Well Met(98)

So now I watched Dex play this last show on this last day of Faire with a curious mix of satisfaction, smugness, and regret. I’ve had that, the smug-and-satisfied side of my brain said. But why hadn’t I gone back for more? I pushed down the latter thought, opting instead to appreciate what—and whom—I’d done.

Next to me, one of the vendors sighed. I recognized her; she sold tarot cards and crystals out of a booth shaped like a traveling wagon. She leaned over to the woman next to her. “So much pretty on one stage.”

Her companion nodded. “Should be illegal, those legs. Thank God for kilts.”

The tarot card seller sighed again. “Too bad he’s such a manwhore.”

“Really.” I raised my eyebrows in her direction, and the two women turned to me with conspiratorial grins. There was that feeling again, of being a Faire insider, with access to the best gossip.

“Oh yeah.” She leaned a little closer to me, and I did the same, like she was about to share a secret. “I’m pretty sure he’s got a girl at every Faire.”

“I’m sure he does,” the other vendor said. “Wonder who it is here.” She glanced around the audience as though she could identify Dex’s Willow Creek hookup by some kind of secret symbol. I bit hard on the inside of my cheek. If he was discreet enough to not blab about it, then I would be too.

“No idea,” I said, pleased at how noncommittal my voice sounded.

“Lucky girl, though. I bet she had a hell of a summer.” The tarot vendor snickered, and I forced myself to do the same, though my laugh was a little hollow.

At the end of the song the two women slipped back out of the crowd and back to their booths. As the next song started, there was a touch on my elbow.

“Good morrow, milady Beatrice.”

My attention slid away from Dex and to a different MacLean altogether. Daniel, Dex’s cousin, managed the Dueling Kilts. “Well met, good sir.” I bobbed a quick curtsy, still in character. Then I dropped the accent. “Faire’s about over, you know. You can call me Stacey now.”

Daniel huffed out a laugh. “New necklace?”

My hand went to the dragonfly around my neck, the silver warm now from laying against my skin. “It is,” I confirmed. “Just picked it up this afternoon.”

He nodded. “Looks nice.” His eyes lingered for just a second, then he turned his attention back to his cousins on the stage. Not for the first time, I contemplated the MacLean DNA. Dex and Daniel were both tall, but that was where the resemblance ended. Dex was dark, solid, and strong-muscled, a man who looked like he was about to rock your world in a dangerous way. Daniel was lean and fair, with bottle-green eyes and more of a swimmer’s build than a bodybuilder’s. His red hair was partially hidden under the black baseball cap he always wore. He looked less like he was about to rock your world and more like he knew exactly how you took your coffee and would bring it to you in bed. While the Kilts played the Faire, Daniel stuck around to man their merchandising booth. It didn’t seem like enough to keep him busy, but maybe Dex and the others required that much supervision.

Daniel was a comfortable, easy presence, even though I was pretty sure he knew all about Dex and me. Especially since I’d run into Daniel at the hotel ice machine at two in the morning. There’d been no explaining that away.

Sure enough. “You . . . Um.” Daniel cleared his throat, and I glanced over. His eyes were still on the stage. “You know about Dex, right?”

I blinked. “Well, I’m familiar with him.” Very familiar, but he probably didn’t need details.

He shook his head and leaned a shoulder against a tree, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. “I mean, you know he’s . . .” He sighed and turned those green eyes my way. “You know he’s kind of a player, right?”

“A wench at every Faire?” I raised my eyebrow, and his laugh in response was more of a snort. “I’d heard that.” I sighed a dramatic sigh and looked back at the stage. “Guess I’m not special.”

I’d meant that as sarcasm, but Daniel didn’t respond. I turned my head, expecting a knowing smirk on his face, but instead a flush crept up the back of his neck as he studied the ground. “I didn’t say . . .” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t mean that you . . . I mean you’re . . .” Finally he sighed in exasperation and looked up at me again. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

Oh. That. I waved an unconcerned hand. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” I cast around for something else to talk about. Anything. “So. Off to the next one, right? Are you going to the Maryland Ren Fest? I think everyone hits that one next.”

He nodded. “Yep. Very different than smaller ones like this.”

“Sure.” I pressed my lips together. “I bet you’re glad to see the back end of Willow Creek.” I looked hard at the stage. I loved this Faire. I loved this town. But that didn’t mean that everyone did.

“Not at all.” If Daniel had picked up on my reaction he didn’t say anything. When I glanced back to him he was looking at the stage too, not at me. “This is one of my favorite stops every year. It’s a nice town.”

And just like that, my lick of defensive anger dissolved, and relief swept through me like a cool breeze. “Yeah. I think so too.”