‘Did you ever consider why the Clans were so keen to keep the Foinse locked away?’ Fergus asked.

I reached up and stroked it tentatively. It buzzed happily in response. ‘They wanted control of the magic.’

He nodded. ‘I hear your warlock friend is suddenly growing remarkably adept.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Lexie has been telling a lot of tales.’

‘Oh,’ he grinned, ‘that part wasn’t the pixie. May told me that.’

I blinked. ‘May doesn’t have a tongue.’

I smiled at her and she gave an uncertain smile in return. Fergus turned to her, his hands fluttering. May watched them carefully and responded. My jaw fell open. ‘Sign language?’

‘Yep.’

‘But she doesn’t speak English.’

‘Gaelic.’

‘Wow.’

Fergus’s eyes softened. ‘Yeah. She’s pretty amazing.’

I stared at him. There was an odd flush rising up in his cheeks. I looked at May; she was peeking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. I took a step back. No wonder I’d felt like I was intruding.

‘Er, Fergus?’

He didn’t take his attention away from May. ‘Mmm?’

‘What about the Innes girl?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’re here because you shagged some Sidhe girl and her dad was pissed off.’

‘Oh yeah.’ He registered what I was saying and turned to meet my gaze. ‘You want to know what my intentions are.’

‘Don’t lead May on.’

His expression was serious. ‘That’s not what this is about.’

I bloody well hoped not.

‘Uh. Eh. Ee.’ May got to her feet and grinned. She braved the weak Scottish sunlight for a few moments and wrapped her arms around me. Not long ago, those arms had been little more than twigs but now I could feel flesh beneath her skin. She was definitely looking healthier. It was amazing how quickly things could change. She leaned her head on my shoulder while the Foinse buried itself between the pair of us. I hugged her back.

There was no mistaking the warning in the look I gave Fergus. He bowed. Oddly enough, I didn’t think he was being facetious or flippant this time. Eventually I drew away and led May gently back to the safety of the shade. Hugs were all well and good but I had business to attend to. ‘Where would Aifric Moncrieffe keep a prisoner?’

Fergus gave me a confused look. ‘In prison.’

I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t mean a murderer or…’

‘A thief?’

‘Funny. Where would he keep someone he wants to hide?’

A spark gleamed in his eyes. ‘Now who would the Steward want to hide?’ he mused. ‘You’re here. Your friends are here. The trolls are here. Your assassin buddy is busy opening up a dress shop. Byron Moncrieffe is getting measured for his new wedding kilt.’ I tried not to flinch. ‘So who are you asking about?’

‘That’s on a need-to-know basis.’

‘You can trust me.’

I snorted. ‘You know it’s been bugging me for a while about who you remind me of. I’ve finally got it. You think you’re like Q. From Star Trek.’