Page 3 of Dance in the Stones

He’d inherited Duncarrick from a distant uncle some five years before and hadn’t bothered to do anything with it at all except pay the property management fees. Just because he was a gargoyle didn’t mean he had any historic building expertise – Redford spent most of his time in an office - and the reports of the castle’s condition had been…discouraging. In fact, Redford distinctly remembered his uncle saying something along the lines of, “I hope you’re good with a trowel and mortar, boy, because you’re going to need them.”

But now, with nothing but time ahead of him, renovating a rundown castle could be something constructive that would keep him busy. Something where he could see positive results at the end of a hard day – fixing something instead of trying to put out fires and stopping other people’s lives from falling apart.

Redford sighed as he turned a corner and the Scottish Highlands opened up before him, all dramatic peaks and valleys swathed in pockets of mist. It was beautifully peaceful, and Redford prayed with everything that he was that spending time in a remote area would be the salvation he was looking for.

As he crested the final hill, Duncarrick Castle suddenly appeared, and Redford’s breath caught. The photos hadn’t done it justice. Yes, it was crumbling. The towers looked half-collapsed. And the walls were more ivy than stone in places. But it was beautiful – a true testament to how long stone could last, even when it was completely ignored.

A small cottage sat nestled against the hillside directly below the castle ruins. According to the property management company, it was the caretaker’s cottage, and someone had been living there for years, apparently, although Redford had never bothered about the details. That’s why he had a property management company.

Ignoring the cottage and its possible occupant for now, Redford swung into the long driveway up to a large circular parking area in front of the castle. Two vehicles were already parked there, the architect and the local contractor Redford had hired, right on time. Redford did appreciate punctuality.

He pulled up beside them, turned off the engine before climbing out of his car, stretching his arms and legs that were cramped from the long drive. The air smelled of damp heather and the soft earth and…and…

The world stopped. Not as in somebody had actually stopped the world, but for Redford, in that moment, his world stopped as he heard something he never believed he would ever hear. The stones from the ancient castle were singing. One hand still on the car door, Redford’s entire body went rigid with shock.

His gargoyle side that had been snoozing during the long trip surged forward with such force he nearly shifted right then and there. Eight feet of leathered skin and muscle that would send the human contractors running for their lives if they caught a glimpse of his other side.

Not now! You can’t! Not here! But Redford already knew his vacation plans were about to make a hundred-and-eighty degree turn. Gargoyles heard the stones sing when their mates were nearby. That was an absolute fact that Redford knew as surely as he knew birds flew south for the winter and salmon knew how to swim upstream. Actually, Redford didn’t know a lot about birds or freaking fish at all, but he knew what a singing stone meant to a gargoyle.

He had given up on ever hearing it. At over five hundred years old, Redford had resigned himself to a mateless existence. There’d even been a time when Redford considered taking a bond mate, but in the end, it had been easier to focus on his work instead. Redford had never been so grateful for that decision as he was in that moment.

The song seemed to swell, and Redford’s head whipped around, searching frantically. Where? Who? The waiting contractor and architect weren’t the one he’d waited his life for – his gargoyle let him know that with one glance.

Turning again, Redford’s gaze landed on the cottage. Since he’d parked the car, a man was now standing outside of it – big, handsome, with dark hair that was styled short on the sides and longer on top. He wore jeans and a worn T-shirt that showed off impressive shoulders and arms. And he was staring at Redford with an intensity that made every nerve ending in Redford’s body come alive.

There! His gargoyle had no doubts. That one, he’s ours. Redford would have to touch him to be sure, but even as Redford studied the man, the stranger’s expression shifted and looked confused. A sudden growl could be heard, and Redford realized the man’s fists were clenched at his side, and it seemed as though his whole body was taut as if he was hiding something. Caught a whiff of my scent and trying to stop a shift, perhaps? If he’s a shifter, that’d make things easier.

Although, for now, the man was clearly struggling, and Redford’s gargoyle really wanted to make an appearance. It took every ounce of Redford’s control to stay in his human form, when every instinct screamed at him to spread his wings and cross that distance in seconds.

For fuck’s sake, breathe. Focus. You don’t want to scare him.

Meanwhile, the man seemed to win whatever internal battle he was waging. His solid shoulders relaxed a bit, although Redford could still see the tension radiating from every line in his body. He started walking over, and Redford could tell it took a real effort for the man to appear calm and move as if nothing strange was happening.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be caught staring.” The man’s voice was deep and pleasant, definitely friendly, although Redford caught the edge of something rough underneath. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I hope you can excuse me.”

That smile was fake – Redford could recognize something like that at twenty paces.

“The name’s Damon. I rent the cottage.”

He held out his hand, a perfectly normal human thing to do when one person greeted another. Redford took it, and his knees literally went weak. That touch told him all the singing stones had already signified. Electricity shot up his arm, through to his chest, and straight to his core. His gargoyle was roaring in his mind, determined to claim the man right then and there in front of a human architect and a busy contractor.

Damon’s pupils dilated so wide that the color nearly disappeared, and his hand tightened around Redford’s, holding on for just a fraction too long, his thumb pressing against Redford’s pulse point, almost as if he was trying to memorize the rhythm. But then, just as quickly, he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned.

“Redford.” Redford coughed and tried again. “Redford Stone. I’m the owner…of the castle, I mean.” Oh, brilliant. Very smooth. Five hundred years old and completely undone by a handshake. Get your shit together, Redford.

“Right. Yes, I was expecting you. The letter from your management company mentioned you were coming.” Damon shoved his hands in his pockets, then pulled them out again as though he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “You’re here to do renovations?”

“Yes, the renovations.” They stood there, an awkward silence stretching between them. Damon’s gaze kept darting to Redford’s face and then away again, like he couldn’t help himself, and Redford found he was doing the same thing.

“I’ve…uh…yeah, arranged to live in a caravan during the work,” Redford said, struggling to find something normal to say. “The contractor recommended it. Apparently, nowhere in the castle is habitable.”

Something flickered across Damon’s expression. Redford would have liked to have thought it was concern. It was hard to tell. “You could stay in my cottage. I do have a spare room.”

But Redford could tell, even before Damon had finished speaking, that the man hadn’t meant to say anything like that at all. It was as if the words had fallen out of his mouth having bypassed his brain entirely.

And while every cell in Redford’s body screamed at him to say “yes,” Redford forced himself to think past his instincts and to appear professional, even though that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“That’s very generous,” he said carefully, “but I couldn’t impose. We’ve only just met, and I’ll be here for months. The caravan will be fine for now.”