She pointed the pencil at the boulder, but Daar covered her hand with his. “Simply pictureit as a pebble, girl. Gently, very gently,” he warned, removing his hand.
Winter squinted at the boulder, pointed her pencil, and pictured a tiny round pebble sitting where the boulder stood. When nothing happened, she squinted harder, concentrated even more, and said, “Turn into a pebble!”
The boulder exploded with enough force to shake the ground as a million granite missiles spewed out in different directions. Winter grabbed Father Daar and threw them both to the ground, using her body to shield his.
Strong hands were on her within seconds, even as the tiny pebbles she’d created continued to fall. Winter was picked up, spun around, and hauled against a hard, half-naked chest as an unyielding broad hand covered her head.
She smiled into her husband’s chest, even as the last of the pebbles finally finished falling.
“Good morning,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him.
He lifted a brow. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
Winter lifted her own brow. “Did you hear enough to be satisfied I’m keeping my vows?”
He scowled at her. “I don’t doubt you’ll keep them. It’s Pendaär I don’t trust.”
“Saints and curses,” the old priest muttered, awkwardly climbing to his feet and brushing himself off. He turned, gasped hard enough to nearly knock himself over again, and stepped back. “Cùram,”he hissed, his hands balling into fists and his eyes narrowed in hatred.
Matt stepped away from Winter and inclined his head. “Pendaär,” he said, his tone civil. “It’s a privilege to finally meet the great drùidhof Pravad.”
“Pravad?” Winter repeated. “Where’s that?”
Both men ignored her, what with being so busy eyeing each other—Daar with a fierce scowl and Matt with an even fiercer grin. Winter stepped between them, speaking first to her husband. “You will stop presenting yourself like that,” she scolded.
He gave her an innocent look. “Like what?”
She waved at his clothing. “Like an ancient warrior drùidh. You do it on purpose, just to push people’s buttons.”
“My clothes were soaked,” he said, still appearing innocent, except for the sparkling gleam in his golden eyes. “You see, there was this sudden rainstorm on the way up, and I needed to change into something dry.”
Winter felt her cheeks redden. “Thank you for putting out the fire,” she whispered, quickly turning to Daar. “Quit your scowling, Father, and help us figure out why I can’t control the energy.”
Daar leaned slightly to the left, looking up at Matt standing behind her without letting go of his scowl. “There’s no reason she can’t control it, other than maybe she doesn’t want to,” he said smugly.
“But I do!” Winter insisted, turning to Matt. “I dowant to control it.”
Matt looked over her head at Daar. “Do you suppose it’s because she’s a woman?”
“Oh, of all the—” Winter stamped her foot. “Being a woman has nothing to do with anything!”
“Aye,” Daar said, scratching his beard as Winter spun to face him. He squinted past her to Matt. “That might be it,” he said with a nod. “The energy is used to responding to a man’s way of thinking. Women think different, ye know.” He finally looked at Winter and frowned. “Ye don’t think straight, girl. Women think in dizzying circles,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “You’re always talking yer way around a problem instead of hitting it straight on. Ye need to start thinking like a man if ye want to control the energy.”
“It was male thinking that got us into this mess,” she growled. “And circling a problem and looking at it from every perspective is what’s going to get us back on track.”
“Not if you keep blowing up the world one rock and tree at a time,” Matt said with a chuckle.
He pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her as they both faced Daar. “It will only take practice then,” he told the once-again scowling priest. “Winter and the energy are going to have to learn each other’s language. May I suggest that she work with you while I help MacBain and MacKeage figure out who else is in this game?”
Daar looked like he was having to force down another sour pickle, but he finally nodded curtly, turned, and silently walked back to his cabin, making a wide swing past Gesader, who was hiding under the porch.
Matt spun Winter in his arms to face him and gave her a hearty, passionate kiss on the mouth.
“Good morning, wife,” he whispered.
She patted his bare chest. “That was very sweet of you.”
He smiled. “My kisses are sweet?”
“No. What you just did for Daar.”
He reared back. “What did I do?”
She traced one finger through the soft hairs on his chest. “You let him keep his dignity by making him feel needed.”
“He is needed,” he snapped. “I can’t babysit you and hunt the strange energy at the same time.”
She kissed his chest, pulled away with a laugh, and started walking down the mountain.
“Sweetness isn’t a flaw but a strength,” she said, spinning toward him. When she heard him growl, she began walking backward. “And whether you want to admit it or not, I am married to a very sweetman.”
He suddenly waggled his fingers at her, and Winter stopped with a gasp and looked down at herself in surprise. She fingered the beautiful plaid she was suddenly wearing, which was draped over a lovely white cotton blouse.
The plaid had a base color of deep flannel gray, with wide forest green stripes running in one direction, and narrow yellow and red stripes running in the other. She looked back at Matt, only to find him standing three feet away.
“This—this is the Gregor plaid?”
“Aye,” he said, smiling in approval. “It’s time you started wearing my colors.”
“Papa is going to throw a fit,” she whispered, looking down at the way the plaid draped over her shoulders like a shawl and gathered around her waist before falling all the way past her knees, all being held into place by a thick leather belt. She bent slightly and looked down at her legs, finding them covered by tall suede leggings that turned into leather-soled shoes.
She looked up at Matt. “Ah, maybe I should have a jumper and some shirts made out of it instead.” She gave him a daring smile. “Thank you. Getting me out of my wet clothes was a very sweetthing to do.”
That said, Winter turned tail and bolted down the steep mountain path, squealing in delight when Matt caught up with her. Without breaking stride, her husband tossed her over his shoulder and proceeded to carry her down the mountain, and he didn’t even snicker when they passed through the burnt remains of her little forest fire.
She was married to a very sweet man, and Winter knew she had more than enough hope for them both.
Chapter Twenty-three
W inter dipped her fingerin the bowl of whipped potatoes, tasted her progress so far, and decided she needed to add more butter. She plopped in several more tablespoon’s worth and started the beater again, smiling as she listened to her mama and Megan arguing over how to get the lumps out of the gravy.
It was hard for Winter to believe she had been married five whole weeks. She and Matt were living at Gù Brath because not four days into her marriage, Winter had lost her first real fight with her husband. She had been soundly defeated, though Matt’s getting her family, Robbie, and even old Tom involved in their little domestic dispute hadn’t been fighting fair.
Winter had wanted to move into the cave while they built their home, arguing that it was cozy and warm and had everything she and Matt needed. Her parents and Megan had been appalled to think she would even consider living in a cave all winter, Robbie had flat out told her she was crazy, and Tom had laughed himself silly and immediately taken Matt’s side.