Aodhan hissed through his teeth. “Hellfire. So that was her play. Send you off to get killed, and then retrieve Kevin from the seelie and keep him for good. Fiendish, and damned clever.”
“It probably would have worked, too, if you hadn’t found me first.” Cathy tipped her head back to look at him, upside-down, her hazel eyes pensive. “Thank you. For everything.”
Goddesses, she was lovely. The flickering firelight caught on the gentle curve of her cheek, lining her with gold. Earlier, she’d stood like a sword between himself and death, yet she was all warmth and softness now.
Aodhan tore his gaze away, because if he looked into those ever-shifting, green-gold eyes for too long, he was going to do something incredibly stupid. With the lightest pressure, he tipped her head forward again.
“No thanks necessary,” he said gruffly, going back to brushing her hair. “I just want to get you and your son back where you belong. Which might prove somewhat more difficult than anticipated, with an unexpected unseelie prince hanging around like a bad smell.”
He felt Cathy tense. “I made Maeve swear that neither she nor any of her people would harm me. But Morcant’s not one of her people, is he?”
“Indeed not. Damn high sidhe. Always able to find a loophole. I suspect Maeve didn’t trust the seelie to dispatch you, so found a way to ensure your removal. Morcant’s well-known for his obsession with human women. All she’d have to do was let him know that you were wandering around here, and he’d be over faster than a satyr could drain a wineskin.”
Cathy shivered under his fingertips. “I suddenly find myself cheering for Sir Ferghal.”
“So do I, which indicates it’s currently snowing in hell.” He drew the brush down her hair in a long, calming stroke. “Look, Ferghal’s an ass, but he’s also a full-fledged Summer Knight with an entire war band at his disposal. Prince or not, Morcant isn’t going to get past that lot without breaking a sweat. And even if he defeats or evades Ferghal, he’s still got to find you. He’ll be looking for a lone human aura, not a changeling sorceress and her faithful steed.”
The word slipped out without thought. He froze, but Cathy didn’t react.
“Meanwhile, we’re only a day away from rescuing your son,” he continued, covering his lapse as best he could. “Once he sees you and the glamours over his memories break, Ferghal will have no choice but to release him to you. After that, we’ll race to Maeve’s sidhean as fast as we can. You’ll be back in your own world before Morcant gets so much as a sniff of your trail.”
Cathy sighed. “I can’t help feeling that something’s going to go wrong.”
“If it does, we’ll deal with it. Based on today, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t handle.”
She shook her head a little. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“Herne’s balls, just take the compliment, woman. You earned it.”
Her hair was dry now, gleaming like polished topaz in the firelight. Still, he kept drawing the brush through that heavy, shining mass, searching for the slightest tangle. For any excuse not to stop.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to doze off right here,” Cathy mumbled, sounding half-asleep already.
“It’s been a long day. We should both get some rest.” With a twinge of regret, he let the brush fall. “You take the bedroom. I’ll be fine out here.”
She twisted round, flashing him a quizzical look. “What about the spell connecting our auras? Don’t we still have to, uh, stay close to each other?”
Goddesses, it was so tempting to say yes. To seize on the slightest pretense to spend one last night at her side. To torment himself with the awareness of her warm body next to his, close enough to touch.
He retreated a step, keeping the chair between them. “The link is well-established. With your own natural power augmenting my spell, there’s no need to renew the ritual so soon. There are plenty of blankets. I’ll be quite comfortable by the hearth, I assure you.”
“Oh,” Cathy said, in a tone he couldn’t quite interpret. She rose, drawing her dressing gown around herself. “All right, if you’re sure. Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
He was almost strong enough. Almost. He watched her head for the adjacent bedroom, bare feet soundless on the floorboards, and she’d almost disappeared through the curtained doorway when he broke.
“Cathy,” he said.
She turned, caught between shadow and firelight. “Yes?”
Oh, goddesses.
This was a terrible idea, for so many reasons. But with her there, soft linen clinging to her curves, her hair streaming down her back… he couldn’t think of a single one.
“We don’t have to sleep together to maintain the spell.” His voice was a stranger’s, hoarse and rough. “But I would very much like to.”