He’d never see heragain.
He didn’t even know hername.
What a pity that made him feel evenworse.
* * *
Ashort whileafter Greyson left the kirkyard, sure this was the worst Samhain he’d ever known, someone else decided otherwise. An ancient soul who found the evening’s events mostinteresting.
She was a tiny, black-garbed woman – some might say crone – and on such a bright moonlit night, had any passersby cared to look her way, they might have seen the twinkle in her eye and the gleam of her small black boots, tied with red plaid laces. The more observant might’ve also noticed that the laces glowed. Indeed, it’s possible they even gave off a sparkle ortwo.
That happened now and then, when something pleasedher.
In truth, she made it her business to pleaseothers.
She’d been doing so for longer than memory, not that her great age botheredher.
Years broughtwisdom.
And now that the lass had fled and the tall man with his dark good looks was also gone, she drew a deep breath and rubbed her hands together. Only then did she step out from behind one of the kirkyard’s largest trees. She’d stood there because she, too, had come to St. Nicholas in the hope of catching a glimpse of the legendary phantomlovers.
The crone was a romantic, afterall.
If the ghostly pair hadn’t manifested, a flesh-and-blood couple pleased her more. Especially as they’d clearly just met, and were so obviously wellsuited.
She even knew the man – who wouldn’t for his reputation went before him, famous adventurer that he was. Or had been. No matter. Either way, she hadn’t let him see her. It wouldn’t have done to disrupt the magic of the pair’s firstmeeting.
As for hermagic…
Devorgilla of Doon, Highland cailleach of incomparable skill, would ply her talent soon enough. This night she’d glory in the anticipation of a bit of meddlesomematchmaking.
Something she did withglee.
And she was about to do so here in Aberdeen, beginning with a visit to Gannet House. An undertaking she’d embrace with relish, for her visit to the royal burgh had turnedboring.
She much preferred to staybusy.
So she, too, made her way past the rows of mossy and tilted tombstones and then let herself out of the kirkyard. But unlike Greyson Merrick’s departure, when she latched the gate behind her, she wassmiling.
