Chapter 13
Amassive slab of wood formed the worktable running down the middle of the kitchen.
Tree trunks, twelve inches in diameter, provided the ornately carved legs attached to its base.
Centuries ago, Erastaedian artisans had coaxed the work of art from a single Rowanian tree.
It had been a treasured gift to one of the original Guardians of Taroc Na Mor from the world of Erastaed.
Taggart sat and traced a finger along the honey-colored grain of the wood, sulking with his chin propped in his hand. “Thaetus, for once in your miserable life, why did ye not keep yer observations to yerself?”
With a disgruntled huff, Thaetus stuck his nose in the air and dumped the last of the coffee into the gleaming porcelain sink.
“Ye needed to be warned! The woman is in high lust, and she doesna ken it, but her body is raging to breed! If I hadna warned ye, she might have seduced ye before ye knew what happened.”
“I refuse to believe Taggart to be that dense,” Septamus observed from his seat at the other end of the table. “I feel quite certain he would have picked up on what was happening.”
Gearlach pounded his fisted claws on the table, then pointed at his sealed snout when Taggart finally looked his way.
Taggart shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest. “No, Gearlach. Ye havena learned your lesson yet, and I am in no mood to hear what ye have to say on this matter.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
This morning had not gone well at all. Thoughts of her had tortured him through the night, and then Thaetus had falsely sounded the alarm.
Merlin’s beard, but his bones ached with every one of his seven hundred and seventy-seven years. He hadn’t been this weary in centuries.
“The Barac’Nairn tenet stating the Protector will fail the Guardian if he grows too close to her is idiotic.
More than likely, ’twas written by a jealous wimp who could not achieve a healthy rising whenever he found a buxom maiden waiting for him in his bed.
” Septamus drained his mug with a loud slurp, then tapped it on the table while shooting a pointed glare at Thaetus.
With an insulted snort, Thaetus rolled his eyes, snatched up the tankard, and headed for the tap. “Might I remind ye, I am here to serve the Guardian, not the Draecna of this keep? Ye would do well to keep that in mind when ye feel inclined to bounce your bloody dishes on the table.”
Septamus fixed Thaetus with a knowing smirk and allowed a single puff of smoke to thread up from one glistening nostril. “I read your sentence, you pompous little Scot. Your penance is to serve us all.”
“Enough!” Taggart slammed both hands onto the table. This banter did nothing to solve the problem. This morning had increased the tensions with Hannah. At some point, something had to give or she would never connect with her heritage and the magic of Taroc Na Mor.
“For Isla’s sake, Taggart. What is the penalty if you do sleep with the woman?
Do they castrate you at the opening ceremony for the Solstice Moon of Cair Orlandis, or just string you up by your cock at high noon?
” Septamus drummed his claws on the table while glaring at Thaetus, who dawdled at the ale tap with his still-empty mug.
Taggart raked both hands through his long black hair as he stood.
“There is no penalty, Septamus. It is just—just ill-advised.” And what happened if he opened himself to Hannah?
What happened when she found out the truth about him?
When he had revealed his true form to Mia, the horror of the revelation had shone in her eyes.
He did not wish to relive that pain with Hannah.
With Hannah, the humiliation would be much worse.
A piercing ache clenched deep in his chest as he imagined the same recrimination flashing across her face. He could not bear it.
“She does not fear us, Taggart. From what I perceived from Gearlach’s thoughts, she reacted well the first time she saw him.
” Septamus rose from the table, looped a claw in the back of Thaetus’s shirt, and hung him from a hook on the wall.
“Now you can lallygag all you like, you skinny little worm.” He fetched the keg off the stand and returned to the table.
“It is different, Septamus. Ye ken that,” he whispered while staring out the window.
Hannah was different, too. He closed his mind against the image of horror reflecting in her eyes if she ever witnessed his true form.
Although he had loved Mia, she had always remained aloof, even before he revealed his Draecna form.
A distant coldness always echoed in her touch.
In all honesty, they had never bonded, and Mia had reveled in humiliating him in front of his people.
She had publicly scorned him; the blow to his pride hurt worse than losing her.
He knew in his heart Hannah was different.
He found himself attracted to her warmth like a lost soul drawn to a welcoming hearth on a cold winter’s eve.
A fluttering movement past the window tore him from his musings. A lone figure stumbled along the rim of the cliff’s edge, arms extended as though walking a tightrope.
“What the hell is she doing now?”
Septamus and Gearlach crowded next to him at the tall, narrow window while Thaetus fumed and kicked on the hook next to the door.
“Never mind me. I’ll just hang over here until ye decide ye need me or need something from the kitchen.
But if ye want yer supper served on time, ye best be minding the clock and letting me down from this feckin’ hook! ”
Ignoring Thaetus, Septamus pushed Gearlach out of the way and stretched to get a better view. “It looks like she’s taking the hard way down to the caves. Did you tell her they were there?”
“Bloody hell!” Taggart slapped Septamus between his folded wings and stormed out of the kitchen. “I must stop her before she falls and breaks her stubborn wee neck. That woman is a challenge sent by the Fates themselves. She is punishment for all my sins.”
If Taroc Na Mor was supposed to be hers, what better way to get to know it than by enjoying a little rock climbing? She loved exploring, hiking through wilderness nooks and crannies. Hopefully, the fresh Highland air would cleanse the disturbing morning from her mind.
Hannah paused in picking a foothold in the jagged black rocks jutting along the cliff’s edge and licked the salt spray from her lips.
The wind whipped in from the sea, behaving like a bully trying to shove her off balance.
She pushed tangled strands of hair out of her eyes.
From this precarious vantage point, the churning, white-capped ocean stretched to the horizon.
The waves crashed below, exploding on impact with sparkling fountains of frothy spume.
Gulls circled overhead, fluttering like white ribbons against the stormy blue of the sky.
They keened out a warning to her. Someone approached across the ridge of the embankment.
She shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare and her wind whipped hair, twisting to scan the cliff she had just edged across.
Taggart was there, silhouetted against the sky.
Great. He was the reason she came out here. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her yet.
Arms stretched for balance like a circus performer; she picked her way faster through the protruding clusters of rock.
Centuries of wind and waves pounding against the volcanic land mass had honed the shores of the cliff to razor sharpness.
In her haste, she slipped, scraping her shin but catching herself before she tumbled headlong into a deep fissure, yawning with inky blackness.
“Hannah!”
An irritated huff escaped her. So much for him not seeing her. She picked up a loose rock and aimed for the direction of his voice. Maybe she could fend him off like a stray dog. As she drew back to throw, she teetered and stumbled on the brittle stones.
He closed his hand over hers and curled an arm around her waist. “Now, that is not verra nice. Ye could put out my eye with such a sharp stone. Then how would I protect ye from all the evils of the worlds?”
She blinked and almost lost her footing again.
How had he appeared at her side when just a moment ago, he stood at the top of the cliff?
With a firm hold on his arm, she shoved away from his chest and peered down into the abyss below.
The implications of a fall into that made her forget to breathe. If he hadn’t caught her—.
Irritation along with a strong resistance to depend on anyone but herself surged through her. She wouldn’t have stumbled in the first place if he hadn’t appeared out of thin air. “How did you do that?” she demanded.
After a glance back up the cliff where he’d stood but a few seconds ago, she pinned him with a suspicious glare. “I thought you said your only magic was healing, not zapping across distances at super speeds.”
Taggart chuckled, pulling her closer while edging them to a more solid footing. “I never said healing was my only magic. I merely told ye I could heal.”
She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry.
The steady thump of his heartbeat tickled against her, making her uncomfortably warm.
The need to be needed and wanted battled with her common sense.
Irrationally, she wished he would hold her tighter.
Logic kicked in, reminding her she did not want to go down that road ever again.
She shoved away. “You can let me go now. I won’t throw the rock and I’m sure I have my balance. ”
“Are ye certain?” He smoothed his hand up the middle of her back, tugging her closer as though she had spoken her needs.