by S. J. Smith
“Ye have magic in yer fingers,” she gasped out.
Grant chuckled low into her neck and sucked on her skin, pulling her blood to the surface and leaving what was sure to be an impressive mark. It was over too quickly, Maisie arching off the bed as her body tensed with pleasure, biting her lip through a sharp moan that sounded strange to her ears as it bounced off the walls. Grant coaxed her down and kissed her lips until she had the strength to kiss him back, wrapping her arms as tightly around him as she could.
“Shift over, lass,” he said softly. She tried, but her body was too weak for her to do much, and he all but lifted her to the other side of the bed and slipped in next to her before drawing off his shirt and pulling her against his chest. Maisie brushed her lips over his skin, tasting the faintest hint of sweat, and breathed deeply of his fresh scent. He stroked her hair, his chin pressed to the top of her head. Maisie tried to keep her eyes open, but found herself unable to do anything other than nuzzle into him and let go.
*****
Dawn woke Maisie. She curled into Grant's body, wrapping her arms and legs as snugly around him as she could manage. The trip back to her village would begin shortly, and there was a large part of Maisie that didn't want to leave. She knew that marriage would be part of her future, but she had never given much thought to it or anything that came with it. Now that she had shared such things with Grant, she couldn't help but wonder about what would happen now. If her father ever found out that she had bed a man who she wasn't married to, then who knew what he would do. And if it somehow managed to circulate around the rest of the village then she would be lucky if she found a man who would be willing to marry her. Her dowry, such as it was, would certainly need to be increased, and that was something she wasn't sure her family could afford.
Grant stirred next to her and rolled onto his back with a deep, heavy sigh. Maisie pillowed her head on his shoulder and slipped her hand beneath the blankets to stroke his chest and stomach. Well, she had wanted something new and she had certainly gotten it. Even if she never saw Grant again, at least she would have an adventure to remember. A pang went through her stomach at the thought. He could have so easily hurt her or done whatever else he wanted, and he had been nothing but kind, and open, and honest. She didn't know of any man in her village, or in any of the ones around it, that was quite like him.
Grant made a noise in the back of his throat and covered Maisie's hand with his own. “Watch how low ye put yer hand, love,” he said.
Maisie blushed and pushed her face into his neck, her stomach twisting pleasantly. She hoped that Grant would forget that they were due to leave, but she had no such luck.
He gently pushed her hand away and sat up to reach down for his clothes, slinging his shirt over his head before he stood. Maisie rolled onto her side and watched him wrap his kilt around himself and tug on his boots. He was fully dressed by the time she decided it was time for her to get up as well and slip her simple dress over her head. Grant knelt and rolled her ankle, looking up at her face, and when she didn't wince he slipped her shoes on and slung her satchel over his shoulder.
“Shall we?” Grant asked.
Maisie wanted to say no, but she just took Grant's hand and let him lead her through the caverns and corridors towards the entrance of the system, a small hole so hidden away that Maisie would never have been able to see it from the outside. When they emerged into the fresh, damp morning air, Loch Morar stretched out before her, its waters still and silent.
“'Tis beautiful,” she said.
“Aye,” Grant replied. A small smile graced his face. “Aye, 'tis.” He took a deep breath. “Come. And watch yer step. I'll nae have ye repeatin' this incident.”
Maisie would gladly do so if it meant spending more time with Grant, but she listened to him and took great care as they made their way down the face of the hill.
It was a quiet journey. They stopped once at midday to eat before continuing on. Maisie kept her fingers laced through Grant’s. Her ankle began to hurt, but not so badly she couldn't walk. She almost wished it was so she would have an excuse to sit down and spend a bit longer with him. Soon after lunch they came to where Grant had found her, and they paused to drink from the clear stream.
“It was you I saw circling above that day,” Maisie said, thankful for a moment's respite to rub her ankle. “Before I lost consciousness.”
“Aye,” Grant replied. He had splashed water on his face and it dripped off his nose and chin.
“What were you doing?” Maisie asked.
“Hunting,” Grant replied. “Stretching my legs, so t' speak.”
Maisie smiled. “I thought dragons were supposed t' capture maidens, not help them.”
“Ye listen t' too many stories,” Grant said with a small smile. “Come, 'tis not far.” He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.
Maisie looked up at the side of the hill, the one she had tumbled down, and bit back a sigh. She wanted to be happy to be home with her family again, but she had had a taste of something different, something better, and she wasn't sure she would be able to give that up.
By the time they reached the top of the hill Maisie was breathless. Grant allowed her to rest and offered her a swig from his water skin. She didn't need him to guide her home, not from where they were, but she wasn't about to tell him as such. It didn't matter to her that he was fae. It was his human side she was growing to adore, and she was determined to keep his company for as long as she was able.
He dropped her hand, however, as they began to pick through the woods, and let Maisie take the lead. They passed by the small meadow where she had had her breakfast, and eventually found the hunting trail once more.
Soon, Maisie could hear the sounds of civilization at the edge of her hearing, and knew for certain that they were in the right place. Grant hung back, one hand on the hilt of his dirk, the only weapon he carried. Maisie guessed he had no real need for a weapon if he could turn into a beast capable of ripping a man to shreds with his talons.
The knowledge should have made her blood run cold, but Grant didn't have the look of a man who had ever taken another's life. With a secret like his to keep, Maisie doubted he had much contact with humans outside of the absolutely necessary. She hoped her father and brother would be kind to him. After all, it was Maisie who had wandered away from what she knew and gotten herself hurt as a result, and Grant had brought her home, just as he had said he would.
He lingered in the tree line as the woods broke and the village spread before them. No one paid much attention to either of them, not even when Maisie took her first step back into the village and cut a path straight to her brother's forge.
Ramsay was making nails, no doubt for an order from one of the other villages, and didn't notice her approach right away. It wasn't until she held out the hammer he was searching for that he did a double take and stared at her with wide eyes before dropping everything and wrapping her up in a hug that near squeezed the life out of her.
"In God's name, Maisie," he said into her ear, "ye gave us quite the scare."
Maisie shoved against his shoulders until he loosened his embrace and let her feet touch the ground again. His joyous expression grew serious and distrustful when he glanced over Maisie's shoulder to where Grant was waiting, just under the edge of the awning.
"It's all right, Ram," Maisie said. "He dinnae harm me."
Ramsay's eyes, the same dark brown as their father's, skipped back and forth between her and Grant before he nodded once and his shoulders relaxed.
"Aye, well, I suppose I owe you my thanks then for bringing my little sister home."
"'Twas what any good man would do," Grant replied with a slight dip of his head.
Ramsay nodded and wiped his hands off on his apron. "Well, come then. Father is eager t' see ye both."
Grant gave Maisie an unsure, questioning look, and at her smile followed after her and Ramsay to their little cottage where their father sat by the fire, as he usu
ally was now that he was getting older, warming his bones and resting his eyes. He looked up when Ramsay's broad frame filled the door, and the smile that bloomed on his face when he spotted Maisie just behind her brother filled her eyes with tears. She and Ramsay were all he had left in the world. He moved far more quickly than Maisie had ever seen to wrap her in a hug that lacked the strength of her brother's but carried no less love.
"Oh, my child," he whispered, stroking her hair. "My sweet lass. Thank ye, stranger, fo' bringing her home t' us."
"'Twas nothing," Grant replied. He had not entered the house, but stood with the toes of his boots just at the threshold. "I'm glad t' see her back safe where she belongs." There was something queer in his voice. Maisie pulled away from her father's embrace with a slight frown to stare at Grant, but he wasn't looking at her.
"I don't have much," Father continued, "but I will give ye what I can t' repay ye for yer kindness."
"That's nae necessary," Grant said. "I'm simply happy t' have returned her t' you."
"At least come in and warm yerself," Father said and gestured to the hearth.
"Thank ye fo' th' offer," Grant replied, "but I must return home. 'Tis nae a long journey, but I must be swift if I wish t' arrive before nightfall."
"Can ye nae stay?" Maisie asked.
Grant finally looked at her and shook his head.
"'Tis nae my place," he said, then bowed, albeit stiffly, to her father and brother. "I'm pleased t' have been o' service," he continued. "Take care, lass. I doubt we'll see each other again." He handed her satchel to her.
Maisie was left speechless, unable to do anything but watch as Grant turned on his heel and walked back through the village. She stood at the door, wanting to run after him, but finding her feet rooted to the ground. He vanished between the trees within minutes, leaving no sign that he had ever been there save for a dull ache in Maisie's chest. She felt Ramsay's heavy hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the door.
"Are ye well?" he asked softly, his gaze intent and serious. "Ye look pale. Did he hurt ye?"
"No," Maisie said quickly. "He was th' perfect gentleman. I'm simply tired from th' walk. 'Tis nae an easy one t' make."
"Aye, I imagine so," Ramsay replied. He didn't seem satisfied with her answer but at least he let the subject drop. "Well, unless ye feel like giving me a hand around th' forge, ye best get some sleep. Ye've quite the shadows under yer eyes."
Maisie hummed wordlessly and nodded, and let Ramsay lead her to her room. Being the only girl in their family had afforded her her own space, and she was grateful for it now as she sat on her low bed with its creaking wooden frame and tried to sort through the feelings in her head.
*****
The trip had tired her out more than she realized. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, but she found herself waking to a dark room save for a single candle burning by the bed and the soft glow of the fire, accompanied by her father and brother's quiet voices from the main room. She endeavored to be quiet, not wanting to alert her family that she was awake. They would doubtless ask her more questions and Maisie wasn't in the state of mind to answer any of them.
Sleep had not dulled the ache in her chest. She was still tired, but her body was taut with restlessness. Being as quiet as she was able, she stood and stretched, and paced around her small room, rolling her neck and doing what she could to loosen her stiff muscles. She had almost expected to be in bed with Grant, and now that the reality was setting in she was finding she didn't like it.
Even the sounds the tiny village managed to make were too much compared to the quiet she had found in the caves by the loch.
She peeked out her tiny window. The moon was high in the sky, but even with its full, bright light she wouldn't be able to find her way back to the loch without risking being hurt in a way far worse than a twisted ankle from a bad tumble. The forest's beasts came out to play at night, and this close to the village Maisie couldn't be sure that Grant would find her like he had the first time. Likely it would be one of the hunters, and then more questions Maisie didn't want to answer would be asked.
Perhaps it was best just to tell her father what she was thinking. He had always taught her to be honest, but would honesty serve her here? She didn't know. All she did know was that she missed Grant, and that watching him walk away had been like losing a piece of herself. Maybe it was some strange faerie magic that he had cast upon her while she was sleeping, but it felt real. Even if she could tell the difference she wouldn't care. Grant was handsome and kind and despite his secret he was one of the best men Maisie had ever met. She wouldn't find better than him, no matter where she searched. He was one of a kind, and he had made her feel special without even trying.
She nearly tripped over her satchel where it had landed on the ground after she had fallen asleep. She stooped to pick it up. The food was long gone, of course, but there was more to be had, and plenty of clean, fresh water in the area. She remembered the way back well enough. If her adventures had been good for anything it was that, and now that she knew where the entrance to the cave system was... As long as she didn't stumble through the hole in the top of Grant's makeshift bedroom then she would have no trouble finding her way back to him.
She hung her satchel off the corner of her bed, thoughts turning once more to her family. They would be fine without her, she knew, even with her father's aging. Ramsay was set to marry soon, and Maisie had no doubt that he and his wife could take care of Father once he could no longer do so himself. The forge was doing well and there was no reason for that to change, not when people constantly needed nails, and tools, or horse's shod. Her mind was already made up, but reasoning through it all made her feel less guilty about wanting to leave and kept her mind off of how she would explain it. She wished that she could write so she could simply leave them a note, but neither of them could read either, so it was a pointless wish. Perhaps Grant could teach her, and one day she could come back to visit and teach her loved ones as well.
Steeling herself with a deep breath, she stepped out of her room to face her family.
***
Ramsay woke her early, bundled in a thick cloak, his face haggard and unshaven. “Up ye get,” he said quietly. “I dinnae want t' be waiting long for this man o' yers.”
“Then get out so I can dress,” Maisie mumbled, shoving at him.
He grunted and stepped out. Everything for the short journey had been prepared the night before. Maisie didn't have so many things that she required a cart to move it, and Ramsay was more than strong enough to carry a bag with her dresses and personal effects. She dressed quickly in a simple green dress and a pair of soft boots that gave more support to her ankle than her normal shoes did, and joined her brother by the front door. He wasn't best pleased with Maisie's desires, but he hid his displeasure well. Maisie lingered at the threshold. She would return, she knew that much, when she could persuade Grant that he didn't need to spend his entire life in a cave.
“I'm ready,” Maisie said.
Ramsay hoisted his pack higher and set off, Maisie close on his heels.
The trip felt longer and was made worse by Ramsay's silence and Maisie's nerves. She hoped Grant would want to see her again. Ramsay had promised to remain nearby, at least, until they were both certain everything had worked out the way it was supposed to. He had a harder time of climbing over the terrain that Maisie did, but made no complaints. When they came to the creek they paused to drink and have a brief breakfast, then continued on their way, Maisie doing her best to remember from which direction she and Grant had come. Every so often she glanced up, hoping to catch a glimpse of a beast in the sky, but had no such luck.
She was starting to think everything had been a terrible idea when they reached the loch and there, bathing near the shore, was Grant's familiar form. Maisie's shoulders relaxed.
“Stay here,” she told Ramsay, and carefully made her way down to the water's edge. She made no effort to hide the noise her footsteps made. When
she was close Grant twisted about, his shoulders dropping when he saw it was only her. Confusion crossed his face.
“What are ye doin' here?” he asked, making a move towards her before remembering he was naked and giving the water a frustrated look. “Ye should be home, with yer family.”
“But that's not where I want t' be,” Maisie replied. “I spoke t' my father and brother. They're nae thrilled, but they want nothing more than for me t' be happy, and I'm happy when I'm with ye.” Ramsay skidded down the rise of the hill behind her, pebbles skittering under his boots.
“Are ye goin' t' let her stay with ye or nae?” he asked. “Because I've walked all th' way out here with her and if all ye're goin' t' do is break her heart then I'm taking her back.”
Grant looked between Maisie and her brother and cleared his throat. “I... if ye dinnae mind turning yer backs for a moment?”
Maisie closed her eyes and listened as Grant waded out of the water. When he cleared his throat she opened them and bit her lip to keep from making a sound that would embarrass her in front of her brother. Grant had hastily wrapped his kilt about his waist and held it with one hand. Water shone on his skin in the sunlight and ran in rivulets down his body.
“Will ye give me an answer now?” Ramsay asked, sounding impatient.
Grant ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed. “Is this what ye want, lass?” he asked.
Maisie nodded. “Aye.”
Grant sighed again and nodded. “I willnae break her heart,” he said to Ramsay. “Ye have my word.”
“Good,” Ramsay said.
“I'll be inside,” Grant said softly, and held out his hand for the bag Ramsay carried. Maisie watched him retreat into the shadows of the cave then wrapped her arms tightly around her brother, burying her face in his neck.
“If ye need to, ye come home,” he said gruffly. He wouldn't cry, but his voice was thick with tears. “Promise?”
