*
Jamie padded alongthe corridor as silently as possible, being careful to keep out of sight. Which was utterly ridiculous. He and Elise were both adults and wasn’t he Lord of the bloody Isles? So why did he feel like a misbehaving youth afraid of being caught doing something he shouldn’t?
As honor dictated, Cailean had given him and Elise different rooms—and they were at opposite ends of the keep of Dun Mallach. But if anyone thought he was going to keep away, they were sadly mistaken. So he stole through the keep like a thief, keeping to the shadows until he reached Elise’s door.
Cailen’s words echoed in his mind:If she’s the one for you, lad, you hold on with both hands.
As if Jamie needed telling.
He knocked softly on the wood. “Elise?”
There was a rustle of fabric and then he heard her voice—warm, distracted, maddeningly unaware of the way the sound of it twisted him up inside. “Come in.”
He pushed the door open and stepped through. Elise sat cross-legged on the bed, a monstrous leather-bound book resting across her thighs. A pile of loose notes surrounded her, and a candle burned by the bedside, outlining her in soft gold. Her hair was a riot—falling loose around her shoulders,springing in every direction as though she’d been raking her fingers through it in frustration.
She glanced up, blinking as though surfacing from deep water. Her expression softened when she saw him. “Jamie.”
The way she greeted him sent a tingle through his body. He crossed the room, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. The book—if it could be called that—looked less like a text and more like an object that might summon a demon if mishandled.
“What in God’s name is that thing?”
“This,” Elise said with a disdainful curl of her lip, “is the only thing we’ve been able to find about MacFinnan War Weavers. Jenna brought it from Skye.”
He frowned, gaze sliding over the arcane symbols stamped into the leather cover. “And ye are certain that’s what ye are? A War Weaver?”
She lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “No. Not sure at all. But it makes sense. At least, it would if I could make head or tail of all this arcane claptrap. I swear whoever wrote this was just trying for dramatic effect.”
Jamie leaned back on his hands, studying her. There were dark circles under her eyes. “Ye’ve been at this all day?”
“Well… yes.”
“And? Did ye find anything?”
She shut the book with a frustratedthud, the candle flickering from the displaced air. “Nothing. I can’t get it. Rose tried helping me. Jenna too. We went through grounding exercises, focus techniques—nothing works. I can feel it, this…thissomethingin me, like a knot I can’t untie. But it won’t respond. Not to anything.”
He reached out, curling a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it isnae meant to be forced.”
Her mouth twisted. “That’s the problem. I don’thaveto force my magic normally. My power has always been like a hurricaneready to sweep me away. The problem iscontrollingit. What good is War Weaving if it hurts your friends as much as your enemies?”
He didn’t like the edge in her voice—a mix of fear and determination. Determination, he admired. Fear, he wanted to banish with his bare hands.
He shook his head. “Elise…I dinna want ye doing anything dangerous.”
Her brows rose. “It’s a little late for that don’t you think? And besides,you’replanning on doing something dangerous.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” she retorted.
He didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t. Because the truth twisted something low and deep inside him.
Finally, he forced the words out. “Because I canna lose ye. Because the idea of something happening to ye—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “It would kill me.”
The room quieted. The only sound was the faint roar of the sea beyond the stone walls.
Elise drew in a breath. “Jamie…”
He reached for her, and she came willingly, sliding into his arms as though she belonged there. As though she’dalwaysbelonged there.
