“John,” Edan pressed, “I have no use for tales. I have a missing daughter and no time for faery hills.”
John moved closer, standing eye-to-eye with him. “If you insist on being that stubborn, you’ll have a hard time getting your daughter back then.”
Edan would not back down and refused to accept such a tale. “We shall see. My father’s belief in faeries drove him mad and ruined our family. I will not follow him down that same path. Have you not considered that there could be mercenaries working much like the ones caught on Mull a decade ago?”
“I was here then, and I fought against them, all driven by the greed of one man and one woman. This is different, and I don’t have to be a seer to feel it. But I have an open mind, so if mercenaries are at work on Islay, we’ll find them too.”
John looked at Ailith, who said, “I’ll believe in the Seelies until the faeries leave and say they won’t be back.”
“You’ve seen a true faery?”
“I have. You’ve never seen Lia?” Ailith asked. “I thought you saw her on the voyage here with Magni.”
Edan wouldn’t admit the truth of it. “I saw something I was unsure of, but I cannot tell you that she was a faery. But she was a bit otherworldly. I’ll admit that much.”
“Her name is Lia. She’s a Seelie, one of theguidpeople. You’ll meet her, and she will explain about the Unseelie.”
“Edan, I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to help you find your daughter. We’ll locate her with Ailith’s help. I’ve some packing left, so I’ll take my leave.” John nodded and left.
Edan turned back to Ailith, suddenly aware of how close they stood. His gaze traced her tall form, and he felt that familiar pull. One of the many reasons he admired her was her fearlessness, her willingness to challenge him. She had a strong constitution, as his father would have put it.
With John gone, her nearness pressed in on him. Her lips parted as she watched him. He leaned close before he thought better of it.
His wife had been dead just over a year. Their marriage had been arranged, barely begun before Florie died. They had never learned each other’s hearts.
Guilt sat in his chest like a stone. The empty cradle. Florie’s last breath. He had no right to want, not now.
He brushed his lips across Ailith’s. Light. Brief. More question than kiss.
She drew back first.
Her fingers rose to her own mouth, then dropped. She studied him, and there was no anger in it, only something careful. “Should we be doing this?”
He had no answer ready.
“Your daughter is out there somewhere. Your wife is barely a year gone.” Her voice stayed even. “I will not be a thing you reach for because you’re grieving.”
The honesty of it humbled him. “It was not grief. Or not only. I have thought of little but you since you spoke to me in that hall.”
She held his gaze a long moment. “Then think on it. I’ll not run.” A small, dry curve touched her mouth. “But I’ll not be kissed and apologized to, as though it were a mistake.”
“Then I’ll not apologize.”
“Good.” She stepped back, putting honest space between them. “We’ve your daughter to find. And I’d have you keep an open mind, Edan. About all of it.”
He doubted anything would change his mind. The only thing he’d be forced to accept on Islay was how desperately he wanted Ailith Grant. Her tall, broad-shouldered brother, parents, and other family members would likely be there.
Perhaps distance was his wisest course.
She affected him in ways unrelated to faeries but entirely connected to the loneliness that had carved a hollow in hischest since Florie’s death. Starved as he was for connection, he doubted his ability to resist.
Hell.
Staying away from Ailith Grant would be absolutely impossible.
Chapter Fourteen
Ailith
