Текст книги "Charmed by His Love"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

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trusting him with her children today. Maybe it was the way

he’d reacted when they’d al attacked him the morning of

Olivia’s wedding. Duncan might growl and posture and

threaten like a grouchy old bear, but the guy was al bluster;

a softhearted, protective cupcake disguised as a big scary

man—which, dammit, only made her desire him more.

Peg rol ed onto her side, tucked an arm under her head,

and closed her eyes on another sigh. Apparently she had a

thing for big men, since that’s what had attracted her to Bil y

initial y. It’s almost like she enjoyed flirting with danger.

Nope, she just liked men, period; big, strong, broad-

shouldered men.

And maybe one overconfident, contrary man in particular.

Yeah, wel , she’d see how confident the kissing fool was

by the time her little heathens were through with him. And

on that note, Peg gave a yawn that ended in a smile and

decided since this was her first day off in three years that

she’d have herself a little nap.

Duncan pul ed plastic bins the size of shoe boxes out of the

rucksack he’d taken off one of the horses and silently

apologized to al the women of his clan for al they’d had to

put up with over the years during family picnics, considering

he’d just barely survived the fishing trip from hel . “These

are the treasure boxes I was tel ing you about,” he said,

whispering to emphasize that he didn’t want to wake up

Peg as he handed them each one of the boxes. “Ye empty

your pockets into them, and then add anything else you find

that catches your fancy.”

“Like what?” Isabel asked in a whisper.

“Pretty rocks, odd-shaped twigs, pinecones …” He shot

her a grin. “That poor angleworm ye refused to feed to the

fishes.”

“I heard him squeal when he saw the hook, I swear,” she

whispered, her little chin rising defensively. “I’m not hungry,

anyway.”

“I’m gonna fil my box with moss, then find me a

samalander,” Pete said. “And bring him home as a pet.”

“Mr. Duncan?” Jacob said as he dug no less than ten

smal rocks out of his pocket and dropped them in his bin.

Duncan sighed, figuring misterwas forever etched in the

children’s brains, because only Charlotte had successful y

dropped it today. “You gonna tel Mom that I cried?” the boy

asked, his big blue eyes pleading.

“No,” Duncan said, ruffling his hair, “because then I’d

have to tel her that I cried, too. And your brother and sisters

aren’t going to tel , either, are you,” he said rather than

asked, giving them each a meaningful look.

Al three of them shook their heads, and Charlotte added

a shrug as she gave Jacob a motherly smile. “Fish that big

are tough to eat anyway, so it’s good that you wanted to

throw him back.”

“You can tel Mom that I baited my own hook,” Isabel

interjected. “With a grub, ’cause grubs don’t wiggle and

scream.”

“We don’t gotta tel her I fel in, do we?” Pete asked, his

big blue eyes also pleading yet somehow defiant. “’Cause I

saved myself andgot that gosh-dang fish.”

Yes, and the kid had taken ten years off Duncan’s life.

He’d had to wrap Pete up in his jacket and build a quick fire

to dry out his pants and shirt and jacket, because he’d

forgotten to bring their changes of clothes and he hadn’t

wanted to leave them alone to run back and get them. “I’l let

each of you decide what your mother needs to know about

today’s little … adventure.”

“But I don’t think we should tel her you cussed, okay?”

Jacob said. “’Cause she might think you’re unsevralized

and not let you be the boss of us again.”

Duncan nodded gravely. “That might be wise. Okay, ye

have your boxes and a little while before we have our picnic

lunch, so see what treasures this grand mountain is wanting

you to bring home—al while being as quiet as church

mice.” While I go watch your mother nap and calm my

nerves,he silently added, and never, ever underestimate her again.

Jacob and Pete took off, actual y tiptoeing as they went

in search of treasure. Isabel looked to Charlotte for

direction and fol owed her big sister up the ledge where the

two girls started col ecting pinecones from under the lone

stunted pine.

Duncan walked over to where Peg was sleeping and

settled down beside her with a silent sigh as he gazed

across the fiord at his mountain. Once he dropped the

Thompson tribe back home, he decided, he was going to

go find a boat.

He looked down at Peg when he heard her stir and

reclined back on his elbow beside her. “Thank you,” he said

as she stretched like a lazy kitten.

“For?” she asked, blinking herself awake.

“For trusting me with your children enough to actual y fal

asleep.”

“Only my eyes were closed; my ears haven’t slept since

Charlotte was born.”

“Have ye noticed that when ye see her as eight she’s

Charlotte, but when you need her to be older ye cal her

Charlie? And that she responds in kind, I believe without

even realizing she’s doing so? Quit your scowling,” he said

with a chuckle. “That was a compliment to the both of you.

She’s going to grow up to be a remarkable woman—just

like her mother.” He propped his head on his hand with a

snort. “And may God have mercy on the poor bastard who

eventual y captures her heart.”

“He’s going to have to get past me first,” she said around

her scowl. “And thank you for recognizing that she’s a lot

tougher and smarter than she appears—just like her

mother.” She rol ed onto her back and smiled up at the sky.

“And also for insisting we come up here today. I hadn’t

realized how much I needed to … just get away.”

“I admit to being surprised at how much ye seem to be

enjoying yourself.”

She turned her smile on him. “There’s something about

sitting—and napping—on top of a mountain that puts things

in perspective. I think it’s being able to see so far and also

to feel how big the world is from up here. It reminds me how

insignificant most problems are in the grand scheme

of things.”

“Aye,” he said, sitting up to rest his arms on his bent

knees as he stared across the fiord. “Mountains have a

magical way of calming the soul.” He turned his head when

she also sat up and found her eyes widened in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

Those beautiful eyes suddenly narrowed. “Have you been

talking to Olivia?”

“About …”

“Magic.”

It was Duncan’s turn to be surprised, although he made

sure not to show it as he wondered what in hel Mac’s wife

was doing mentioning the magic to Peg. Then again,

maybe this was the opening he needed to start easing her

into it. “Olivia’s been talking to you about magic?” He

grinned. “As in special delivery fairies?”

“No, she was talking about …” She gestured at

Bottomless. “She cal ed it earth-shaking, mountain-moving

magic that can’t be explained.” Duncan saw her cheeks

darken as she wrapped her arms around her knees and

watched her children foraging at the edge of the trees

below them. “The kind of magic that makes anything

possible.” She looked at him again. “Olivia asked me if I

believe it exists.”

“And your answer was?”

She lowered her gaze. “I told her that I hadn’t real y given

it much thought.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he said, which lifted her beautiful

blue eyes back to his. “And I’ve decided magic definitely

exists.”

“Why?”

“Because not believing is an exercise in futility, as the

magic goes about its business whether ye think it exists or

not. And if ye don’t believe, then why even get out of bed in

the morning? Or make plans for tomorrow? Or want, or

hope, or dream, or even try? Magic is what powers life,

Peg. Without it, we wouldn’t be able to take our next

breaths.”

“Olivia cal ed your family … charmed. She said al you

MacKeage men live to ripe old ages but that you look and

act years younger.”

“Aye, to our women’s dismay, we can be real bastards

like that sometimes.”

That got him a tentative smile, and then she looked away.

“Olivia cal ed the magic benevolent, with the power to

overcome … bad things.”

“That would be the business part of it, lass; the power of

right over might.” He grinned. “Although might does come in

handy on occasion.”

“Olivia also said you MacKeages are rather old-

fashioned.”

“Olivia seems to be saying a lot of things to you about my

family; any particular reason why?”

“Because friends look out for each other.” She gave him

a sad smile. “And because she’s worried that I’m going to

die a lonely old widow like she thought she was going to

before she met Mac.” She shook her head. “Are you aware

they knew each other only a few weeks before they got

married? Olivia was just going along, minding her

business, waiting for her in-laws to sel Inglenook so she

could buy it when Mac suddenly appeared as if out of thin

air, and the next thing I know she’s asking me to be a

bridesmaid in her wedding—that Mac gave her only six

days to plan.”

“The man does seem to make things happen whenever

he appears out of thin air,” Duncan said, wondering what

Peg would think if she knew how true that was. He gestured

at the mountain they were sitting on. “He certainly didn’t

waste any time getting the resort started. He cal ed me on

the Wednesday before his wedding and asked if I could

start the road the fol owing Monday.”

“Why you?”

Yes, why him? “Wel , I believe there’s a distant …

ancestry between the husband of one of my cousins and

the Oceanuses.” He shrugged. “I guess Mac wanted to

keep it in the family. So we’re good on the magic? You’ve

decided ye believe it exists?”

Her pretty little nose lifted just enough that she had to

look down it to see him—although he noticed she was also

fighting a smile. “I’ve decided I’l believe it exists when I see

this powerful, benevolent magic in action.”

He straightened in surprise. “But ye just did, lass.”

“When?”

“When I returned fourchildren back to ye safe and

sound.” He scrubbed his face with his hands, then peeked

through his fingers at her. “Because I hope ye know that

herding chickens is easier than keeping track of your tribe

when they’re focused on catching fish.”

Her eyes widened in mock horror even as her lips

twitched again. “Did you end up having to draw your

sword?”

He dropped his hands to show her his scowl.

“Eventual y.”

The mockwent out of her horror. “You threatened my

babies?”

“I never said a word. I merely drew my sword when they

continued to wander in different directions and proceeded

to slice a couple of smal fir trees off at their stumps with

single blows.” He let his smile final y escape with his

chuckle. “Ye should have seen your babies, Peg. The

bloodthirsty little heathens came running so fast that Isabel

didn’t even realize she was clutching her angleworm to her

chest.”

He saw Peg blow out a sigh, and her lips final y made it

to a ful -blown smile. “Maybe the real magic is that they

brought youback safe and sound. You do have a tendency

to limp down the mountain every time you come up here

with Mac.”

He arched a brow. “Is there anything you and Olivia don’t

tel each other?”

Peg batted her eyelashes at him, and Duncan saw

exactly where Isabel had learned that little trick. “She didn’t

tel me which of you won the manly duels.”

Duncan snorted and rubbed his face again to hide his

smile. “I did.”

“You did not,” she said with a gasp.

He dropped his hands to glare at her. “Feeling pretty

brave, are ye, thinking I won’t kiss you in front of your

children? What makes you so certain I didn’t win?”

Her face flushed and she scrambled to her feet. “It’s time

to eat.”

“Peg,” he said quietly as she headed down the ledge,

making her stop and look at him. “The day wil come that ye

don’t have them to hide behind.”

“No, actual y, it won’t, because the twins and I are stuck

together like glue.”

He canted his head, studying her. “Ye forgot I told you the

magic goes about its business whether ye believe in it or

not. And Peg?”

Up went that pretty nose in the air again.

“Someone who believes holds the advantage over

anyone who doesn’t.”

“And … and you believe?”

“I was born believing, lass.”

Whereas figuring out how to make Peg believe was

probably going to be the death of him, Duncan realized as

he watched her silently turn and walk away, her hands

bal ing into fists as she shoved them in her pockets. Only

problem being that in doing so, he’d likely be damning

himself to hel for manipulating the magic for no other

reason than to prove that he was bigger and stronger than

a curse, and a hel of a lot harder to kil than Wil iam

Thompson.

Chapter Fifteen

Duncan had just reached the mouth of the fiord when the

mother of al whales suddenly breached in front of the smal

boat he’d rented from Ezra. He grabbed the gunwale and

cut the motor as the whale slapped back into the water, the

force of the splash creating a wave that nearly capsized

him. It resurfaced close enough that he could have touched

the behemoth as it began swimming alongside the boat,

keeping pace even when he opened the motor to ful throttle

again.

Duncan cut diagonal y toward land when he was halfway

up the twelve-mile-long waterway and started looking for a

place to go ashore. The whale disappeared only to

resurface on the other side of him and gently bump the

bow. Not wanting to argue with the beast, he continued

down the fiord another few miles before the whale surfaced

on his left side and nudged the bow toward land.

Guessing it didn’t get any plainer than that, Duncan

slowed back to an idle and scanned the shore until the

moonlight revealed the smal beach spil ing out of the

dense evergreens growing al the way down to the high tide

line. He turned toward it and shut off the engine to let the

boat drift in eerie silence until it scraped onto the gravel,

and glanced over his shoulder in time to see the whale slip

back below the surface.

“Thanks for scaring ten years off my life, you big bastard,”

he muttered as he walked to the front of the boat and

stepped onto the beach—only to have a surge of energy

shoot through him with enough force to knock him on his

ass, causing him to hit his head on the bow on his way

down.

Go sit on your mountain,Mac had said, and feel the

power it wants to give you.Hel , he’d haveto sit, as he couldn’t seem to stand on it. He grabbed the bow and

pul ed himself back to his feet with a curse, fingering the

bump on his temple as he wondered if the energy stil

humming through him might leave him permanently

sunburned.

The whale breached again not a hundred yards offshore,

and if Duncan wasn’t mistaken, he’d swear he heard

laughter. He turned his back to it and set his hands on his

hips as he gazed up at the black shadow looming into the

night sky. “And you, you big bastard, nap time’s over, so

wake the hel up.”

The gravel beneath his feet shifted and Duncan tried to

catch the boat even as he lunged toward the trees, only to

miss on both counts; the boat surged into the fiord as he

sunk into frigid water clear up to his waist. “For the love of

Christ,” he growled, slogging up into the woods, “you could

at least have a goddamned sense of humor.”

He dropped down on a bed of moss and unclipped his

cel phone off his belt, then pul ed it out of the leather pouch

and poured out the water as he eyed his boat now sitting

forty yards offshore. He unlaced his boots, pul ed them off,

then poured out the water, and unzipped his jacket and

shrugged it off. He then started unbuttoning his shirt with a

sigh—only to stop midbutton when the boat suddenly lifted

on the back of the whale and shot farther out to sea. He set

his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands

with a muttered curse. For the love of God, he hadn’t

grabbed his backpack and sword. He snapped his head up

and jumped to his feet. “You dump that boat and I’m coming

after you with a harpoon!”

The behemoth sunk below the surface to leave the boat

floating in the middle of the fiord, the moonlight glistening

off the motor as it rocked on the gentle swel s. He heard

quiet laughter again, this time coming from the woods

behind him, and sat down on the moss then flopped back

spread-eagle with a groan. He must have real y pissed off

the magic sometime in his youth, because he stil couldn’t

come up with one good reason why he deserved this.

What in hel was so al -fired important about accepting a

cal ing he didn’t even want, anyway? Like he’d told Mac,

there were enough magic-makers running around Maine

already; what did Providence care if he remained a mere

mortal making his way through life one day at a time?

Duncan snapped his eyes open when he realized the

ground beneath him was slowly moving up and down even

as he heard what sounded like … snoring. Wel , hel ; the

mountain real y was sleeping.

Then who—or what—had been laughing in the woods

behind him?

Okay, he had two choices: He could build a fire to dry out

his pants and boots and go find his calling, or he could lie

here until he rotted. Neither choice held al that much

appeal, but apparently just giving up wasn’t programmed

into his DNA. He used a heartfelt groan to propel himself

into a sitting position, pul ed off his socks and wrung them

out, then put them back on and reached for his boots—only

to find just one. The cel phone was there along with its

pouch, and one boot. And he was far enough away from the

water that it couldn’t have fal en in.

Duncan quietly undid the sheath on his belt and slowly

pul ed out his knife as he stopped breathing to listen. Other

than the soft snore of the mountain, he didn’t—

There, just over the knol to his right, he heard

what sounded like slobbering. He rol ed to his hands and

knees and silently crawled across the carpet of moss,

lowering to his bel y when he reached the tangled roots of a

large cedar.

He slowly peeked over the top, then blinked to make sure

the blow to his head hadn’t messed with his vision,

because that sure as hel looked like a dog chewing on his

missing boot. A puppy, actual y; a gangly blond pup that

definitely had some lab in the mix, about seven or eight

months old. Which meant one of two things: Either Mac had

given him a mountain that was already occupied, or the pup

had become stranded here when the earthquake had

created the fiord.

Then again, maybe his fal had knocked him out and the

puppy fairy had paid him a visit while he’d been asleep.

“Psst,” he whispered, causing the young dog to stop

midchew, every muscle in its scrawny body freezing except

for its ears, which slid back to listen. “Hey, mutt, that boot’s

only a month old.”

The pup reared up so fast, it somersaulted over

backward with a yip of surprise, then bolted into the woods

up the mountain, its tail tucked protectively between its

legs. Duncan sighed and stood up to walk over and pick up

his boot, brushing his hand over the teeth marks in the

leather. The damn dog appeared to have been trying to eat

it. He looked in the direction it had run off, wondering if it

real y might be stranded and nearly starved. He went back

to his mossy spot above the sunken beach and dropped

down to dress his feet, and then just sat staring at his boat.

Dammit to hel ; he had a change of clothes in his pack, and

he real y wanted his sword—although not enough to spend

the night playing keep-away with a whale.

Duncan lay back on the moss again and closed his eyes

and slowed his breathing, trying to bring the mountain’s

heartbeat into rhythm with his—just like Ian had told him

TarStone had done the night he’d claimed his own cal ing.

Except his nephew had been given a tal , gnarly staff to

control TarStone’s power, where he had … nothing. What in

the name of God had Mac hidden over here? Hel , did his

mountain even have a name? He wasn’t sure it had even

existed before the earthquake, despite being covered with

some pretty impressive old-growth timber. But then, Mac

could have merely folded the existing earth when he’d split

the land to form the fiord.

“Focus, MacKeage,” he muttered, closing his eyes

again. “Feel where the energy is coming from.”

Wait. Ian had also had a mentor; a thieving,

cantankerous old hermit by the name of Roger AuClair de

Keage—who also happened to be the original MacKeage.

Then why was he stuck with zilch? No gnarly staff and no

mentor—because Mac needed a little vacation to recover

from turning an entire state on its ear—no instruction

manual or treasure map or sage animal familiar to guide

him, no … nothing. Just a goddamned sleeping mountain

with no sense of humor. Didn’t Providence realize he could

blow himself and half of Spel bound Fal s to kingdom come

messing with something he didn’t know anything about?

Duncan bolted upright. The pup. If it had been living here

since the earthquake almost a month ago, it must know the

mountain pretty wel by now. Al he had to do was fol ow it

around until it led him … someplace. And it was obviously

hungry, so befriending it shouldn’t be any harder than

feeding it. But feed it what? The snack he’d brought was in

his backpack, which was in the boat in the middle of the

fiord being guarded by the mother of al whales.

Duncan stood up with a smile and pul ed his knife out of

its sheath again. He had a mountain, didn’t he, which would

be home to al manner of furred and finned and feathered

food? And roasting partridge or trout could be smel ed for

miles if the nose doing the smel ing happened to be canine.

He unscrewed the cap on the hilt of his knife and turned it

upside down to shake the contents into his hand: a smal

coil of fishing line with a hook, a magnesium flint, a real y

smal medical kit, a sandwich bag, and a length of fine wire.

He’d taken out the salt tablets and replaced them with

aspirin the day he’d bought the knife, since sweating vital

minerals wasn’t a worry in Maine because, hel , he just had

to lick a pothole. He’d also tossed the compass cap and

replaced it with something solid enough to pound with, and

wrapped the hilt with rough black tape for a better grip. So

he was basical y good to go for his hike around the

goddamned fiord—or indefinitely, actual y—assuming he

didn’t mind being cold and miserable until he built a fire and

dried out.

Duncan stuffed the fishing line in his jacket pocket,

careful y worked everything else back into the knife, and

screwed on the cap. He blew out a sigh and headed up the

mountain at a diagonal in the direction the pup had run,

figuring he’d eventual y come across a stream. Damn, he’d

like to have the huge trout Jacob had caught and insisted

they throw back when its watery eye had stared up at the

kid, its mouth gaping open as it gasped for breath. That

particular twin, he decided, was going to make some lucky

woman a real y good husband—whereas Pete was

probably going to see the inside of an emergency room

and juvenile detention hal a couple of times before he

pul ed his act together.

Duncan heard the gushing stream long before the

moonlight revealed its glistening water cascading down

over a long series of weatherworn boulders, ending in a

pool spanning a hundred yards across. It wasn’t a vertical

waterfal like the one in Spel bound, but it was stil a rather

impressive sight.

He shed his jacket and rol ed up his sleeves as he knelt

beside the pool and dipped his hands to splash some

water on his face, only to jerk back in surprise. He stuck his

hand in the water again and swirled it around, and yup, it

was the temperature of bathwater. He sat back on his heels

and gazed up at the stream rol ing down over the boulders,

wondering why it was warm. He cupped his hand in the

water and lifted it to his nose and sniffed, then dipped his

tongue into it. It smel ed and tasted fine; it was just warm.

He pul ed his fishing line out of his pocket and tied the

end of it to a smal rock, then got up and walked over to a

bed of moss and knelt down again. Using his knife, he cut a

patch out of the moss and folded it back, then dug through

the dirt until he found a fat grub. He returned and baited the

hook and threw it out into the pool, setting the rock on the

edge of the bank despite having little hope he’d find trout in

water that warm.

He had just started to get up when the rock suddenly slid

a good six inches, and he grabbed it just in time to feel the

line tighten again with a rather impressive tug. He tugged

back, then stood up and pul ed in the line, stepping away

when an equal y impressive trout flopped out of the water to

land beside his feet.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, pouncing on the flopping

fish that had to weigh at least three pounds. “Okay then. I

take back every dark thought I had about ye,” he said out

loud to the sleeping mountain.

He returned to the moss and tossed down the fish and

found another grub, baited the hook again and tossed it in

the water, but held on to the line this time. The hook couldn’t

even have reached bottom before he felt the line go taught,

and he yanked out another fish half again bigger than the

first one. He caught two more before he took his catch

down to where the pool spil ed into the forest below and

quickly cleaned them, then set about gathering fal en

branches and had a fire going in less than ten minutes.

While it built up a bed of coals, he cut several forked

branches and whittled off the bark before careful y

skewering the fish. He propped the sticks across two rocks

so the fish hung over the coals he’d raked between them,

and final y unlaced his boots with a sigh. He may not be

making any headway finding the instrumentof his power,

but he was going to have a ful bel y when he walked home

empty-handed.

And if the pup had half a brain, it would get its bel y fil ed

tonight, too.

Duncan slipped off his pants, laid them out on a tree

branch near the fire along with his socks, and then propped

his boots as close to the flames as he dared. He pul ed his

cel phone out of his jacket pocket, then spread the jacket

on the ground and sat down, only to realize the tails of his

shirt were also wet. So he took it off and tossed it up on an

overhead branch, sidled closer to the fire and added some

wood, then tapped a few buttons on his phone to see if it

was ruined.

To his surprise the screen lit up, and to his consternation

he saw he didn’t have any reception. He started to mutter a

curse, but stopped. “Sorry. I forgot you’re tryingto be

benevolent. But is being able to cal Alec to come pick me

up in the morning real y too much to ask?”

He was answered only by the gushing stream. He shoved

the cel phone in its pouch, then careful y turned over the fish

before settling onto his side and propping his head on his

hand. He couldn’t wait to bring the Thompson tribe here, he

decided as he gazed across the fire at the pool and

watched its ripples sparkle in the moonlight. Isabel would

go nuts when she pul ed out one of those beautiful trout,

Jacob would cry for her to throw it back, Pete would jump in

after it, and Charlotte would get a crooked smile on her

beautiful face and merely shrug her delicate shoulders.

Peg was doing one hel of a job raising those four kids al

by herself. But damn, didn’t she get lonely for male

companionship? Al that beauty and grace and fierce

determination, that sexy, sassy mouth perfectly shaped for

kissing, that athletic body built to cradle a man; how in hel

did a woman simply turn off desire? How had she gone

from sharing a bed with a husband for … what, at least six

years, only to crawl into an empty bed every night with no

hope of feeling a warm body beside her ever again?

Because if Peg truly did believe Wil iam Thompson had

died from her family’s curse, she wouldn’t dare risk kil ing

off another man.

And what about Charlotte and Isabel? They were female

descendents of the first black widow; what did Peg plan to

tel them when they fel in love and wanted to marry? Had

Peg’s mother warned herwhat could happen before she’d

married?

He might not have children of his own, but if he did

Duncan figured he’d do everything in his power to make

sure they got to live life on theirterms, not pay for the sins of some long-dead ancestor. He rol ed onto his back and

stared up at the summit of his moon-bathed mountain

peeking through the trees, a bit surprised at how angry the

idea of Peg and Charlotte and Isabel living under such an

obscene curse made him. But even more alarming was

how much he cared, not only for the women, but for Pete

and Jacob.

When in hel had that happened? He’d met Peg and

her tribe only a little over a week ago—by being attacked

by them, no less—yet he’d felt almost naked the two days

he’d gone back to Pine Creek. He gave a derisive snort,

realizing he was literal y naked right now and missing the

hel out of them again. As for Peg, he—

Duncan turned to stone at the realization he was being

watched.

Making sure not to make eye contact with the blond body

of fur creeping along the perimeter of the clearing, he slowly

sat up and reached for the skewered trout, smiling when he

saw the pup freeze in place. He laid al four fish on a flat

rock and used his knife to peel back the sizzling skin on

one of them, then flicked the blade to send the skin flying

into the woods in the general direction of his visitor. Using

the knife and his fingers, Duncan began eating the

succulent trout, making soft slurping noises as he watched

the pup slowly creeping through the shadows as quiet as a

church mouse.

He continued eating, again making slurping sounds

interspersed with hums of pleasure. The pup crept out of

the shadows on its bel y, then reached out a dog-sized

paw, snagged the skin and pul ed it back, snatched it in its

mouth, and darted back into the shadows. Duncan used his

knife to peel another trout and flicked the skin a little farther

out into the clearing. “I don’t mind sharing my dinner with a

fel ow traveler,” he said conversational y, keeping his tone

light, “and my campfire. I believe it’s going to turn chil y

tonight by the looks of that moon.”

The pup came creeping back, taking two steps into the

clearing then hesitating before taking another cautious

step, which al owed Duncan to final y get a good look at

what appeared to be a male dog. “Delicious, isn’t it?” he

said when the pup scoffed up the skin and swal owed it in

one gulp. Only this time, instead of slinking back into the

trees, the brave and obviously hungry mutt turned to face

Duncan, its head canted expectantly as it wagged its tail