Page 10 of The Unseelie Heir’s Claim

“You can save the profit instead,” I suggested. “My earnings will cover the fuel expense.” I eyed her over the rim of my drink. “You don’t need to work, Mother. I am providing a steady income now. You can rest.”

She glanced across the table at me. “And do what? Putter around the garden? I can’t grow anything of much value to anyone. Plants don’t like my magic.” She jutted her chin toward the chest in the corner once more, while her fingers continued to work the seam she held in her hands. “Lacemaking comes easily to me and I enjoy it. You know I prefer being busy over slothful.”

I knew it well. As far back as I could recall, Mother had always been working. Gardening, preserving, sewing, washing, cooking, teaching, her duties never seemed to end. But of late, she had slowed. With each new line and crease that appeared in her face, I had grown increasingly concerned. She was young for a fae. A bit less than a century old, she should be in her prime, not aging like a middle-aged human. She claimed that her time away from her home lake in the Wild Wood was the cause, but I wasn’t as certain.

“What if I bring home a companion for you?” I asked. “Someone to keep you company, to tend the garden and help with the washing. It might be nice.”

Mother lowered her sewing fully this time and peered at me. “What scheme are you working on now, Kent?”

“Do you remember me mentioning the fae woman working at the Hart and Hare?”

“The one you suspect is a nymph?”

I nodded. “She lives at the foundling home.”

She frowned. “I thought she was of age. The children usually leave the home as soon as they can.”

“She is of age, but she hasn’t left the home. I am investigating the reason. Regardless of why she continues to live there, the situation isn’t ideal.” Rotating my mug in my hands, I traced the ridges and gouges in the surface. “Also, to make matters worse, she has gained a stalker. If we can discourage him, she might be safe. But if her situation grows even more dangerous, I thought to offer her a place here as a companion for you.”

I lifted my head to find my mother watching me thoughtfully. “We have discussed mate bonds, and you know the warning signs.”

I groaned and leaned back in my chair. “Yes, Mother, I remember.” I pulled my gloves from my trouser pocket and set them on the table between us. “I wear the gloves as you requested and touch no one without them.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“I won’t be trapped like you were,” I assured her.

“Your father—”

“Was a wastrel, I know.” I pushed my chair back and rose, crossing to place my empty cup in the wash basin.

Mother had told me the story of meeting my father in the woods near her lake. Handsome, charismatic, and completely taken with her, he had swept her into a whirlwind romance, promising her marriage, love, children, and a long life together. Unheeding any warnings, my mother had thrown herself willingly into his arms. They married and the mating marks soon followed, confirming what she had believed—they were fated mates.

Then he disappeared. A week later, an army of the king’s men showed up at her lake and destroyed everything within five miles of the edge. By some miracle, she escaped only to be informed that the crown had issued a bounty on her head. Every moment that she remained within the Wood, she risked death, so she’d fled to the human side of the border.

A few weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant with me.

“I am not my father.” I gripped the edge of the wash basin. “When I find my fated mate, I will protect her. But until then, I will be cautious, just as I promised.” I turned to face my mother. “Rue needs a friend and a safe place to sleep. You need help around the house and garden. I simply wondered if we could all provide what the other needs.”