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HE COULD TELL by the uncertainty on Chloe’s face that even though she had watched him set up the tent earlier, she’d figured she would be sleeping elsewhere. Had she thought it would be with Cray? Had she wanted it to be? He tried not to grow frustrated.
He should want her to look elsewhere. Be with someone else.
“Yeah, anyone but Cray,” she muttered under her breath, surprising him with how easily she had heard those thoughts. How much of him she was sensing in general. It was unsettling if for no other reason than he wasn’t as adverse to it as he should be.
She plunked down on the plaid as he lit a candle and set it between them. They removed their boots, and he gave her another plaid to use as a blanket.
“I am sorry, lass,” he said softly because he was. “You deserve better.”
He might not know her very well, but he knew that. She was inherently kind-natured and deserved the kind of love he had shared with Maeve. The kind he still shared though she wasn't here anymore. She would be someday, though. He would see her in the afterlife, and all would be well again.
He notched his chin determined to keep that in mind when he felt himself drifting toward Chloe. He would be reunited with Maeve someday. Until then, while he might feel affection for his Broun, he must be careful not to fall in love. Not to betray Maeve's memory.
“I do deserve better,” Chloe said just as softly, drawing him from his thoughts. “But, I get where you’re coming from and have no interest in coming between you and your memory.”
Memory, not memories. But he understood why she phrased it that way. Or at least he thought he did. He pulled two skins of whisky out of his satchel and sat on the other side of the candle. “You say it as though ‘tis but one memory when ‘twas many betwixt me and Maeve.”
“That I don’t doubt.” She thanked him for the whisky, sipped it and flinched, but made no comment. “Would you tell me about her?” When he started to shake his head, she rested her hand on his forearm and pleaded with her eyes. “Please. One way or another, she's clearly part of all this, so I want to know her better. She seems so real to me though I’ve never even met her.”
“Because of your dreams?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I suppose...and maybe because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” She seemed to search for the right words. “The more I get to know you, the more real she becomes if that makes sense.”
She could only be referring to the magical connection growing between them. Because whether he liked it or not, they were connecting in a whole new way. Not just telepathically but more. Her thoughts and emotions. Her likes and dislikes.
“Maeve was quiet,” he murmured before he could stop himself. “She had an inner peace that was hard to describe. Right up to her death.” He took a deep swig of whisky, unwilling to think about the end. Her gaunt body. Her near lifeless eyes. Instead, he focused on when they first met because she was healthy. “She was sixteen winters old when she first traveled to Hamilton Castle.” He shook his head, recalling how bashful she’d been. “She wouldnae even look at me when we were introduced.”
“But she looked at you eventually,” Chloe prompted when he trailed off. She propped herself on an elbow, her curious gaze on his face, her tone gentle. “Tell me about that. About when she finally came out of her shell.”
“’Twas more like she was caught coming out of her shell.” He rested on his elbow as well, more comfortable talking about this than he would have thought. “I discovered her on a wall walk atop the castle, raising her arms as though she could leap off and fly.”
Her brows arched, and her mouth curled up. “I take it you said something to her?”
“Aye,” he murmured. “I asked her if she realized she possessed no magic and couldnae fly like a bird.”
“Can wizards fly then?”
“Nay.”
“Then why ask that?” She no sooner got the question out before she understood. “Ah, you were flirting.”
“I suppose I was,” he conceded, recalling how bonny Maeve had appeared. Her light brown hair had been illuminated by the setting sun, her soulful eyes bashful when she realized she had been caught in the act.
“So what did she say when you told her she couldn’t fly?” Chloe asked.
He managed a small smile. “Once she found her voice, she explained that she wasn’t trying to fly like a bird but a dragon.” His smile faded as he thought about it. As he recalled the look in her eyes. “Funny, until now, I hadnae given that much thought.”
“What?”
“The tranquility and excitement in her eyes when she spoke of dragons.” He took a longer swig this time, realizing why that may have been. Amazed he hadn’t put two and two together sooner. “I knew she had traveled to MacLeod Castle first, but she hadn’t been there long. A day or two at most.” He shook his head in denial, refusing to believe it. “Certainly not long enough to have developed feelings for Cray.”
Yet as he reflected, he knew firsthand it was possible. After all, he himself had been smitten the moment he laid eyes on her. Besotted actually.
“I hear love is blind,” Chloe said softly, her gaze no longer on his face, but on the candle flame.
Arch-wizard or not, until this moment, it had never occurred to him that love had, indeed, blinded him. That the truth might have been right there in front of his eyes from the moment he met her. All he saw was the future he wanted to have with her. The memories they would create together.
Despite his sudden clarity and the myriad of emotions it invoked, his attention was caught by the sadness in Chloe’s eyes. A heartache he recognized all too well.
“Who was he?” he said softly, curious despite himself.
Her startled gaze flickered to him, then returned to the flame. “No one important. Not like Maeve.”
Though he knew better than to continue because it might draw them closer, he couldn’t help himself. He had to know.
“He was important enough,” he said. “Tell me, Chloe...tell me about who hurt you.”
“His name doesn’t matter anymore,” she said on a sigh and took a sip of whisky. “All that matters is that he left me for another woman.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Now, I'm more than a little gun shy.”
That caught him off guard in more ways than one. What were the odds of them having such similar experiences? More than that, why would any man in his right mind want another when he had her? While tempted to say as much, he bit his tongue.
He nearly said they should get some rest but realized he wasn’t tired. Rather for the first time in a long time, especially with a lass, he wanted to keep talking. So he urged her to tell him more about herself. Not about the men from her past but who she really was. What she wanted from life. Things beyond the thoughts he caught.
“Honestly, I’m sort of at a crossroads.” The shadows lingering on her face vanished, and her gaze returned to him. “I’ve been a freelance journalist most of my adult life, but lately, I’ve just felt, I dunno, bored, I guess.” She narrowed her eyes, giving it some thought. “You know, now that I think about it, I started losing my zest for it right around the time I met Julie and the girls in the online Broun forum.”
An odd sensation swept over him. Half his magic, half hers if he didn’t know better. His heart leapt a little without him truly understanding why. He ignored the sudden surge of hope he felt.
“What do you wish to do with your life now?” he asked, more curious than he let on. He couldn’t help a small smile. “Because ‘tis clear you have a verra curious nature which suited your occupation, aye?”
“It did.” She chuckled, her eyes sparkling in that charming way they did. “I’m not sure it’ll ever go away, either.”
“I would hope not,” he said, again speaking before thinking.
In all honesty, he liked it. He had found speaking with her as they rode earlier entertaining. He enjoyed her inquisitive mind. How she found things intriguing that he rarely gave notice. In a strange way, she allowed him to see through her eyes, which was surprisingly freeing. It made him realize that perhaps his world had grown smaller in the wake of Maeve's death. That mayhap on some level he wasn’t quite ready to admit to, he had stopped living.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Chloe blushed at his compliment about her curiosity. “That’s not usually the response I get.” She took another sip of whisky, her gaze on the flame again. “As to what I want to do with my life now? I still haven’t figured that out other than I want to continue writing. I want to...” she seemed to think about it, “write something truly meaningful. Not just the latest scoop.”
He tried not to admire how the candlelight made the strawberry tones in her hair shimmer. How it made them jump and dance around, almost giving her hair a life of its own. “What do you consider meaningful?”
“Memoires of some sort, I think,” she whispered, clearly startled that she’d said that. Her eyes rose to his, their sparkle drawing him in. Sudden surprise lit her face. “I want to keep something alive with words.” She cocked her head in contemplation. “I want to make sure nobody forgets.”
“Forgets what?” He leaned forward a little, wondering what she meant, feeling like he might know but couldn’t quite grasp it. Like a firefly flittering about, staying just beyond his reach. “What do you want to keep alive with words?”
Though it might have been his imagination, he swore the gem in her ring flashed with color, and the sparkle in her eyes flared brighter.
“I don’t quite know,” she murmured.
She blinked several times as though struggling to see clearer.
Suddenly her eyes snapped to his, her voice a little off. “But you will, wizard. You will know precisely what I should write when the time comes. What needs to be remembered.” Her tone grew grave. “First, though, you will give up who you are.” This time, there was no missing the flare of her sparkling eyes. “You will forfeit everything, your very soul, or all you love will be lost...most of all, who you love the most.”
