Page 13 of The Finest Scottish Fate

“She saw him.” Her jaw set in a tight, worried line, Morganna cupped the mug of warm, spiced wine between her hands. Troubled shadows filled her lovely eyes. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And she heard him.”

“Heard him?” Callum had instructed Farbis and Petra to ruffle the weave of time a bit and give the fated mates a few more hints about one another. Still, he’d specifically told them not to do anything that would frighten one or the other of the mortals. “What did she do? Does she wish to leave Scotland and return to her America?”

“’Tis my hope she blames it on her weariness.” Morganna slowly shook her head after sipping her drink, then she frowned.

“Too much nutmeg, my love?” He’d done his best to welcome her home with the toddy she’d always enjoyed.

“No.” She reached across the table and lovingly touched his hand. “’Tis perfect, my own. Just perfect.”

“Then why did ye frown? Tell me, dear one, so I might ease yer mind.”

She wrinkled her nose the way she always did when dreading his reaction. “I left Gavel to watch over her.”

Callum groaned. No matter how many folk assured him that the damnable cat sidhe had reformed his ways, he’d never trust that ancient soul stealer. “Ye know how I feel about Gavel.”

“He’s not stolen a soul in well over five hundred years.”

“A mere flick of a whisker for a cat sidhe. He canna help himself. Ye know that.” Topping off his whisky, Callum kept his gaze locked on the golden liquid that danced with the light of the flickering candles as if it would grant him the wisdom he needed to bring this current match to fruition. “Why would ye leave Gavel to guard her? Why not Mercury? He could watch the place without her ever knowing it. He does a fine glamour of a red deer.”

“The unicorn canna guard her. She is a virgin. His glamour might slip.”

“A virgin?” Callum thought back about all he’d been told about Miss Evie Waterton. “The lass is two and thirty, is she not?”

Morganna cocked a brow, a sure sign she found his doubt offensive. “Aye, and the lass is also a virgin. The scent of her is unmistakable. Ye’ll see when ye meet her tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Petra told me ’tis becoming a more common thing among mortals these days. They’re taking greater care about when they take a lover.”

Callum downed his dram and leaned back in his chair. “Well, then. We best warn Mercury to steer clear of her.”

“Aye, and I also feel we should send her through as soon as possible.” She rolled her shoulders, shivering as though uncomfortable in her own skin. “Someone, either the gods or the Fae, already meddles in this match. I smell that too.”

“Are ye certain?”

“More certain than I have been about anything in a verra long while.”

“Are we still agreed that we should warn the mortals? Prepare them for whatever might come?” Callum eyed the whisky bottle, debating whether this conversation warranted another dram.

“Aye. But ye do realize that when we warn her, it will frighten her?” Morganna shifted with a heavy sigh. “This damn curse not only endangers us, but also these poor, unsuspecting mortals who are bound to it.”

He rose, rounded the table, and pulled her up into his arms to hold her. “We will prevail, my love. Never give up.”

With a tender smile, she touched his cheek. “Never will I give up, my dearest one, because I refuse to lose ye.”

“To tomorrow,” he whispered, then nibbled a kiss across the sweetness of her mouth.

“To tonight,” she replied, pressing closer. “I missed ye.”

Chapter Four

The sweet, buttery flakiness of the tart cherry turnover melted in Evie’s mouth. If she’d been a cat, she would have purred loud enough for the entire village to hear how much she enjoyed this treat. She licked the white icing’s stickiness from her fingertips before remembering her manners. “Pardon my rudeness, but these are beyond wonderful. I don’t want to miss a bit of them.”

Morganna smiled at her over the rim of her coffee cup. Her cinnamon roll remained untouched on her plate. “Petra is a true kitchen witch. Her creations are magical.”

“They sure are.” Evie glanced around the small pastry shop, noticing that the other customers sitting at the gleaming white tables in front of the long glass pastry case appeared to be observing her as closely as she was observing them. Everyone Morganna had introduced her to so far today had already known not only her name but also where she was from, where she was staying, and how long she would be here.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked in a hushed voice. She swore the folks at the nearest table leaned closer, trying to overhear.

Morganna cleared her throat and shot a scolding look at their nosy neighbors. “Of course.”

They turned away, even scooting their chairs to put their backs toward them.