Page 33 of A Highland Gargoyle's Lucky Star
He gives me a weird look, but I’m used to it.
“So your clan has a psychic? That’s cool.”
He blinks at me. “You accept what I’m telling you as truth?”
I shrug. “Sure, why not? I mean, I don’t know anything about the goddess you mentioned, but I believe in psychics.”
“I’ve found most humans don’t believe in seers. Not in this day and age.”
I make a humming noise. “I see where you’re coming from. There are a lot who poo-poo the idea of any kind of extrasensory perception.” I reach out and pat his yummy arm. “But I’m not like everyone else. My mom is a total New Age hippie who used to run a freaking Wicca crystal magic shop dealio. Believe me, there are total shysters out there who aren’t legit, but I’ve met a few over the years, and even my mom has a little bit of the gift. Not exactly visions, but she gets instincts, and they tend to be really spot on. I’ve learned to listen to them.”
He studies me for a long moment, and I’m caught in his jade-green gaze.
Fuck me, he’s gorgeous.
Before I can put a filter on my open brain-to-mouth pipeline, I blurt out, “So is it true that y’all don’t wear anything under your kilts?”
Elryk freezes for a moment, ironically doing a very good impression of a gargoyle statue.
I brazen through my embarrassment and continue. “Inquiring minds want to know,” I say, licking my lips nervously.
His eyes track the movement of my tongue, and I feel a flicker of hope when I swear I see something heated shimmer in his gaze, but then it vanishes.
“That depends on the man,” he finally says in that deep, growly voice of his that makes me want to climb him like I’m a dancer and he’s my pole.
“However,” he continues, unaware of my lustful thoughts, “among those in this clan, we dinnae wear anything underneath.”
Sweet. Baby. Jesus. New weakness activated!
Now if he’d just call meSassenach…
“One of the reasons we wear a kilt is because it gives freedom of movement to our tails.”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head, and I immediately start checking out his derriere, where I see the pointed tip of his tail sticking out from the bottom hem of his kilt.
I’m really glad at this moment that the Great Hall is not, in fact, a cathedral, because I might have gone up in flames for the very lurid thoughts I presently have about Elryk and his tail.
New fantasy unlocked!
I swallow convulsively several times and squeak out, “That’s nice.” I clear my throat. “Ahem. I can see how that would be… convenient.”
Good. Play it cool, Noah.
“Aye. In battle, we need to be as unencumbered as possible. A kilt is the perfect garment.”
My mouth drops open and I think I’m drooling a little. “Oh my god. Let me guess. You’re like Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“There can be only one,” I whisper reverently.
There’s a moment of loaded silence as he stares at me like I’ve lost my marbles.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit strange?”
I grin. “All the time. It’s kind of a badge of honor by now.”
Looking him over, I take stock of all of the rather noticeable scars on his arms and chest as well as the very visible one on his left cheek. “So you’re a warrior, but not of theHighlanderfranchise variety?”
