Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(48)
When he’d reacted accordingly, she’d been unable to keep from staring at him.
Didn’t that make a male feel proud? Even better, he’d seen no signs of fear in her, just interest.
He smiled at Breanne. “Sorry to interrupt your hunt day.”
“Not a problem. Shay planned to visit the lake, so I’ll join him for a while.” All round, soft female, she smiled at him, belying the sternness in her voice. “From what Darcy has told me, aside from her littermates, she’s only met males who were human, which means she might never have felt desire before. I know from experience how excitement can feel wonderful and terrifying—and confusing. Please be careful with her.”
Gawain could only stare. Never knowing desire? By the Goddess, he’d never considered what living entirely surrounded by humans could mean. He bowed solemnly. “You have my word, Breanne.”
*
Darcy glanced at Gawain. Strolling beside her, he wore one of his old-fashioned white shirts, long sleeves rolled up, shirttails tucked into his jeans. Such a flat stomach and tight butt and…
Stop it, turkey-brained tinker. She’d already made a fool of herself once. Behaving worse than a cat in heat, she’d stared at his…male parts and, when caught, had fled like a cub from a hungry wolverine. But he didn’t seem to be upset with her.
After joining her at the lodge, they’d walked down the highway, past the Wild Hunt tavern, and turned off at the small gravel lane leading to his and Owen’s house.
The lane circled past the large log cabin and red-sided barn. She noticed the chinking between the logs had been restored. The porch repaired. The huge garbage bins were gone. “You’ve done a lot of work in the last few days.”
“Still needs a lot more. Whoever lived here last was a…” He bit back a nasty word. “To neglect your own den, especially one so beautiful, is a crime.” His anger was intimidating, yet appealing. He was a male who would carefully tend anything given to his care—a home, his work, a family.
“At least the lazy slugs didn’t mess up the barn.” With a warm hand on her low back, he guided her to the barn she hadn’t seen yet. “Owen and I are still setting everything up; it’s going to be a great place to work.” He flipped on the lights.
“Wow.” Amazed, she wandered across the massive space. To the left, the long workbenches held a mixture of power and hand tools. In the right far corner, a wealth of carving knives and tools hung on a long pegboard. Blocks of various woods were arranged to one side. The floor and wall shelves displayed finished carvings.
She put a hand to her chest; her heart ached at the beauty.
A two-foot wolf sat with muzzle raised, so realistic she could almost hear its grief-stricken howl.
A waist-high grizzly was turning over a log to look for grubs.
Two teenaged panthers were playing king of the rock.
Eventually, she pulled herself away to join Gawain on the other side of the barn. “You do magnificent work.”
“I do, yes, but Owen is the carver. He likes wood. I work with metal.”
“Owen did those?” The rough, rude, deadly cahir had created such beauty? She turned to look at the sculptures. Some seemed a celebration of play and…connection. Others held such loneliness she wanted to cry. “I…”
Gawain’s mouth curved into a wry smile. “You’re not the first to be surprised. He rarely shows the side of himself that comes out in his art.
She’d thought she was getting to know him.
Like a mountain range, reticent people would willingly display their stony cliff faces and verdant forests. But their hidden canyons, mossy glens, and trickling streams were revealed only to those with the heart to look deeper.
Turning back to Gawain, she asked, “What did you want me to work on?”
Gawain motioned toward the far wall. “This exhaust system. When smithing, I need the air moving to avoid a build-up of carbon monoxide.”
“Sure. Let me take a look.” She walked over. The front panel had to come off. “Do you have a Phillips screwdriver?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “No tool kit?”
“I had one at the prìosan.” She grinned. “I must have forgotten to grab it when I leaped the wall.”
“Careless of you.” He tsked at her. “I’ll ask Angie at the diner to check around. People always have spare tools. Meantime, use this. It’s perfect for traveling.” He picked something up from the workbench and set it in her hand.
“A knife?”
“A multi-tool.” He opened it…and opened it…and opened it, showing the needle-nose pliers, the two screwdrivers, the punch, the—
“This is amazing.”
“Yeah. It fits in a pocket, so you’re never without the essentials.” He smiled at the device with the delight of a true handyman. “I have another. You can keep this one.”
She pulled out the screwdriver, then the knife. Wouldn’t this gadget have been useful in the institution? Occasionally, she’d climbed the ivy with a big screwdriver tucked under her bra. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, catling.”
Well, the best way to pay him back would be to fix the broken fan. “Let me get started. With luck, I’ll have it running quickly.”
“That would be great.” Smiling down at her, Gawain tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, leaving tingles behind.