Page 18 of A Fine Scottish Spell (The Magical Matchmakers of Seven Cairns #2)

H er kind? “It’s me, Lilias! How can you not know me?

” Heart pounding so hard it made her dizzy, Emily kept patting her chest in rapid fire panic as if doing so would coax her soul into chiming in to help Lilias remember.

“It’s Emily. Special breakfast blend tea with honey, Emily.

You’ve known me for over a year now. Jessa and I rented the cottage on the hill, and once she married Grant, I moved in with Ishbel. Remember?”

Lilias stared at her as if she had never met such a stark raving lunatic in her life, then turned to Gryffe.

“Hallowed ground, Grand Chieftain. I am sorry for yer lady’s distress, but it would be best if ye took her away.

” She leaned closer. “She is making me other customers nervous, ye ken? Ye know her kind are not supposed to be in Seven Cairns.”

“My kind?” It came out as a shriek, but Emily didn’t care. “And what kind is that? You welcomed me with open arms just a couple of days ago. Even told me I was the sister you had never had and always wanted.”

Lilias’s jaw dropped, and she turned to Gryffe once more, seemingly determined not to speak directly to Emily.

“I mean no insult, Grand Chieftain. I ken well enough yer ancestry, but ye have mortal blood as well and yer oath that makes ye accepted. It’s plain to see she is full blooded Unseelie, and ye know that is not allowed.

If Mairwen catches me opening the pub to the likes of her, there will be full on hell to pay. ”

Numbed by this second rejection from someone she considered a close friend, head spinning at the enormity of this unbelievable disaster, Emily sagged back into the chair, hugging herself to keep from shattering into a thousand sobbing pieces.

“Lass—” Gryffe took hold of her shoulders. “Come. Let us return home.”

In the depths of her confusion, his deep voice barely made it through, and she had to think really hard on what he had said for the words to even make sense. “Home,” she whispered, hugging herself tighter while staring down at the table.

“Aye, my ember. Let me take ye home.”

She barely shook her head, and a single tear burned its way down her cheek.

“I can’t get home. I’m trapped.” She closed her eyes and rocked in place, fighting to console herself.

A keening wail eked free of her, slicing the air like the clash of forged steel.

She would never see her family again. Her mother.

Father. Five irritating but totally lovable brothers.

And now she had lost the village of friends she’d come to love just as much as family.

Uncontrollable sobbing violently shook her.

A strong grip swept her up against a hard, muscular chest, and she vaguely heard Domus. Then she was back among the pillows where she had awakened that morning and made such grand plans to return to Seven Cairns to get her life back on track.

From the depths of her misery, she became aware of murmurings, soft conversations swirling all around, but she ignored them.

What difference did it make what anyone said?

She was lost—forever lost in a place where she didn’t belong.

No friends. No family. And confusing feelings for a man who had made it quite clear he was waiting for someone else.

“Fetch her some tea and bring Grennove when ye return,” Gryffe told someone. He was probably talking to Inalfi, but again, what did it matter?

Emily closed her eyes tighter. Maybe, she should’ve rushed Lilias’s portal and risked the wrath of the powers, the goddesses, or the Highland Veil.

She couldn’t remember what Mairwen had told her about who or what brought down nine kinds of hell upon those who stormed the portals without permission from a Weaver or the keeper of the portal’s key.

At least, if she had charged through it and the magic had fried her, she would no longer be in her current situation.

At the moment, death didn’t seem all that bad of an option.

A warm, callused hand touched her face, making her closed eyes well with more tears that quickly escaped.

She opened them to Gryffe. He stared down at her.

Unsmiling, but non-accusing. Sorrowful, but not pitying.

He merely kept his gaze locked with hers, allowing her to sink into his obsidian eyes as if coaxing her down a dark path that would lead her to the center of his soul.

He didn’t speak—just tenderly stroked her cheek with the heel of his thumb.

“What do I do now?” she dared to whisper.

“Ye stay here. With me.”

“But you don’t want me here.”

“Ye’ve no idea of what I want, my ember.”

She didn’t have an answer for that and was too confused and distraught to try to find one.

Besides, what did it matter? What power did she have over anything anymore?

She closed her eyes again and turned away, curling into a tight little ball in the middle of the bed, unable to stand what she had become—a helpless wretch wallowing in self-pity.

She had only been like this once before.

After the miscarriage. She had paid a painfully high price that time for the right to sink into a pit of despair.

But this? She had done this to herself. Stormed Scotland to help her dear friend improve her circumstances, and rather than return to Jersey once Jessa was settled, she had decided to stay on in Seven Cairns and explore her heritage.

What an idiot. Once again, she had made the wrong life choice, and now here she was feeling sorry for herself because that choice had backfired.

She had never been able to stand whining and wallowing from anyone, and now just look at her.

Here she was, refusing to own the fate she had chosen, rise from the ashes, and start all over again.

Served her right for being such a sanctimonious, judgy, know-it-all, bossy ass with everyone she had forced her advice on in the past. She’d finally gotten a taste of her own medicine, and damn, it tasted bitter as hell.

“Emily,” Gryffe said, his voice gentle but deep and rasping, like the unexpected purr of a tiger. The weight of his hand on her shoulder somehow said so much more than words. His touch told her he was there for her. That she wasn’t in this alone.

She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Stop it, you idiot. You just went from the frying pan to the fire. Stop making his politeness more than it is.

“Emily?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed herself to stop sniveling. “What?”

“Life here with me will nay be so bad.”

Fumbling for the square of linen tucked up into her sleeve, she sniffed.

“Could we just not talk about this right now? I have a lot to process and need to do it in my own way.” If this had been a fairy tale, she would have thrown herself into his arms and let him console her until his heart melted, and he decided it was worth the risk to love her, even if his mother had cast some sort of spell or curse or whatever on them.

But this was no damn fairy tale. Fairy tales weren’t real.

She had to figure out what to do, how to survive.

Somehow, she doubted this version of the eighteenth century needed a social media influencer.

She hugged her knees to her chin and tucked her forehead against them.

An insistent yearning nudged her, but she flinched away from it.

No. Gryffe wanted his one , and she wasn’t it.

The last thing she needed to do was fan the flames of what she felt for him, only to be dumped farther down the road.

Been there. Done that. Wasn’t about to do it again.

“I have her tea, my chieftain,” Inalfi said, but Emily ignored her and remained tightly curled.

“Let me have a look at ye, lass,” Grennove said from the other side of the large bed.

Emily gave in to her inner child and pulled a pillow over her head. “Leave me alone. All of you.”

“Leave us,” Gryffe said, his growling tone sending a shiver along her spine. “Now.”

The sound of hurried scuffling filled the room, then ended with a soft thump of the door.

“There is no one here but yerself and I now, lass,” Gryffe said. “And I mean to stay and help ye wrestle yer demons until they choose to leave ye in peace.”

She pulled the pillow off her head and hugged it to her chest, keeping her back to him. It was better that she not face him. She couldn’t think straight whenever she looked into his eyes. “Is there another room I can have?”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn’t see since he was sitting behind her on the bed. “This is your room.”

“’Tis a big fine room. We can share it.”

“So, you can boot me out whenever you find your one? No, thank you.”

He caught hold of her arm and rolled her to face him. Eyes flashing with some kind of unholy black fire, he glared at her. “I would never do that to ye.”

“You say that now because she’s not here.

” A strange numbness settled within her, right where her heart used to be, and she welcomed it.

“I have been thrown away before and didn’t much like it.

I may make a lot of stupid choices in my life, but setting myself up to be tossed out again is not one of them. ”

Face flaring red with rage, he bared his teeth and actually growled, becoming more of a great, dark beast than a man. “Who threw ye away? Who dared treat ye with such disrespect?”

Touched by his protective, righteous indignation, she couldn’t even fathom why she had brought it up.

She never talked about that time in her life.

It was better left to the shadows. Even her family knew the topic was off limits.

Why had she spewed out her past like it tasted bad?

“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. ”

He pulled her closer and took her hand. “It matters because it hurt ye, and ye still carry that pain. Tell me. Give me the weight of yer misery so it will vex ye no more. My back is strong, my shoulders broad. I can bear yer burdens with ease.”