Page 62 of Blood Stone
Garrett’s heart was thundering. As soon as Nial asked the question he knew the answer. It leapt into his mind and glowed there like neon.
Roman.
Nial nodded, as if he had read the name for himself in Garrett’s eyes or expression. “We will play this differently now, Calum. We will try to find a way to see you don’t get your heart carved up at the end.”
Garrett nodded. He worked his way carefully back to the swing seat and waited for his head to clear, then caught Nial’s eye again. “Mine isn’t the only heart in this.”
Sebastian smiled, looking at Nial, who glanced at him.
“What?” Garrett demanded.
“It’s just that,” Sebastian said, “We weren’t sure you had a heart at all, until tonight. Now you’re worrying about everyone else’s into the bargain. That Fettercairn is a potent drop indeed.”
“So it was a crappy excuse to go on a bender. Take your free shots, boy,” Garrett growled. “Tomorrow you’re my employee again and I’ll take it all out of your hide in spades.”
“What makes you think it was a crappy excuse?” Nial asked. “You got blindsided by one of the most powerful human emotions out there and you’ve been ducking this stuff for centuries. I don’t believe there’s a better reason for thinking single malt was a good way to duck it for a while longer.”
“You’re lucky Winter was around,” Patrick added.
“Am I?” Garrett asked sourly.
“You’d be dead, otherwise. Well, technically dead.”
Garrett leaned back carefully into the corner of the swing. “Affairs of the heart have never been kind to me, Pat. Death by Fettercairn seems pleasant in comparison.” As his head gave out an extra hard, heated throb, he closed his eyes. “I would have been spared this bloody headache, too.”
