She brought her thumb to her mouth and chewed on the nail as she thought the matter over. He took the hand from her mouth and held it, smiling at her disgruntled look. Everything about her pleased him, even her obstinate willfulness. Since finding Alethia, he hadn’t suffered a moment’s restlessness. Aye, he suffered other things in its place—lust, an aching need to claim her and a compelling desire to keep her safe. ’Twas a small price to pay.
“Giselle said she’d been watching me for a long, long time, but the fair was the first time we’d ever met.” Her brow furrowed. “She also said I had untapped depths.”
“Did she give you anything?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “She placed a pendant around my neck before sending me here. Why are you asking all these questions?”
He fished in his sporran for the ring the old crone had given him the day she told his fortune. Holding it to the moonlight for her to see, he asked, “Does the charm she gave you resemble this one?”
“Oh crap,” she cried. Reaching for the ring, she took it from his hand to study. “What does this mean?”
“You recognize it? What else did she say?”
She turned stricken eyes to him and handed the ring back as if it burned her hand. “She didn’t tell me anything else. Madame Giselle mumbled something about destiny and sent me here without a single freaking clue.” She rose abruptly. “I have to go back to the keep. I have things to do.”
“At this hour?” He rose to follow.
“I have a lot to think about.” Lifting the hem of her gown, she turned and fled back to the keep.
Malcolm let her go. He had much to think about as well. The moon hung full and low over the horizon, as if in ripe promise of the coming harvest. He watched the play of light and shadow upon the loch, while his mind puzzled over their discussion. Each question led to more.
What peril was Alethia to protect him from, and how could he prevent it? She had not told him everything. They would talk again on the morrow, and the day after that, until she confessed all of her fears. Only then could he conquer them and unravel the mystery plaguing them both.
The vision of Alethia dancing in the hall replayed in his mind’s eye. He committed it to memory while pondering her odd mix of vulnerability and defiant independence. How was it one wee lass could have such a powerful hold upon his heart in such a short time? He laughed and gave one more passing glance to the moon before starting back to the keep.
Alethia pulled the bedcovers up to her chin and stared at the ceiling while mulling over what she’d learned from Malcolm. Giselle had given him the matching ring to her pendant. Which meant what? Had the fortune-teller given them both the matching pieces to provide a clue to solve the puzzle? If so, then Malcolm’s life was in danger.
Or did the pendant and ring contain some kind of magic for keeping track of their whereabouts? How could she possibly know? In her efforts to get home, she’d tried every conceivable method she could think of to release any magic the jewelry might contain. She hadn’t even caught an echo of power from the stupid thing. No. They were pieces to a puzzle and nothing more. She was sure of it.
Hunter got up and used the chamber pot she kept placed near his bed. Small boy, small bladder. She scooted over to make room for him as his small feet padded toward her in the darkness. It was the same every night. He started out in his own bed and ended snuggled up in hers.
Lifting the covers for him to climb in, she turned on her side and pulled his warm, sleepy body close. His own unique little-boy scent made her heart ache. Her life was becoming way too complicated. She belonged in the twenty-first century, yet she couldn’t bear the thought of being taken from Hunter. He’d already suffered so much loss in his life, to lose her now might be the beginning of the end for him.
Having lost her own parents at a young age, she knew from personal experience that kind of hurt never went away. She understood what he was going through, and bonding with him had been automatic. Their connection stemmed from shared experience and a common need. In many ways, they were both outsiders here.
She lay awake until the birds heralded the approaching dawn. Damn that old fortune-teller. A single tear slid down her cheek. Kissing the top of Hunter’s head, she felt torn. She walked in two worlds and always had. Not all native, and not all white, she’d never fit fully into either culture. Now, half her heart resided in the future, and half lived in the past.
Her thoughts shifted to Malcolm, causing a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. What if she tried to save him and failed? No, better not think like that. Giselle had chosen her for a reason. She would not fail.