“What about your gatehouse? Don’t you keep an eye on things?”
“That’s not an issue. There are plenty of eyes on Tregeagle whether I’m around or not.”
“The, um, faerie mound thing?”
“Yes.” He smiled lazily as he began stroking my side at the smallest part of my waist.
“I need water. Do you need water?”
“Is there more stroganoff?”
I laughed. “No, but I wish there was because I’d like to see where you’d put it. You ate enough for four grown people or one sixteen-year-old boy.”
“You mean four grown humans.”
“Well… yeah. Or onr teenage boy, also human.”
“Still waiting for an answer.”
I took a big breath. “Okay. If I said you didn’t pass the compatibility test, you’d know I was lying.” His smile widened. “Are you sure it won’t be a problem work-wise?”
“There’s no one to question it, love.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was made to have power over the fae monarchs so that I could keep the peace. You were chosen to have power over all magic kind to keep the peace. No one can stop us from being a couple except you or me.”
After staring into his luminous eyes for a few beats, I whispered, “We’re the power couple.”
“Literally.” He gently caressed the indentation beneath my bottom lip like he was fascinated with it. “What’s the problem? I know you want me here because,” he grinned, “My mum pulled it out of your house fantasy.”
“I do want you here. Emotionally. But what’s the point of being middle-aged if you’re not any smarter than you were at eighteen?” Of course, it was silly to talk to Keir in terms of forty-odd years. “What I’m saying is that, until just a few weeks ago, I was half of a married couple. I haven’t had time to get my feet under me as a single person. I think it would be stupefyingly foolhardy to jump into a live-in relationship so soon. I don’t even know if my divorce is final.” I made a mental note to ask Lochlan about that.
Keir sighed. “So. Sleepovers?”
“Definitely sleepovers.” I nodded.
“Sleepovers every night?” he asked hopefully.
I laughed. “Let’s don’t push it and let’s don’t give it a name. You’re welcome to keep some stuff here. In your room. And your, um, closet. But there’s no expectation. You can come and go. Just as long as you’re not coming and going with other women.”
He pulled me closer. “I’m not a fucking moron like your former mate.”
I grinned. “Somehow I know that.”
“Molly’s intuition lessons?”
“Maybe.”
“What is your intuition telling you right now?”
“That you want something else to eat.”
“Right you are. What’s my prize?”
I laughed. “Since I’m the one who guessed right, I’m the one who should get a prize.” He took my hand and moved it to wrap around the cock that was again swelling to attention. I heard my voice lower and take on an almost unrecognizable sexy tone. “I can’t think of a better prize.”
He nodded just before nuzzling my neck. “Fuck now. Eat later.”
We, or really, I decided that we wouldn’t name our relationship. There was an inner voice that questioned my behavior, considering that I was still married. But I was beginning to sort out which aspects of my inner voice supported happiness, and which were bent on self-recriminations for their own sake. I chose the door with happiness behind it.
I sat at the library table in my study in silk pajamas and a somewhat ratty, old, red plaid robe. Keir had raided the refrigerator and used the toaster oven to refresh the leftover tapas and was now sitting next to me making short work of them.
“These are good,” he said. “Why am I not invited to lunches?”
“Because I see you every night at dinner,” I said absently. “So, I’m organizing this into priority stacks from left to right. The ones on the far left are cases that are no-brainers. I mean so far as making it onto the docket, not outcomes. These other three stacks are in descending order. Of course, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I looked at his distracting shirtless form just as he shoved an entire spicy chicken tapa into his mouth. He chewed with a closed mouth smile while he reached for the one file on the far left. The no-question-about-it case.
As he began to read his smile fell away. He swallowed, turned the page, set it down, and looked at me. “I see why you put this in the serious stack.”
“The serious stack,” I repeated. “Yeah. I’m not an expert on magic