Page 71 of The Falconer

The way he says it annoys me. ‘You pitied me, didn’t you?’

Gavin shakes his head and absently strokes a finger across my wrist. ‘Is that what you think? That I did this out of pity?’

‘What am I supposed to think?’

‘You’re my friend,’ he says, eyes searching my face. ‘Do you truly believe I could leave you like that? Wouldn’t you have done the same for me?’

He would risk his life for my reputation – that fragile, superficial thing I’ve managed to shatter beyond repair. He knows the implications if we marry. As a lone Seer, he could go into hiding somewhere, the way the others did. By staying with me, we would never be free of the fae. Gavin’s Sight doesn’t come with the Falconer skills I have to defend myself, and I won’t always be around to protect him.

‘If we ever have a bairn,’ I say quietly, ‘you know what would happen. Our daughter . . . she would be like me. A Falconer.’

Gavin grasps my hand hard then. ‘And our son would be a Seer.’

We stare at each other, with the full weight of our circumstance weighing down on us. I want to be the last of my kind, so I never have to pass such a burden on to a child. How could I possibly marry and bring a child into this world, knowing it will be hunted?

‘Gavin, I—’

Lady Cassilis’s shrill voice resounds from the hallway. ‘What do you mean, my son is not here?’

Gavin groans. ‘Dear God,’ he says. ‘Save me.’

‘Mother,’ I hear Catherine say gently, ‘I’m certain there is an explanation for this.’

‘I know he came here,’ Lady Cassilis says, ignoring Catherine. ‘I demand to speak with my son at once.’

There is a rap on the drawing room door and MacNab pokes in his bearded head. His eyes widen at the mess Kiaran made, but he wisely remains silent about that. ‘Lady Aileana. There is—’ He sees Gavin and breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, Lord Galloway, I hadn’t realised you were here. Do forgive me for not welcoming you.’

‘Not of import,’ Gavin says. ‘If you tell my mother I’m not here, I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Hush,’ I tell him. ‘MacNab, please show in the viscountess and Miss Stewart.’ Might as well get this over with now.

I glance around in dismay. It’s not at all proper for the viscountess to see the room in such a state, but I don’t think I’ll be able to escort her elsewhere. My body has begun to ache, and the pounding in my head is growing worse by the minute. If I stood now, I don’t think my legs would hold me.

MacNab nods and leaves. Gavin takes this brief reprieve to shove his flask into his jacket pocket.

Not a moment later, Lady Cassilis sweeps into the drawing room, heavy silk skirts billowing behind her. A large, feathered hat slants across her brow. Catherine follows her with an apologetic smile. She looks beautiful, as always, in her light blue day dress, with her blonde hair in loose curls.

‘Galloway,’ the viscountess says, eyeing her son with disapproval. ‘Here you are, when I specifically requested a conversation with you earlier this morning.’

I try not to blanch. As I am the lady of the house, the viscountess should have spoken to me first. Failing that, it would be common decency to acknowledge me with a nod.

‘You did,’ Gavin says. He reclines with an amused expression. ‘I was avoiding you.’

‘Obviously.’

The viscountess still doesn’t look at me, instead inspecting the state of the drawing room. I watch her take in the broken vases, the shattered teacups at her feet, the books strewn about the room. She blinks.

‘Is this the permanent state of the drawing room,’ she asks drily, ‘or have we walked in on another of my son’s renovations? This matches the appalling state of your study, Galloway.’

‘We were balancing,’ Gavin says quickly. ‘First the vases, then the books, then the teacups. On our heads.’

I glance at him. What the devil? Who on earth would believe that?

‘Balancing?’ Lady Cassilis looks positively horrified.

‘A new parlour game,’ Gavin explains. ‘Balance an object on your head, and whoever holds it there longest wins.’ He glances over at the broken objects. ‘Perhaps, in retrospect, a rather messy pastime.’

I suck in air as a wave of nausea hits me. I’m determined not to let the viscountess see how vulnerable I am. ‘Lady Cassilis,’ I say through clenched teeth. ‘Would you like to sit?’

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