Page 41 of Rory

Although she shouldn’t have understood, Harper knew exactly what he meant, and it scared her. That’s why I dreamed of you? You were trying to find me?

Aye, part of me, I reckon. He folded her in his arms. We’re the same, Harper. In all the mortal realm, and all the worlds of immortals, we’re the only two of our kind, mo cheòl.

Like a giant-size Adam and Eve. She wanted to be angry, but she was honestly relieved to know it was something that neither of them had asked for or wanted. Mo cheòl, what does that mean?

His blue eyes glittered as he smiled. My music.

The enchanted world around them faded away, and they were back in the cottage where Rory had lived with Chomha. His mother didn’t accompany them, nor did the melia who had saved first him and then her. The two of them appearing in the dream seemed not by accident, although Harper wasn’t sure she was in a dream anymore.

Do you think that immortal gal knew I would meet you someday? She asked Rory as they walked over to the big, primitive bed in one corner.

I cannae tell you. He pulled back the linens, took her into his arms, and gently eased her down before joining her. Sleep now, my lady.

Just as before Harper grew unbelievably tired, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she was back in the bed chamber at Dun Talamh, her wrists bandaged and Rory next to her in his bed. He lay on his side, his head propped up as if he’d been watching her for some time.

Cautiously she touched her brow, which wasn’t being hammered by a hangover headache. “Sorry about last night. Alcohol is not my friend.”

He nodded, reached out and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“That was a great dream, though.” She turned toward him, and saw how his expression had grown guarded. “Nice in that it explained a lot about you and me, and why we’re different from the others. It’s a good thing to know, but you don’t want me to tell anyone. Why?”

He pressed his palm to her cheek as he murmured, “You ken we’ve power beyond that of mortal kind. Yours’, ’tis bright and shining, like the sun. Mine, ’tis entangled with that of my tribe and their dark blood magic, and ’tis dangerous beyond reckoning. Should I ever use it against mortals, or take their lives, ’twill doom me for eternity.”

“But if Tasgall knew you had the same kind of power as me and the spell trap’s enchantment, he’d want you to try to bust us out of here,” she guessed. “All right. I won’t say a word to anyone about where we were born.”

His brows arched.

“I mean it. Also, there’s something you should know, just in case you have other ideas.” She really didn’t want to admit to this, but it was better to be upfront about it. “When I was sixteen my house mother took me to a gynecologist. He did a bunch of tests that showed something had damaged my ovaries and uterus so much that I would never menstruate or have kids.”

His gaze softened, and he murmured, “My Fae blood prevents me from siring a bairn. That and I wouldnae pass the taint of my dark druid blood along to an innocent child.”

“It doesn’t matter to me, so we’re even.” Harper tucked her arms around his neck. “So what if we’re melia tree-born walking powerhouses. We like each other. This place may not last much longer. I want you, and you want me. Let’s forget about all this stuff and make love.”

She kissed him, wishing she’d had the courage to tell him why. No matter how awkward the sex turned out to be—and since they were both virgins, it was probably going to be a disaster—she wanted Rory to be her one and only. She wanted him because they were two kids who had never asked or deserved what had been done to them. She wanted him to have this, to have her. He was right, there were only two of them in all the worlds, but the reason for that was so they could have each other. She knew that in her bones.

Please, please don’t say no, Harper thought as she drew back to see his reaction.

“Aye.” Rory looked at her with so much desire in his eyes they seemed to burn like the very hottest of blue flames. “So we shall, mo cheòl.”

After eavesdropping on Tasgall and Harper as they discussed repairing the spell trap, Esme couldn’t decide what to do. Unlike Ava, Olivia and Grace she hadn’t been at Dun Talamh long enough to form a close friendship with them or anyone else except Darro. He was the person she confided in when she discovered scary stuff, and he never betrayed her confidences, but he was also extremely protective of his brother. Alec still intimidated her a little, as did Rory. There was really only one other clansman she trusted almost as much as her lover.

Hope I’m not wrong about this, Esme thought as she headed for the seneschal’s work room and nearly collided with the man walking out of it.

“Fair evening, my lady,” Farlan said, steadying her with a hand on her arm. “How may I help?”

A few minutes later they sat by the corner hearth in the great hall, and Esme kept watch on the arches as she related the conversation she had overheard between the laird and the new arrival.

“I know I should keep my nose out of this, Seneschal,” she finally said. “But to safeguard everyone, the two of them are going to do what none of the rest of us want, and they’re keeping it secret. That’s two strikes against them.”

He nodded slowly. “’Tis a disturbing pact they made, I agree. Only do you ken why you’re so upset over what you heard?”

“Why?” She frowned. “I’m upset because it’s dangerous, and they’re deciding things without consulting anyone else. We don’t know Harper, who could have her own agenda…” She saw how he was looking at her. “Of course I’m upset at the thought of being trapped here for eternity. Aren’t you?”

“I made my peace with our fate long ago. ’Twas necessary so I didnae run mad.” Farlan’s mouth hitched. “You yet wish to return to your world, if you may convince Darro to accompany you, I reckon.”

“No. Well. If I could, of course, I would. But I know as things are, he’s never going to leave Tasgall and the clan.” What he’d said brought her resentment bubbling back up. “The thing is, if I could show him what his life would be like in my world, he might change his mind. At the very least I could introduce him to my aunts and uncles and cousins.”

“The family we left behind, ’tis as an open wound,” the seneschal said, nodding. “My lady màthair, her husband and my wee sisters await me in my time. I should love for them to meet my Grace, and celebrate our wedding with us. Only they’ve been dead these nine centuries.”