When they touched, everything he wanted became apparent, as if her embrace had the power to pull him from a sleepwalking existence that he hadn’t realized he was in. She was brightness and light and hope. She was his joy.
She was…his?
He prayed to any deity that would listen that she could be his, that this wasn’t a fleeting moment in time but the first of many nights together. He hardly felt worthy of her, but that wouldn’t keep him from wishing.
Rory had never wanted anything more in his life, and it had been a very long existence. At times he just floated through life. The span of a year rarely had meaning anymore. What was a month, a week, a day in comparison to forever? Decades had melted together, turning into centuries.
He didn’t want this moment to slip away.
Rory placed his hand on Jennifer’s side to feel her as his eyes refused to remain open. He detected the gentle rise and fall of her breath in a hypnotic rhythm.
It felt like only a second had passed, but his hand was flat on the sheet. He rubbed over the mattress as he pushed up to look for her. Jennifer was gone. Panic unfurled inside him.
“Jenn?” He pushed out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. “Jennifer?”
She wasn’t there, but her work shirt was folded and draped over the side of the tub.
Rory put on his kilt and grabbed a fresh t-shirt before hurrying to go downstairs barefoot. There was any number of scenarios that could explain her absence, and none of them great—magickally possessed to retrieve an ancient blade to stab him with, kidnapped by his phoenix niece and forced to play princess tea party, tricked into accepting Raibeart’s marriage proposal, sneaking out from a one-night stand.
Rory rushed down the stairs, unsure where he was going, but following his impulses as he turned toward the dining room. It was worse than anything he imagined.
His mother cornered Jennifer.
“Honestly, I’m torn. I need coffee, but I don’t trust anything you hand me to consume,” Jennifer was saying as he walked into the room. “Who knows what kind of acid trip awaits me in that brew?”
Both women turned to him at his entrance. Cait was dressed like a 1950s housewife ready to receive company. His ma held out an espresso mug toward Jennifer, who stared back at it with a dubious expression on her face.
Jennifer wore one of his black t-shirts and a pair of his plaid pajama pants rolled up at the ankles to turn them into capris. Her dark hair was a little messy from drying as she’d slept on it. Most women he’d known would feel at a disadvantage next to his very put-together mother, but Jennifer didn’t appear to have such hang-ups.
“Rory, tell your lady friend that I am not trying to poison her,” Cait said.
“Rory, tell your mother that I don’t want to go on her magic carpet ride,” Jennifer mimicked Cait’s tone.
“Rory, tell your lady friend that I am not a murderess.” Cait lifted the mug as if it were an affront to her honor that Jennifer would not take her at her word. “Or a drug dealer.”
“Rory, tell your mother I want to see her drink it.” Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest.
“I had my morning coffee,” Cait stated, lowering the cup. “Another espresso, and I’ll be jittery all day.”
The last place Rory wanted to be was in the middle of an argument between his ma and his new girlfriend.
“How about I make ya a coffee?” Rory offered Jennifer.
Jennifer studied him for a moment and then looked pointedly at Cait. “Why don’t you give it to your son to drink, then?”
Cait frowned.
“Sure, ma, I’ll drink—” Rory began.
“I will not be thusly accused,” Cait announced, taking the mug with her as she retreated to the kitchen in self-righteous anger.
“Oh my god,” Jennifer said, pointing after Cait as if the act of her leaving vindicated Jennifer in her suspicions. “She was trying to poison me again.”
“Not poison,” Rory said.
“You saw…”
“Probably just a little potion,” Rory explained.
“Just a little potion? Like last night when I hallucinated that I was puking up clumps of smelly mud and leaking black fluid out of every orifice?” Jennifer shook her head. “I’m trying very hard to be understanding, Rory, because this magick thing is new to me, and I realize a lot is happening that I don’t understand, but I cannot fathom why expelling mud is good for me.”
“Who’s expelling mud?” Iain came into the dining room on his way toward the kitchen.
“What are ya doing here?” Rory asked.
“Jane is worried about some of the plants in the back gardens. Something about a sinkhole?” Iain shrugged. “I told her she and the other ladies should jump in because it was probably one of those hot spring mud bath natural spa treatment things, but she didn’t think I was amusing.”
“That’s because ya are not very funny,” Rory said.
“At least I’m handsome,” Iain quipped. “Unlike your unfortunate face—oh, hello, Jennifer.”
Iain winked at her, pretending like he was just now seeing her.
“Hey,” Jennifer answered.
“Ya want coffee? I was about to make some for Jane and me,” he offered.
“No, thank you,” Jennifer said. “And I recommend starting a fresh pot. Cait potioned the last one.”
“She…” Iain quirked a brow and looked at Rory. “Potioned?”
“She knows about magick,” Rory stated. “Our mothers gave her a crash course last night.”
“Oh?” Iain glanced at Jennifer.
“Cheese ball,” Jennifer said.
“I’m afraid to ask.” Iain shook his head. “All I can say is, welcome to the asylum. Once you’re in, you’re never getting rid of us. Kind of like kudzu in the South.”
Rory grimaced, expecting a bad reaction to Iain’s joking.
Jennifer surprised him when she smiled. “Thank you.”
Iain whistled as he continued to the kitchen. His voice could be heard coming from the other room. “Och, Aunt Cait, what is
