Page 25 of A Fine Scottish Spell (The Magical Matchmakers of Seven Cairns #2)

Doubt. The word filled her mind and took her back to a conversation she’d once had with Jessa before that terrifying battle with the Morrigan that had nearly cost Jessa her life. Doubt had caused that. Doubt was a dangerous thing when it came to the magic of Scotland.

Inalfi remained subdued, turning aside to put away the skirt and petticoats. Her deafening silence made Emily feel even worse.

Snatching her old hiking boots up from the floor, she crossed the room to the bed and sat beside Grimalkin.

The great cat trilled out an affectionate welcome, rolled over onto her back, and nudged Emily with her head.

Emily paused long enough to scratch the softly rumbling feline under the chin while trying to think of a way to make Inalfi feel better.

But she couldn’t. Once something was said, it was impossible to snatch it back—kind of like trying to unring a bell.

She settled for a despondent sigh while pulling on her socks and lacing up her boots. “Will you be coming to the Dreaming with me?” she asked the cheerless maid.

“Coming with ye?” Inalfi looked as if she had just been asked to assassinate the chieftain. She clutched Emily’s heavy wool cloak to her chest like a shield. “Oh no, my lady. I canna go to the Dreaming.”

“ Canna go or would rather not go?”

Once again, Inalfi studied her, as she often did, Emily had noticed. It had occurred to her on more than one occasion that she was kind of like some sort of science project for the Fae maid—like growing an unknown substance in a Petri dish to see what it turned out to be.

“I canna go, my lady,” Inalfi said. “I have the bloodline of a commoner.”

“What?”

“Only those of the royal court or their descendants may travel through the Dreaming and visit the worlds and times the Highland Veil separates.”

“Then how am I supposed to be able to get in there? I am a mortal with no Fae blood at all.”

“But ye have bonded with Himself, the son of Queen Nicnevin—and ye have the divine blood of a Weaver in yer ancestry. Did ye not say yer grandmam was a Spell Weaver?”

“My great great grandmother was a Spell Weaver.” Emily finished tying her boots, then pulled her cellphone from her pocket.

“I won’t be needing this.” She tossed it onto the bedside table, then arched a brow at Inalfi.

“You’ve seen how talented I am when it comes to magic.

How many times have you gone running for the water pitcher to put out the fires? ”

Inalfi lifted her chin higher and assumed a lofty demeanor. “Not that many. And they’ve not been nearly as bad as they were. I think ye are improving…somewhat.”

“I still wish you could go with me. You are kind of like my safety net here.”

“Safety net?” The maid gingerly scooped up the cell phone, holding it at arm’s length between her thumb and index finger as if it were either dipped in something nasty or might explode.

“Is that good or bad?” she asked as she placed the phone back in the trunk and slammed the lid shut before it escaped.

“A safety net is a good thing. You explain things to me and help me fit in so I don’t have to embarrass myself by asking Gryffe.”

Inalfi smiled and bowed her head. “I can but try, my lady. Yer happiness brings all of us joy.” She slid her focus to the great cat purring beside Emily. “Yer Grimalkin can go with ye. Her kind guard the Fae Court and go anywhere they wish.”

“You want to go into the Dreaming with me?” Emily asked the panther that was lazily flexing its front paws as if kneading biscuits.

Eyes barely open, Grimalkin yawned, revealing her lethal set of fangs. Then she trilled another purring meow and closed her eyes completely. Her kneading paws slowly went still, and her purring faded, as she drifted into a deeper sleep.

“I’ll take that as an affirmative,” Emily told the napping cat. Still unable to assess what time it was by the length of the shadows on the floor, she nodded at the window. “When exactly is moonrise?”

“When the moon takes the sun’s place in the sky,” Inalfi said with a rueful look.

“Yeah…I suppose that title was pretty self-explanatory. Sorry. I guess I’m nervous.

” Emily hopped off the edge of the bed and went to the door.

“I’m going to find Gryffe. Do you want me to take Grimalkin with me, or are you all right with her in here?

” She had noticed Inalfi always gave the cat a wide berth.

“Take her, if ye dinna mind.” Inalfi sidled away from the bed while keeping her gaze locked on the beast. “I’ll get better with her. I swear, I will. I need but a wee bit more time.”

“She is a big cat. I understand completely.” Emily made a kissing sound to rouse the lazy panther from its nap.

“Come on, Grimalkin. Let’s find Gryffe.” The feline remained sound asleep.

She opened the door. As soon as the hinges creaked, the ebony beast leapt from the bed with her ears perked and the tip of her tail twitching.

As they walked down the hallway, Emily noticed the large panther made a soft huffing grunt with every fluid step of her graceful march. It made Emily smile as she trailed her fingers down the cat’s broad head and muscular shoulders. Even on all fours, Grimalkin’s back was even with Emily’s hip.

“You sound like a steam train chugging along,” she told the cat.

Grimalkin answered with a long, low, almost clicking growl that sounded more affectionate than threatening.

“I wonder where Gryffe is? He was lagging back so I wouldn’t have to listen to him and his mother spatting.” Emily found it perfectly natural to think out loud to the furry shadow walking at her side. But it surprised her when Grimalkin responded with a perky trilling and took off at a faster trot.

“Hey—wait!” Thank heavens she had changed into her old clothes that were better suited to chasing after a determined panther.

She loped after the great cat, following it down the spiral stairs to the main floor and into the great hall.

The clansmen and servants filling the room went unnaturally quiet before several gasped and even a few shrieked as the great cat moved among them.

Grimalkin halted, lifted her head, then sniffed the air, her gleaming black nostrils flexing in the torchlight.

“It’s all right,” Emily told one and all, wondering if they would even hear her since they were frozen either in shock at the sight of her strange clothes or in fear of the Fae cat.

She decided to go with the cat theory. “She won’t hurt you.

She’s helping me find Gryffe...uhm…I mean…

the chieftain.” My, my, didn’t she sound efficient and ready to accept the responsibility of helping her husband lead the clan?

“Does anyone know where Himself might be?”

“Library…my lady,” one of the nearest servants said, a lad who squeaked like he was trapped in the throes of puberty. As he pointed in that direction, he bobbed his head so many times, it was a wonder he didn’t fall over from dizziness.

“Thank you.” Emily patted her leg. “Come on, Grimalkin. He’s in the library.”

The panther gave her a disinterested glance, then sauntered closer to the nearest table, causing those sitting on the benches beside it to scatter.

“Grimalkin—come along now. You’re scaring them, and that’s not nice.”

The cat poached an entire joint of beef off one of the platters before returning to Emily’s side.

“So Nicnevin lied about you only eating when in the Fae kingdom?”

Grimalkin flipped her tail and purred while proudly carrying her treat with her head held high.

“Come on.” Emily headed for the library. She’d be having a word with Nicnevin. While she already loved the great black cat, she couldn’t have those of the clan living in a constant state of terror. When she reached the door, she knocked.

“Come!”

She pushed open the door, then stepped back, allowing Grimalkin to enter first. “Why don’t you go over there by the hearth to eat?”

The cat complied, flopping down on the flagstones with a satisfied grunt as she started ripping the meat from the bone.

“Apparently, your mother was slightly mistaken about Grimalkin’s eating habits,” Emily said as she joined Gryffe at the window.

“And that surprises ye?” As soon as she drew near, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.

Hugging herself against him, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I love how you do that. It always makes me feel safe.”

“Do what, my love?”

“Always hug me close whenever I’m near.”

“The touch of ye comforts me. Yer warmth feeds my soul.” But even though his sweet words were like a caress, he sounded distracted.

“What’s wrong?”

He shifted with a heavy sigh, faintly fogging the window in front of them. “I dinna like the thought of ye risking the Dreaming. ’Tis not a pleasant place, nor is it safe.”

She could feel his concern as plainly as the beat of his heart.

It both filled her with the contentment of being well and truly loved and also made her sad.

“I need to try to speak with Jessa. She is the only one I know for sure who will believe it’s really me and tell everyone else that I am all right. ”

He took hold of her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “And are ye, my love? Are ye truly all right?”

She stared back at him, unable to answer right away. He knew. He felt her doubt. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love ye as well, but that is not what I asked.”

“I will be all right. Eventually.” She wouldn’t lie to him. He always deserved the truth. “Besides—I can’t go back. Remember?”

“But if ye could?”

She shook her head. “I can’t so there’s no reason to even wonder about it.”

Sadness shouted from him. “If ye could go back, ye would. Ye would leave me.”

“No. I would not.” And she wouldn’t—she would just visit home once in a while and then come back. Home. She had done it again. Referred to somewhere other than here as home. “I cannot imagine my life without you. You have to believe that.”

He cupped her cheek, tenderly grazing his callused thumb back and forth across it.

“I believe ye’ve yet to give me the entirety of yer heart.

There is a part of ye held back. A part of ye that longs for all ye once knew and would love to know again.

A part of ye does not belong to me…and maybe never will. ”

Sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck, she hugged him tighter than she had ever hugged him before. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his ear before whispering, “I love you. You have to believe that.”

His arms tightened around her, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“I never truly lived until ye came into my life, and without ye, I would cease to live once more. Ye are the lifeblood of my heart. The air in my lungs. The bread to my soul.” He drew back and stared into her eyes again, fiercer this time.

“And never will I let anything or anyone take ye from me—not yer past life and not even death.”

She shivered. Not from a chill, but from the fury in his eyes and the fire in his tone.

He wasn’t threatening. He was making an oath.

An oath as precious and sacred as their binding vows.

She felt it surge through her like an intoxicating drug.

She framed his face with her hands and gave herself over to his powerful, dark gaze.

“I am yours forever and beyond. Know that.”

He closed his mouth over hers, kissing her with such intensity that her knees went weak.

He caught her up, booted a table off the rug in front of the settee, and lowered them both to the floor.

“These feckin’ clothes are nay as easy as tossing yer skirts up out of the way.

” He rumbled with a low, frustrated growl while kissing a trail along her collarbone and running his hands across her.

Just as electrified with the impossible to ignore urgency to achieve a full joining, she took hold of the waistband of her leggings and panties and shoved them down to her boot tops.

“Let me on my knees,” she said with desperation.

This need to have him inside her was more powerful than their fated mate binding.

She shoved at him when he didn’t listen. “Back up and let me on my knees.”

“Knees,” he repeated as if trapped in a spell. He shook his head and brightened. “Aye, on yer knees.”

As she rolled to her knees, she whipped her sweater off over her head, then went to all fours. “Hurry, Gryffe—I need you more than I ever have before. Take me!”

And then he was inside her, filling her to perfection. She groaned and rocked back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. “This time is different—I need—I need—” She needed blessed oblivion.

He pounded faster, rutting into her with the same urgency that was setting her ablaze. Grabbing hold of her hips, he pulled her back harder, growling with every delicious slap of their flesh.

Excruciating bliss exploded through her with wave after wave of wondrous sensation.

She may have screamed, and he may have roared, she really didn’t know, and definitely didn’t care.

Gryffe had given her what she had needed so badly—even better than usual, which was impossible to imagine.

As the tsunami of pleasure ebbed, she swayed forward and collapsed, grunting as he slumped across her.

“Feckin’ hell. Are ye all right, love? I nay meant to crush ye.” He rolled to one side, taking her with him, and spooning his body around hers.

“I have never been more all right in my life,” she said, barely finding the energy to speak. She closed her eyes and hugged his arms around her. “I love you. Really and truly, I do”

He tightened his embrace. “I love ye as well, my precious ember. Sleep for a while in my arms now, aye? We’ll be needing our strength for tonight.”

“Tonight,” she repeated, struggling to remember what tonight was…

and then it came to her and made her sad.

Maybe the Dreaming was a mistake. Maybe it was another wrong choice.

She squinted her eyes shut even tighter and breathed Gryffe in.

His familiar, comforting scent spiked with the essence of their loving calmed her, lulled her back to where she needed to be.

She would hold tight to Gryffe while in the Dreaming, she silently vowed to herself. Gryffe would make everything all right.