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Her skin was warm and smooth beneath my touch, and the instant my finger made contact, it became solid instead of transparent. It was the same extraordinary sensation I had experienced when she held my hand earlier, except that this time I had been the one to reach out.

I was so astonished that I almost jerked my hand away. But I couldn't seem to make myself do it. Instead, I gently stroked the curve of her cheek with the back of one finger, marveling at how soft she was.

It had been so long since I'd touched a woman's face that I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. I had forgotten the warmth of living skin and the simple pleasure of being close to another person. It was such a small thing—such an ordinary, everyday thing that most people took for granted. And yet to me, after a hundred years of being unable to touch anyone, it was nothing short of miraculous.

Celeste made a soft sound in her sleep and shifted slightly against the pillow. I froze, afraid that she might awaken and find me standing over her.

What would I say if she did? How could I possibly explain why I was touching her while she slept?

The realization of what I was doing struck me then, and I withdrew my hand at once. Damn it all, what was wrong with me? I had no right to come into her bedroom uninvited, let alone touch her while she was sleeping! I might be cursed, but that was no excuse for behaving like some kind of common scoundrel.

I was just about to leave when a low, familiar voice spoke from the middle of the bed.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this interesting?"

I looked down and saw Bartleby staring at me with his bright yellow eyes. The little beast had raised his head from the covers and was watching me with an expression of unmistakable amusement.

"Shut your mouth, cat!" I hissed, keeping my voice low so as not to awaken Celeste. "I was merely checking to be certain that our guest was comfortable!"

"Oh, of course you were," Bartleby purred. "And I suppose stroking her cheek was your way of checking whether she needed another blanket? Isn’t the touch of a spirit to a sleeper supposed to bring unsettling dreams?"

"Mind your own damned business!" I growled, though I knew he was right. "I am the master of this house, and I will not be questioned by a creature who spends sixteen hours a day licking his own backside!"

"Closer to eighteen, actually," Bartleby remarked calmly. "But that's neither here nor there. The important thing is that you seem to have taken quite an interest in our new witch."

"I have taken an interest in her magic," I corrected him angrily. "There is a considerable difference!"

"Is there?" The cat tilted his head to one side. "Because it looked to me as though you were more interested in her pretty face than her magical abilities."

"You're imagining things!" I snapped, though I could feel my cheeks growing warm. It was the most irritating thing about Celeste's magic—apparently it was strong enough to make me blush like a damned schoolboy!

Bartleby gave a low, rumbling purr of amusement.

"Well, whatever you say, Garrik. But if I were you, I'd be careful. She's a lovely woman and she's the first person who has been able to touch you in a hundred years. It would be very easy for a lonely old Gryphon like you to lose his heart to her."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I growled. "I barely know the woman! And what little I do know suggests that she is stubborn, argumentative, and entirely too fond of contradicting me!"

"Yes, well, you always did like a woman with spirit," Bartleby pointed out. "Lucinda certainly never let you have your own way all the time, did she?"

"Do not bring my wife into this!" I snapped, though I kept my voice low.

Bartleby gave me a long, thoughtful look and then yawned hugely.

"Very well, I won't. But I'll tell you one thing, Garrik—if you're not careful, you're going to fall in love with that woman. And then what will you do?"

"Fall in love?" I repeated incredulously. "With her? Have you lost what little sense you ever possessed? She's been here for less than an evening and we've done nothing but argue since she arrived!"

"Sometimes that's how it starts with you humans," Bartleby remarked. "Anyway, I wouldn't make a habit of sneaking into her room and touching her while she's asleep, if I were you. She might not take kindly to it if she wakes up and finds you hovering over her bed."

His words stung because I knew he was right.

"I am well aware of that," I said stiffly. "I should not have come in here at all. And I assure you, it will not happen again!"

"Good," Bartleby said, sounding satisfied. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep. Some of us need our rest, you know."

"Yes, yes, go back to your damned nap!" I muttered. "Ancients forbid that anything should interfere with your precious sleep!"

"Goodnight, Garrik," he purred, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "And pleasant dreams. Oh, wait—you don't sleep anymore, do you? How unfortunate."