle of the night, told them a woman of fae blood awaited them downstairs and that their father had called for them to attend him immediately. They’d pulled on breeches under their bed-shirts, tugged socks on and trekked downstairs to their father’s solar on the lower floor of the keep.
Father had pushed an ink bottle and quill to the center of his desk, perched on the front edge and eyed him and Coll as he’d gestured to the woman with a wee lass hiding within her skirts. “Coll, Duncan, this is Mistress Grace from the fae village. She brings you a message you must heed.”
“More than a message.” With a tender smile, the woman with a gentle voice had lowered to her knees before them. “’Tis so good to see you both. You must be Coll?” She’d grasped Coll’s hands and smiled wider at him. “Your brown eyes are flecked with gold, just as they were at your birth.”
“Grace.” Father had thumped one fisted hand on his desk and rattled the dagger resting near the edge. “Tell them what you’ve seen and no more.”
“They must learn the full truth in order to heed my word, unless you wish for the death of your sons.” None had ever defied Father before, but Mistress Grace appeared ready to do so. Intrigued, he’d listened well.
“You intend to speak more in-depth about Beth?” Father had asked her.
“I must in this case.”
“Damn it.” Father had fisted his hands then muttered, “Fine. Say what you will. None within this solar will utter a word after you’ve left. My sons shall do as I command them.”
“Thank you.” Mistress Grace glanced between him and his brother. “I hold the fae skill of death-warning and can receive visions. Of those who live but are soon to die, I can warn them aforehand and ensure they are given the chance to live. Earlier this eve, I had a vision of both of you.”
“I remember you,” Coll had piped up. “You cared for us when we were little.”