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Highlands of Scotland

1295

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Startled, Syrie turned to find Patrick MacDowylt striding toward her. As always, he moved confidently, though his every step was silent. Everything about the man, from his long black hair to the glint in his deep blue eyes, struck her as somehow lethal, reminding her of an enormous cat of prey. Truly, he was a man born to be a warrior of the highest grade.

“I enjoy the evenings out here in the garden,” she said as he stopped at her side.

It was no lie, though it wasn’t her real reason for being in the garden tonight. With yesterday’s wedding behind her, Syrie had no doubt but that the Goddess would be contacting her to relay her displeasure with Syrie’s careless fit of anger. Here, in the open glory of nature, would be the most likely spot for the Goddess to speak to her. It was also far enough from the keep that, should the Goddess see fit to discipline her, the other inhabitants of Castle MacGahan would be safe.

“I should miss this place so very much were I to…” But this wasn’t something she needed to share with Patrick, so she changed what she’d been about to say. “I take it you were looking for me?” she asked. “Am I needed in the keep?”

“No,” he answered, his usual grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “Not in the keep. I sought you out to say my farewell in private.”

“What?” Her voice cracked on the word. How could he possibly know about—

“I wanted to tell you that I’ll be leaving at first light. I’m leading the company that will escort Chase and Christiana on their return to Tordenet. Now that Torquil has been vanquished, my sister and her husband can begin the next phase in their lives together. I’ve agreed to assist them in setting things to rights as they settle in.”

“Oh.” Of course, he hadn’t known about her situation. How could he possibly? “Now that I think on it, I believe I did hear Christiana speaking of their plan to return to her home after Hall and Bridget were wed. She even might have mentioned that you were going with them.”

She’d heard the news and had chosen to ignore it. Or, more accurately, she’d heard and hoped it was untrue. Castle MacGahan without Patrick would be a much less interesting place.

“And here I’d hoped to be the one to tell you.” Again that infectious grin lit his face. “Still, I could hardly leave without saying farewell to our resident Elf.”

“You know well enough, Patrick MacDowylt, I’m not an Elf—”

“But a Faerie,” he finished for her, laughter underlying his words. “Yes, I believe I’ve heard you make mention of that very thing a time or two.”

In spite of his incessant teasing, the thought of his leaving turned her stomach sour and filled her with an emptiness she was at a loss to explain.

“You’ll take care in your travels, will you not? And send word, now and then. For…for your brother’s sake, that is. He’ll worry himself over your safety, I’m sure. And should you decide not to return—”

The catch in her own voice caught her by surprise. How foolish she was! No man, especially no mere mortal, could ever be worth her shedding a tear. And yet, as she prepared to say farewell to Patrick, she found her throat pulling tight and her eyes misting over.

“Aye,” he said, moving so close to her that she almost forgot how to take her next breath. “But you’ve no cause to fash yerself over my absence, sweet Elf. It’s no’ like I could stay away from this place forever. No’ this place and definitely no’ you.”

Before she could respond, before she could even think of how to respond, his lips were on hers, and she found herself unable to think at all. She felt as if she’d been transported, lighter than air, to a place far away where only the two of them existed. It was as if her very soul sprang to life, filling her with an unimaginable joy.

When his mouth broke away from hers, she sucked in a shaky breath. Her fingertips untangled from the silken mass of his hair where they had mysteriously found their way, and rose to cover the lips that now felt bereft of the exquisite physical touch they’d just experienced.

“I,” she began, her mind reeling with thoughts she couldn’t quite seem to form into coherent utterances. “You…”

“Apologies,” he murmured, so close his breath fanned over her. “I doona ken why I—apologies for my mistake, my lady.”

Abruptly, Patrick turned and strode away, leaving her more confused than she’d ever felt in her very long life.

Through her confusion, one thing became quite clear in her thoughts. That kiss…whatever else it might have been, it was certainly no mistake.