Page 29 of A Fine Scottish Spell (The Magical Matchmakers of Seven Cairns #2)

She clenched her teeth and blinked against the sting of tears.

No. She would not cry even though every word he said, every mannerism, screamed of his despondency and pain.

She swallowed hard against the knot of emotions making her throat ache and locked her gaze on the fire, determined to sit in this room until he understood and realized she loved him, and that her desire to reunite with her family didn’t diminish that love in any way, shape, or form.

“Yer wine, my lady,” he said in a voice so soft and dear she almost melted.

“Thank you.” She hazarded a sip, pleasantly surprised with its delicate fruitiness and the lack of a hard alcoholic burn.

Without looking at him, she idly ran a finger around the rim of the glass while concentrating on the golden flames dancing across the popping and hissing logs.

“I found Jessa’s dream. Grimalkin and I did. ”

“Aye?”

“But it disappeared into the fog before I could talk to her. I figured one of the babies probably woke her. I guess maybe that’s how the Dreaming works.”

He didn’t comment.

She took another sip of the ruby liquid, parsing it out to make the one glass of wine last forever.

“When you found me, I was upset because I had missed my chance to let her know I was all right, so she could relay that to my family and friends.” She risked a glance at him and wished she hadn’t.

Never had he seemed so…so… Her heart swelled with an indescribable ache for him.

The fire set his strong, solemn profile aglow as he sat there staring at it, clutching his glass of whisky propped on the wide, padded arm of the chair.

“Whenever I get upset and finally disintegrate into a sobbing session, I say stupid things that are better off ignored.”

Without looking her way, he heaved a great sigh.

“Ye long for yer family. For yer world. If ye were nay trapped here, ye would have left me long ago and never returned. Ye as much as said so in the Dreaming.” Ever so slowly, he dragged his gaze from the fire and settled it on her.

“Where ye wish to go, I can never follow. I belong to this world and can never live in another, other than through a portal to a different Seven Cairns or viewing those worlds or times through the Dreaming. Even then, I must stay within Seven Cairns’ borders or cease to exist. Only females may travel freely among the planes separated by the Highland Veil because they are the life bringers—the divine mothers.

” He eyed her as if seeing her for the first time.

“I believe the reason ye find yerself trapped here is because ye have denied the entirety of our bond. I can think of no other reason why the goddesses would not allow ye to leave this place. The Veil needs the strength of our union—our strong, complete union. Not just a few broken pieces.”

“I do not want to leave here.”

“Dinna lie to me, love.” He returned to staring at the fire and sipped his whisky.

“I am not lying. I don’t want to leave this place.

Not permanently. I simply want to see my family and friends.

Be able to visit them once in a while. Jessa is allowed to visit twenty-first century Seven Cairns whenever she wishes.

” Holy cripes. She sounded like a petulant teenager, and she hated herself for it.

Gryffe sat there, silent as a stone.

She had to make him see. “You have known I was homesick, and you said you understood. Why is this hurting you so much now?” She pointed at the fire as if it were a portal to her world. “Just because I want to visit them doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I would always come back. Always.”

“On the day of my birth, Nicnevin left me here. Never to return. Never to see if I lived or died. She claimed she left because she had foreseen my father’s death in an upcoming war and could not bear to live through that and experience it firsthand.

That war did not take place until I was a man grown and strong enough to wield a sword at my father’s side.

Only recently did she reappear in my life for reasons only known to herself.

I never expected to meet the woman who bore me.

Not ever.” He took another sip of his whisky, then slowly shook his head, his gaze still locked on the fire.

“I understood yer missing those ye loved, mourning them, and yer way of life before ye came here. But as the days passed, yer mourning, that homesickness as ye call it, took ye over with the relentlessness of a demon determined to possess ye completely and steal ye away. I tried to ignore it, hoping our love would someday be enough. From what ye said in the Dreaming, I now fear that will never be.” He shrugged and bowed his head.

“I canna force ye to commit fully to all that we are and might become. All I can do is resign myself to yer leaving as soon as ye find a way to do so.”

She was at a complete loss. She had never felt so loved and adored, nor so abandoned and confused in all her life.

Setting her wine on the table, she scooted back deeper into the chair and pulled her feet up after her.

Arms around her knees, she cocooned herself in the blanket.

“Have you never said something you wished you hadn’t when your emotions took hold of you?

Something that could easily be misunderstood? ”

“No.”

She blew out a heavy sigh. “Then you are a rare beast indeed.”

Grimalkin lifted her head.

“Not you. Him.”

The massive cat yawned, then went back to sleep.

“I am sorry your mother abandoned you.” She wished her psychiatrist mother were here.

Mama would know what to say to help him realize that just because the first woman in his life had tossed him aside, that didn’t mean every woman would.

“Just because she did that doesn’t mean I am going to abandon you. ”

He took a long, slow sip of his drink, then scowled straight ahead, narrowing his eyes as if his thoughts pained him.

“Ye say ye would never abandon me, yet once ye returned to yer world, time would slip through yer fingers, and ye would be gone from me for far longer than ye ever intended—maybe even a lifetime.”

Emily went still as the hard, bitter truth hit her.

How many times had she meant to call her mother, only to put it off until far longer than the once a week she had faithfully committed to had flown out the door?

She’d lied to herself in the Dreaming. Yes, she was close to her parents, but she wasn’t always the dutiful daughter who called them regularly like she should.

Time slipped away. Just like Gryffe described.

She had been the same with Jessa, but it hadn’t been as much of a crisis because Jessa did it too.

Each of them got busy with stuff that ate up the hours, the days, sometimes even the weeks.

Whenever they finally got back together, they apologized to each other, laughed it off, and promised to do better—but then, they never did.

Was that her? Was that the way she really was?

Was Gryffe right to be so convinced that she would leave him and never return?

The only answer that came to mind was a sadly shameful yes to all the above.

“I am sorry,” she whispered as a tear burned its way down her cheek.

She remembered whenever Jessa put her off that the waiting had felt like forever, but when she put Jessa or her parents off, it felt like only a few minutes had passed.

Pining away her mother had called it when scolding her for not calling and making them worry.

What a terrible way to show someone just how little they mattered.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and curled into a tighter ball of despondency, staring at the fire, her mind surprisingly still and at a loss for a solution.

Trying to leave wouldn’t make things any better, and yet, neither would staying.

And even though she’d not found a way to reconnect with her loved ones and her world, something told her that from this day forward, he would never let down his guard.

He would always be waiting for her to leave at her first opportunity.

The waiting would squat between them like a greasy black poison.

Damn, she loved him like she had loved no other.

Then a realization hit her, sowing a hearty dose of misgivings that made the wine in her stomach churn.

Gryffe loved her with an intensity that bordered on the obsessive.

He’d often whispered in the darkness, after their loving, that their fated bond was all consuming and burned with a fury.

Yes, she loved him too, but didn’t live in constant fear of losing him.

Was something wrong with her? Or was it because she had learned to wall a part of herself off, protect that little piece of herself so she could nurture herself back into being just in case…

Had her long ago abandonment and then the loss of the baby taught her to shield herself at all costs?

Holy cripes, was she that big of a hypocrite?

Judging him for allowing the abandonment by his mother when he was born effect his life now?

Damn, I wish Mama was here to analyze me and tell me what to do.

It all comes down to trust , her mother had once said. Love is easy. Trust is the tricky part because it makes you vulnerable.

And there it was in a nutshell. She loved Gryffe with all her being, but she didn’t trust him not to hurt her as she had been so badly hurt before.

Yes, she was a hypocrite. Judging him for his abandonment that made him hold her tighter, while using her abandonment to keep him at arm’s length.

What a pair of fools. Both were afraid of being hurt again, and only Gryffe was the brave one willing to take that chance and fully commit.

Or at least, he had been willing to fully commit until overhearing her pitiful rant.

She had to let go and trust him or be miserable.

It was her choice, and she heard those words in her mother’s voice.

A warmth at that realization rushed through her. Thanks, Mom.

She rose from the chair and pushed her way into his lap, curling up with her head on his shoulder. After an awkward moment of hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I am sorry I hurt you,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer, just shifted with a heavy sigh, then took another sip of his whisky. But he kept his arm around her, even hugged her a little tighter. So there was that.

“I don’t ever want to go to the Dreaming again,” she said and meant it. Maybe someday the Weavers would find her. Maybe not. Either way, it was time for her to learn to trust and to fully commit. “Not ever,” she said, hoping it would nudge him into responding.

“Aye, ’tis a terrible place,” he finally said, “better left to the Dream Weavers and the immortals.”

This conversation, this clearing of the air between them, was not going as she had wished.

Apologies weren’t making any headway with him, and sitting in his lap had done little to convince him that she really was sorry.

A possibility, a way to prove she was ready to fully commit, and he was really and truly stuck with her, came to mind.

“You said Nicnevin would want us to have a ceremony even though we already took the binding oath. Right?”

He took another slow sip of his whisky, tempting her to take the glass away and set it aside. “Aye.”

“I think a ceremony is a good idea. Even though you and I know we are bound, it would be an outward display to show everyone else.” She held her breath, counting his heartbeats as she waited for a response.

He started to lift his glass, apparently realized it was now empty, then set it on the table beside his chair. “Ye want a ceremony?” His leeriness and disbelief was impossible to miss. It stung, but she refused to give up.

“Yes. I want a ceremony—not some big elaborate something that costs a lot of money or uses resources we shouldn’t waste since winter’s setting in. But something where everyone could come and see that we mean it.”

“See that we mean it,” he repeated.

She pushed herself upright and looked him in the eyes. “I do mean it, and this time, I am not holding anything back. I know I love you. I just have to learn to trust you, and a ceremony would be a good kickoff.”

“Kickoff?”

“A good start. A beginning. An affirmation.”

His dark brows slowly drew together, furrowing his brow. Genuine confusion filled his face. “Why would ye not trust me?”

“Because the last time I trusted a man, I got pregnant, and he left me.” She hoped that was a flicker of realization in his eyes—the realization that she feared being abandoned just as much as he did, but simply handled it differently.

“And that mistrust made ye protect yerself and hold on to the safety of family and friends ye might never see again.”

She allowed herself a heavy sigh of relief before snuggling against his chest once more and resting her head on his shoulder. She was suddenly very, very tired. “Exactly.”

The hollow ache under her breastbone, the heavy knot of worry she had carried since spelling herself into this place was still there, but maybe now that she knew it for what it was, she could deal with it like an annoying case of heartburn—at least until she finally worked through everything and moved on.

And work through it, she would. After all, the choice to be happy or miserable, whatever her circumstances, was hers to make.