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It would be a waste of time to run Echo out of the pub before continuing with the meeting. She’d see; she’d know. Every day she grew stronger. He should’ve sent her away that first day, should’ve ignored Cassidy’s prediction and his need to make sure the Raintree had not come for her, but he had not and now it was too late. He cared about her. Their instructions were not done; he could not dismiss the threat she seemed to have forgotten about; he did not trust these people, his people, not to harm her. They were protective. Of their home, their lives, the stones—of Cassidy.
“I know what some of you think.” He locked his gaze on a confused Echo. “You think the Raintree woman has come for one of us, that she will bring more of her clan here and destroy this...this...” There was no better word. “This sanctuary. You’re wrong. Echo is not our enemy. She’s one of us, for a short time. She has come here for the peace Cloughban can offer those like us. Nothing more, nothing less. I believe that to be true. No, I know it.”
One kiss, a shared visual or two...it wasn’t much, but he and Echo were connected in a way he had not expected. As he’d faced a crowd tonight—half of them angry, the other half merely confused—he’d come to the unwelcome realization that he would protect her at all costs.
Almost all costs.
“The meeting is over,” he declared. “Your worries are for nothing, I promise.”
That was a hollow promise, as empty as the freshly washed glasses that hung behind the bar. Life was worry, and had been since his child had come into this world.
It took several minutes, but the crowd did disperse. Most of the townsfolk walked around and well clear of Echo, who moved forward slowly until she stood stock-still in the middle of the room. She stared at him even as Nevan, the last to leave, gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder and muttered, “I tried to help you, lass. You’re on your own now.”
When they were finally alone, she said, “I believe some explanations are in order.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
The expression on her face was one of frustration and anger, and those emotions came through in her voice. “No, I don’t think it can.”
He wanted more time to think, time to prepare his words carefully. “It’s a long story, and it’s getting late.”
She wasn’t going to budge. He added determination to the list of easily read expressions on her pretty face. “Take your time. I’ve got all night.”
He left the stage, walked silently toward her.
“First of all, what the hell is the deal with the book I found...”
Rye lifted one hand and the book, which had been sitting on Nevan’s table, flew into his hand. Echo gasped, and her eyes—greener than ever on this night—went wide. She knew he was a wizard, knew he had powers. But he had been very careful not to use them in front of her, until now.
“There are secrets here you are not meant to know.”
“Then why am I here?” Her expression softened a bit. “Very little in life can be written off to coincidence, you know it as well as I do. Do you believe it’s simple coincidence that I traveled halfway around the world to find you?”
No. No, he did not. “That is the question of the hour, isn’t it?”
Rye stopped when he was so close to Echo that he could smell her, feel her body heat. He’d wanted her since she’d walked into his pub. He’d dreamed of her, fantasized about having her even though he knew...
Echo shook her head. “Let’s take this slowly, one thing at a time.” She pointed. “That’s just a history book that was, as far as I can tell, written by one of your ancestors. Why on earth would it be snatched from my hand as if it contained the secrets of the universe? Secrets I am not to be privy to apparently.”
“It’s complicated.”
Anger flared to life again. “No shit, Sherlock!” She took a deep, calming breath. “Give me something. Throw me a bone, tell me...tell me...tell me something.”
Something. Maybe he could talk his way around this by sharing a small detail, or two. “My family have always been guardians, of a sort.”
“Guardians of what?” she asked, frustrated.
Like it or not, the time to tell her about the stone circle would come soon enough. Not tonight. If he had his way he would never tell her about Cassidy. “Cloughban. You know it’s a different kind of place. You know the people here are not ordinary. They are...like me. Like you. They’re afraid you’ll ruin what we’ve found here. Peace. A place we can be ourselves. A home for many strays.”
“Independents.” She looked up at him, wondering, confused, wanting something more. “Nothing about my life has ever been ordinary,” she whispered.
“Or mine,” he confessed.
“This morning, in town...” She wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. “I swear, there was something. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.” She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. “I do remember thinking that you would never let anything or anyone hurt me.”
A thought much too much like his own.
The pub was quiet; they were alone. The attraction that had always danced between them intensified. There was power here, a power he had tried very hard to ignore.
