Innocent Darkness (16 page)

“Here, let me take a look.” Kevighn sat down at the kitchen table, reaching for Magnolia’s arm. He still wore the moss green Inverness coat he wore when venturing out, which gave him an entirely different look than the black coat she’d seem him wear in San Francisco. After that dreadfully frightening incident, he’d ushered her back to his cabin and made tea. All traces of that fearsome man in the grove who’d hurt her and yelled, had disappeared.

She suspected he still lurked within.

“Do we have to go to the hospital?” Did they have hospitals here? So far she hadn’t seen anything but his cabin and the grounds surrounding it. Her left arm hurt, feeling bruised and twisted, but not broken. Once she
had
broken her arm, when she’d fallen off the roof of the shed as a small girl. Still, it
hurt.

“You’ll be fine.” With feather-light fingertips, he took her arm in one hand, the other running alongside, but not quite touching it. Her arm grew warm. It was a comforting feeling, like hot apple cider with cinnamon sticks on a chilly evening.

“What are you doing?” She bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“Magic.” He looked at her arm, not her. “I’m not jesting. You know it exists here. It would make sense that we would have it, too.”

True. After all, in V’s stories fairyland
was
magic. Not that Kevighn actually ever called this place
fairyland.

“You formed the tree house by magic?” It would be difficult to build a house looking as if formed
of
the tree itself.

“I did.” He continued to move one hand up and down her arm. “With extreme difficulty, since I’m not of an earth affinity like my sister.”

“Earth affinity?”

“Her magic lay in gifts from the earth; she had a gift for gardening and would rather be outside than anything else—or painting what lay outside.” He smiled sadly.

“What’s your talent?” The pain in her arm faded.

He flashed her an impish grin, yellow eyes dancing. “I have many, many talents.”

She laughed. For a moment he worked in silence.

“I know you don’t wish to speak of it, but will you at least tell me her name?” she asked.

Kevighn looked startled, nearly dropping her arm.

“Ow.”

“I’m sorry.” He held it gently, but that tender gesture seemed like much, much more—though Noli was certain it wasn’t. Him being this close, touching her this way felt … well,
nice
only began to describe the feelings this beautiful man occasionally caused within her. Obviously, from his clothes, stories, and even his speech, he could be a bit of a rake. No good ever came from falling for a man like that.

Still, he tempted.

“Her name was Creideamh.” He pronounced it
Krayjif.
“My younger sister. I raised her mostly on my own.”

“Oh, what happened to your parents?” Immediately, she felt a kinship with him.

His expression grew stormy. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

“It’s all right.” She patted him on the shoulder, hoping he didn’t think her too familiar.

“I appreciate your understanding.” He touched her injured arm with both hands and it grew warm, like a furnace. He let go. “It might be stiff for a few days, but it’s better. Just sprained, not broken.” A look of regret crossed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She could see it in his eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He stood.

“Another? Are you trying to spoil me?” Every day there was some new treat or surprise.

“More like a bribe, so you won’t be angry with me. I haven’t lost control of my temper in a long time.” For a moment he looked as if he were elsewhere.

She followed him down the hall of his little cabin to a locked room. Taking a key, he unlocked it and opened the door. “It would probably be more proper for you to have a place of your own to stay.”

“Creideamh’s room?” Noli looked around the small, comfortable room. It wasn’t dusty or stale. The wood furniture held intricate carvings of flowers and pink curtains resembling flower petals topped the four-poster bed. The rugs on the wood floor resembled grass and the window looked out into the garden. A small painting of the tree house hung on one wall.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he gave the room a wistful look. “After my parents died, we moved from the big house into my cabin. We liked it better here.”

What would it have been like if Jeff raised her? “It was difficult?”

“Very. Make yourself at home. You may use anything in here.”

Overwhelmed, she bit her lip to cut off a reflexive
thank you.
They’d never really discussed it, but he never said it either.

“I appreciate your kindness. But truly, I’ll only be here another day or two. Right?” She wrung her hands. Already, she’d been here longer than anticipated. Soon, if not already, the school would tell Mama she was gone. Had they looked for her? Would her mother? V would help search. Oh, how she missed V. She also missed her mother and Jeff. And Charlotte? How was she faring with her uncle? The thought made her shiver slightly.

“I’m doing the best I can.” His voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“What exactly do you do?” After all, he’d never said.

“Find people who can answer my questions truthfully without alerting everyone. It’s tedious work, so you might as well be comfortable. Are you hungry?”

Her belly rumbled and she grinned. “I am.”

He jerked his head towards the door. “Let’s go have something to eat.”

After supper they sat in the front room, which now had two chairs. Usually he’d work on things and she’d read one of the books he found for her. They didn’t talk much, outside of regular things, not like she and V did. She and Kevighn didn’t have much in common it seemed. That didn’t stop her from stealing glances at him as he worked in the firelight. Tonight Kevighn sat at his workbench making arrows for one of the many giant bows that hung on the wall. He called it
fletching
and it involved lots of tiny gears and colorful feather.

“Will you tell me how you ended up at that school?” he asked, breaking the easy silence.

She didn’t feel like talking about Findlay, but he
had
told her about his sister. Her finger marked the page of her book. “I wasn’t exactly a model daughter.” Guilt shot through her at the admission. “V and I took the flying car out for a drive. It was unregistered, I didn’t have a permit, and V didn’t have a flying auto addendum, and well,” she looked away. “We crashed.”

Kevighn’s dark eyebrows rose. “Who’s flying car?”

“Mine. Well, it belonged to my father. He won it in a card game and always said he’d fix it up. He never got the chance, so I did.”

He stopped fletching mid-gear. “You
fixed up
a flying car? What kind?”

“A Hestin-Dervish Pixy. I called her the Big Bad Pixymobile.” Her face crumpled at the memories. Two years she’d spent fixing her. “I think she’s destined for the scrap heap, now.”

Kevighn laughed a deep belly laugh that shook his whole body. “You fixed up a Pixy? You know there’s a good reason why they discontinued the Pixy model. Those are deathtraps. You must be an ace mechanic to be able to fix one by yourself.”

“They’re not deathtraps,” she retorted. “Wait, you know about flying cars?”

“A little. Personally, I like airships better.”

“Really? My brother is an aeronaut.” Who would have thought someone like Kevighn would know about flying cars and airships?

“What kind? I had a sparrow-class schooner.”

She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Sparrow-class? That’s a girl’s airship.”

His yellow eyes flashed. “No it’s not.”

Her eyes rolled. “The only good thing about the sparrow is that you can jerry-rig the engines to make them outfly everything else in the sky.”

“How?” He put down his arrow and gave her his full attention.

“Well, there’s this gas called nitrous … ”

Yawning, she pulled on a soft, ruffled nightdress and crawled under the quilt. The bed certainly was pretty with its petal-like curtains. It seemed a bit like sleeping in a flower, which may have been the point. Like she did every night, she held her necklace, closing her eyes and thinking of home, of V, as she drifted off to sleep.

She sat in her tree house, looking up at the full moon unable to sleep. Often, she’d have trouble sleeping when the moon sat high and heavy. V would find her and they’d sit and gaze at the stars and talk—usually about books.

“Are you up here, Noli?” A soft and familiar voice cut through the night, clear, crisp, and breezy, just as she preferred.

“No, I’m in my room fast asleep like a proper young lady instead of up in a tree like a hoyden.” She grinned. Seconds later, a familiar face greeted her. As always, his hair was a mess. He wasn’t in his nightclothes.

“Noli. Oh, Noli, I missed you so much.” He flew at her, wrapping her in an embrace far more comfortable than proper.

“Why?” She laughed. “We saw each other after school, like always. Oh, did your father punish you again?” V often found her to talk after he’d been punished.

His forehead furrowed in confusion. “Where have you been?”

She pressed a hand to his cheek. “Are you feeling well? After school, you helped me re-hang the shutters, then drilled me on my Latin while I did the wash.

“Please, where have you been? Are you still at the school … or are you … elsewhere?” His voice held so much yearning she wanted to cry.

“Why would I be at school, silly? It’s evening. I don’t understand.” She bit her lip, a strange feeling deep in her belly.

“Don’t fret.” He reached out and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “You still have the necklace I gave you?”

“You gave me a necklace?” Her hand went to her chest. A lump lay under her nightdress. “You did. How could I have forgotten?” Pulling it out, she examined it. “It’s so pretty. Why did you give me a necklace?”

He sat so close to her and for some reason it no longer seemed brotherly. Suddenly, neither did her feelings for him. It seemed …

Oh. Was this what Mama meant when she said they were too old to be best friends?

“Please wear it always, Noli. Promise me you’ll never take it off.” His fingertips traced the necklace chain and when they made contact with her bare skin, little shocks of … something reverberated through her.

“I will. What is it? Is it a love token?” Noli writhed. “I’m sorry, that’s such a silly—”

V’s lips pressed to hers. Sweet and light, like feathers dipped in honey, their lips met. When she tried to pull back, his arms wrapped around her, bringing them so close she could feel his beating heart. Could he feel hers as it raced?

When he pulled back, spectacled eyes looked back, concerned. His finger traced her cheekbone. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Not really. Her belly went a-flutter and deep places, secret places, seemed to have awoken. “Why did you kiss me?”

“To see what it was like.” A boyish grin played on his lips. For some reason he looked even more handsome than usual. It must be the moonlight.

“Why?” Her heart raced and her skin blazed. If he touched her again something would happen—but she wasn’t sure what.

“Because.” He tapped her on the nose, making her laugh.

“Did you like what you found?” That sounded so idiotic.

His green eyes danced with excitement and desire. “I did. Did you?”

Before she could answer, his lips pressed to hers again. Words could hardly explain how much she enjoyed it.