The children cheered at this and began hanging onto Seamus’s arms. The old man struggled weakly, threatening them with dire retribution that went wholly ignored. Rose couldn’t help but smile at the rough affection that so obviously tied this family together. Seamus, she was sure, would be absolutely fine.
But if the sickness came here… The thought of Seamus, Brina, and the children in a similar state to Drew made her stomach churn. She had to stop that from happening.
She and Cailean took their leave of Brina and her family and made their way back up to the village. They worked all morning, Cailean with his men clearing debris, shifting fallen trees, repairing damaged walls and roofs, while Rose took care of the injured—bandaged hands, cleaned scrapes, and stitched the odd gash caused by flying debris.
But all the while, her thoughts kept returning to Brina and Seamus’s words.The stormlights are his wrath rising, trying to draw herback—or punish her for leaving.
Cailean called a break at midday. Rose finished cleaning a young girl’s skinned knees and straightened, stretching out her aching back. Her dress was sodden, soaked with mud up to the ankles, and her braid was a wet lump hanging down her back. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a hot shower!
Cailean came to fetch her, and they walked back up to the keep together, arms brushing occasionally. He looked as exhausted as she was—and as filthy. His clothes were caked in mud, and his hair slick and clinging to his neck. They walked in silence, too tired to speak.
But eventually Cailean said, “Ye looked at home today.”
She glanced at him. “I did?”
“Aye. Like… like ye belonged. Perhaps ye didnae notice the way the people responded to ye, but I did. Ye are no longer a stranger, lass. Ye are one of us.”
Rose blinked.Ye are one of us.She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. It felt kind of… nice.
“What did you make of Brina’s tale?” she asked, changing the subject.
He shrugged. “Not much. One thing ye will learn the longer ye spend here is that there is an old wife’s tale for everything. An old man gets a wart on his nose? It’s because he stole a lobster from a sacred rock pool.”
Rose laughed. “I take your point. But… I don’t know… It felt like more than that.”
“Then ye should speak to Maggie.”
“Maggie?”
“Aye, she knows all the old tales, every rhyme and riddle this island has ever whispered. If one of them talks about a sea god and his stormlights, she’ll know it.”
Rose mulled over this in silence as they walked up to the gates of the keep. It was raining again, an annoying misty drizzle that turnedthe world to gray fog. She could hardly see anything beyond a few feet, cocooning her and Cailean in their own little world.
“I’ll have Mable heat water for a bath,” he told her, turning to face her as they paused just inside the gates. “We dinna want our MacFinnan spellweaver to catch a cold, do we?”
Rose’s eyes slid closed. “A hot bath? That sounds like heaven.”
He reached out and flicked away a stray strand of hair that was clinging to her face. As he did so, his hand brushed her cheek, sending a thrill of warmth right through her.
“Thank you,” she said.
His eyebrows rose. “For what? Thank Mable.She’llbe the one hauling the water up to yer bathtub.”
“Not that. Well, yes, that. But… I don’t know.”For making me feel wanted, she thought.That I matter. For making me feel… alive.
But she didn’t say any of those things. Instead, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was only a light brush of her lips on his cheek, but the effect was instantaneous.
Cailean froze.
The rain began to fall more heavily, shimmering sheets that turned the world to opalescent gray, and a low rumble of thunder sounded over the ocean. Cailean hadn’t moved, yet something had changed in him. Rose felt tension thrumming in the air between them like a bowstring pulled tight. And the way he was looking at her… Those dark eyes were full of something that made her heart pound so hard she could feel it in the base of her throat.
His eyes searched hers, storm-dark and unguarded.
And then he moved.
He stepped into her space with a suddenness that stole her breath, one hand threading into the wet tangles of her hair, the other gripping her waist like he couldn’t bear the distance a moment longer. His mouth claimed hers without hesitation—rough, raw, full of all the things he hadn’t said.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It was heat and hunger and frustration, lips crashing together in a clash of need that made her gasp. She clutched at his shoulders, then slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she matched the intensity, lost in him.
