Why must I burn for someone like Rían? Why couldn’t I burn for someone good and compassionate and merciful? What had I done wrong to deserve this fate?
Clearing his throat, Ruairi nudged a basket of almond fingers toward me. The pooka had met me in the entry hall this morning, the basket of goodies hanging from his arm. “Would ye like another one?”
Why couldn’t I burn for someone like Ruairi? He seemed kind. Definitely polite. And funny as well.
I plucked an oval biscuit from the basket and took a bite. Crumbly on the outside, dense and moist on the inside. Tiny slices of heaven.“Eava must be the best cook on this island.”
Ruairi nodded his agreement, crumbs tumbling down his chin. “She is. But she didn’t make these.” More crumbs landed in the dirt. “I did.”
I held up what was left of the biscuit. “Youmadethese?”
“I’m more than just a pretty face and charm.” He laughed, grabbing another and eating the entire thing in one bite.
Now I really wished I burned for Ruairi. A pooka who could cook. Who knew?
“Your talents are obviously wasted on guard duty.” It seemed such a pointless task considering I’d been here a week and not one person had made an attempt on my life.
He snorted. “Obviously.”
His massive hand rested atop a discarded pile of stones we’d picked out of my garden.
I wonder. . .
“Can I see your hand?”
His brow furrowed, black eyebrows drawing together. “Why?”
“Just give me your bloody hand.”
With narrowed golden eyes, he lifted his hand. Holding my breath, I placed my fingers in his and . . .
Nothing.
Not even a bloody spark. Just warmth and calluses and comfort.
“Are you all right?” he asked, head tilting, reminding me of a curious puppy.
“I’m fine,” I lied, removing my hand and grabbing another biscuit. It was time to bury the disappointment settling in my stomach beneath a layer of butter, flour, sugar, and almonds. Some small part of me had hoped that perhaps the whole burning sensation had been a fluke, a common reaction for any human who touched one of the Danú.
So much for that.
I needed something to distract me from the growing realization that perhaps there was some truth to Rían’s madness.
“Where do you live?” I asked, breaking another almond finger in half and savoring each delicious bite.
Ruairi folded his arms across his chest, studying me through narrowed yellow eyes. “Not far from here.”
Lovely. Another person not willing to give me a straight answer. “Do you have a large house?”
“I’m comfortable.”
“Tell me something personal.”
“Why?”
Because I need you to take my mind off of HIM!
“You’re one of the only people who talks to me all day and the only friend I have in this bloody place.” I snatched the last almond finger before he could get it.“I am trying to get to know you.”