Page 34 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

She looked after Lord Locryn. “I’m wondering if he realizes he just spoke to the ghost child that lives here at the castle.”

“You are interested in that human.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” But she had never admitted her shameful mistake and she had no wish to do so now. “He’s going to investigate a garden filled with local flowers, hedges and trees. Everything that grows naturally around here. It’s an unusual theme for these formal gardens the humans build, is it not?”

“I suppose so.” Morcom frowned. “The men here always tear out my ivy, vines, creepers and mistletoe.”

“Perhaps this spot will be different. Shall we go and investigate?”

“Yes.” He reached out and touched the back of her hand before she could pop out. “Thistle?”

She stilled. What was that tingle—that came at his touch? They’d been friends for countless years, danced dozens of times in the revelries beneath the full moon. Truly, when she thought about it, he’d been her staunchest friend these last years, when she’d felt so down. But why should she feel a jolt now, when she never had before? She looked up. Why should she feel so restless, just at the brush of his even-tempered gaze?

“Yes?”

“Your hair is very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “So is yours.” And it was true. “No one else has such hair.”

“No.” His lips flattened. “They don’t.”

She felt the sudden urge to reassure him, but he was looking after Lord Locryn. Following his gaze, she saw a red-billed crow trailing the man, fluttering from tree to tree.

“Oh! That bird is back. Come on, Morcom. We have to keep it from interfering.” She popped out, in pursuit.

* * *

Lady Gwyn did intercept him before he reached her garden.

“Good afternoon,” she called. “I’m so glad you made it!”

He believed her—and it did things to him, to be truly welcomed with smiles and shining dark eyes. So many old wounds smoothed over. His old shell of isolation shattered under the sense of happy anticipation that danced in the air each time he saw her.

“I would not have missed it,” he vowed.

The hunger he felt for her ached like a gaping maw inside of him. He wondered if she might sense it, be frightened by it—but there was an intensity in the way she looked back at him that made him hope she felt the same way.

For a brief time, he just enjoyed the budding warmth that echoed between them, but after a moment, he shook himself and looked over his shoulder. “Tell me, do you have guests in the Castle who might have brought their children?”

“I don’t believe so,” she frowned. “Why?”

“I saw a young boy out in the gardens alone. He looked young, though he didn’t act it.”

“Was he in the rose garden?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

Her gaze darted back the way he’d come. “Did he seem distressed at being alone?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Well, then, I daresay he’ll be fine.”

“He did know enough to direct me here. I suppose if he needs help, he’ll show up.”

She glanced back again as she pulled him along. “Yes. In the meantime, come and see my little project.” Her lips pursed. “It’s not much to look at yet, being December, and since we’ve only been at Keyvnor a couple of months. But I did make what use I could of the fall planting season for trees and shrubs.”

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