Izzy held her hands up so he could see she’d put her sword away. The big baby!

Relaxing, he dropped his claws and faced her. “Thought I’d come along. Keep you company.”

“I don’t need company. In fact, what I need is some time to myself.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I said so.” Izzy quickly held up her hands again to stop what could easily become a childish spat. “I’m merely going to your Uncle Bram’s house to pick up some papers that he left behind. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Oh. All right then.”

With a nod, Izzy re-mounted her horse and settled into the saddle. Éibhear stepped back, allowing her to pass. But she held the reins and looked up at him. “You’re going to follow me anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He said it so simply, it made her feel kind of stupid. Like she should just understand that he’d be following her to Bram’s whether she wanted him to or not.

“Why?” she decided to ask, rather than yell.

“There’s some dangerous roads between here and Uncle Bram’s.”

“There’s dangerous roads everywhere. I’ve never needed you to follow me around before, so why would I need you now?”

“You’ve had an army at your back before. Now it’s just you. I’d rather not take the risk.”

“You’d rather not take the risk? You?”

“Aye.”

“You’d rather not take the risk with my life?”

“Aye.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Well, you and my brothers agree on something.”

Tired and worried about more important matters, Izzy said, “Do as ya like, Éibhear. You always do.” Then, with a touch of her knees, her horse moved forward. Macsen eventually followed but only after barking at Éibhear until they went around the bend in the road.

Éibhear landed about a half-mile from his uncle’s home. A small castle near the Bolver Fields. He shifted to human and changed into his clothes, walking the last bit to the castle.

By the time he walked through the open gate, Izzy was dismounting her horse. He expected her to snarl at him again for coming along, but she didn’t. Instead she looked around and asked, “Uncle Bram always leave that gate open?”

“He used to until Ghleanna became his mate. Nothing drove her crazier than to find the gate open. Is that how you found it?”

She nodded and, taking the reins of her horse, walked toward the main building.

“What’s his assistant’s name again?” he asked.

“Robert.”

“You check inside, I’ll check the other buildings.”

Éibhear searched the grounds and even went outside the gates and looked around for about two miles, but he found nothing. When he returned, Izzy had put up her horse in the unused stables and was now sitting on the big table in the middle of the hall. The table was only used for dining when Ghleanna and Éibhear’s cousins were in attendance. Otherwise, the table was covered in books and papers. And now Izzy’s butt.

“Nothing,” Éibhear said when he walked in. “You?”

“Empty.” She glanced around. “I guess Robert could have gone into town. Perhaps he’ll be back later.”

Standing next to her, Éibhear folded his arms over his chest. “Unless he had work to do. Depending on how much responsibility Uncle Bram gives his assistants, Robert could be gone for days. Do you know what Bram needs?”

“Yes, and a general idea of where it should be. Still . . .”

“You sound extremely disappointed,” he noted. “Were you and Robert . . . friendly?”

“I’m friendly with lots of people, Éibhear. But if you’re asking if we were f**king, then no—”

“I was not asking—”

“But he does make a wonderful leg of lamb and I am really hungry.”

“I can make you leg of lamb.”

“Thank you, but I prefer my meats cooked rather than burned to an unidentifiable crisp.”

“That’s Morfyd. She always overcooks the food. I, however, am a wonderful cook. I cooked for your mother. Didn’t she tell you? And by the gods of piss and blood, what is that horrible smell?”

“Oh, yes,” she sighed, not bothering to look at him. “The porridge story. Haven’t heard that in six . . . months. And that horrible smell is my dog. He’s under the table.”

“Can’t we put him outside?”

“No, we cannot.”

“Then can I—”

“Leave my dog alone. He’s not bothering you.”

“He’s bothering my senses. Between that smell and that slobbering sound he’s making.”

“He has allergies, it makes him drool.”

“And this is who you sleep with?”

“He sleeps on his back so there’s much less drool.” Then she added, “Although he does tend to wake up in the middle of the night choking.”

Shuddering, Éibhear stepped away from the table. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I’ll find something to feed us and you find what Uncle Bram needs.” He headed off to the kitchens. “Are we leaving tonight?” he asked as he walked.

“I have no idea what you’re doing, but I’m staying the night. I need time to think . . . preferably by myself.”