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Authors: Helen Scott Taylor
Tags: Fiction
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a long coat and a hat, which looked like something from the 1940s and did nothing to make him blend in. Michael wore the same as usual, adding a leather jacket to his jeans and T-shirt. Cordelia slipped on her serviceable blue jacket over her roll-neck jumper and put on boots with nonslip soles. Some of the paths were bound to be steep and slippery. Thorn stood watching them prepare. “Coat, Thorn,” Cordelia said as she hitched her tapestry cat-carrying bag over her shoulder and settled Tamsy inside.
“I haven’t got one.”
She glanced up and frowned.
“ It ’s the middle of summer,” he said defensively.
“We’re in Wales. There are mountains.” She pointed through the trees to the purple peaks in the distance. “The nights get cold.”
He shrugged away her concern. “I’ll be fine.”
Then she looked at his feet. Michael and Nightshade both wore stout leather boots. Thorn was wearing blue plastic shoes that would have been ideal for the beach.
Before she could say any more, he scowled. “Stop treating me like a kid.”
With a sigh, she went back to settling Tamsy, who’d got her claw caught in the bag’s stitching. Thorn was right. She had to let him grow up. She was overprotective because he’d been an abandoned child. Letting go was difficult when he was all she had.
“Ready?” Michael asked, glancing between them. “Better be making a move. We seem to be attracting attention.”
The family groups walking past were all staring at Nightshade,a few of them even detouring around the far side of the parked cars to keep their distance. Cordelia sympathized with them.
They started out, Michael setting a brisk pace up the steep path that rose between the rocks and the river Mellte. Cordelia was soon puffing, but she refused to be the one to ask him to slow down. She hugged her precious bundle of fur in the bag at her side, smiling every time Tamsy poked her head out to look around. They passed the entrance to some old silica mines, then tramped across an area of soggy moorland to a gate. Michael stopped and rested his elbows on the gate’s top rung, waiting for Thorn and Nightshade to catch up.
He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Best I try Niall again now. ’Tis unlikely there’ll be reception in the river valley.” Cordelia twisted her hands together, dreading the call to the pisky king. Michael had already tried to reach him twice on the journey to Wales, but got no answer. After a few anxious moments, Michael snapped the phone shut. “Maybe ’tis best me brother doesn’t know about his lad’s plight when he can’t do anything to help.”
With a guilty flash of relief, Cordelia turned to gaze across acres of rough grassland dotted with ragged clumps of reeds. The falling sun hung low in the sky, painting a golden streak above the trees. “By the time we get to the waterfall, all the human tourists should be headed back. They need time to reach their cars before dusk.”
Michael nodded and stepped aside as a man and woman came through the gate and took the path back to the car park. “ ’Tis a fair old clip to the falls. Farther than I expected,” Michael said.
The sun gilded each wave of Michael’s hair with gold. He leaned forward, gripped the top of the gate, his hands strong, capable. The muscles in his thighs and backside tensed beneath the soft denim of his jeans. Finian’s fate had kept her mind occupied; now Michael’s nearness swamped her senses.His earth elemental nature gave her an anchor. The beat of his psychic presence close to her heart was warm, strong, and reassuringly solid.
Simmering behind his earthy nature, she sensed a hint of a power she couldn’t categorize. That unusual part of him must come from his father. Frustration pricked every time she remembered her brush with Troy. What strange type of being was he?
Thorn stumbled up, folded his arms on top of the gate, and rested his head on them. “How much farther? My feet are
“I haven’t got one.”
She glanced up and frowned.
“ It ’s the middle of summer,” he said defensively.
“We’re in Wales. There are mountains.” She pointed through the trees to the purple peaks in the distance. “The nights get cold.”
He shrugged away her concern. “I’ll be fine.”
Then she looked at his feet. Michael and Nightshade both wore stout leather boots. Thorn was wearing blue plastic shoes that would have been ideal for the beach.
Before she could say any more, he scowled. “Stop treating me like a kid.”
With a sigh, she went back to settling Tamsy, who’d got her claw caught in the bag’s stitching. Thorn was right. She had to let him grow up. She was overprotective because he’d been an abandoned child. Letting go was difficult when he was all she had.
“Ready?” Michael asked, glancing between them. “Better be making a move. We seem to be attracting attention.”
The family groups walking past were all staring at Nightshade,a few of them even detouring around the far side of the parked cars to keep their distance. Cordelia sympathized with them.
They started out, Michael setting a brisk pace up the steep path that rose between the rocks and the river Mellte. Cordelia was soon puffing, but she refused to be the one to ask him to slow down. She hugged her precious bundle of fur in the bag at her side, smiling every time Tamsy poked her head out to look around. They passed the entrance to some old silica mines, then tramped across an area of soggy moorland to a gate. Michael stopped and rested his elbows on the gate’s top rung, waiting for Thorn and Nightshade to catch up.
He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Best I try Niall again now. ’Tis unlikely there’ll be reception in the river valley.” Cordelia twisted her hands together, dreading the call to the pisky king. Michael had already tried to reach him twice on the journey to Wales, but got no answer. After a few anxious moments, Michael snapped the phone shut. “Maybe ’tis best me brother doesn’t know about his lad’s plight when he can’t do anything to help.”
With a guilty flash of relief, Cordelia turned to gaze across acres of rough grassland dotted with ragged clumps of reeds. The falling sun hung low in the sky, painting a golden streak above the trees. “By the time we get to the waterfall, all the human tourists should be headed back. They need time to reach their cars before dusk.”
Michael nodded and stepped aside as a man and woman came through the gate and took the path back to the car park. “ ’Tis a fair old clip to the falls. Farther than I expected,” Michael said.
The sun gilded each wave of Michael’s hair with gold. He leaned forward, gripped the top of the gate, his hands strong, capable. The muscles in his thighs and backside tensed beneath the soft denim of his jeans. Finian’s fate had kept her mind occupied; now Michael’s nearness swamped her senses.His earth elemental nature gave her an anchor. The beat of his psychic presence close to her heart was warm, strong, and reassuringly solid.
Simmering behind his earthy nature, she sensed a hint of a power she couldn’t categorize. That unusual part of him must come from his father. Frustration pricked every time she remembered her brush with Troy. What strange type of being was he?
Thorn stumbled up, folded his arms on top of the gate, and rested his head on them. “How much farther? My feet are
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