“I know better than to let a rare and precious treasure slip through my grasp.” Neifion backed away, stepping daintily onto the surface of the lake. “Not sure you do, though. Good luck, pretty lady. I think you’re going to need it.”
The kelpie sank, merging into the water. Aodhan scrutinized the lake, narrow-eyed, until he was sure the dratted creature was really gone. When he turned, he found Cathy looking at him with a bemused expression.
“Do you have an extensive collection of erotica?” she asked.
“I’m a librarian. I have an extensive collection of everything.” He gestured into the woods surrounding the lake. “It’s not far now. This way.”
He started to stride off—or at least, he tried to. His sodden robes tangled around his legs, making him stumble.
“Bollocks.” He started to struggle out of the waterlogged garment. “Hang on a moment. This is like wearing a hobble.”
Cathy didn’t respond. He glanced up, and discovered that she was staring fixedly at the sky.
“What is it?” He instinctively moved toward her, ready to shield her from any aerial attacker. “What have you seen?”
“At the moment, nothing.” Cathy kept her gaze firmly above the level of his head. “Um. You, uh, do wear something under your robes, right?”
Baffled, he glanced down at his soaked leggings. “It would be damned drafty if I didn’t. Why?”
Cathy let out what sounded like a breath of relief, lowering her chin. “Just checking. I—”
Her eyeline intersected with his bare chest. She stuttered, made a choking sound, and spun round.
Now that was plain insulting. He’d worked hard on this form, damn it. He’d spent uncounted nights pouring over anatomy textbooks, tweaking and refining his transformation spell until he had every last detail correct. From Cathy’s reaction, he might as well have jammed his arms on upside down.
“All right, out with it.” Aodhan examined his own torso, searching for the flaw. “What’s wrong with my body?”
“Nothing.” Cathy’s voice had gone rather high-pitched. She kept her back resolutely turned. “Nothing at all. It’s very… very nice. And, um. Wet.”
Aodhan was abruptly aware that she was also very wet. Her soaking clothes clung to her body, emphasizing the soft dip at the small of her back, and generous curves of her hips. Backlit by the setting sun, she might as well have been naked.
He’d seen naked women before, of course. High sidhe fashions tended toward the revealing, and there were plenty of nymphs and dryads who found the entire concept of clothes hilarious. But he’d never taken more than a purely academic interest in the humanoid form.
Admittedly, he’d had even less interest in equine beauties. His head had never been turned by a fine set of fetlocks or fulsome haunches. When other young stallions had been ogling the mares or flirting with each other, he’d had his nose deep in a book. To him, it had all seemed like a monumental fuss over nothing.
Now, it occurred to Aodhan that he might not be entirely asexual.
He jerked his gaze away, clearing his throat. “I could dry us out with magic, but honestly it’ll be quicker to use a towel. Follow me.”
He led the way, grateful for an excuse to keep his back to her. Herne’s hooves, what was wrong with him? It couldn’t be a side-effect from the cursed Call. The relationship between rider and steed was intense, but platonic. Of course, most steeds couldn’t shapeshift, so it was a moot point anyway, but still. Carnal attraction wasn’t part of that bond. It just wasn’t.
Is she attracted to me too?
Aodhan shook his head, irritated with himself. That was even more ridiculous than his own unexpected surge of interest. Yes, she’d seemed a bit flustered by his partial nudity, but that was more likely to be some strange human hang-up than sudden lust. After all, when they’d first met, he’d been in his natural form. She knew exactly what he was.
But you’re a person. Her words floated, unbidden, across his mind. She’d sounded genuinely shocked, as though it would be impossible to see him as anything else. You’re a person.
Thankfully, Cathy broke this not terribly helpful chain of thought. “How long do you think it will be before we can set out after Kevin?”
He almost laughed out loud. Here he was, stewing in hormones like a stallion in spring, when she had far more important matters on her mind. In all probability, Herne himself could have appeared before Cathy wearing nothing but a garland of roses and an inviting smile, and she’d only demand to know how the god’s divinely proportioned phallus could possibly help rescue her son.
“Not long,” he answered, pausing so that she could catch up and walk alongside him. “I don’t want to make any promises, but it shouldn’t take me more than a day or two to figure out some way to mask your aura.”
“A day or two,” Cathy echoed, as if that was an eternity. “I don’t suppose you have any way I could check up on Kevin in the meantime? Like, a, a magic mirror?”
“If I did, I’d have entire armies laying siege to my valley until I didn’t. Unlike most mages, I make a point of not collecting powerful magical relics. Cuts down on the number of raiding parties trying to ransack my cupboards. Though not to zero, alas.”
Cathy cast an alarmed look at the surrounding woodland, as though expecting a seelie war band to canter out from behind a birch. “People attack you?”