Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
When I walk into the kitchen, I find Sigurd leaning against the sink and staring out of the big window at the cold, grey sky. His expression is hard to read. I think I see sadness, but also a hint of determination and a resolution that I’d like to know more about.
“Looking for the sunshine?” I say, and he spins to face me.
His face immediately lights up when he sees me, his golden eyes warm, and his full lips crease into a smile. He holds out his arms, and I walk straight into them, wrapping my arms around his slender waist. He squeezes me tight, and I make a pleased sound I couldn’t help if I wanted to.
He kisses my temple, nosing amongst the strands of hair. “You are alright, my Cary?”
I realise what he’s alluding to, and my cheeks burn, but I make myself say steadily, “Never better.” It’s the truth. I feel relaxed, limber, and sleek, as if my body is finally how it should be. I no longer feel awkward in my skin—just an overwhelming sense of lightness and surety.
“’Tis Christmas Eve,” he says.
“And I have to go home.”
He pushes me back slightly. “I would that you do not go, elsklingen, min, but I know you must.” He glances over at my bag sitting by the door and grimaces. “I want to ask you to stay.”
I gasp as joy floods through me. “Really? I would love that.”
“But I cannot ask it.”
My smile fades as his own expression remains… guilty?
“What have you done?” I say slowly.
He takes my hand and ushers me into a chair at the big table. I trace my finger over the worn oak as I watch him bustle about the kitchen. He sets a cup of tea in front of me, and I grab his hand. “Tell me. No more time wasting.”
His sigh is so dramatically tragic that I want to smile, but I resist and point at the chair opposite me. “Sit down and tell me.”
He obeys, running a hand through his hair and dislodging the thick ponytail so that strands fall around his sharp-boned face. He’s wearing jeans and a black turtleneck jumper and looks far more like a uni student than a centuries-old dragon.
“Oh, Cary. I have been bad,” he says in a mournful voice.
I’d expect words like that to evoke dread, but instead, I just fight the urge to laugh. He’s such a big, gentle man that I know deep in my soul he wouldn’t hurt me. Not intentionally.
“Go on,” I say steadily.
He runs his finger along the table’s edge. He takes a deep breath, and the following words come out in a rush. “I made the car hire staff say that there were no cars available to you.”
I stare at him, unable to work out what he’s saying, and then realisation dawns. “When I was trying to go home?”
He nods miserably.
I bite my lip hard to hide a smile. “How?”
“I may have the ability to manipulate humans’ minds.” He grimaces.
“Have you done that to me?” I ask sharply. But I relax when I see the incredulity in his face.
“Nay,” he says immediately. “Never. It had been many centuries since I used that power, but I could never use it on you anyway.”
“But you did it to others.” I have a sudden thought. “You didn’t hurt them, did you?”
His eyes warm. “My Cary. Always a thought for other people. Nay. It was a gentle nudge, so that all the cars they had on their computers suddenly looked unavailable.”
“Were there lots?”
He nods sadly. “Including a very nice aqua-blue-metallic Audi. The colour would have suited you. It matched your eyes.”
“That is very tragic,” I say, and my voice quivers. I want to laugh so much. He looks like a big dog that’s done something naughty.
He looks up at once. “Nay. Have I upset you? Ah, I would cut off my claws if that is the way.”
“I—” I clear my throat, so my voice doesn’t shake with laughter. “There’s no need for claw maiming. Why did you do it?”
He watches me, his golden eyes very bright. “You know why. I wished for more time with you. I knew—” He stops abruptly, and I cock my head.
“Knew what?”
“That I wanted to spend time with you.” It’s a little too innocent, but I’ve come to realise that Sigurd might be generous to a fault, but he digs his heels in more than a donkey being made to have a bath.
“So, you bewitched them?”
“Bewitched? Nay. I just let them think their car park was completely empty. I made sure that they had some lovely Harrods Christmas hampers delivered to them as a present from me.”
“Well, I do always say that a hamper makes everything better,” I say faintly.
“As soon as we left those places, the spell lifted, and they would have continued their day merrily hiring out their cars.”
“Including the aqua-blue-metallic Audi?” I ask, tongue in cheek.
He grimaces. “No, that is outside. I had it delivered for you this morning.” He looks up. “Are you outraged, Cary?”
Finally, I break into laughter. When I’ve calmed, his eyes have lightened, and I point my finger at him. “I’m not angry, but I would hate for you to do that again, Sigurd.”
“Sig. I like that nickname. No one has ever shortened my name before, and it is curiously nice. Like a little secret only we possess,” he says.
“Sig, then. Please don’t manoeuvre me into doing things. I like free will and that’s not going to change.”
He nods immediately. “I have felt guilty since the enchantment happened. I like you as you are, Cary.”
“And how is that?”
“Beautiful, wilful, clever, and kind-hearted.”
I flush and take a sip of tea. “And you want me to stay? I would very much like that.” The thought is still incredible that I could have found this remarkable man by accident, and wonder of wonders, he returns my fascination.
I’m expecting him to lighten up now that his secret is out, but my heart sinks as he slowly shakes his head.
“No,” he whispers.
“What?”
His hand shoots out, and he grabs my hand as I try to rise from the table.
Obeying his urging, I round the table and settle onto his knee.
He slides his hands around my waist and nestles his face against mine for a few seconds.
This close, his smell is heady and enchanting.
We remain that way for a few minutes, the only movement in the room the tiny twinkle of the Christmas lights.
“I want nothing more than for you to stay,” he finally whispers. “But that would not be right.”
I turn in his embrace. “Why?”
“Because I used magic to compel some of this, and I am in possession of facts that you do not know.” He places his finger on my lips. “Please do not ask me. I would give you anything, Cary, but I cannot tell you yet.”
“Are they bad secrets?”
He shakes his head. “Nay, they are the best thing in this world and all the others, but if you knew…”
“If I knew?” I whisper.
His mouth twists. “You would stay with me, and I would never know how much of that choice was influenced by this secret. You are very important to me, Cary. More than you could possibly know, and I need to be sure that when…” He hesitates.
“…that if you come back to me, then I will know it is real for you too.”
I cup his beautiful, sad face in my hands and stare into his eyes. “I will come back,” I say steadily. “Is there a time limit on how long I must stay away?”
“Nay. Just when you are sure how you feel. I will always be waiting.”
I slowly rest my face against his, hugging him. “I wish I could stay.”
“But you will do this for me? Look on it as your Christmas gift to me.”
I pull back. “Oh, I wish I had a gift for you. I hate to think of you on your own on Christmas morning without a present to open.”
“You are enough. You are always enough.” My mouth drops open as he unfastens his watch and fastens it on my wrist next to the bracelet. “I want you to have this, elskling.”
“Oh no, I can’t,” I say immediately. “It’s too valuable.”
“Nothing is that, apart from you. But this is special because it has something to do with you.”
“What? How?”
He smiles. “I was unduly pleased with it when I got it. I may have boasted and strutted like a silly cockerel. An older cousin who I looked up to told me that one day I would give that watch to a man who would mean more to me than all the gold and precious jewels in this odd world.” He looks up, his eyes holding mine, and I see tiny fires burning in them.
“And he was right. I want you to have something to remember me by,” he says, almost sadly.
“Don’t you know?” I say fiercely. “I could never forget you.”
“Ah, Cary, never is a long time. If you do not come back, I would hope you do forget me.” He fastens the watch on my wrist. “I would have you move on and find love.”
“With someone else?”
He nods. “If you are not mine, I would have you be someone else’s rather than alone.”
“Why?”
“Because I would have you be happy,” he says simply. “That is my one desire.”
I stir my coffee again, the spoon tapping against the side of the thick mug.
If I look out of the window, I’ll see the hire car parked rather sloppily.
It was nice of Sigurd to think the powerful car suits me, but it displayed a woeful exaggeration of my driving abilities on his part.
I’ve nearly crashed three times just getting this far.
It doesn’t help that it’s a miserable foggy day.
Even now I can’t see farther than a few yards across the car park.
Nearby, a child lets out a piercing scream, and I grimace.
A service station is not the place for introspection.
Not with children running everywhere, their Christmas excitement at fever pitch.
Greg Lake sings on the speakers about believing in Father Christmas, and the smell of grease and meat reaches me from the nearby burger restaurant. It makes my stomach churn.
The feeling of wrongness is growing in me more and more as I sit here. I shouldn’t be here. I should be with him. With Sigurd—my Sig, my dragon.
It’s incredible to think that I didn’t know him a week ago, and now I can hardly imagine a day without seeing him. Is that love?