Page 11 of Rory

“Rory shall ken, I expect,” Alec told her. “Oddness, ’tisnae a reason to lock away the lady, or treat her as an enemy.”

“It’s not just that she’s peculiar.” She realized she had clenched her hands into fists, and forced herself to relax them. “While I was explaining the situation to Miz Ensley she didn’t believe a word I said. It was all over her face. Instead of screaming at me or running off, she joked about it. When she went down to try to walk back through the spell trap’s entry, being thrown down the hall didn’t upset her. She went and tried again—and she was fine with failing. I’ve never seen anyone react to becoming trapped here that way. It’s like nothing rattles that gal, or maybe she was expecting it.”

“Not much does rattle that girl,” Esme Martinez said as she walked into the common room beside her lover, Tasgall’s younger brother Darro. “Harper Ensley is a very popular social media influencer and vlogger. She’s travelled the world to investigate urban legends, haunted houses, ghost sightings and other kinds of paranormal activity. I doubt our little magical prison here would scare her very much.”

Ava rubbed her eyes. “So she’s what, a witch hunter, then?”

“More like a specialist journalist, but without any professional affiliations,” the petite woman said. “She’s made a solid name for herself among my community. She’s very skeptical, honest, and focuses on exposing frauds and con men. Might explain why she gets more death threats than the president every week.”

“She’s awash in magic, then,” Alec murmured, eyeing the laird, who nodded as if agreeing. To Ava he said, “In our time some druid travelers did the same as Mistress Ensley. They revealed charlatans and schemers, but they also discovered objects and artifacts possessing great power. Such remnants, they’re sometimes left behind by the Fae. Encountering such exposes a mortal to lingering spells, which may cling to them. ’Tis likely what you sense.”

“Maybe.” It would explain why the other woman was making her as nervous as a fly in a glue pot, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Ava. “How can we be sure?”

Esme frowned. “Why does it matter? The spider,” she tacked on. “You think Bodach planted something on her like he did me?”

“I don’t know. Guess I just want to be sure she’s not going to grow a hundred feet tall and stomp all of us into the ground.” She thought of Rory, and how closely he’d stayed near Harper since her arrival. The bloodline they shared made her slightly over-protective of him, but she knew he would also sense the same thing she had. “How about we go talk to Miz Ensley again?”

“Wait.” To Esme Tasgall said, “Would you and Darro find Mistress Ensley, and bid her come to the laird’s chamber? I shall meet her there directly.”

The journalist nodded, gave Ava a sympathetic look, and then left. Alec closed his notebook, rolled up his map and bowed before following them out. That left them alone.

She regarded her husband, who looked back at her with a wariness that tore at her heart. “I love you more than anything in this universe and all the others, but you need to step back on this. Also, quit looking at me like I’m about to file for divorce.”

“You’re no’ happy,” her husband said, running his hand along the outside of her arm. “In part ’tis the changes wrought since Mistress Ensley arrived that fash you. You wish to fathom if ’tis her doing.”

“Partly, yes.” She hugged him, and put her cheek over his heart to listen to that strong, steady beat. “If she didn’t change things, then the enchantment isn’t bothering to try and fix things now. Our world could collapse any time. Rory thinks that’s going to kill every living thing inside the trap. The clan. Our people.” She couldn’t quite keep the sob out of her voice as she added, “You, too.”

“Och, my love.” Tasgall stroked his hand over the back of her head. “I reckoned you angry when you’re fearful. Forgive me.”

Ava breathed him in, filling herself with the soothing warmth of his scent, like wine made from vanilla. “I’m not afraid of dying, you know. It’s just since I fell in love with you I can’t imagine being alone anymore, even at the end. If the worst happens, I want you with me.”

“If ’tis my choice, never shall we part in this life or after we end,” he said, tipping up her chin to give her a soft kiss. “Rest assured of that, my lady.”

After Darro and Esme relayed the laird’s request, Rory promised in a whisper that he would bring Harper to his brother soon. The chieftain gave him a narrow look before nodding and walking off with his woman, who kept glancing back at them. He knew he should continue with his task of introducing Harper to her new world, but he couldn’t stop watching her face for her reaction to Dun Talamh, his brothers, their vassals and the other outsiders. Would she seek to leave him when she realized almost anyone among them would serve better as her escort because they could speak?

“Say something,” Harper said as she watched them go. “Sorry, whisper something.”

“What do you wish me say?” he murmured back.

“Anything. It’s been so long since I’ve heard voices that I just want to listen to the sound of them.” She sighed. “Only you can’t talk much without wrecking the castle, and I guess we have nothing in common, other than we’re both jumbo sized. The universe sucks. Again.”

“We’ve much in common, my lady.” He pressed his palm to hers, measuring her long, sturdy fingers against his own. His were only a half inch longer, but her hands seemed almost delicate compared to his. “I’ll wager you’re strong for a female. With such hands you may easily wield my tools.”

She grinned and put her boot next to his to show their feet were a match as well. “We could swap shoes, too. My mom was a small woman. Do you think my dad may have been one of those Fae folks?”

Rory almost wished her sire had been like his. It would have made everything so much simpler. Then again, even immortality bestowed by half-Fae blood like his had its limits, and they both likely wouldn’t survive the spell trap collapsing.

“No, my lady. You’re entirely mortal.” When he stepped to the side she latched onto his arm, stopping him, and the sensation of being touched by her spread through him as if it were a chill soon to turn to a fever.

“That’s the other weirdness,” Harper said, watching his face. “You’re getting that, too, aren’t you? The instant fridge effect. It’s not dislike, I promise.” When he didn’t reply she pursed her lips. “Before I stick my size twelve foot in my mouth I should ask if you’re married or involved with anyone, but I’m guessing that’s a no. You’re like me that way, too.”

The only thing he understood of what she’d said was that she didn’t dislike him. He could no more mention Inga than he could stick his own boot in his mouth. “How do you mean, my lady?”

“I’ll bet you avoid relationships, and still have your v-card, just like me,” she told him in a laughing tone, as if it amused her. “People our size generally abstain from the usual shenanigans because we’re afraid of hurting the norms. It’s easy to do that when you’re built like a Mac truck. Also?” She gestured down the front of her body. “I ask you, who can really handle all these amazing curves? Not even a NASCAR driver would try.”

She had used so many words and phrases that he couldn’t fathom that Rory should have been mystified. Yet he did recognize the meaning behind her jesting words, and his heart ached for her. Like him she’d spent her time in solitude instead of seeking a lover; she feared injuring a mortal smaller than herself. He’d been the same with Inga, preferring to admire her from a distance rather than risk harming the chatelaine. Rory knew he could handle Harper very well, and that she would enjoy much pleasure from his touch if they could overcome the chill they generated, and he could put aside his poor dead first love.

’Tisnae what she wants. We’ve only just met.