“Look, I’m a cook and a waitress, but I don’t want people using my job title to talk to me. You might be the laird, but you’re also Malcolm. Itisyour name, right?”
They sat in silence for a short time as he appeared to contemplate her argument.
“I concede yer point, my . . . Dani.”
He tugged at his reins, starting his horse forward, and she followed his lead, staying close to him. She wasn’t finished yet. In fact, she was working her way through a mental list. She might have missed the perfect opportunity for the next item, but oh well. His ego would just have to deal with her apology.
“Good. Second thing is, I feel bad about that bruise on your jaw. I’m sure it was just a lucky punch and had everything not been so . . . weird, I never would have been able to hit you that hard.”
His fingers stole up to his jaw and when he turned to look at her this time, his face broke into a grin that took her breath away.
“You’ve a good arm, Dani. A fine, strong hit that would have surprised any man.”
Maybe he wasn’t so arrogantly alpha as she’d thought. She was on a roll. Two down and one to go. Saving the hardest for last.
“Okay, so, I know you’re not happy about having me here, and I’m sorry that I’ve caused a problem for you.”
She paused for a breath and he slipped into that space.
“I told you before, you’ve no blame on that count. You canna control what actions the Magical Folk take. They’ve their own way of thinking and their own intent. Yer but a pawn in whatever game Elesyria thinks to play. You’ve no call to apologize to me for being here.”
It would be so easy to leave it at that. So easy to let him believe as he did rather than to confess what she suspected to be the truth. But easy now would lead to complicated later on, and she would not be responsible for starting her new life off on the wrong foot.
“No, I am sort of to blame. Not sort of. I am. Remember Elesyria saying something about not being able to reject a boon and you asked who had requested something?” She waited for a response, picking back up when he said nothing. “That would be me. You see, I’ve always believed in the Fae. Always believed they had some higher purpose for me. I’ve been waiting forever for some sign of what that purpose is. So when I called on the Queen at Samhain, I asked her to send me to do whatever it was the Faeries wanted of me.”
Again she waited, holding her breath that he wouldn’t just ride off and leave her here.
“Fifteen years, aye?”
“What?” She kicked her mount, forcing it to reach Malcolm’s side.
“It’s how long you told Elesyria you’d been waiting for them. Fifteen years.”
“That’s right. Since the summer of my eighth birthday, when I read my first book about them.”
His eyebrows drew together, but he kept riding, staring straight ahead.
“You’ve no call to take this responsibility on yerself, lass. Waiting fifteen years should tell you that. It’s of no matter that you asked the Fae to set you on yer path. They’d have ignored you for another fifteen years lest they had good reason of their own to send you now.” He turned toward her at last, his gaze an intense blue framed by his dark hair and whiskers. “Of that you can be sure. I give you my oath on it.”
It could be truth. After fifteen years of hearing absolutely nothing from the Fae, it certainly wouldn’t surprise her.
“And what do you think their reason is?”
He shook his head, turning away to stare into the distance before he answered. “I suspect it’s Elesyria’s way of punishing me for what happened to her daughter. You’ve no part in it, other than getting snared in their spiderweb of schemes.”
His accusation felt like a punch to the stomach. Here she was spending her nights battling some physical obsession with this man, and he viewed her as nothing more than punishment from the Fae. Having him angry with her couldn’t have been any worse.
He sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows. “If yer to stay, I suppose we’ll need to find something to do with you. Have you any skills?”
“Skills,” she squeaked, clenching her teeth together to keep in what she actually thought. Skills. Like sleeping on dirt floors? Or riding around in the wilderness? Or putting up with arrogant, thoughtless men?
“Aye. Any abilities or talents we could use?” He spoke calmly, as if he had no clue as to her real feelings.
Which, obviously, he didn’t.
“I’m a pretty good cook. I could do that. I’m also a waitress. I could do what your serving girls do.”
“Castle MacGahan has a cook and yer a wee bit long in the tooth to be a serving lass.”
