Love by the Stroke of Midnight by Raven McAllan (best historical biographies .txt) 📗

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The trudge home was made easier by the fact she had Paden to hold on to when she slid on the icy surface, or just because she like to be close to him. The closeness gave her the courage she was darned certain she was going to need, made her feel comfortable…safe…

“Cherished?”

“Trust you.”

“Hey.” He reverted to speaking out loud. “You might not have been saying it, but your mind was experiencing it and it hit me hard.”

“Well I wish it wouldn’t,” Marcail said in an embarrassed way. “Why does it?”

“If I knew that, mo ghaol, life would be so much simpler, eh?” Paden held a tree branch out of their way and once they’d moved past let it fall back into place. There was a swoosh as snow fell from it and splattered the track behind them. “I’m hearing you more these days, without actively trying to.” He gave her a swift grin. “Nothing personal, that would go against our creed.”

“And you hearing me say I felt safe with you isn’t personal?”

“Not the same sort of personal as some sort of personal could be.”

There was no answer to that. In spite of the cold, Marcail went hot at the idea some of her more risqué thoughts about him, them and what they could or couldn’t do, being known. “Thank goodness,” she said, heartfelt, and Paden laughed.

“It works both ways,” he pointed out. “I could hear something detrimental or the opposite to what I wanted. I’d be gutted.”

“Ohh, now what shall I think?”

“Nasty. Think about hot coffee, and a warm room.”

The trouble with that was then they would be with other people, and Marcail really wanted a bit longer to savour the idea that Paden was important to her.

“What will happen when we get back?” she asked as they skirted the pebbly beach just before they headed up the incline to the castle. The wind ruffled the gloomy waters of the loch and created waves that hissed as they splashed the rocks. Ominous grey clouds scudded across the sky. It was hard to tell whether it was still before dawn or not. Marcail shuddered. “Brr, menacing.” She waved at the water with the hand not tucked into Paden’s arm. “I hate these dank, brooding-weather days.”

Paden squeezed her arm. “Some say we are the sky, and the clouds are our moods. We need to let them be part of us and understand why. The sky changes from light to dark, as do the clouds. As do…” He glanced at her and smiled.

“Our moods?” Marcail said. “That makes sense.”

“However, I don’t need to read your mind, or the sky and clouds to know you’re tense and worried,” Paden said. “I also to a certain extent worry what comes next. Or more, how you will react to what comes next.” He looked towards the castle, from where a small figure was heading their way, and inclined his head. “What comes next appears to be your sister. Are you ready for the third degree? She has no fondness for me.”

“You worry her,” Marcail said as Bonnie waved and appeared to hurry. “She can’t sense why you’re here or what’s it got to do with me or the wider family. Bonnie likes to feel in control of her situation.”

“She’s also pissed off your parents weren’t allowed to say anything, to any of you,” Paden said shrewdly. “For which I cannot blame her. I was with your father on this, but we were overruled by the powers that be. Sometimes I obey.” He laughed. “Not all the time, or we wouldn’t have had the night we did. Now then.” He gestured to Bonnie in a big sweeping wave. “Look happy or she’ll be nudging my mind, infiltrating yours and discovering aspects of her ability she didn’t know she had. We could do without that at the moment.”

Marcail tended to agree with him. Bonnie on a mission was like a dog protecting its bone. Ferocious and single-minded—about any bee in her bonnet. Which as Marcail knew at that moment was Paden and why he was on the island. It was a pity she couldn’t contact Bonnie’s mind and tell her to back off.

Paden smothered a chuckle with a cough as Bonnie got within hearing distance. “I heard that,” he said in a low voice.

Marcail did her best not to smirk. “True though.” She matched his tone and looked up as her sister stood in front of them. “Hi, you, you’re up early.”

Bonnie frowned. “I took you a birthday cup of coffee just before dawn, to see if you wanted to greet the day with me. You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Marcail agreed pleasantly, choosing to ignore Bonnie’s accusing tone. “But here I am now. Is anything happening before sunset then?” She always opened her presents as they as a family chose to honour the beginning of Samhain. From sunset on the 31st October—her birthday—to sunset the following day. Others did differently and chose noon to noon. Neither was wrong.

“Apart from the fact it’s your birthday?” Bonnie said sarcastically. “And you’ll want to open your presents before Samhain begins? Not a thing.”

“Then let’s go in and have that coffee.” Marcail bit back the snarky words she’d like to say, as in ‘and it’s not even ten o’clock yet’, and risked a quick, “Something’s got her knickers in a twist, I’d better try and find out what,” to Paden.

“You go right on ahead, love. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

Paden sketched a wave. “I’ll leave you two lovely ladies to it. I’ll away to grab a shower and some breakfast and head to the mainland as requested by your dad.”

“His leg playing up again?” Marcail said with a snigger. “It’s very selective.”

“Who knows? I’ve just been requested to go over and pick something up, and I said of course. Adios, amigos.” He walked briskly in the direction of the kitchen door, leaving Marcail and Bonnie to follow him at a less