The Silver Witch(72)

Tilda blushes. ‘God, how crass of me. Sorry. No, I’m really sorry.’

‘Like I said, don’t be. Let’s just say we both know what it means to be outsiders.’

‘Professor Williams told me you were born in Barbados. Is that where your mother comes from?’

‘My father was a diver—I have him to thank for what I do—he met her when he was working on a wreck in the Caribbean. They got married over there then tried to live here, but she couldn’t take to it. Dad wanted me to have a British education. God knows why! So, they moved back home, and when I was eleven I came to live term time with Uncle Illtyd.’

‘You don’t look much like your uncle.’

‘That’s because he’s my uncle by marriage. My father was Greta’s brother, not his.’

‘Oh, I see. I just assumed … And do you call Barbados home?’

‘I do, or at least I did. My dad was killed in a diving accident when I was twenty-two. Mom wanted me to give it up but, well … when you find the thing you were meant to do…’ He drains his glass. ‘I come back here as often as I can. It’s been hard for Uncle Illtyd since Auntie Greta passed on. Fact is, I don’t know that I feel at home anywhere except under the water.’

Tilda gives a gasp, shaking her head slowly. ‘Well, that is somewhere we definitely differ. Nothing would induce me to go diving. Or swimming. Or even get in a boat if I can avoid it.’

‘Landlubber.’

‘Water baby.’

‘Maybe I can help you with that.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘Have you ever seen the Caribbean? It’s not like the sea here. It’s turquoise, not gray. And warm!’

‘Me in that sort of sun? Do you know how much sunblock I have to wear even in this damp, cloudy country?’ She picks up the poker and chivvies the fire, encouraging more flames.

‘Which is why you run at dawn,’ he says, looking at her as if another piece of the mystery that is Tilda has just fallen into place.

‘Easier on my skin and my eyes.’

They sit together in silence again, and Tilda notices she has been able to almost forget about what happened earlier in the day. The respite was helpful, but could only ever be brief. She looks at Dylan again now.

‘You know, they will move that body. From the dig.’

‘Oh yes. Lucas will make sure of that.’

‘And when they do’—she searches for the words—‘they’ll set her free again.’

‘Who in God’s name was she?’ Dylan asks.

‘I don’t know.’ Tilda runs her hand through her hair, tugging it out of its plait in her exasperation. ‘I don’t know who she was and I don’t know why she seems intent on terrifying me. All I do know is that once that stone is taken off her again, somehow she is going to be let loose. And I have to be prepared for that. I have to be ready for her.’

‘We.’ Dylan puts his hand on hers. ‘You aren’t facing this alone, Tilda. I promise you.’

‘Being with me nearly got you killed today.’

‘But you saved me. You can beat this … creature. I know you can. And I’m going to help you. But tonight you don’t have to worry. Tonight you’re safe.’ He lifts his hand and strokes her hair. ‘It’s like spun glass.’ He touches her cheek. ‘You are the most incredibly beautiful woman I have ever seen,’ he says, and leans slowly forward to kiss her.

Thistle has other ideas. She growls and snaps simultaneously, missing Dylan’s face by the narrowest of gaps.

‘Thistle, no!’ Tilda screams at her.

Dylan leaps to his feet, backing away. ‘It’s okay. I’m fine. No harm done. It’s okay.’

‘No, it is not okay! Bad dog! What is the matter with you?’ Tilda opens the door and sends the dog out. Thistle slinks past and scurries up the stairs to the bedroom. ‘Dylan, I’m so sorry.’

‘Again? We’ve been through this.’

‘It’s not funny. She really went for you. She could have seriously hurt you. Here, let me see.’ She ignores his protests and studies his face and hands.

‘See?’ He smiles at her. ‘Told you, I’m fine. She’s just jealous. She’s used to having you to herself. I shouldn’t have invaded her space.’

‘Her space? This is my house.’

‘She was only trying to protect you.’

Tilda reaches up and touches his face. ‘There are plenty of other people she can bite if she wants to. You, I can handle myself.’

‘You want to bite me?’ He laughs.

Tilda smiles. ‘You think you’re so clever,’ she says, planting the lightest of kisses on his lips.