Page 12 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
“Now.” He enveloped both of her hands in his. “Tell me slowly, what hasupsetyou?”
She stared up at his rugged, handsome face. Could she tell him? She felt the calluses on his hands, recalled the broad firmness of his chest—and saw the concern inhiseyes.
She sucked in a breath and told himeverything.
He listened without interrupting, letting her pour it all out. All of her worry and fear came with it. But when she finished, he merelynodded.
“Well?” she asked quietly. “Do you think I amgoingmad?”
“No.”
Her gaze jumped upwards, but no imageappeared.
“I think you’ve got a touch of theSight.”
“The Sight?” Shefrowned.
“That’s what it sounds like. One of my old aunts has it. She can tell if a babe will be a boy or a girl, or if a couple will be happy in marriage. But yours is a truth gauge, isn’t it?” He laughed. “I can see you looking up to see if it will show you something different than what I’msaying.”
“Yes. That’s it. A truth gauge,” she said wonderingly. She shivered. “But why? Why me? Andwhynow?”
He shrugged. “And why only men? Every instance you’ve described has been associated with a man. Are thereothers?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this!” She smacked the stone bench with her hand, then shook it when it stung. “I never asked for anyofthis!”
“Who would? But you’ll learn to livewithit.”
“I don’t want to!” sheprotested.
He merelywaited.
She let her anger deflate. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually act like a petulantchild.”
He glanced obviously over her head and she laughed—then noticed the deepening shadows. “I’m so sorry to keep you out here. Had you come for dinner? I’m afraid we’ve likelymissedit.”
“No. I was here on business and on mywayhome.”
She shouldn’t pry, but neither was she ready to lethimgo.
“Business?”
“Yes.” He hesitated, but went on. “Perhaps this will make you feel a bit better . . .” He told her the story of the small parcel of land passing between their two families—and about his own family’s traditions about thepixies.
“The butler just mentioned the pixies too. And your family truly believes they bringthemluck?”
“My aunt still leaves a thimble of milk for them on her window sill in the evening,” heconfided.
“Then why would your father selltheland?”
“A good question—one I asked myself.” He paused. “Perhaps the answer will help show you the way of thingsouthere.”
She raisedabrow.
“My father sold the land to old Lord Banfield because Maevis Grayson advised him todoso.”
“Whoisthat?”
“She lives in the village, an older woman—and she’s reputed to be the head of the localcoven.”
