didn’t know what to do, so she waited.
Munro gave her an encouraging smile and beckoned her closer. He opened the door and stepped toward her. Leaning close, he whispered, “Cover your ears.”
In a well-practiced movement, Eilidh pulled up the hood of her light jacket. If the other man thought it odd, he didn’t say anything, although he did seem surprised to find he wasn’t the only guest in Munro’s house.
“This is my friend Eilidh,” Munro said to the other man. “Eilidh, this is my partner, Andrew Getty.”
Getty kept glancing back and forth between Eilidh and Munro, a smile creeping over his face. He extended his hand to Eilidh. “Haley,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
Munro corrected him. “Ay-lee, without an H.”
Eilidh hesitated, unsure what to do with his outstretched hand. She awkwardly slipped her hand into his for a moment, and felt his strength as he squeezed her fingers and gave her hand a firm downward shake.
“Sorry,” Getty said. “Eilidh. Pretty name. Is it French?”
Eilidh couldn’t help but smile. “No,” she said.
After a slight pause, Getty looked at Eilidh then back at Munro with a knowing grin. “I thought you were supposed to be off sick.”
Munro laughed. “Believe me, I’ll be back as soon as they’ll let me. I went to see the doctor this morning. He didn’t like it, but I got him to approve me going back tomorrow. He said I needed more rest because he didn’t like the unexplained seizure, but the labs didn’t show anything, so I was able to convince him to sign off.”
“As long as you aren’t enjoying yourself too much,” Getty said.
“You went out this morning?” Eilidh asked and glanced toward the window. It was too overcast for her to tell the time.
“I let you sleep,” he said.
Then Eilidh realised what Getty had been getting at. “Quinton,” she said. “You did not tell me you had a seizure.” She turned to look into his eyes.
He took her hand and enveloped it in his own. “I’m fine. Promise. It’s just something I had to take care of so I can go back to work.” He kissed her cheek.
She nodded, but didn’t believe that was the end of the story. She had seen how disoriented he was when she first saw him in the woods. But she didn’t press him, because she wasn’t sure how much he would want Getty to know. The kiss surprised her as well, but perhaps that too was for Getty’s benefit. From the grins he was giving Munro, Getty obviously thought Eilidh was his lover. For whatever reason, Munro allowed him to nurture the belief. Uncertain of the dynamic between the two men, she decided to let it go. Munro would have his reasons.
Munro thanked Getty for dropping by, an expression Eilidh found both curious and amusing, and for returning his phone and car. As soon as the other man was out the door, Munro let go of Eilidh’s hand. “Sorry about that,” he said. “How are you feeling?” A frown creased his tanned forehead. “You had me worried last night. I wouldn’t have left you this morning if I hadn’t had to go to see the doctor. If I’d missed the appointment, I’d have been dead meat.”
Eilidh brushed aside his concern. “I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted to talk about was what happened to her last night, hearing that voice in her head, feeling wave after wave of the blood shadows until they overwhelmed her and she lost consciousness. The blood faerie had led her into a trap, knowing she would follow. He was angry with her, and his rage and confusion frightened her. She didn’t want to admit to Munro that perhaps he had been right. Perhaps this faerie was insane. The thought ran contrary to everything she believed about her race, but his ravings made little sense. Munro wouldn’t understand either, and she needed to talk to someone who would, but she would have to wait for that. She changed the subject. “Did Andrew Getty bring word of the murder?”
Munro
Munro gave her an encouraging smile and beckoned her closer. He opened the door and stepped toward her. Leaning close, he whispered, “Cover your ears.”
In a well-practiced movement, Eilidh pulled up the hood of her light jacket. If the other man thought it odd, he didn’t say anything, although he did seem surprised to find he wasn’t the only guest in Munro’s house.
“This is my friend Eilidh,” Munro said to the other man. “Eilidh, this is my partner, Andrew Getty.”
Getty kept glancing back and forth between Eilidh and Munro, a smile creeping over his face. He extended his hand to Eilidh. “Haley,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
Munro corrected him. “Ay-lee, without an H.”
Eilidh hesitated, unsure what to do with his outstretched hand. She awkwardly slipped her hand into his for a moment, and felt his strength as he squeezed her fingers and gave her hand a firm downward shake.
“Sorry,” Getty said. “Eilidh. Pretty name. Is it French?”
Eilidh couldn’t help but smile. “No,” she said.
After a slight pause, Getty looked at Eilidh then back at Munro with a knowing grin. “I thought you were supposed to be off sick.”
Munro laughed. “Believe me, I’ll be back as soon as they’ll let me. I went to see the doctor this morning. He didn’t like it, but I got him to approve me going back tomorrow. He said I needed more rest because he didn’t like the unexplained seizure, but the labs didn’t show anything, so I was able to convince him to sign off.”
“As long as you aren’t enjoying yourself too much,” Getty said.
“You went out this morning?” Eilidh asked and glanced toward the window. It was too overcast for her to tell the time.
“I let you sleep,” he said.
Then Eilidh realised what Getty had been getting at. “Quinton,” she said. “You did not tell me you had a seizure.” She turned to look into his eyes.
He took her hand and enveloped it in his own. “I’m fine. Promise. It’s just something I had to take care of so I can go back to work.” He kissed her cheek.
She nodded, but didn’t believe that was the end of the story. She had seen how disoriented he was when she first saw him in the woods. But she didn’t press him, because she wasn’t sure how much he would want Getty to know. The kiss surprised her as well, but perhaps that too was for Getty’s benefit. From the grins he was giving Munro, Getty obviously thought Eilidh was his lover. For whatever reason, Munro allowed him to nurture the belief. Uncertain of the dynamic between the two men, she decided to let it go. Munro would have his reasons.
Munro thanked Getty for dropping by, an expression Eilidh found both curious and amusing, and for returning his phone and car. As soon as the other man was out the door, Munro let go of Eilidh’s hand. “Sorry about that,” he said. “How are you feeling?” A frown creased his tanned forehead. “You had me worried last night. I wouldn’t have left you this morning if I hadn’t had to go to see the doctor. If I’d missed the appointment, I’d have been dead meat.”
Eilidh brushed aside his concern. “I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted to talk about was what happened to her last night, hearing that voice in her head, feeling wave after wave of the blood shadows until they overwhelmed her and she lost consciousness. The blood faerie had led her into a trap, knowing she would follow. He was angry with her, and his rage and confusion frightened her. She didn’t want to admit to Munro that perhaps he had been right. Perhaps this faerie was insane. The thought ran contrary to everything she believed about her race, but his ravings made little sense. Munro wouldn’t understand either, and she needed to talk to someone who would, but she would have to wait for that. She changed the subject. “Did Andrew Getty bring word of the murder?”
Munro
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