Page 28 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“Well, don’t delay, man. Her father is using these weddings as an excuse to fill the old pile with eligible peers.”

“No need to worry.”

And there wasn’t. She’d shattered his wall—and released all the hunger and need he’d hidden behind for so long. It was leaking through the cracks of his carefully crafted control. He wanted her desperately. The miracle was—she appeared to want him too.

Gryff sighed. “Just kiss the girl and be done with it, man.”

Locryn set his shoulders and let determination mix with the emotions washing over him. “Oh, I will.” And he would plan things carefully and deliberately—so that nothing would go awry, this time.

* * *

Several miles down the coast, Thistle sat straight up out of the bed she’d fashioned amongst the soft leaves of a daisy bush. She clutched her chest. Was that—?

It was! It was him—Locryn! And he was nearby, she could feel it!

She’d been connected to Locryn since that long ago night—the night when she’d let her temper and loneliness get the best of her. She’d felt it all; all of his withering hopes and repeated disappointments. Every day since then she had despaired, knowing that she hadn’t accomplished anything but locking him into the same desolation she felt.

But he had stayed away—and so her hands had been tied. She was old, yes, but not powerful enough to travel far from the barrow, or to leave all of the living things that depended upon her.

But he was here! And emotion was stirring in him again—when it had lain dormant and silent for so long.

Her excitement rising and her heart lifting, she gave the bush a last caress and sped off, intent on reaching Lancarrow.

He had come. She could fix things at last!

CHAPTER2

“Good heavens.”Gwyn paused in the act of removing her coat and stared about her in awe. The great hall at Lancarrow was impressive on any day—but now it had been brilliantly bedecked for the holiday season.

“Yes. Gryff’s family has always held to the old traditions,” Tamsyn said with satisfaction. “Nadelikhas been kept alive and well at Lancarrow.”

“I should say so.” Evergreen garlands twined with red and silver climbed the pillars and hung from the galleries—and also stretched across the long mantle, where a massive Yule Log rested, waiting.

She handed her cloak to a servant, then turned as someone called her name. “Lord Locryn,” she said with pleasure as he approached. “I’m so glad you found us so quickly—I’ve something to tell you and you’ll never guess!”

His mouth quirked. “Should I try?”

“No—for I cannot wait to tell you! Tamsyn and I came by the shortcut through the woods. I confess, we peeked through the bracken at the pixie’s barrow—and you’ll never believe what we saw sitting atop it!”

Looking startled, he glanced between them. “A pixie?” he ventured cautiously.

“No.” She raised her brows in expectation of his reaction. “A Cornish chough!”

Blinking, he grabbed her hand. “Truly?”

“Yes! Didn’t we see it, Tamsyn?”

“Yes, yes,” her sister said impatiently. “A bird with a red bill. Fascinating.” She scanned the room.

“Oh, yes,” Locryn checked himself. “You are just in time, Lady Tamsyn. Gryff is waiting for you. Everyone has agreed. You should be the one to chalk the mock this year.”

Tamsyn’s mouth dropped. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“Go on.” He waved a hand and they all saw Gryff step up at the fireplace and beckon his bride. “He’ll explain it all.”

Gwyn grimaced up at him as her sister rushed off. “Who is going to explain it to me?”

“I will.” He extended an arm and began to escort her after Tamsyn, at a more sedate pace. “Thank you,” he said softly, so that only she could hear.

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