by Nina Mason
Never once in five years had William complimented her appearance or said anything else to make her feel attractive. He’d only ever made her feel self-conscious, flawed, and insecure.
Forcibly evicting William from her thoughts, she warmly invited Axel back in. Standing before her, bare but for his torque, he had looked magnificent. Even that part of him that intimidated her had looked appealing. It was like the rest of him, hard and soft at the same time. And every magical inch of it had filled and thrilled her in ways she’d only dreamed about.
He stirred beside her. “Is it sunup yet?”
“No, not yet.”
But it would be all too soon. Outside the window, the sky had lightened to a soft charcoal gray. Axel’s imminent departure filled her with dread. Would she ever have a night like this again? Though she hoped so, she couldn’t be sure. She only knew she did not look forward to this one’s ending.
Eyes still closed, he ran a hand along her side, over her nightgown. “What are you wearing?”
“A nightgown I bought for my wedding night.” In a way, this night had been just as special—and better in many ways.
“Did you feel too unprotected without it?”
A blush warmed her face and neck. “If you must know, it makes me feel like a bride.”
Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her body against his. “If it were in my power, I would make you my bride.”
Jenna kissed his lips. He was groggy and didn’t know what he was saying, but his declaration nevertheless breathed new fire into the ashes of hope in her heart.
Chapter 7
Axel was sitting in the chair he had made, carving a ring for Jenna from a stick of ash he had picked up on his way back to the cave earlier that morning. Everything was just as he had left it, suggesting his dereliction of duty had gone undetected. Could he risk another night away from his post? Probably not, but the thrilling thought of her was too compelling to resist.
She had brought him back from the dead, had given his life meaning and purpose. She was his Valkyrie, his savior. He would give her a ring inscribed with runes of protection and partnership, and would fashion another larger talisman to hang over her bed on a string made of flax, the sacred plant of Freya, Odin’s goddess wife. Around the cottage’s foundation, he would place staves made from the nine sacred woods into which he had carved chains of glyphs to keep out all not invited to enter.
Aye, crafting these objects would take effort and time—almost all the time that remained until the new moon—but he could think of no better way to pass his daylight hours. When he returned from his quest, he would marry Jenna in a handfasting ceremony only the two of them knew about.
By day, he would carry on as the queen’s portal guardian, and by night, he would go to his secret wife. Except for the nights he was required to spend in Morgan’s bed, of course. He just hoped Jenna would not be too hurt over the adulteries he was powerless to refuse.
They could only be together if Queen Morgan believed all was as before. If she caught wind of the truth, she would make him do to Jenna what she had made Sir Leith do to Belphoebe, the faery scout with whom his friend had broken his vows. Though the queen had granted Axel license to bed other women, she had also made it clear he still belonged to her—body and soul. Only his heart and mind were still his to control. Well, his mind was, leastwise. His heart, it would seem, had a will all its own.
* * * *
When Jenna awakened next, it was morning and Axel was no longer in her bed—or anywhere else in the cottage, she discovered after a quick look around. Not that she’d expected to find him making breakfast, assuming he even ate human food.
She took a moment to muse over what sort of food a faery knight might consume. Did he hunt rabbits in the glen? Did he gather nuts and berries? Maybe she could bake him something or make him dinner sometime. She’d have to remember to ask him what he liked when he returned to her that evening.
The thought provoked a stab of worry. What if he didn’t come back like he’d promised? No, she would not entertain such negative contemplations. Last night had been wonderful. They had parted on good terms. She had no reason to doubt his assurances. Not yet, anyway. Besides, she didn’t have time to tie herself up in knots. There were things to do, places to go, and people to see—starting with Mr. MacGregor.
While she was out in the glen with Axel, someone from the garage had left a message on the answering machine. Her car was ready to be picked up. The problem turned out to be minor, thank God—only a clogged fuel line—and the repair would cost less than she’d feared.
This was excellent news, not only because she was broke and needed her car back, but also because she wanted to ask Mr. MacGregor more about the story he’d mentioned. For obvious reasons, she was eager to hear how things turned out for Tam Lin and Janet. Something—call it a hunch—told her the end of the story might prove illuminating.
As she put on the kettle and waited for the whistle, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to the night she’d first seen Axel, naked in the moonlit pool of the falls. How magnificent and god-like he’d looked. Almost as good as he’d looked standing over her last night.
Now, she knew that beautiful body of his intimately—and was coming to know and admire the person he was inside as well. Yes, he was a faery knight, but he was also a person. He was strong and magical, but not invincible. Just like her, he’d been passively living the life someone else had dictated. Hiding his true self, his true power, to please another. Enduring his existence rather than living his life to the fullest. They might be from different worlds and eras, but she connected with Axel better than she ever had with William.
Unfortunately, her perfect knight was still enslaved. She was free to live her life, but he was still under the control of an evil queen. And, if he failed in his quest, he would be sacrificed to the Dark Lord of the Thitherworld. As unbelievable as it seemed, the threat was as real as the loss of her virginity, the proof of which still throbbed between her legs.
When the kettle sounded, she made herself a cup of tea and took it with her back to the bedroom. It seemed lonelier without Axel there. She went into the bathroom, set her teacup on the counter, and turned on the shower. As she stood under the hot spray, scenes from the night before replayed in her mind, filling her with a dizzying mixture of satisfaction and longing.
Do you know how beautiful you are, Jenna?
Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed a towel and dried her skin and hair. As she combed out the tangles and applied her make-up, she drank her tea. That done, she returned to the bedroom and put on a long-sleeved T-shirt, ankle-length floral skirt, and a cute but comfortable pair of boots. Now ready, she set her cup in the kitchen sink, grabbed her purse, and headed out.
She drove purposefully toward the garage, passing along the way a quaint-looking stone pub, an old-fashioned druggist, and the market where she’d bought her provisions the day before.
Had it been just a day? It seemed like so much longer.
When she reached the garage, she saw her Mini parked off to the side, but no sign of Mr. MacGregor or the tow truck. She parked the Volvo and stepped into the office to settle her bill. Motor oil, gasoline, cigarettes, and exhaust assaulted her nostrils as she entered. Disappointment bit into her heart. There was only one person inside: a young man with shaggy dark hair and heavily tattooed arms.
He did not look up as she approached the counter. She cleared her throat, calling him from his paperwork. As he met her stare, she gave him her most genial smile.
“Where is Mr. MacGregor this morning?”
“Out on a call,” the lad grumbled.
“What a shame. I was hoping to speak with him.”
“What about? Maybe I can help.”
“I wanted to ask him if there’s a library nearby.” She omitted the part about Tam Lin. “I’m thinking of settling here…and thought I might look for a job.”
“There’s a newsagent a few doors down.” His thumb indi
cated the direction he meant. “If I were you, I’d buy a paper there and save myself the trouble of going all the way to Fortrose.”
Though not her type, he was dangerously appealing in a criminal sort of way with all the bravado to match his persona. “Is the library in Fortrose?”
“Aye.”
“And how far is Fortrose from here?”
His grin revealed tobacco-stained teeth. “A whole lot farther than it is to the bloody newsagent, lass.”
Compressing her lips, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly, she needed to be more explicit. “I’m an out-of-work librarian. That is my reason for asking after the library. Not to read the classified adverts, but to apply for a position.”
“My mistake.” He shrugged. “But that being the case, the library in Cromarty is a better bet, as I happen to know the one in Fortrose has no openings at present.” He winked. “I’m dating a bird who works there, if you must know.”
Her fingers drummed the countertop as she fought the urge to give voice to her disapproval. If he was dating a woman who worked at the library, why was he hitting on her? Tight-lipped, she asked, “How far is Cromarty?”
“A wee bit over eight miles.” He pointed west, using his thumb again. “Take the roadway out toward the point and follow the signs. It’s not much bigger than Rosemarkie, so you should have no trouble locating the library. It’s beside an old church, if that helps any.”
“Thank you. Now, may I pay for my car?”
“At MacGregor’s Auto Repair, we never say no to money.” With a lecherous grin, he added, “Or bonny out-of-work lasses. I’ve got a thing for librarians, oddly enough, so, if you get the job, come by the pub after six and I’ll buy you a pint—to celebrate.”
“A tempting offer”—she forced a smile—”but I don’t think my husband would approve.”
He winked at her. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
Her face heated. “We tell each other everything—the reason we’re so happily married.” She gave him another false smile. “But thanks for the offer all the same.”
To her relief, he said nothing more as she pulled out her checkbook and settled the repair bill. With a churlish look, he handed her the receipt and her keys. Five minutes later, she was back on the high street, heading out of town.
The scenery along the short drive to Cromarty reminded her of Ayr in many ways, the reason no doubt, she found herself thinking about her father and the conversation they’d had after she’d caught him burning all her mother’s Pagan books.
“How can you say magic is of the devil when Jesus performed magic many times in the Bible?” she’d asked.
He’d regarded her for a long moment in that menacing way he always did when she asked questions for which he had no ready answer. “What are you talking about? Jesus performed no tricks insofar as I can recall.”
“What do you call turning water into wine and multiplying three loaves into enough fish and bread to feed a crowd? Not to mention, healing lepers, making the lame walk, and raising the dead.”
“Those were miracles, you cheeky girl, not magic.”
Though the difference, in her opinion, were purely semantics, challenging her father any further would have only earned her a whipping.
She forgot her father when she reached Cromarty, a picturesque seaside village of quaint cottages, huddled shops, old churchyards, rolling hills, and breathtaking harbor vistas. There was a good mixture of buildings and open spaces. She liked the feel of the place and got the very strong sense of a history intimately tied to the sea and seafaring.
The library lay at the end of a narrow street lined by charming whitewashed buildings, on the far side of an old church that shared similar, though much grander, architecture. Sandstone quoins framed the corners and arched windows of the humbler, one-storey brick structure. Both buildings were surrounded by iron fences with points on the ends. Victorian, probably. Had the library once served as the church’s rectory? She pulled into the little carpark out front, shut off the engine, and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. After smoothing her hair and reapplying her lipstick, she climbed out and made her way up the narrow path leading to the bright red front door.
Before entering, she stopped to read a posted sign, which told her the library was only open three days a week for a few hours at a stretch. This deflated her hopes with regard to their staffing requirements. No doubt the whole place was run by one formidable matriarch who’d been a fixture there for ages. But, chin up. At least she’d come on a day it was open.
The heady smell of old books invaded her sinuses as soon as she opened the door. Her footsteps shattered the hallowed silence. There was a wooden desk in the midst of the stacks. Behind it sat just the sort of stout, white-haired matron she’d expected to find. As Jenna approached, the librarian looked up from her work and removed the outdated reading glasses she wore around her neck on a lanyard.
“Can I help you?”
Jenna stepped up to the desk, cleared her throat, and pasted on a smile. “I hope so. My name is Jenna Cameron, and I’m looking for a position—as an assistant librarian. Or anything else you might have available at present.”
The librarian looked down her long nose. “What kind of experience do you have?”
“I have an undergraduate degree in English literature from the University of Edinburgh, where I worked as an assistant librarian while I was attending.” Fearing it wasn’t enough, she added, “And hope one day soon to get my master’s degree in library science.”
“I see.” The woman seemed more impressed than she sounded. “Did you bring a curriculum vitae with you?”
Jenna gave herself a swift mental boot to the backside. What an idiot she was. Why had she not thought to bring her résumé along? Though, to be fair to herself, she had not come to the Black Isle with the goal of looking for work, nor did she have access to a printer.
“I’m afraid I didn’t, as I’m here on holiday.” She offered a smile. “But I could e-mail you my C.V. when I return to Rosemarkie later today. Would that do?”
The librarian regarded her with a scowl. “If you’re only here on holiday, why are you looking for work?”
“Now that I’ve graduated, I must find work somewhere,” Jenna said, dry-mouthed. “And I like the feel of Cromarty.”
Though the librarian seemed interested in her credentials, she’d not said outright that the facility had an opening—an omission that weighed heavily on Jenna’s mind.
“You’re unmarried, then?”
“I-I am,” Jenna stammered, caught off-guard by the question, “but—how did you know that?”
A slight smile softened the woman’s otherwise dour countenance. “If you had a husband to consider, you’d hardly be free to apply for a position wherever it suited your fancy, now would you?”
Jenna swallowed and smoothed her skirt. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”
If she got the job, she’d have to keep her opinions in check. Obviously, the librarian’s attitudes about women’s roles were as outmoded as her father and William’s had been.
“The hours are short and the wages meager, but, if you’re willing to give it a go, so am I—once I’ve verified your credentials and references, of course.” The librarian pulled a business card out of a drawer in the desk and held it out to Jenna. “I urge you to give it careful thought, Miss Cameron. Cromarty has its virtues, but a wellspring of eligible bachelors is not one of them—unless you’re uncommonly fond of fishermen. If you’re still interested after weighing the pros and cons, send me your vitae and we’ll go from there.”
Jenna took the card and read the name printed upon it before returning her gaze to Barbara Emerson, head librarian. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Emerson. I’m sure I still will be, as I’m more interested in a career than a husband at present. But...may I ask what the position is we’re talking about?”
“It’s a part-time library assistant to do some shelving and help with the children’
s activities. Does that interest you?”
Was it luck or destiny? Either way, Jenna was elated. She’d all but landed the exact job she wanted on her very first try. “That sounds perfect. Truly. I will definitely be sending you my C.V.”
Just as soon as I’ve created one. As she looked around at the orderly shelves of books, a good thought occurred. Might there be something here about Tam Lin?
With a smile for Mrs. Emerson, she asked, “In the meantime, would you mind if I had a look around?”
The librarian looked pleased. “To be truthful, I would be sorely disappointed if you did not demonstrate the desire to familiarize yourself with our holdings.”
Slipping Mrs. Emerson’s card into the pocket of her coat, Jenna set off in search of the folklore section. Yes, she could ask or check the online catalog—or even search “Tam Lin” on one of the internet-access computers, but doing any of those things might create a negative impression.
The job, it seemed, was hers to lose, which she could easily do if she seemed more interested in finding something specific than the collection in general. Better to walk around and look at everything. Better to appear interested in all her prospective new workplace had to offer than her own agenda.
Jenna took her time perusing the shelves, pausing now and again to withdraw a random book to demonstrate her curiosity. Though eager to find Tam Lin, she did not begrudge the time she spent exploring. The collection was interesting and diverse with an impressive section on local history.
At last, she came upon the folklore section. After scanning the spines, she selected a soft cover compendium of Scottish faery tales, and scanned the preface.
“Faery is one of many names assigned to a hidden race of supernatural beings. Faeries are human in appearance and possess magical powers. It is commonly believed they are the descendants of the Tuatha de Danann or “Children of Danann,” an ancient Celtic goddess akin to Mother Earth. They retreated into the Thitherworld—the realm of immortals—centuries ago after being conquered by Christian invaders.
