Page 11 of Under Gorse and Stone

“Are you s-sure?” I say. “I’m so cold that I don’t care if you’re a murderer as long as you’ve got a fire and warm clothes.”

He smiles. “Ah, Cary. I am definitely no killer. Not for many centuries.”

“What?” I must have mistaken his words because of his accent.

He says calmly, “I will swear to you on all I hold dear that I mean you no harm.”

“And what do you hold dear?”

“Englar and duty,” he says formally. He hesitates and I’m sure he’s about to say something else, but he falls silent.

As I look into his eyes, I feel a sudden deep certainty that I’m safe with him. His presence seems to exude care.

Finally, I nod. “I will come if that’s okay with you.”

His whole face lights up as though I’ve given him the best news. It’s an extraordinarily lovely expression, and I can’t help but smile. Then I shiver again so violently that my teeth clatter together. He exclaims something in his own language, but the concern is obvious. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such attention directed at me by another man, and it makes me feel both lovely and rather awkward.

“Come, then,” he says, sounding rather regal for a man wearing nothing but a sarong. His red-blond hair blows in the breeze, and I smell something warm and spicy. It must be his shampoo. “Now I will be able to feed you.”

“I’ve never met anyone who looks so happy about doing that,” I observe.

His forehead wrinkles. “Then I am sorry about that, Cary.”

We walk along the beach for a moment, but when we reach the rocks, I shake my head. “I wouldn’t take that way.”

“Why? It is the… It is the back entrance.”

“Normally I’d say that’s good. Happy things often happen around a back entrance.” He chuckles, and I gesture toward the spot where I saw the opening in the rocks. “I had a bit of a weird experience there.”

“What do you mean?”

I scratch my head. “Don’t think I’m barmy, but I saw a fissure between those two tall rocks. When I looked again, the fissure had become an actual door, and marks along the nearby stone were lit.” I smile as he raises his eyebrows. “Bet you’re regretting your invitation to food right about now.”

“The door was open to you?” His voice is thick, his accent very strong.

“What door? That’s my point. I must be joking, because after I turned away and looked back again, all I saw was darkness and shadows.” I daringly nudge him. “Maybe I do need food if I imagined that, eh?”

I wonder if he’s going to rescind his invitation, and my disappointment is so powerful that it worries me. I hardly know him.

I shiver, and he startles back into motion. “Cary, you are cold. Come. Follow me. You shall have a warm shower while I prepare food.”

The strength of my relief makes it difficult to speak. So, I follow him silently.

We walk up the beach, Sigurd adjusting his long strides for my own shorter ones without being asked. Adrian would haveattained Olympic sprinter speeds just to spite me. I shoot Sigurd a grateful look, and he smiles.

When we reach the steps, I pause warily.

“What ails you, Cary?” he says immediately.

“Oh, it’s going to sound really silly, but I had another weird encounter on these steps.”

“Weird?”

I nod. “The branches seemed to grab hold of me and wouldn’t let go. It must have been the wind.”

Something crosses his face and is gone too quickly for me to parse it. “It is very windy today,” he says.

“It was the funniest thing. One moment I was traveling down the stairs just fine, and the next, the branches wouldn’t let me through. Then a lady appeared.”