Page 7 of Mountain Man's Muse
The fae had their own holy woods, but none of the runaways would be welcomed there. Not anymore. Was Josh hiding more than he was saying? Out here in the world, she was uncertain of the strength of her musetta power to inspire him. Maybe she just hadn’t found the right incentive to unlock his secrets. She had to find it and, through Josh, find the hunter, if she wanted Raze to lift her exile.
Josh was scanning the valley—as if there was anything interesting to see—so she used the moment to study his face.
Even the ugliest fae had a certain undeniable potency that compelled the eye. Josh had none of that. And yet…
Maybe the simplicity of him stunned her. What sort of man rescued a damsel in distress without expectation of… Ah. Speaking of simple. Why was she making this harder than it needed to be? Inspiration was about passion. And buried passion had a special power.
“Thank you for taking me.” She let her voice thrum in her throat.
His arm, looped behind her back to hold the horse’s reins, flexed against her shoulders. “It was nothing. I couldn’t leave you there alone.”
She resisted the urge to huff in exasperation. She didn’t want him thinking it was nothing; she wanted him to want a reward.
To wanther.
“Still, I’m imposing on you.” She gazed up into his muddy-agate eyes. “As you said, people come to get away. Yet here I am, intruding on you with my needs.”
A ruddy flush brightened his cheeks, highlighting a thin scar that arrowed up his right cheekbone to a point below his clouded eye. “Vaile would want me to watch out for you.”
Vaile would kill her, and maybe Josh too, if the hunter discovered her task.
She tried to stifle the thought of the deadly fae, but the tremble in her hand wasn’t feigned when she reached up to lay her palm against Josh’s jaw. She let her fingertips brush the old scar on his cheek. “I could have died there.”
He snorted. “It’s notthatcold.”
Adelyn blinked. Raze had said Vaile would take her in because of her helplessness. Musetta weren’t celebrated for their sturdiness and survival skills, after all. But this man thought she would have been fine. Wasn’t she obviously useless? Except for one use, of course.
He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her hand down to rest in her lap. He patted her thigh with as much lustfulness as he patted Wolly’s head. Which was to say, exactly none.
“Look.” He pointed toward the clouds. “An eagle. Headed down to the river to fish.”
She blindly followed his pointing finger. Eagle? Fish? This is what she inspired in him, a nature show narrative?
True, she didn’t know much about humans, but she had gleaned enough from gossip of other fae who played in the world. All the fae stories about humans told of their foolishness, greed, and delusions, and humans like William who had found their way—or been tricked—into the faedrealii never seemed particularly complicated. Josh seemed simpler yet. But his core eluded her.
A musetta had to get to the core.
“You love this place,” she said slowly.
He angled his face to track the dark spread of feathers across the bright sky. “Why else would I be here?”
Why else? Oh, because he’d been forced here and had no other choice. Because he was too afraid to be elsewhere. She was just hypothesizing, of course. “Why do you love it?”
He smiled, and a dimple appeared below the scar on his cheek. “Look around. Who wouldn’t be inspired?”
She narrowed her eyes. Was he teasing her? But he couldn’t know she was musetta.
He gazed across the valley. The sun glinted on the hint of gold stubble on his jaw. “Anyone who doesn’t love it here should just get the hell out.” Though the words held the ring of a warning, his tone was pensive.
He was obviously not speaking to her, but to a memory. Still, she took the words at face value. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be here. As soon as she knew the hunter and sylfana were within her grasp, she could contact the vizier, and then she would leave Wolly and Bunco and Josh in the dust with the speed of her departure.
Until then…
“It is magical,” she murmured. She kept her face turned upward toward him.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, his gaze drifted down to her.
So close, snuggled into his chest, she saw his eyes weren’t truly muddy, just…complicated. The sparkle of light off the melting snow seemed to pick out each stroke of color, even the cloudy moonstone gleam that marred his right eye lens. Under her fierce regard, the ruddy flush returned to his cheeks. He shifted, and she felt the prod of his erection against her hip.
