Matt had a pretty good idea where she was going, and why, and he had no intention of letting her go alone. He waited for several seconds, giving Winter time to get downstairs, then threw back the covers, grabbed his own boots and jacket, and stepped into the hall. He was just sneaking past the last door by the stairs when he stepped on a squeaky board and went utterly still.
The door opened and Greylen MacKeage appeared in the doorway, also fully dressed and his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve a good notion where she’s going,” Grey said in a soft growl. “And I’ll follow her to make sure she’s okay.”
“With all respect, MacKeage, she’s my responsibility now,” Matt said just as softly, “and I’ll tag along behind her without interfering.”
“Ye may have to interfere,” Grey said. “It won’t be a pretty scene when she explains who she married.”
“She survived yesterday well enough,” Matt returned softly. “In fact, I’m thinking she came away completely unscathed, which is more than I can say for the rest of us.”
Grey’s grin slashed white in the dimly lit hall. “That’s because she’s a MacKeage, and we do like our victories.”
“Wasa MacKeage,” Matt said. “She’s a Gregor now.”
“And here I thought her Sutter genes were keeping her one step ahead of you men,” Grace said, moving up beside her husband and smiling at Matt. “Be patient with her, and learn to trust her,” she suggested. “She loves Daar and needs to talk to him. And he would cut off his arm before he’d harm her.”
Greylen snorted, and Grace laced her fingers through his. “Don’t say it,” she warned, giving his hand a tug. “He’s been like a grandfather to all the girls, but he and Winter are especially close.”
Matt darted a look toward the stairs, wanting to catch up with his wife, then turned back to his in-laws and inclined his head. “If you don’t mind, I don’t want her traveling the mountain alone, in case Gesader comes slinking back here.”
Greylen stiffened. “Ye know about her pet?”
Matt smiled. “Did you never wonder what a leopard cub was doing in Scotland eight hundred years ago?”
Grey narrowed his eyes. “Robbie and I both questioned that fact, and carefully watched the cat as he matured, but we saw no signs that he was anything other than a panther and a good companion for Winter. Why do ye worry about her running into him now?”
Matt shrugged. “He was a bit drunk on catnip the last time Winter saw him, and I want to be there when they meet again.”
Grey lifted a brow. “And just where did he get the catnip?”
Matt grinned, gave a slight bow, and started toward the stairs. “From me,” he said, stopping a few steps down and looking back. “You might want to keep him out of Megan’s bed, before he grows to like it too well.”
That said, and not responding to his mother-in-law’s gasp, Matt ran down the stairs, opened the front door, and stepped onto the frosty bridge, immediately realizing he was still carrying his boots.
With a curse blaming his wife for his inattention, he leaned against the rail to put on his boots while keeping an eye on the path leading up from the barn. He was just tying the last lace when he heard a noise coming not from the barn, but from the road leading up the mountain.
He shrugged into his jacket as he hurried across the bridge, stopping only long enough to reach into the inside pocket and pull out his pen, cursing again when his hand emerged covered in ink. He flicked his wrist and the pen turned into his sword, and Matt started running toward the tote road.
The dark shadow of the massive leopard appeared on the path just as Matt reached the canopy of trees. “Hello, you black bastard. How’s your head feeling?”
Kenzie snarled and whipped his tail through the air, then turned and started trotting up the tote road. Matt hesitated, glancing back toward the barn. Surely Winter was riding up the mountain, not hiking.
Kenzie stopped, gave another snarl, then continued up the road until he disappeared into the darkness. Matt slid his sword through his belt and started jogging after him, cursing the fact that his little fairy wife had apparently felt like a stroll this morning instead of a ride. Aye, a good two-hour stroll, straight up.
Matt had been jogging less than five minutes when he heard her, and slowed to a walk as he came up beside Kenzie. He smiled when he realized the woman was actually singing. He tapped Kenzie’
s shoulder to slow their pace, his smile widening as he made out the words of her song.
“Big old black bear, don’t ye come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight…”
That was when he remembered Talking Tom, and the old hermit’s habit of warning the bears he was passing through their territory. Matt followed in silence, he and Kenzie keeping just out of sight, and decided that for as talented a painter as Winter was, she couldn’t sing worth a damn.
They hiked for nearly an hour in the forest, the darkness broken only by what light filtered down from the half moon, before Winter suddenly fell silent and stopped. Kenzie moved off the path to the left and crept through the trees, and Matt went right, being careful not to make a sound as he moved closer to see why she’d stopped.
He found her standing in the middle of the rutted tote road, holding her pencil in her hand.
Remembering what had happened back at the cave when he’d tried to teach her to light the fire, Matt watched with apprehension. The stench of burnt cloth was still trapped in his nose hairs, and he’d likely never get the smell out of the upholstered seats in his jet.
“Abracadabra!” she suddenly said, waving the pencil in a circle above her head. When nothing happened, she lowered the pencil, and Matt could just make out her scowl. She shook the pencil violently, just like she had in her bedroom, then stopped, all but glared it to death, and snapped her hand in a quick twisting motion. “Become my staff!” she commanded, only to yelp when a few weak sparks sputtered out the sharpened end.
“Curses,” she muttered, dropping the pencil and stamping her foot in frustration. “Why won’t you work for me!” She threw her head back. “Why can’t I control the energy?”she shouted at the sky. “I’ve accepted my calling, now give me the power!”
Matt shook his head, wondering what in hell made Winter think scolding Providence would help. He smiled then, guessing that being spoiled as a child had her believing the magic was simply hers on demand.
But truth told, Matt was a bit puzzled himself by his wife’s inability to conjure up something as simple as fire. She had the magic all right, right there at her fingertips; he could feelthe strength of the energy humming around her as it enveloped her in a halo of pristine light.
But the magic appeared to be even more confused than she was, as if Winter were speaking to it in a foreign language. He’d explained to her back at the cave that all she had to do was gently ask for what she wanted, and picture it happening in her mind, but no matter how hard she tried, the energy had only responded in unpredictable bursts of haphazard chaos.
Matt watched Winter pick up the pencil, hold it in front of her face, and heard her let out a frustrated sigh. She bent down and gathered a few leaves and twigs into a pile, stepped back, pointed the pencil at the twigs, and softly whispered, “Please, pleaselight.”
Unable to watch her continue to struggle in frustration, Matt silently willed the pile of twigs to burst into flames. Winter jumped back with a yelp of surprise, then started dancing from foot to foot, laughing and cackling as she clutched the pencil to her bosom.
“Yes!” she squealed. “I did it!” She dropped to her knees and held one hand over the warmth of the softly burning fire. “I did it.” She turned and quickly pulled together another pile of twigs a few feet from the first one, stood up, pointed her pencil again, and said, “Light!”