Page 17 of Enchanting the Elf
“It is meant to be working. In the library. Chasing mice away.”
“Oh.” The word comes out on a breath of disappointment. It seems I cannot manage to do anything else than displease people this morning.
“Let’s go,” I say and incline my head in the direction of my home.
Florence tilts the cat’s head up by scratching under its chin, and the cat starts up a preposterous purr.
“I’m sorry, Sir Purrington. I hope we meet again. Thank you for keeping me warm,” she coos at the cat.
My jaw goes slack. “Sir what?”
“Oops, I should’ve asked. What’s his name?” Florence asks expectantly.
“It does not, in fact, have a name. As I have said, it is not a pet. We just call it ‘cat.’”
“He seemed to like it when I called him Sir Purrington,” she explains with a defiant little tilt of her chin.
“How does a cat— Never mind.”
Florence gently picks the cat up and sets it on the ground. The cat then proceeds to weave itself between her legs, rubbing itself against her like she’s its favorite possession.
It stirs an oddly uncomfortable feeling in me, causing my scowl to deepen.
How could one woman affect me so formidably when I have only known her for days?
“It has never acted like that in front of me or anyone else I’ve seen,” I state, astounded by the strange behavior of the cat. I know it hasn’t caught a mouse in years and usually sneaks into the kitchens to steal food, but it is meant to have minimal contact with people in order for it to perform the duties we expect it to.
Florence straightens her shoulders and a smirk pulls at the left corner of her mouth.
“That just means I’m special.”
“Hmph,” is all I can manage, choosing not to address that statement directly.
“Can I help you carry some of those?” Florence asks, gesturing to the eight tomes in my arms.
I nod. “I would appreciate it. Let me set them on the bench first. It would be easiest to avoid touch this way.”
I move toward the bench and Florence scoots out of the way, giving me enough space to avoid accidentally brushing against her skin. The cat follows her movement, and Florence crouches down to whisper to it while both her hands keep running along its fur.
On the island, I was painfully aware that Florence and her sister are very tactile people. Sadie was practically attached to Everett from the moment they met, both of them having a hand on the other almost constantly.
I cannot imagine what that must be like. Elves do not touch. Or hug. We have no need for that. I have had lovers over the years and they have served a mutually beneficial purpose. It has never developed into anything that could be construed as… feelings. I do not have space nor time for that in my life.
My responsibilities come first.
My research.
My legacy.
It has been difficult to keep my research confidential, but once I have perfected it, all the secrecy will have been worth it. I have taken great care not to reveal my studies to anyone else, despite my father’s best attempts.
When I present my findings, it will alter the way magic is viewed.
Hefting the largest six of the ancient Elvish tomes into my arms, I straighten up and point to the two left on the bench.
“Can you manage these two without tripping?”
For fuck’s sake, she didn’t trip on purpose. Why did you have to say that?
