“Probably,” I conceded, biting back a smile because I liked her way of looking at things and her directness. “Yet I mean it.”
More than that, I knew it because I could feel Aspen in a way I couldn’t before, which led me to believe I had been cast under some sort of spell designed to lift precisely when it did, which seems to have been the moment I touched her. My inner beast clearly knew it was close to its fated mate beforehand, but my human half fought it.
Not anymore, though.
Now I saw, better still,feltwhat had been in front of me since the moment she was carried into my courtyard. Yet the longer we were around each other, the more I sensed that wasn’t the beginning of our acquaintance by any means.
Not nearly.
Before Aspen could respond to how much I believed she would become my wife, I saved her from the awkward conversation and urged her to join me at the table, pulling out a chair for her.
“How very proper,” she commented, seeming to understand I was shifting us away from that conversation, at least for now.
“’Tis just good manners, is it not?”
“Sort of old school where I come from,” she said but sat and thanked me regardless. “Honestly, I didn’t think men in your position or in this era would be inclined to do something like that.”
I couldn’t help a small chuckle as I sat across from her. “Then you havenae spent nearly enough time with my mother. She would say servants or not, a man should know how to treat his lass, and helping her with her chair is but one thing on a long list.”
“I like her.” A small smile curled her mouth. One I wished would blossom because she should always be smiling. Always be happy because I sensed there had not been a lot of happiness in her life. At least not in her younger years.
“I like both your parents, for that matter,” she went on.
“And they like you.” I gestured between the various pitchers I had provided. “Which would you prefer? Ale, mead, or whisky? ‘Tis hard to sense your preference. I can just as easily manifest water or—”
“I think I’ll try authentic medieval Scottish whisky tonight,” she said. “And you can’t sense my preference because I’m fine with any of them. I usually don’t drink all that much, but when I do,I’m with a mix of people who are always traveling and trying different things, so I’m fine with beer and whisky. Granted, mead’s new to me, but I liked it last night.”
“Then whisky it is,” I said and filled her mug. “’Tis stronger than what you’re probably used to, so count yourself forewarned.” I poured myself some as well, eager to get to know her beyond what I caught in her thoughts, which wasn’t nearly enough. “Tell me about yourself, Aspen. About these friends you travel with and your kin. Your life thus far. All you might share with someone…like me.”
I fought a wave of unexpected emotion at that because what was I to her, exactly, but part of a childhood fairytale? Always an ideal and never flesh and blood. I loathed that I had missed so much. Moreover, my inner beast and I were frustrated, if not a tad angry, that she had been hidden from us somehow because shehadbeen. Not just that, but it saddened me that she’d endured so much,and I hadn’t been there.
“Someone likeyou?” she murmured, the corner of her mouth quirking as if she sensed my angst and wanted to lighten the moment, which spoke to her character. “Would that be the medieval Scottish chieftain that’s been cast under some sort of Viking sword, Stormy spell? Or the make-believe hero I fell head over heels for, even though he was only ever a figment of my imagination?”
Head over heels? I liked the sound of that.
“You make a good point.” I met her crooked grin, raised my cup to her, and tried to make light of our strange beginning. “Here’s to Stormy spells and loving figments of one's own imagination, aye?”
“Here, here.” She raised her mug, then took a solid gulp before coughing, her eyes watery when they met mine again. “You weren’t kidding about how strong this stuff is.”
“’Tis good Scottish whisky.” I shook my head and sipped rather than gulped. “Ye’ll find nothing like it elsewhere.” I gestured at the food in front of us. “Now feast and enjoy. ‘Tis the best of what Clan MacLeod has to offer.”
“Which is mostly meat by the looks of it,” she noted, eyeing her food.
“And bread and vegetables,” I defended, grinning. “But aye, mostly meats in a castle full of carnivores. Of course, if you would prefer something else, then—”
“No, I’m good.” She inhaled the scent of the succulent meat on her plate. “Give me a good steak any day of the week. Especially if it tastes anything like what was served last night.”
It seemed it did because when she popped the first bite in her mouth, her eyes slid shut, and she groaned, invoking all sorts of sensual thoughts. As if she sensed them, she swallowed, and her eyes slid open, meeting mine. Strangely, it was one of the most erotic moments of my life, and I couldn’t say why other than I felt she would soon do all the same things in the throes of passion. That I would soon give her so much more pleasure than a mere bite of meat.
“Tell me about yourself,” I repeated, not surprised to find my voice hoarse with untimely arousal. “Your friends. Life. Everything I have missed.” I allowed my gaze to roam her beautiful face with appreciation. “Please…all of it…all of you.”
“Where to begin?” she wondered softly, considering me before her eyes briefly flickered with her inner beast, who clearly meant to pave the way for her if it brought her closer to my dragon. She shared more than I expected, and I hadnever been so grateful because I knew deep down her dragon wanted me to know as much about her as possible.
Whatever it took to draw her fated mate closer.
As it turned out, I found it all riveting and mayhap a bit sad, especially the first part of her life. How hard it had been. How strong and resilient she’d had to be for her mother, putting her own needs last despite her young age.
“Mom was my best friend from the beginning,” she said at one point. “She did the best she could as a single parent, but we were always swimming upriver. It didn't help that she had a restless spirit, so she wasn’t good at staying in one place too long, which, in retrospect, worked out because we usually got booted, anyway. I guess I get that restlessness from her.” She blinked back tears I knew she didn’t want me seeing and sipped her whisky before gazing out at the driving rain. “Cancer took her when I was a teenager. That’s when my father tried to step back into my life, but I handled things on my own and went my own way.” She shook her head and notched her jaw. “Too little, too late, in my opinion.”
