Page 119 of Broken Veil
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“What are you reading?” Duncan rubbed a towel over his head as he walked back into the massive bedroom in the house outside Canterbury where they had returned after leaving Joshua’s cottage.
Carys lifted two books. “I found a copy of the Bible and the Quran in the library, but the moment I opened them, I started falling asleep.”
She’d collected a massive file of notes over the past couple of weeks, from the translation of the manuscript that Dr. Beck had given them in Oxford to a copy ofSir Gawain and the Green Knightthat she’d found in a bookshop in Scone.
She picked up Laura’s mobile phone. “I went online and found some information about Oshun because it’s been years since I took a class in African folklore, but I can’t print anything out and my eyes are so tired.” She pressed the heel of her hand into her right eye. “Maybe I can find a printer in the morning.”
“Carys.” Duncan wrapped a towel around his waist and sat on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing, lass? You don’t need to study; you need to rest.”
“This is all I can do though.” She stacked the books in a pile since her brain was too tired to read. “I don’t have any superpowers in the Brightlands. Cadell can’t help me be special here, so all I can do is research stuff.” She threw up her hands. “And obviously I’m not even very good at that right now.”
“You don’t need a dragon to be special.” Duncan’s voice was hoarse.
He lifted a hand to the small of her back and rubbed small circles.
They hadn’t made love since Jack Green’s cottage. And since then, they’d met an angel, chased off a bear, met a thatch-repairing messiah who doubled as a forest ranger, and nearly been trampled by a herd of bison.
Carys’s mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions, but after her breakdown in Joshua’s cottage, she was clearer about a few things.
“I’m in love with you,” she blurted. “You are kind and generous and strong. Physically, yes, but mentally and emotionally. You feel… solid. In the best way.”
His voice was soft. “Thank you, lass.”
“And you have this life that feels… massive—and I’m not talking about your money because I feel like that’s not something I should be thinking about even though it’s kind ofright thereand it’s hard to ignore, but that’s like… maybe the fifth most interesting thing about you.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I cannae lie, I’m curious what numbers one through four are.”
She looked straight into his eyes. “Why do you love me? Because I honestly can’t figure that out.”
Duncan frowned. “Carys, what?”
“I’m not special.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s been made clear that on some kind of genetic level I am unique because of who my parents are, but if you take away the magic—because it doesn’t exist in our world—I’m just a somewhat cute adjunct college professor at a moderately ranked state college with no family and a Subaru in desperate need of new tires.”
Duncan was still frowning. “If you need new tires, we’ll get you new tires. What are you even?—”
“You’re special in the Shadowlandsandin the Brightlands, Duncan. And you look like an advertisement for Visit Scotland too. I mean, you’re just…” She looked him up and down. “It’s almost ridiculous how sexy you are.”
There were drops of water on his shoulders, reddish-brown hair curled on his neck, and his arms looked like they were chiseled from marble. Carys had never seen a man as perfectly made as Duncan Murray.
“Why the fuck are you talking about the Scottish Tourist Board?”
“I just need to know that when all this is over…” She felt her heart racing. “I love you, and I need to know that you’re not going to fall out of love with me when I’m just my regular boring self.”
Duncan’s mouth fell open. He stood up, dropped the towel, and walked to the duffel bag on the settee.
His ass was glorious, and Carys was very afraid that this was the last time she was going to see it naked, so she made no attempt to hide her stare.
“You’re pissing me off.” He pulled on a pair of grey flannel pants and dug around in his plaid duffel bag. “Stop this nonsense.”
Murray plaid, of course. Because he was the freaking laird.
“I am not trying to piss you off, I’m trying to?—”
“Are you fucking daft?” He spun on her, his face red and angry. “Are you really that fucking daft, Carys?”
Her stomach dropped, but her anger piqued. “Apparently yes! You are an aristocrat who owns half of Scone and restores castles, Duncan. You know people who” —she looked around the room— “I mean, I’m fairly sure that this house belongs to James Bond or at the very least a British spy who travels all over the world.”
