With an expected hesitancy yet an astounding amount of courage, Lexi stretched out her hand, offering the beastie her knuckles to sniff. “How can you possibly be Aylryd?” she asked, sounding understandably dazed. After all, she was a mortal from a different realm.
The tiger head-butted her hand in the way of a kitten, then shoved in closer and snuggled against her.
With utter bewilderment, she hugged the friendly cat, burying her face in his lush fur. She lifted her head and stared down at the purring beast. “I am so confused. There is no way this is my Aylryd.”
“Fae tigers can shapeshift. However, they must always choose some sort of feline form. In yer world, a wee kitten fits in much better than his true self.” Jeros pulled up a chair and lowered himself into it, finding that he yearned to be close to this unusual woman, get to know her better. Especially since she might be the woman of the prophecy and his fated mate. However, he had always thought the pull of the mate bond would be stronger. While he felt an unmistakableacheto remain in her presence, it wasn’t the crazed lustiness he had expected. “And Mairwen told me ye would visit soon, but she nay mentioned ye might wish to see a horse.”
“I see.” Her clear hazel eyes narrowed, and the way she slowly fondled the tiger’s ears gave testament to her leeriness and disbelief. “Justahorse, you say? The way Mairwen spoke, this horse that had stopped eating was your oldest and dearest friend.”
Jeros leaned toward her, propping his forearms on his knees. “My oldest and dearest friend is nay a horse.”
“Do you have a sick horse?”
“Not at present.” He did, however, have a sullen unicorn in his stable, but after her stubborn denial of the Fae tiger, he decided the unicorn should be an enlightenment for another day. “Did Mairwen tell you anything else about me?”
“Shedidn’ttell me you were a prince.”
“I see.” He straightened in the chair, sitting taller.
“You see?” She scooted to one side and placed her feet on the floor. Aylryd jumped up beside her, making the sofa groan and crackle with his massive weight. Lexi appeared decidedly uneasy. “Aylryd…or whoever you are, you need to get down. I don’t think this couch is made for a kitty your size.”
“She is correct, beastie,” Jeros said. “If the couch collapses into a pile of kindling, yer mistress could verra well be impaled with splinters.”
Grumbling with a low growl, Aylryd returned to the floor but remained close enough to lunge should anyone threaten his mistress. A knock on the library door made him hiss.
“That will be my housekeeper, Mrs. Shimmerhill. The woman is renowned for her calming drinks; therefore, I requested she brew ye a tea.” He glanced at the door. “Enter.”
A descendent of the Fae known to prefer caves and subsist on all things fungi, the plump little housekeeper with the bright rosy cheeks had always reminded Jeros of a squat little tomato ripening on the vine. The woman even possessed the scent of a tomato plant, were one to get close enough to smell her.
“Mrs. Shimmerhill,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Allow me to introduce Miss Lexi Vine. Our guest for the duration.”
“The duration of what?” Lexi asked while wrinkling her nose as the housekeeper drew closer. She smiled at Mrs. Shimmerhill. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Thank you for the tea, but are there any tomatoes in it? I’m sensitive to tomatoes, and I could swear I smell the plants.”
Mrs. Shimmerhill grinned, plumping her cheeks to an even rosier shade. “That be my fragrance, mistress. Dinna fash yerself. There be no tomatoes in yer tea.” Her soft brown eyes sparkling, she offered Lexi a cup. “’Twill do ye a world of good, mum. Dinna fash yerself about any dangers. All within these hallowed walls are safe and would never seek to harm ye.” She nodded at the tiger and laughed. “Especially not with yer wee guardian there. Beastie will nay allow any ill to befall ye.”
“I see.” Lexi took the cup and saucer, gingerly balancing them between her hands. “Uhm…that’s good to know.” She hazarded a sip of the tea and smiled. “Wow. This is very nice. Maggie would love this.”
Mrs. Shimmerhill accepted the compliment with a pleased nod before casting an inquisitive glance at Jeros, then hurrying from the room after a barely perceptible shake of his head.
“Is Maggie yer maid?” Jeros found himself relaxing in Lexi’s presence, but continued staring at her scars. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
“No. My friend. She is covering for me back home while I take a sabbatical here in Scotland.” She boldly returned his stare, as if understanding his need to look at her scars, but rapidly growing tired of it. And she was right to be. Where the devil were his feckin’ manners?
“Covering for you?” He wasn’t familiar with that term. “What is she covering? Something that might cause you harm?”
Lexi stared at him as if he had sprouted a unicorn horn. “She is taking care of my practice. Seeing my patients and clients while I am away. She is also helping the board with my horse farm.”
“What sort of board?”
She frowned. “We appear to be suffering from a slight language barrier, even though we both speak English. The board I’m referring to is kind of like acouncilthat assists me in taking care of my family business. They help me manage Vinemagic Horse Farms.”
His admiration for her grew. This was no woman who thought herself above anything. She would nay be found lolling about while servants tended to her every wish—a very strong issue he held against his fellow Fae royalty. Lexi cared for animals and was wise enough to seek the counsel of others while doing so. He liked the name of her farm as well. It had a pleasant ring to it. And the soft hazel green of her eyes not only sparkled with intelligence, but a rare mix of patience and kindness. A realization took hold of his heart and squeezed. Lexi was a sanctuary—a sanctuary not only meant for the beasts of whatever world she inhabited, but a safe place for him.
He swallowed hard and blinked. He was staring again, but this time, he was hopelessly trapped in her gaze. “Forgive me. I dinna mean to stare.”
Her sad smile stabbed him like a razor-sharp knife. “Nothing to forgive.” She motioned to her face. “I’m used to it. I get it a lot.”
“That does not negate my apology for my rudeness, but this time it was the wisdom in yer eyes that snared me, not yer unfortunate scars.” Perhaps he shouldn’t speak of them, but he had never been one to dance about and avoid the obvious. “I admire that ye dinna allow them to define ye.”
