He did his best to ignore that voice but it needled at him anyway. He’d been unable to give Isabelle a satisfactory answer when she’d asked why he’d not defended himself against the villager who’d attacked him. He wasn’t sure himself. Maybe it was because he’d learned how easily he could hurt people if he retaliated. Or maybe it was because he knew the man was right. The attack on the villagewashis fault.
His thoughts spun in uncomfortable circles, almost as painful as his bruised ribs. Both Snaffles and Isabelle soon began snoring, the dog sounding like a piece of wood beingsawn in half, the lass making a softer sound that spoke of the deep sleep of exhaustion.
Magnus couldn’t blame either of them. They’d both had quite the day. He’d had dealings with time-travelers before and had even traveled to the future once for his sword-brother, Oscar’s, wedding. Yet he’d never thought this kind of thing would happen to him. He wasn’t smart or cunning or all the other things that the Fae seemed to value. He was just Magnus Kerr, brute strength and little else. So why had Irene gotten him involved in one of her schemes? And how did the lass fit into it?
He glanced towards the loft, listening to Isabelle’s soft breathing. He remembered how she had looked as she stood her ground earlier, throwing herself between Magnus and the angry villager, all outrage and stubborn bravery. And yet she didn’t realize this. She thought herself ordinary. To Magnus’s thinking, she wasanythingbut ordinary.
His skin tingled with the memory of her fingers on him earlier. It had been so hard to keep still whilst she’d administered to his wounds. Not because of the pain but because ofher. Because of the way his pulse had roared in his ears at her nearness. Because of the burning urge he’d had to reach out and touch her. Because he’d wanted to...wanted to... Ah, hell. He didn’t know what he’d wanted to do. He only knew that she’d burst so unexpectedly into his life, bringing the chaos that the involvement of the Fae always promised. But bringing something else as well.
Hope.
She had given him a way of finding the evidence against McRae that he so desperately needed. And despitethe difficult circumstances in which they found themselves, Magnus himself felt more hopeful, more optimistic than he had in days.
Doing his best not to wake the sleeping dog, he shifted onto his back, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.
But it seemed only moments until he was awoken by something wet and smelly rasping up the side of his face. He jerked awake, hand going instinctively for a weapon, only to find himself looking up at a long nose with hanging jowls right in front of his face and a line of slobber trickling onto his chin. Snaffles gave him another lick, all the way from his chin to his forehead.
“Ugh! All right, all right, I’m up!”
He pushed the giant dog off but Snaffles gave a low ‘uff’ and came right back, his huge paws slamming into Magnus’s chest and laying him flat out on his back. The tongue came snaking out again.
“Yuck!” Magnus cried. “That was my mouth, ye foul beast!”
“Would you two like to be alone?”
Magnus and Snaffles both looked up to see Isabelle peering down from the edge of the loft. She had straw in her hair and a highly amused expression danced across her face.
“Call yer hell-hound off!” Magnus cried. “I’m being savaged!”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back, big guy,” Izzy called down, barely containing her laughter. She whistled sharply and Snaffles woofed and trotted over to the ladder, standing on his back paws and putting his front ones several rungs up.
Magnus sat up, wiping slobber from his face with the sleeve of his tunic. “Well, I willnae need a wash now.”
Isabelle laughed in response, a bright, lovely sound that bounced off the walls of the barn and echoed into the crisp morning. Magnus could not help but smile at her mirth. There was something utterly infectious about it.
Heaving himself up off the hay-strewn floor, Magnus stretched his still painful limbs while shaking out his hair, sending little bits of straw flying around. He grimaced as he felt a wave of pain pass through his side, silently reminding him of yesterday and all that had happened.
Isabelle began her descent from the loft and Magnus found himself staring at the lovely curve of her arse as it came towards him. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to put his gaze elsewhere. Snaffles danced around the base of the ladder, tail whipping from side to side like a giant puppy, and as she touched the ground, it was Isabelle’s turn to be bombarded by slobbery kisses. She laughed and threw her arms around the dog’s massive shoulders.
“Anyone would think I’ve been away for weeks! I’ve only been up in the loft!”
“He’s a loyal beast, that’s for sure,” Magnus observed. “Although his snores and farts are enough to wake the dead.”
“Oh, you noticed that, did you?”
“Aye. Between the dog and the donkeys it was a most...fragrant night. I hope ye slept through it?”
“I did, actually. I slept surprisingly well. You?”
“Fine,” he lied. He doubted he’d snatched more than a few hours. His eyes felt grainy and his ribs ached something fierce.
The door suddenly opened, letting early morning light spill into the barn. Morwenna stood in the doorway, carrying a tray.
“Ah! Good, ye are awake. I’ve brought ye some breakfast.”
A delicious smell was coming from the tray and Magnus’s stomach rumbled. Last night’s dinner had barely touched the sides and he was famished.
Isabelle grabbed Snaffles’ collar to keep him from the food. “Best to be safe. He can smell a sausage from ten miles away.”
