Page 65 of The Last Kelpie

“I know.”

“You could walk away. Go back to the Velasca, tell them what we've found, let them handle it.”

“I will certainly accept their help, but this is my assignment, you're my lover, and I'm not giving up on you.”

The cottage was quiet around us. Outside, the loch lapped gently at the shore, the same sound it had made for thousands of years. The same sound Áedán's mother had heard, his father, his siblings, and all the other kelpie families who'd lived here before the stories changed.

“Then we'll remind them,” Áedán said finally. He squeezed my hand again, harder this time. “Together.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A storm arrived the next morning, as if God himself wanted us to stay inside.

I woke to the sound of rain hammering against the cottage windows. The wind howled across the loch with enough force to rattle the glass in their frames. The sky was the color of slate, heavy clouds pressing down until it felt like the mountains themselves were leaning closer. Lightning flickered somewhere over the water, followed seconds later by thunder that rolled through the valley like a living thing.

Áedán was already awake. I found him in the main room, standing at the front window with a cup of tea in his hands. He wore an old sweater that looked handmade, the kind of thing that was passed down. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends. Instantly, my mind filled with scenes from the night before. After he'd agreed that we would fight the changes, we'd made love slowly, tenderly. I thought he might tell me he loved me. He hadn't. I wanted to believe that he was showing me how he felt, but he'd always been an attentive lover.

I pushed the images and my disappointment away as I walked out of the bedroom. “Good morning.”

He turned and smiled. “Good morning. Hot water is in the kettle.”

“Thank you.” I went to grab a mug. “Did you go for a swim?”

“Aye, early this morning.”

The cottage felt smaller as the storm pressed against it. Cozy. Or maybe it was just Áedán and how I felt about him. The fire in the hearth crackled and popped, adding another layer of comfort. Rain streaked down the windows in silver rivulets, distorting the view of the loch until it looked like a watercolor painting.

I poured some hot water from the kettle into a mug, added a scoop of instant coffee from the canister I'd bought while we'd been out researching, added some sugar, and then some cream from a carton I got out of a cooler. After a sip, I joined him at the window. Our shoulders touched. Neither of us moved away.

“It'll last all day.” Áedán's hand settled on my back as if it belonged there. “Maybe into tomorrow. The loch gets like this sometimes. Angry.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Nae.” He took a sip of his tea. “I like storms. They remind me of when the world was wilder. Before roads and tourists. Besides, it's always calm beneath the water.”

I smiled despite myself. “Don't let me keep you from it. I'll be fine here if you want to go for another swim.”

“I'm happy where I am.” Áedán kissed my forehead.

We spent the morning in comfortable quiet. Áedán read on the sofa, one of the old books from his shelves that looked like it might fall apart if handled too roughly. I worked on my laptop, compiling the report that the Velasca would use to counter the modern lies. Around noon, Áedán made cheese sandwiches. We ate them sitting on the floor in front of the fire because the rain made it feel necessary. The storm continued its assault on the cottage, but inside we were warm, dry, and content.

Áedán leaned over to set our plates onto the table, then turned to face me. “Ethan?”

“Yes?”

Those glittering green eyes of his focused on me. “Why are you really doing this? Fighting for me. Staying here when you could be safe at the estate.”

He knew. I knew he knew why I was there. I'd all but said it the night before. But he hadn't said it, and I hadn't said it, and it was time. We hadn't known each other for long. All my reservations were true. Áedán may feel nothing more than affection for me. But I'd never know if I didn't say anything. And he was asking.

So I said it. “Because it's my job, because I believe in preserving myths, but mainly because I'm falling in love with you.”

The words hung in the air between us. Outside, thunder rumbled. The fire crackled. Our relationship hung on a precipice. I could feel the fall looming. Would he pull me back from the edge or shove me over?

Áedán's expression shifted through several emotions too quickly for me to name them all. Surprise, then something lighter. Hope maybe. Then he smiled, but it was his public smile, the one he used when he wanted to deflect. “Humans always fall for handsome water spirits. It's practically a law of nature.”

Oh God, he was going to push me. My heart was going to shatter into a billion pieces. But, as any man would, I fought to stay on solid ground, grasping for him desperately. “I'm not falling for a kelpie.” I held his gaze. “I'm falling for you.”

The public smile vanished. What replaced it was real. A genuine smile, unguarded and so beautiful it made my chest ache. His face transformed with his joy. For a moment, he looked younger. Less tired. As if the weight of six hundred years had lifted just slightly. I felt myself rising back to solid ground.