Daisy wasn’t from some random fortune-hunter, although that was always something to be aware of. This time the greatest threat to Daisy came from within, from the Arm-Righ himself. Daisy didn’t know the extent of the threat. Neither did her father, or Argyll would be swarmed with Bennett bodyguards. Lauren was right. The best way to keep Daisy protected from the King was to keep her visibly working to find what the King wanted found, namely any artifact on the King’s list. The bastard had been salivating over any clue to the Druid’s Scroll since Taryn revealed that it was more than merely a myth. Lauren kept him at bay, insinuating that Daisy might know where to begin looking.
Daisy hit the button for her window, opening it about three or so inches. Enough to let in the sea air. The air was warm and inviting and it filled Magnus with a sense of peace. Then Daisy’s lavender and herb scent hit him. It was so light and fresh, and so uniquely her, it made him ache. He was in his native land, smelling the sea that reminded him of Orkney mixed with Daisy’s springtime scent that reminded him of Potters Woods. Two places he called home, and yet he’d never been as uncertain of his place.
When he finally pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the Kilmartin Museum, as Lauren had instructed him to do, Magnus was so eager to get out of the car, he was halfway to the museum door before Daisy shut the passenger door of the Rover.
Realizing what he’d done, Magnus paused and waited for Daisy to catch up to him. He held the door for her, listening to the tinkling of the chimes above the door as it opened. Something in the tone was familiar to him, but Magnus couldn’t place it. It was a welcoming sound, though, one that made him feel safe. This was a place of peace.
No sooner had they passed over the threshold, a woman somewhere between forty and fifty greeted them with a welcoming smile. She looked like an older, rounder version of Pink, with dark hair and a whole lot less angst. In fact, when she smiled she made Magnus want to smile with her. The woman wiped her hands on her tie-dye apron and reached out first to Daisy and then to him, shaking each of their hands firmly. When her hand touched Magnus, a bolt of energy passed through him, and for a second he swore he saw something ancient and knowing in her dark eyes before she blinked it away.
She kept his hand in hers as she cocked her head at him. “I’m Merry Peacock. Any chance you’re the metallurgist?”
When most people referred to his profession they called him a jewelry designer or a weapons maker. Both were true and accurate, as far as they went. No one ever referred to him by what he considered his magical calling, metallurgy. Magnus felt a bone-deep recognition of a fellow practitioner. The second he did, Merry Peacock dropped his hand.
“I am,” was all Magnus could think to reply.
Merry Peacock asked Daisy to sign the visitor’s book, and just like that, the magical hum in the air subsided. “I’ll be show’n you to the New Kilmartin House, then. The MacBain is wait’n for you.” Merry handed Daisy a key ring with three heavy skeleton keys on it. “Here you go, love. You’ll be need’n these.”
They headed across the street and up the lane before Magnus could shake the cobwebs from his head. Whatever had just happened, that split second of recognition was real.
Merry Peacock was much more than what she appeared to be.
…
Daisy was taken back by Magnus’ sudden silence. It was different from the silence of the car. That was filled with enough sexual tension, at least on her part, that it was practically alive. This silence was different. More contemplative, as if the synapses in his brain were rapidly firing, trying to figure out something vital. He’d always had the ability to go deep inside himself in search of answers or understanding, when the situation called for it.
Magnus was thoughtful in everything he did.
Daisy hit the button for her window, opening it about three or so inches. Enough to let in the sea air. The air was warm and inviting and it filled Magnus with a sense of peace. Then Daisy’s lavender and herb scent hit him. It was so light and fresh, and so uniquely her, it made him ache. He was in his native land, smelling the sea that reminded him of Orkney mixed with Daisy’s springtime scent that reminded him of Potters Woods. Two places he called home, and yet he’d never been as uncertain of his place.
When he finally pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the Kilmartin Museum, as Lauren had instructed him to do, Magnus was so eager to get out of the car, he was halfway to the museum door before Daisy shut the passenger door of the Rover.
Realizing what he’d done, Magnus paused and waited for Daisy to catch up to him. He held the door for her, listening to the tinkling of the chimes above the door as it opened. Something in the tone was familiar to him, but Magnus couldn’t place it. It was a welcoming sound, though, one that made him feel safe. This was a place of peace.
No sooner had they passed over the threshold, a woman somewhere between forty and fifty greeted them with a welcoming smile. She looked like an older, rounder version of Pink, with dark hair and a whole lot less angst. In fact, when she smiled she made Magnus want to smile with her. The woman wiped her hands on her tie-dye apron and reached out first to Daisy and then to him, shaking each of their hands firmly. When her hand touched Magnus, a bolt of energy passed through him, and for a second he swore he saw something ancient and knowing in her dark eyes before she blinked it away.
She kept his hand in hers as she cocked her head at him. “I’m Merry Peacock. Any chance you’re the metallurgist?”
When most people referred to his profession they called him a jewelry designer or a weapons maker. Both were true and accurate, as far as they went. No one ever referred to him by what he considered his magical calling, metallurgy. Magnus felt a bone-deep recognition of a fellow practitioner. The second he did, Merry Peacock dropped his hand.
“I am,” was all Magnus could think to reply.
Merry Peacock asked Daisy to sign the visitor’s book, and just like that, the magical hum in the air subsided. “I’ll be show’n you to the New Kilmartin House, then. The MacBain is wait’n for you.” Merry handed Daisy a key ring with three heavy skeleton keys on it. “Here you go, love. You’ll be need’n these.”
They headed across the street and up the lane before Magnus could shake the cobwebs from his head. Whatever had just happened, that split second of recognition was real.
Merry Peacock was much more than what she appeared to be.
…
Daisy was taken back by Magnus’ sudden silence. It was different from the silence of the car. That was filled with enough sexual tension, at least on her part, that it was practically alive. This silence was different. More contemplative, as if the synapses in his brain were rapidly firing, trying to figure out something vital. He’d always had the ability to go deep inside himself in search of answers or understanding, when the situation called for it.
Magnus was thoughtful in everything he did.
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