“He thinks he’s hilarious.” I crouched to gather the documents. “I think this is possibly his favorite game.”
Clyde ambled over and bumped his enormous head against my shoulder. The contact was cold and misty yet oddly comforting despite everything. He made a soft sound—almost apologetic.
“I don’t forgive you,” I told him.
He bumped me again and his coldness washed over me.
“Fine. I partially forgive you. But you have absolutely terrible timing.” Although, in fairness, it was probably the best timing. It had stopped me from making what was likely a huge mistake.
Clyde tossed his head, clearly unrepentant, and walked straight through the nearest wall.
Graham stared at the spot where he’d vanished. “I really will never get used to that.”
“Who could?”
“Bloody coo.” He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at me. The heat in his eyes had banked to something softer. “Agnes?—”
“You should go.” I busied myself gathering the scattered papers, not meeting his gaze. “Your lad can only cover the pub so long.”
“The pub can wait five minutes.”
“It really can’t.” I gave him a look that told him I wasn’t giving him any other answers.
“Bloody hell,” Graham said with a sigh. “You’re going to do my head in, woman. But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Which conversation?”
“The one where you tell me what you’re really looking for. And the one where”—he gestured vaguely between us—“the one where we deal with this.”
“There’s nothing to deal with.”
“Agnes.”
I finally looked up. He held my eyes, steady as ever, and I sighed.
“I’ll tell you,” I said, relenting. “When …if… I find all the information. I promise.” It was a big promise, and my stomach twisted at the thought of what would come of it if Graham knew the real reason I’d been keeping him at arm’s length.
“I’ll hold you to that.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. “Will you be okay here alone?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got centuries of my family’s drama to keep me company.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
“Go, Graham. I’ll text you when I’m heading home.”
He hesitated at the door, looking back at me with those worried eyes. I made a shooing motion with my hands.
“I’m fine. I promise. The castle is full of people.”
“Be that as it may, at least get Lachlan to drive you home, aye?”
He went, finally, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. I listened until the sound faded, until I was alone with the burden of everything I hadn’t told him.
Then I sank into the nearest chair and let out a long breath.
That had been close. Too close. Another few seconds and I would have kissed him, ghost coo interruption or not. And then we’d be right back where we were years ago,except this time I knew about the curse and about what loving him could cost.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and leaned back into the chair, letting the idea of kissing him wash through me. How much longer could my poor wee heart ache for him? And then I thought about my mum, and how she’d tightened her defenses, and locked down any chance of ever loving again simply because the pain of loss had been too great.
