Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(84)

“No matter, if we go back now, we’ll be late. And I can promise you, the master won’t appreciate us being late!”

Sorcha blew out a breath to stir the curl in front of her eyes. “Why should I care what upsets the master?”

“He’s been so nice to you lately, dearie! You should be kind in return!”

“He’s been kind?” She wracked her brain, trying to remember even the slightest bit of kindness he had shown to her lately. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember even seeing him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You didn’t notice the daisies on your bedside?”

“Those were from Boggart.”

“Nor the sweetmeats that are far better than the kitchen has ever made before?”

“You were trying new recipes. I watched you bake them!”

“There were far more dresses in your clothing chests than I remember!”

Sorcha shrugged her shoulders. “I found another chest in the hag’s hut that were my size. I’m failing to see how the master has been kind. You aren’t helping, Oona.”

“If you just looked, you could see that he had a hand in all of that.”

“I see just fine,” she ducked underneath a low hanging beam that Oona could fit underneath easily. “But he’s been hiding again.”

“Oh dearie, he’s never hiding. He’s just making sure you’re comfortable in every way he can.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” she grumbled.

Oona shoved her around a corner, through a room she didn’t recognize, and out a side door of the castle. Sorcha spun around, hands on her hips.

“I didn’t even know that door existed!” How could she? Once closed, it blended into the worn stone. “Strange.”

“Is it?” Stone’s deep voice traveled like a physical touch down her spine.

“Oh!” Sorcha spun, pressing her spine against the cold wall of the castle. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Obviously,” he said as he stepped from the shadows. Black breeches covered his legs, his ever-present dark cloak covering his form and blending into the shadows. “Although one begs to understand why you wouldn’t be looking for me? Oona must have told you I requested your presence.”

“She said you summoned me.” Sorcha stuck her chin into the air. “I don’t like being summoned and dragged out of bed.”

His gaze lowered. The burning touch of such a bright look made her knees weak and her hands clutch at the wall for support. He looked as if he could see straight through the thick cotton nightgown. It showed her ankles, which was more than enough, but somehow it felt as though he could see all of her.

Sorcha tugged it higher up her neck. “Why did you want to see me?”

“I thought perhaps we could share breakfast.”

“Breakfast? And I couldn’t get dressed to do that?” She shivered. “It’s nearly time for the first snow fall.”

“I would gladly take the blame for your shivers, if only it was my decision to not allow you further clothing.” Sorcha watched with wide eyes as he swept the cloak from his shoulders and held it out to her. “If I may.”

“So chivalrous,” she commented.

The crystals marring his face had lost most of their strangeness. She now saw him, the man beneath the scars and cruel curse. Still, she wanted to wince when she saw the new cut along his jaw.

She swept the cloak over her shoulders, his lingering warmth enveloping her. She inhaled and without thinking blurted, “Why do you always smell like mint?”

His startled laugh was a balm to her homesick soul. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t think it was a Tuatha dé Danann trait. Bran does not smell like mint although I believe he is the same species as you.”

“You think Bran and I are the same?” The brow not held still by crystals arched.

“Well, yes. Although he has more physical deformities, it does appear that you are similar in structure and build. You are not lesser Fae.”

“Astute. You notice things most humans would not.”

“Why do you smell like mint?”

He chuckled again. “You aren’t letting that go, are you?”

“I must have my curiosity satisfied.”

She watched as he held out an arm for her to take. Strange, she thought, that he could swing so quickly from raging bull to well-bred gentleman. He’d have to work for forgiveness, and a simple gesture of kindness wouldn’t be enough. Sorcha arched her own brow.

“I will give you your answer,” he acquiesced, “if you walk with me.”

“What happened to breakfast?” she asked as she slid her hand over his forearm. Crystals bumped underneath the fabric of his flowing white shirt.

“You seem less inclined to eat.”

“I rarely miss a meal. I would not say no to good food, even if the company may yet sour my appetite.”

A hearty laugh rang in her ears as he guided her from the castle. “You think very little of me, don’t you?”

“On the contrary. I think very highly of you and become disappointed when you do not live up to my standards.”

“Ah, and what standards are those?”

They stepped onto a dirt pathway leading them towards the ocean. The cold, autumn air bit at her cheeks and turned her nose bright red. This had always been her favorite season in Ui Neill. The grass would eventually turn brown, the leaves flaming the same color as her hair. Although she would miss the summer, autumn always had a special place in her heart.