Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“She is watching us again from the window,” Dubh said.
Mathison continued fitting the large flat stones together to repair the garden fence without the benefit of mortar.
“Good.” He paused his construction to remove his shirt and made a show of stretching, then wiping the sweat from his brow.
The mate bond always stirred lust first, the need to join physically, but the knowing, the contentment that came from the reunion of the separated souls, didn’t come until later.
If he could stir Calia’s yearning for the physical side of the mate bond, perhaps they could unite completely before Mairwen helped him take his chosen one back to the Ninth Realm, where they both belonged.
“We could complete this work much faster if we used our magic.”
“The work enables us to be around the lady and make her more comfortable with our presence.” Mathison understood his wolf’s impatience.
He felt the same. He longed for this woman.
But he also knew how precarious the situation was.
Winning Calia’s trust and acceptance could not be rushed.
To do so could very well make the entire plan go awry.
“At least she has started to trust us. Remember what she told her beastie.”
“Aye.” Mathison hoisted a particularly large rock into place, leaned against it to steady it, then wedged two more smaller ones under either end of it. This dyke would survive several centuries of whatever the Highlands saw fit to wreak upon it.
“I brought you a glass of sweet tea,” said the voice that had quickly become the sweetest sound he had ever heard.
He turned from his labors and fought not to react as Calia stood there in another pair of those dark blue trews that hugged the fine shapeliness of her bottom while her thin, fitted tunic clung to her uppermost curves.
She held out a tall glass with chunks of ice floating in it.
It was the same color as tea from a cup, but he’d never seen tea served in such a way before. “Ye put ice in it?”
“Sorry. I forgot that’s not a thing here. This is how we drink it where I’m from.” She turned to leave.
“Dinna go.” He reached for the glass. “Thank ye for yer kindness.”
As their fingers touched, the same jolt of energy that had traveled between them when he was in his wolf form crackled once again.
Her eyes flared open wider, but she didn’t jerk away.
“Uhm…static electricity. Sorry.” As soon as he took the glass, she wiped her hands on the seat of her trews and shoved them into her pockets.
After a nervous glance around, she nodded at his handiwork.
“So I noticed you don’t use mortar here. Wouldn’t it be sturdier if you did?”
“A drystane dyke will last centuries. Scots build them this way because ’tis not only handier but longer lasting. Mortar eventually crumbles, and whatever it holds fails. A well-built dyke rarely tumbles to pieces.”
“I see.” A few more moments of uncomfortable silence passed before she threw up her hands. “Well, I guess I’ll go inside and leave you to it. I’ve got lots of unpacking to do.”
“I can help ye, mistress.” He wedged another stone in place, tapping it securely with the heel of his hand. He preferred that to the hammer he’d used to shape the bits of rock. “I’m nearly finished here.”
Her gaze settled on his untouched glass of tea.
“No, that’s okay, thank you.” She picked up the glass.
“Is there something else you’d rather drink?
I couldn’t help but notice you’re hot…er…
sweaty…uhm…warm out here in the sun.” She huffed and rubbed her eyes as if suddenly stricken with a pain in her head.
“Would you like some water? Without ice?”
Moving closer, he took hold of the glass, purposely covering her hand with his so she couldn’t help but feel the ancient connection of their lonely souls crying out to be rejoined.
“Nay, mistress,” he said softly. “This is fine. Thank ye for thinking to care for me.” Then he sipped the tea, surprised at its cold sweetness.
“Do you like it?” She sounded almost hopeful.
“Aye, ’tis different but nice.” To prove he meant it, he drained the glass, then handed it back to her. “Thank ye, mistress.”
“You can call me Calia. Mistress sounds so…wrong.”
“Wrong?”
Dubh groaned. “Kiss the woman. This ridiculous chatter is painful.”
Mathison ignored him. “I promise ’tis meant as a sign of respect.”
“I know.” Visibly ill at ease, she fidgeted in place, passing the glass back and forth between her hands, making the ice chunks rattle.
“But it’s okay for you to call me Calia.
” With a nervous twitch of her shoulder, she adopted a tense smile.
“Besides, if you live around here, we’re neighbors, so there’s really no need for such formalities. Uhm…do you live near here?”
Noting how her gaze kept drifting to his bare chest, he lifted a larger, much heavier stone, flexing his muscles as he did so. “I dinna live close. Eventually, I shall return home.” And it was his sincerest hope that she would return with him.
“Oh.” The faintest hint of disappointment shaded her tone, pleasing him more than he thought possible.
“I dinna belong here, lass,” he said ever so softly.
She lifted her gaze to his, locking eyes with him as if trying to discover the secrets of his soul and deem him worthy of her trust. Then, a barrier shuttered down between them, a dark curtain woven from the pain of her past. Once again, she became detached and resumed her earlier chilling politeness.
“I understand.” Clearing her throat, she backed up a step, then tossed another casual glance around the garden.
“By the way, if a black dog shows up, don’t run him off. He’s welcome here.”
“So, ye take in strays, do ye?”
“In his case—yes.”
The abruptness of her answer made him smile. “I am not a stray, m’lady.”
“Calia.”
He bowed. “Calia.”
A bank of dark clouds rolled in, blotting out the sun. Eyeing the thunderheads and the speed with which they gathered, Mathison suspected Mairwen’s hand in manipulating the situation. Lightning flickered through the gray swirls, and thunder softly rumbled.
“Wow.” Calia frowned up at the darkening sky. “That storm’s moving in fast. Your day of chores is about to be over.”
Then, a blinding flash of lightning split the air and unleashed the downpour.
She ran for the house. Even in the deluge, he couldn’t help but admire how she leapt around the statues of Mairwen’s watchers with the grace and agility of a Highland deer. When she reached the door, she looked back at him and seemed shocked. “Come on. You’re getting drenched.”
He wasn’t about to pass up that invitation.
Once inside, he remained close to the door, not wishing to soil her floor any worse than he already had.
He remembered well how women felt about muddy boots on their clean floors, not only from his mother but also from the housekeepers of Shadowmist Keep and Wraith Tower.
“You’re a rare man to worry about the floors. Hang on while I get some towels.”
As she disappeared into another room, Otto leapt up onto the couch and glared at him. The dog didn’t growl, so there was that, but Calia’s ally was still none too sure about him. The canine knew Mathison and the black wolf were one and the same.
“I mean her no harm,” he quietly told the dog. “I swear it.”
Otto softly woofed.
She rushed back into the room with an armload of towels. “Here. Dry off with this one, and I’ll spread this other one on the floor for you to stand on.”
He almost groaned as she knelt at his feet, but caught himself just in time. “Forgive me for the mess.”
“You couldn’t help it. That storm blew up out of nowhere.”
Lightning split the sky, and thunder crashed again, making her jump up and peer out the glass door streaked with water. She seemed worried.
“What troubles ye, mistre…Calia?”
“I’m worried about Wolf—the black dog I told you about. What if he’s caught somewhere without shelter?”
Touched by her concern, he moved closer and tapped on the glass. “I know yer Wolf. I have seen him roaming about. He’s a canny beast. Dinna worry after him.”
“I hope you’re right.” She hugged herself, still frowning at the storm that was growing fiercer. “It’s really getting bad out there. I don’t think it would be safe for you to drive in this.”
“Drive?”
She looked up at him. “You drove here. Right?”
“I walked.” He’d left his mount safe in the village stables. Mairwen and the other Weavers would see that Horse was taken care of, no matter how much of a fuss the foul-tempered beastie stirred. “’Tis but a wee stretch of the legs from here to Seven Cairns.”
The way she caught her bottom lip between her teeth made him hunger to nibble endless kisses across her mouth. “Well…” She unleashed a soft, huffing groan. “You definitely can’t walk back to Seven Cairns in this. I guess you’re stuck here until the storm lets up.”
“I can walk in the rain, lass.” He’d survived worse than this after being ousted from his keep by the curse.
She barely shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t feel right about that.” She took the towel from him, then reached for his dripping shirt, which he still clutched in one hand. “Here. I’ll put that in the dryer for you.”
While he wasn’t quite certain what a dryer was, thankfully, the name was self-explanatory—unlike several of the strange things from this realm that Mairwen and her assistant had shown him. “Ye’re verra kind.”
“It’s nothing. Really.” She hurried away again as if fleeing from him.
“This is ridiculous,” Dubh said. “Stop being such a feckin’ coward. Speak to the woman from yer heart. Let her know ye want her.”
“I must not frighten her.” But Mathison agreed; his wolf made a valid point. At this rate, it would take another century to win Calia over.
“Well, ye need to do something, or let me take over.”