Page 57 of Nyall

“I wish your mother could have been more like mine. She had the sex talk with me the first time I asked where babies came from,” Caroline said. “When I got interested in boys she offered to put me on contraceptives so I wouldn’t get pregnant. She also talked to me about what was okay for boys to do, and what wasn’t. She was very down-to-earth about everything.”

“’Twas a precious gift, that honesty.” He kissed her brow before he looked into her eyes. “’Tis selfish, yet I want the night alone with you.”

“You know that Jamaran understands. He’ll always be there for us, too. But you and I, we’re the ones in love here.” She tilted her head. “You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready. I’ve got, what, fifty or sixty years left before I–”

“I love you.” Nyall pulled her against him. “With all my heart, my spirit, my body and my will. I want no other, ever again.”

Caroline blinked back her tears. “Then you’ve got me, Captain.”

Shaw watched from the trees for a patrol before he climbed down and surveyed the farmland around him. Dozens of dairy cows grazed peacefully on the other side of an old stone wall, watched over by a pair of black and white herding dogs. Beyond the pastures smoke rose from the chimney of a farmhouse, and flickering light made the windows glow a warm amber. Somewhere inside a family of mortals would be gathered before the hearth, enjoying an hour of chatter before they sought their beds. For a moment he longed for the great hall at Dun Ard, and the evenings he’d spent doing the same with his brothers.

His inked arm twitched violently, reminding him of why he could never again return to the clan.

Shaw walked along the wall toward the sea, wondering if he’d gather enough courage to do as he should have after the tussle with Nyall. The captain’s ability to summon lightning at will meant he might be the only MacMar powerful enough to face him in a fight. Yet he could not force his brother to use such a thing to slay him. After failing to save his màthair Nyall still blamed himself for that madwoman’s selfish end. If he burned Shaw to ash he would never forgive himself. What he had planned all along, that seemed to be the only sane answer again.

He would have to end it as it had begun, with a bon fire.

Relishing his end was something Shaw could not do, but at least his torment would finally cease. He would never again look on his brothers with his heart filled with love while his arm itched to tear them apart. He thought for a moment of the beautiful lady merrow who had been steadily haunting his nights, and wished he’d had a chance to dream of her one last time.

Forgive me, my lovely lady, but if you wish save me, you’ll need swim in the waters of oblivion.

That thought made the beast well up inside him with a roar. As the hand of his marked arm curled into a tight fist, he turned and slammed it into the stones, knocking a hole in the wall and sending the cows trundling to the far side of their pasture.

“You’ll need repair that,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “The lads here, they’re too busy planting to mend fences.”

He closed his eyes and drew what calm he could before he turned to face Meg, smiling at her. “Lass, I’d hoped I’d meet you.”

“You did no such thing. I saw your eyes before you picked your fight with the pasture fence,” the clan’s former chambermaid said, shifting so that the full moon gleamed on the long dagger she held ready. “If you’ve come so you may take out your anger on my new family, I’ll end you where you stand.”

If only she could. “I but wished sleep the night in an empty barn.”

Meg sighed. “No man ever tells me the truth. I should get a dog, for then I could teach it bite the next bastart that offers me lies.” She sheathed the dagger at her hip and walked past him, waving for him to follow her.

Shaw followed her to a short dock where a number of small skiffs had been tied off. “I dinnae wish sail back to Dun Ard.”

“In the state you’re in, you shouldnae.” She gestured to the sturdiest-looking boat. “Leave Caladh before that thing in you drives you mad and you make us all your pasture fences.”

She had seen him almost at his worst, and yet showed not even a flicker of fear. “’Tis the reason I darenae go. Too many dwell on the mainland.”

“Then choose an empty island. You ken that one where MacLeir takes sheep for grazing before he takes them to market; ’tis too cold for anyone settle there. You may take shelter in the caves there, and none shall plague you.” She nodded toward the inside of the boat. “I put some food there in that sack. ’Twill keep you from starving.”

“You’ve watched me since I came,” he muttered, startled. “I never saw you.”

“Too wrapped up in your ink, I’ll wager.” Meg’s grim expression softened a little. “Dinnae return until after the full moon. Lady Joana told me the light ever affects those with Fae blood; ’tis when the laird ever grows restless and tetchy. Mayhap ’twill go easier on you once it begins waning.”

“You’re wiser than I ever reckoned, lass.” He would have hugged her, had part of him not wished to snap her spine and tear her limbs from her body. “Dinnae tell anyone where I’ve gone.”

She watched him climb into the skiff, and handed him an oar before she cast off his mooring line. Only then did she drop the dagger into the boat. “For hunting. Dinnae kill anything with a smile.”

Chapter Eighteen

Nyall woke up to see Caroline setting food and hot brews on her dining table, and took a moment to watch her work. The thin shift she wore only came to the middle of her thighs, and the morning sunlight made it appear almost transparent. All light loved her, but the sun brought out the beautiful rose tones of her golden skin, and glinted in the pale streaks of her dark hair, now woven into a long, loose braid. She glanced over at him and smiled, her full lips curving like petals on a flower.

Last night he’d confessed his love to this woman. He’d taken her and held her and slept with her cradled in his arms. Nyall still couldn’t quite believe any of it.

“I made us some breakfast.” She came over and sat down beside him. “It’s just toast and fruit. I haven’t mastered cooking over a fireplace yet, so the toast is a little singed.”

He caught the long, loose braid in which she’d woven her hair and used it to tug her down for a kiss. “You ever take my breath away, my lady, but in the morning you’re glorious.”