“That’s the answer.” He smiled at her. “She was indeed the crone from the Merrivale townhouse, the old Scottish woman with the red plaid laces.”
“She knew I was about to go,” she spoke his mind. “She knew your cat had something to do with your lateness. And so-”
“She comes from that hazy realm we spoke of.”
“Oh, my.”
“Indeed.” Lucian agreed, feeling chills himself. “There’s only one more thing to mention. The reason my maid was so upset was because the Lyongate cat isn’t of this world,” he said, watching her carefully. “He’s a shadow cat, part of a legend attached to my family.”
“How fascinating,” she said, seeming more intrigued than shocked or frightened.
“He’s quite large,” Lucian told her. “We believe he’s tied to a lion once rescued by a distant ancestor.”
She didn’t blink, her great blue eyes lighting with interest.
“I think we should slow our horses,” she said, already doing so. “I must hear all about him. I am fond of lions.”
And I am growing fond of you.
Lucian kept that to himself, but he did begin to talk, telling her everything he knew about the first laird of Lyongate Hall, Renton MacRae, and how he saved Conley the Lion. He finished with the lion-faced stone at the gate, the shadow cat, and even his family’s triumphs and travails over the years.
He’d tell her later about his uncle and his father. Just now, only one thing mattered…
Lady Melissa.
The half-English, half-Scottish woman he suspected would soon be his wife.
