I didn’t know how to respond to that. All I knew was that I’d been severely chastised. So I just acknowledged Ian’s speech with a nod of my head. My stomach rumbled in the sudden quiet, and a corner of his mouth lifted. “I think that’s my cue to offer you some breakfast—again.”
I grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve eaten since yesterday. I’m starving.”
“Understandable, given events.” He gestured to the cupboards. “There are bagels and spreads in the pantry, fruit in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. “Want something too?”
He shook his head and held up his mug of coffee like a trophy. “Nope, liquid breakfast, remember?”
A voice called from the doorway. “I’ll take one of whatever’s going.”
I sucked in a breath as I looked up to find Gage standing in the doorway. His upper body was bare, his jeans low on his hips. As he moved toward the coffee machine, I couldn’t help staring at the ripple of muscles across his abdomen.
“Sure,” I replied stiltedly, turning my back to rummage through the fridge, hiding the tinge of warmth that I felt bloom on my face. When did he arrive? Before or after Ian had drilled me?
The fridge was bare except for a jar of pickles, a small carton of regular milk, a tub of butter, and a large jar of peanut butter. I turned back to Gage. “I was going to ask what you would like on it, but the choices are limited—it’s peanut butter or peanut butter.”
A disgusted look crossed Gage’s face. “Just butter will be fine.”
“Hey, man,” Ian protested. “Don’t knock the PB. Many a Scottish lad has grown big and strong on the stuff. You should get your son into it.”
I stiffened in surprise and caught the glare Gage sent Ian. Gage had a son?
Realizing his blunder, Ian stood, chair scraping loudly on the tiles as he pushed it back. “Well, now you’re up, I best go pack. I’m sure you don’t want to waste the day.”
With coffee mug in hand and my ancestor’s Druidic lore book tucked under one arm, he walked down the hallway and entered his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Gage shifted his gaze to mine as if daring me to ask about his son. I was the first to glance away. There was no use asking; he wouldn’t be sharing.
As I moved to drop the bagels into the toaster, I chastised myself again as I felt a flare of attraction at how undeniably gorgeous he looked sitting there with his mussed bed hair curling invitingly against his neck.
In silence, Gage helped himself to a mug of black coffee before claiming a seat at the table. The bagels popped, and I carried them over, reclaiming the seat opposite.
I offered Gage the butter, but he waved it off. “You first.”
I didn’t argue, too hungry to fight over proprietary. As I spread the butter on my warmed bread, I turned my mind to the conversation I’d just had with Ian. A question had been burning in my mind for the past fifteen minutes. “Ian tells me he’s Dormant. Do you think…” I hesitated. “Do you think I could be too?”
He cut me a look under his eyebrows. “Ian’s been very chatty this morning.”
“Well, is it possible?” I pushed. “He said I’m a lot older than other Druids when their magic manifested.”
Gage put his mug down and said deliberately, “No, I don’t think you’re Dormant. The prophecy is very clear that the descendant of Cailleach would rise, and that her magic would be more powerful than any other. Prophecy is a powerful tool. It doesn’t allow us to veer from its course. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason, and it does not pay to second guess why something is happening, or why it is happening that way. Your strength lies in how you adjust to its demands and meet those challenges.” He leaned back then, scrutinizing me. “It’s like I told you on the plane—you need to commit. Are you the hunter or the hunted?”
I held his gaze and replied firmly, “You know I made my choice on the plane. I’m in this for the long haul.”
Our gazes were locked. I refused to break away first. His upper lip curled as if he knew what game I was playing. “Good,” he replied simply. “Because we’re leaving for the Estate within the hour.”
My heart stuttered. I was finally going to my ancestral home—where Nora’s life had been taken, and mine would begin.
6
Brydie
As soon as we left the city buildings behind, the land became vast with open grasslands and numerous snow-capped peaks glistening in the distance. Those mountains called to me, like a homecoming.
During the drive, Ian explained that the Estate was nestled below the Cairngorm mountains, a prominent mountain range in the middle of Scotland. The Estate itself was actually a castle, a historical building built by my ancestors centuries ago. The closest town was Aviemore, a twenty-minute drive south-west of the Estate. Ian explained that Aviemore was a popular tourist town, bustling in winter due to the skiing opportunities the Cairngorm’s afforded.
“Why the Cairngorms?” I’d asked. “Why there?”
Gage had turned to look at me in the back seat, his ebony strands gleaming in the morning sun. “Cailleach had many places she called home. One of them was the tallest peak of that mountain range—Ben Macdui. The Estate was built close to it for that reason.”
Aviemore was a town of old-world charm, full of stone architecture that stood majestic and proud under the canvas of the mountains behind. The quaint village accommodated a number of exclusive shops, an inviting tavern, and a delicatessen. Signs proclaimed the way to the Cairngorm ski field. The exclusive residential area was extravagant, sporting sprawling mansions with manicured grounds.
Once past Aviemore, Ian turned north-east, following a narrow winding path up the mountainside. I wound down the window, allowing the sharp bite of the morning air to hit me in the face. My palms were slick with sweat, and I felt my pulse race faster the higher up the mountain we drove. A sense of dread was building in my chest. I didn’t want to travel any farther. I wanted to turn around, go back the way we’d come. The feeling was becoming urgent with every passing second, as necessary as breathing.
Gage turned to face me again, his intense cerulean blue gaze locking on mine. “Don’t panic. It’s the wards you’re feeling. They deter people from coming here. Once we cross the wards, the feelings you’re experiencing will be gone. Just try to relax, and it will soon be over.”
The explanation settled my nerves, but only temporarily as the emotions running riot in my mind soon overran logic. His gaze never wavered from mine as he murmured, “Think of it as your first training session. Use your mind to block it out.”
I gritted my teeth, struggling to hold my composure, and gave him a curt nod. Don’t break now, Brydie. He stared at me a few seconds longer before turning to face forward again. As soon as his gaze left mine, I exhaled softly. The emotions were intense, invoking dread and despair. Memories of my parent’s deaths were foremost in my mind, especially that moment when the police officer knocked on the door and shared that they were in a car accident and had died at the scene. My world bottomed out then, and all I’d wanted to do was run away. Just like I did now.
Forcing the images away, I focused on taking one breath in, releasing one breath out. I itched to reach for the door handle and spring from the car. My fingers curled tightly in my palms, and I flinched as my nails pierced the skin. This was madness! If this was what a protection ward could do to me, what would real magic do? Gage and Ian showed no outward signs of being affected. Had they developed the skills to block out the wards, and how had they done that?