She laughed, a delight that again disproved her icy reputation. “You could be my mother.”
He couldn’t stop a chuckle of his own. “The gods forbid.”
“I meant she used to say such things.” She glanced aside, looking out the window at the Merrivale gardens. It was dark now, but a gravel walkway shone white between clipped hedges, the pebbles catching the light from the house. “She always missed Edinburgh, but she was particularly fond of the Highlands.
“I have to ask…” She spun back to him, a slight crease in her brow. “Why did you say ‘the gods?’”
“Ah, well. Did your mother ne’er tell you that an ancient Celt dwells inside every Scot?” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice as if revealing a great secret. “It is quite true. We’re all wild pagans at heart.”
“You haven’t forgotten the old ways.”
“So it is.” He straightened and folded his arms. “Was your mother any different?”
“I was fairly young when I lost her, but I do remember…” She glanced again at the garden path, her smile returning. “She used to leave biscuits and milk in the rose garden on full moon nights, claiming faeries would come to dance and that they’d appreciate the refreshments. And,” – her eyes lit – “on Beltane morning, just before sunrise, she’d go up into the hills behind Cranleigh, our home, and wash her face in the dew on the grass. She-”
“She swore it would keep her young and beautiful.”
“How did you know?”
Lucian chuckled again, feeling younger himself. “My mother, this time. She did the same thing.”
“I do it, too.”
“You, sweet, have no such need of Beltane dew, though I am glad to hear that our ancient ways are honored so far beneath the border.” In truth, her revelations made his heart swell. “I would no’ have believed it.”
“It is important to have faith in magic,” she said, her tone wistful. “At times…”
“It is all that keeps us going?” He guessed.
She nodded. “It was magic that led me in here. At least, I think so.”
Lucian lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“You won’t laugh if I tell you?”
“To be sure, nae.”
She hesitated. “You might think I’m crazy.”
“If anything, I’d say you are daring.” He allowed himself the pleasure of smoothing his knuckles down her cheek. “Any lass bold enough to attend a ball with her hair streaming down her back, has fire in her heart, not bats in her head.”
To his surprise, twin spots of color appeared on her cheekbones. “I did that on purpose,” she admitted, the blush deepening. “My hair had nothing to do with coming in here. I saw something…” She paused, drew a breath. “I will tell you, but you must keep it to yourself.”
“Of course.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You have my solemn word.”
“Well, then.” She stood straighter. “I was looking for a place to escape the crush and nipped into a seemingly quiet corridor. The one outside this cloakroom. But when I turned a corner, I almost collided with an old woman.”
She looked at him then, and it was all he could do to keep from asking if the woman was black-garbed and grizzled.
But he preferred to hear that from her – if indeed they’d encountered the same crone.
“Did she speak to you?” That was all he cared to say.
“No, not one word. She didn’t even look at me.”
“Yet you believe she drew you in here?”
She nodded. “It was the strangest thing…”
