Page 26 of The Last Kelpie

“My grandmother said your family lived in that cottage on the outskirts of Luss.” Moira gestured vaguely toward Áedán's cottage. “The one by the shore.”

“My mother built it.” Áedán leaned back in his chair. “Back when we first started taking human form regularly. She wanted a place on land, but didnae want to venture too far from the loch.”

“And your father?” I asked.

Áedán smiled. “She lured him into living there. Partly, at least. He preferred the water, but she convinced him to stay on land occasionally.”

“How old is the cottage?” I was writing again, trying to capture the details.

Áedán went quiet for a moment. His brow furrowed. “I honestly dinnae remember anymore. Four hundred years? Five? Time gets strange when you've lived so much of it.”

The admission hung in the air.

Moira reached across the table and patted his hand. “That's all right, dear. Some things shouldna be measured.”

We stayed for another hour. Moira showed us an old journal her grandmother had kept, filled with sketches of the loch and notes about the changing seasons. There was a drawing of a horse standing in shallow water, its tail trailing over the water. Áedán stared at it for a long time without speaking.

When we finally stood to leave, Moira walked us to the door. She hugged Áedán, who looked startled but didn't pull away.

“Come back soon.” She patted his cheek. “I want to introduce you to my granddaughter. She believes, and I want to encourage that.”

“I'll try,” Áedán said.

We were halfway down the garden path when Moira called after us. “Ethan, dear?”

I turned.

She was standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm light from inside. “You're far more bonnie than the last scholar he wooed.”

I felt my face go hot.

Áedán made a strangled noise beside me. “Moira—” he started.

“Just an observation!” She laughed, clearly delighted by our reactions. “Have a braw walk, laddies.” She closed the door before either of us could respond.

I stood frozen on the path, my face burning. I could feel Áedán staring at me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

“This is only the second time I've spoken to that woman.” Áedán's voice was tight with mortification.

“She seemed pretty certain it was you.”

“She invents romances for her own amusement.” He started walking quickly toward the road. “She's impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

I followed, trying hard not to smile. “She knew your true name. She knew about the festivals. She knew about you saving her mother.”

“That doesnae mean anything.” He stopped walking and ran a hand through his hair. “I have never brought a scholar to meet her. I've never brought anyone to meet her. I dinnae even know her.”

“Maybe she saw you walking through town with someone,” I suggested. “Another Velascan, perhaps? Years ago?”

Áedán gave me a look that could have curdled milk. Then he turned and resumed walking.

I couldn't stop smiling. The image of Áedán sitting at that tiny, lace-covered table, drinking tea and eating shortbread as Moira fussed over him was possibly the most endearing thing I'd ever witnessed. And she thought I was more handsome than his last boyfriend. He had wooed a man! That meant he liked men. And that meant he might have truly been flirting with me. I smiled wider.

We walked in silence for a few minutes. The road curved away from the village, back toward the quieter stretches of shoreline. The clouds had thickened overhead, and the air smelled like approaching rain.

“She adores you,” I said finally.

Áedán made a noncommittal sound.