Page 21 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)
Chapter 21
M atthew woke gradually, surfacing through layers of warmth and drowsy contentment. His eyes flickered open a few times, unfocused, before finally settling on the soft blur of the thatched ceiling above him. The familiar scent of smoke-laced air and pressed linen filled his nostrils, and the gentle weight of a shared blanket cocooned his body in sleepy heat. For a few long moments, he didn’t move. He didn’t dare.
When he finally let his eyes drift sideways, there she was. Norah . Asleep beside him, her breathing deep and even, the curve of her bare shoulder luminous in the early light. Her vivid red hair spilled in untamed waves across the pillow and spilled down to brush his chest, warm and fragrant with the faintest trace of lavender from the stillroom. Matthew exhaled slowly, hardly daring to blink.
He reached out with careful fingers and trailed them down a single, curling strand. It shimmered like fire in the dim light. Apart from her twi sister, he’d never met anyone with hair so defiant, so alive. And somehow, impossibly, it was Norah’s.
He couldn’t help but smile—a slow, helpless stretch of his lips—as he watched her sleep. She looked younger like this. Softer. Vulnerable in a way she never allowed herself to be when awake. The blanket had slipped low, baring the curve of her collarbone and the pale line of her neck, and Matthew felt a slow ache rise in his chest. How was this real? How had he ended up here, beside her, tangled in shared warmth and half-spoken dreams?
But he couldn’t stay. Moving carefully, he tried to slip out from beneath the blanket without waking her. She muttered a little, shifting around on the bed. He froze, twisting to look at her again.
Her eyes flickered open, long eyelashes fluttering as she slowly focused on his face. Matthew’s smile widened.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said softly. “I was just about to leave.”
Norah pouted.
“It’s only just dawn,” she said, her voice still heavy with sleep. “Stay in bed.”
She opened her arms to him, the blanket whispering down her body like silk as it pooled around her waist, and how could Matthew refuse an invitation like that? He sank back toward her, the soft mattress rustling beneath them as his hand slipped into the warm tumble of her red hair, burying his fingers in the fragrant, unruly strands. Her lips met his with a fierce, molten heat—luscious and soft as crushed velvet, tasting faintly of wine and sleep. She arched against him with a breathy sigh, her skin flushed and warm as sunrise, one hand curling tight around his biceps, the other sliding to his shoulder as she pulled him deeper into the kiss, anchoring him to the bed, to her, to this impossible moment of stillness and fire.
Matthew knew he should pull away and leave. Once had been a bad enough idea, but easy to explain away with all the drinking and dancing. Twice, though? Definitely a bad idea. For a second, he held himself up on his arms, staring down at that lovely face. How was it that Norah became even more beautiful every time he saw her?
He was ready to leave. He was about to leave. But then Norah stretched up toward him for another kiss and he was lost. He caught her around the waist and spun her around so that she crouched over him, their bodies pressed tightly together. There was no way he could leave now.
By the time they finally detangled their limbs and, panting, lay back on the bed, the light filtering from outside no longer had the soft tones of dawn.
“I wonder if breakfast is served in the roundhouse yet,” Norah said.
Matthew chuckled.
“I suspect the roundhouse is still full of people recovering from last night.”
He looked over at Norah just in time to see her rueful smile.
“I think you’re right,” she said. “I might rest a little longer myself.”
Matthew sighed. He should go—Jack might be back at any time, and it wouldn’t be good if he was still here.
“Let’s take the day off,” he suggested to Norah. “We can meet on the beach again tomorrow morning.”
Norah nodded.
“That seems sensible,” she said. “Do you think we’ll be ready soon?”
“Very soon,” Matthew told her. “I need to do a bit more planning, and then we can begin.”
There were a few other things he had to do, to be fully prepared, but Norah didn’t need to know about those. In fact, it was better that she didn’t know any more than the very bare bones of his plan.
“Explain to me,” Norah said sleepily, her hand reaching out to trace the tattoos that swirled around his forearms. “What are you going to do with these stones?”
Now that was a question he did not want to answer.
“I’ll dismantle the magic,” he said vaguely. “The main thing is to stop my father from using them.”
There was a bit more to it, of course, but that was something else that Norah didn’t need to know. He would dismantle the magic, alright—along with a lot of other things. He squashed down the guilt at everything Norah didn’t know. This was the way things had to be.
Except—what if he was wrong? What if he’d been wrong from the start? What if there was another path, something softer, something that didn’t end with shattered magic and bloodied ruin? What if he could stop his father without tearing the world apart at the seams?
The thought turned his stomach, twisting inside him like a cold blade. But he couldn’t dwell on it. He shoved the doubts aside, burying them beneath layers of purpose and desperation. He’d committed himself to this course long ago, and he couldn’t afford to waver now. Not even Norah’s smile—warm and real and dangerous—could loosen the grip of that old, ruthless resolve.
“I need to go,” he said, tugging his arm free of Norah’s grasp.
She made an irritated noise, but he didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, he busied himself looking for his clothes and tugging them on as quickly as he could manage.
“I’ll see you after breakfast tomorrow, on the beach,” he told Norah, chancing a quick look at her. “Bring Jack.”
Norah nodded. She didn’t look happy, but Matthew didn’t have anything else to say to her. He’d already stayed too long.
He slipped out of the guesthouse, closing the door quietly behind him. Heading back toward the roundhouse, he was only just able to slip into the shadows before Jack strolled past, whistling gently. Matthew raised an eyebrow. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who’d just had the best night of his life.