Building From Ashes
Page 72

“Don’t you dare! I won’t have you blame yourself. You allowed me to help you when you wouldn’t let others.” His voice caught. “It was an honor. That’s all these scars mean to me. No blame, Brigid. I won’t allow it.”
She blinked back the tears that threatened her eyes. “You’re not my boss.”
A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Now give me a hug and welcome me back, you brat. You’ve spoiled my jovial entrance with your Irish guilt.”
A reluctant smile worked its way over her face, then Brigid lifted her arms and wrapped them around his huge shoulders and she held. To his goodness. His kindness. The unexpected comfort of his touch. She could feel the laugh rumbling in his chest when he picked her up and swung her around.
“A year immortal and no slips, am I right? That ironclad discipline won’t allow it.” He held her around the waist, her feet dangling in the air, but she wasn’t afraid to fall. She knew he would hold her. Madoc danced around them, yipping and bouncing in excitement.
“No slips. No kills anyway. I can’t stand the all-beef diet you, Tavish, and Max adhere to, so I have been going into town to drink. Cathy’s been teaching me how to do it safely.”
“It’s not for everyone, love. You make your own choices.” He still held her against his chest, and Brigid began to grow more and more heated. Her fingertips sizzled against the wet skin of his neck as the water dripped from his hair.
‘Love.’ He called her ‘love.’ He did that with lots of people, didn’t he? It was just a friendly endearment.
She asked, “Are you going to set me down anytime soon?”
“I haven’t decided yet. You’re very tiny. Have you always been this tiny, or has immortality caused you to shrink?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I know. Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Carwyn finally set her at her feet and stepped back. Her eyes were drawn to his chest again as she examined the scars in the dark.
She had marked him. She had. Her fangs fell again, and a strange, instinctive reaction welled up inside her. It wasn’t guilt.
Mine.
Madoc’s shove against her legs sent her stumbling back, breaking the spell the burns seemed to have on her. Carwyn grabbed her arm with a laugh and tugged the dog by the scruff of the neck affectionately.
“How have you put up with this beast? I’m pleasantly surprised to find him still groomed and fed, by the way. I thought for sure you’d have run him off to live with the sheep by now.”
“I’m not cruel, Carwyn. I wouldn’t put him at Tavish’s mercy.”
She watched him lean over and pick up his shirt. And wasn’t the back view just as nice as the front?
Oh yes, she was definitely going to hell.
Immortality suddenly seemed like a particularly fine idea if it meant she didn’t have to face eternal damnation for being attracted to a priest. Carwyn slung the shirt over his damp shoulder and whistled for Madoc to follow them up to the castle. He slowed his long strides to match hers as they walked and the dog danced around them.
“I thought you didn’t like animals,” he said.
She cleared her throat. “Well, sometimes you get attached to the ridiculous ones.”
Tavish greeted them at the door with his typical grunt, then disappeared to the basement. Carwyn gave an affectionate smile as he watched his youngest ‘child’ wander away. “Where are Cathy and Max?” he asked.
“Edinburgh. Cathy’s boss had some interview she needed to be there for. Max tagged along.”
“You prepared for that kind of thing?” Carwyn eyed her warily. “The kind of security work that Cathy does—that you’ll be expected to do—it’s different than what you did as a human.”
She nodded and led him to the kitchen. “I know. I’m prepared for that. I’ve been practicing questioning people with amnis in the village with Cathy. Using my power in more offensive, as well as defensive, ways. It’s fascinating, really.”
Carwyn looked amused. “Questioning people, eh? How’s that going?”
She cocked an eyebrow as she opened the refrigerator door. “It might be a good thing you’re here, Father. These people need to confess to someone more proper than me.”
That seemed particularly amusing to him for some reason. He sat down and watched as she prepared a sandwich.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She turned to see his eyes dart away from her and over to the radio, which was playing some news program. “Roast beef all right?”
“Fine, thanks. Finally feeling at home here?”
“Hard not to with the Mackenzie clan. After the first month or so, they expect you to fend for yourself. I can make a mean mutton stew now, too.”
“Aren’t you the domestic one?”
“Ha!” She shook her head. “Actually, I learned how to set a formal table at age eight. I could probably still throw a dinner party in my sleep after seeing my mother host so many. I just don’t like company all that much.” He was so silent she turned to look at him. “What?”
“I’ve never heard you talk about her.”
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
Brigid shrugged and turned back to slice the bread that Max had baked and frozen the week before. “I’ve been told that it’s not healthy to pretend the first ten years of my life didn’t exist.”