Page 17 of Mountain Man's Muse
“Josh—”
“I’m sorry. But fuck!”
She laughed, then pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry too.”
He sighed. “Go ahead and laugh. This is crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“I didn’t think I was.” The edge to his tone said he might wish otherwise. “So an old iron horseshoe through the eye finished it off when a knife and gun wouldn’t?”
She nodded. “More might follow. I suggest we go back to the house.”
“And find more iron.”
She nodded again.
With Wolly at heel, they returned to the porch. Josh paused to stare back at the night. “What about my stock?”
“The imp only went after Wolly to…”
“To get to you.”
She bit her lip. She knew she should be afraid of Raze’s impatience, if the queen’s vizier had already sent another spy. She should probably be even more afraid that the hunter would be warned by the appearance of an imp and be coming to kill her next.
But most of all, she was afraid of the look in Josh’s eyes. Cold and hard as iron, resistant to any illusion. A musetta’s seductive allure wasn’t going to distract him this time.
In the house, she had a brief reprieve as Josh wiped the mud off Wolly’s coat, murmuringgood dogwhile dispensing small crunchy bone-shaped cookies. Wolly lay down with a soft whine.
The sound ripped at her. “Let me see.”
Josh stared at her, narrow eyed, then he angled over to let her crouch beside him. “What can you do?”
She didn’t answer. Musetta didn’tdoanything. Or so she’d always believed. But just as she inspired tunes and odes, could she encourage the knitting of muscle and bone? She would never have tried such a thing in the faedrealii, but here…
For a moment, she hesitated, nonplused at her own nerve. Why did she think this would even work?
Josh used his hands for his work. She would do the same. She brushed her fingers over Wolly’s shoulder, so lightly the red fur didn’t ruffle as she let her thoughts drift.
On his belt buckles, Josh etched patterns and laid in his polished stones so that the pieces became more than metal and rock. He put a little of himself into each one, and though inspiration might seem wrought of starshine and dreams, what he left behind was real and true and lasting.
The dog was already real and true. If she just reminded him…
Wolly waggled his stub tail and lowered his head to the cushion with a sigh.
Josh scowled. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. I…” She lifted her chin. “It’s magic.”
Josh’s jaw flexed and he stood as if to get away from her.
She gave Wolly a tentative pat on the shoulder and got another tail wag and no whine in return. She smiled before rising to face Josh. “The log rack there by the fireplace is iron. You have the iron skillet in the kitchen and two iron spoons that could be smelted into—”
He took a step toward her. “Why iron?”
“Because that is the only thing that stops them.” She wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her icy hands close to her body. “Be careful though. Many things you might think are iron are alloys and won’t have the same effect.”
“And you know this how?” He took another step closer, looming now.
