Page 16 of Unveiled

“Well, seeing as how you’re a head shrink, I guess words are the only weapon you have,” she said scathingly. “Are you one of those people who deplore violence and always try to see the good in people?”

At his side, Adrian heard Max draw a sharp breath at her rudeness.

Adrian pursed his lips.

“I prefer not to use the phrase ‘head shrink’; that’s been passé for several years now,” he chided gently. “I have a master’s in psychology, yes, and I practised in Paris for some time. Here, with you all, I’m simply Adrian Gauthier, King of the Gauthier Clan, and my primary responsibility is to look after you, keep you safe, and ensure we can continue to enjoy the style of living we have grown used to.” He looked around sombrely. “We will all need to pull together with this latest development.”

He inclined his head slightly.

“Et voilà, mon petit incroyant.” So there, my little disbeliever. “Are we now clear?”

He looked around the room at the faces surrounding him. “Does anyone else have any question about my ability to lead this clan?”

***

After the meeting ended, Piper wandered over to him with yet another fresh cup of espresso. It was his favourite blend, Enjoué. He’d brought packets of it with him from his home country, in case it wasn’t available anywhere. He smiled his thanks.

“Merci, madame.” He took a satisfied sip. “So tell me, what do you think about all of this drama?”

Piper shook her head, her grey braids bobbing and her faded blue eyes worried. “Garrett has always been trouble. Even Charles found him hard to handle. As for the rest, well, it’s like something out of an old fairy tale. Certainly, Brigadoon springs to mind.”

Adrian frowned. “What is Brigadoon?”

Piper looked at him in horror. “You don’t know of that classic film? I can’t believe it. It’s a story about a village that appears every hundred years and stays for one night only. It’s visible to outsiders. Visitors will find a place filled with love and laughter, but it only lasts for a day. Should anyone encounter the village and leave before the enchanted day ends, the miracle would be broken, leading to the end of everyone.”

Adrian frowned. “It’s a legend, n’est-ce pas? Not real.”

Piper shrugged. “Given what’s happening right now, it seems more real than fantasy.” She grinned. “For all we know, the place has disappeared already. That would solve a lot of problems.”

She turned and went to the kitchen. Adrian stood, rubbing his stubbled chin. A fantastical tale turned to truth, non? he thought. Except this one has shadows and does not appear as friendly as the Brigadoon of legend.

Chapter Six

Connor

Connor woke to the low murmur of voices drifting in from the hallway, the soft creak of floorboards, and the faint scent of woodsmoke lingering from the fire Moira had no doubt stoked. He’d been working in his study earlier, dealing with business calls, then once done, he’d closed his eyes for a second. I must’ve dozed off. His body felt heavy, weighted with the residue of too little sleep and too much responsibility. For a moment, he didn’t move, letting awareness trickle back into him like slow-flowing water.

The storm had passed.

He sat up, muscles protesting, and scrubbed a hand over his face. It was almost four p.m. He’d been sleeping a while. His mind immediately replayed his discussion with the clan telling them about Glengáill, and the villagers.

And then damn it, there was Adrian.

The image of the Frenchman’s face in the storm light crept into his thoughts unbidden. Wet curls plastered to his forehead, green eyes flashing with stubborn courage and compassion. Connor could almost hear the lilt of his voice, could almost see the way his coat had been whipped back by the wind, revealing the lean lines of his body.

He growled under his breath. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. Not with a magical village on his land.

Standing, he threw on a clean shirt and combed his fingers through his hair. When he stepped into the corridor, the voices from downstairs grew distinct.

Moira. Fraser. Laird. Louella. And Alicia’s giggle.

Connor descended the stairs; the moment his boots touched the bottom step, half the room turned to face him.

“There he is,” Fraser drawled from the kitchen doorway, cradling a mug of coffee as if it were some sacred artifact. “The conquering hero himself.”

“Oh hush,” Moira scolded, though her eyes softened as Connor approached. “Sit down, lad. You look like you’ve been wrung through a mangle. I’m glad you managed to get a couple more hours of sleep.”

Louella set a fresh cup of coffee on the table, steam curling upward like an offering. Alicia, still in her tiny sheep-patterned pyjamas, ran toward him and latched on to his leg.