“Which monarchs did you like best?”
“Ah, the first Elizabeth,” he says immediately. “Now there was a canny woman—astute and clever and devious, with a bawdy sense of humour, a raucous laugh and a passion for her country and her people. It was my pleasure to serve her.”
I shake my head. “It’s like a curtain’s been pulled back and I can see another view of history.”
He smiles. “I am glad to share it with you. Come, you shall ask me anything.”
“I have so many questions,” I admit. “Too many to organise in my head.”
“There is no moratorium on what you can ask me.”
“Did you know Saint George?” I inhale. “Oh mygod, did he kill a member of your family?”
He huffs. “That was a fireside tale for children who grew up in the dark times when magic went into hiding. George was a friend to dragons. Many were the times that we drank and caroused together.”
I hesitate. “You mentioned that you had taken lovers for years. Did you love them?”
He shakes his head. His face is sad. “No. I cared deeply for them, but I am only made to love one man.”
I’m deeply curious as to who that might be, and a sudden passionate hatred for this unknown man makes my stomach churn. I exhale slowly. I have no right to such feelings. I’m just keeping Sigurd company for a bit, and I should treasure our time while it lasts. I will never forget this gift—and I won’t regret it.
He gazes out over the landscape. “I grew tired of having to mourn people, so I stopped letting myself care so much. As such, I took lovers and then they would move on the next day, bespelled and content.”
His words sink in, and I straighten. “Wait.Bespelled?”
He hesitates and then nods. “Yes. I would bring the men here, and when they slept, I would use my magic to tinker withtheir memories of me. I never mistreated them, you understand? ’Twas only to make them happy and never want to find me again. In the past, men have wasted their lives trying to find my world again. They withered away and died heartsore under that compulsion.”
I’d lay odds it wasn’t the magic world that was the attraction. Then something registers, and I remember the odd events of the night when I woke up. “Oh mygod. You enchanted me.”
He licks his lips, a slightly panicked look coming over his face, but his voice is steady. “I did.”
I cock my head. “So why did I still remember you?” I grimace. “Did your magic go wrong?” I say sympathetically.
His lip twitches. “Nay.”
“I don’t know whether to be cross or grateful that it didn’t work.”
“I admit I am hoping for the latter but resigned to the former.”
“I’m not cross. It was for a good reason.” I nudge him. “I’m just grateful you couldn’t magically roofie me.”
“What shocking things you say,” he says, but his eyes twinkle. “’Tis a redundant thing anyway, Cary. I could not bespell you even if I wanted to. My magic will not allow it.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
He cocks his head. “Is it my turn to ask the question?”
“Well, I have asked a few, so yes.” I hold up a finger. “Maybe I’ll answer a question with another question, eh?”
He looks sheepish, which makes me smile. Then he turns and takes my hand in his. “Will you stay with me for a few days?” I open my mouth, but he carries on quickly. “I know you said you would but that was before you knew the truth about me. So, I ask you again if you will stay with me until Christmas Eve?”
“You really want that?” I ask breathily.
His eyes are mysterious and full of secrets. “I find you enchanting, Cary, and I have been lonely for many centuries. I would show you my world and share it with you.”
I consider him—his windswept hair, his strong, handsome face and his tired, warm eyes, and the words come more easily than anything I’ve ever said. “I would like that.”
Chapter Seven
