The MacGregor by Jenny Brigalow Page B

to pin Douglas to his seat like a moth on a board.
    â€˜It’s been a while, Candy,’ he said softly.
    Douglas finally met his gaze. ‘Sure has, Dino.’
    The man was still for a moment. ‘So…’
    Candy chucked his whisky down his throat and slammed the glass down on the table so hard that Megan winced. ‘So…mine’ll be a double. And Megan will have the same.’
    Dino grinned, leant over the table, reached out and gently ran a finger down Douglas’ cheek. ‘Don’t go away,’ he said softly.
    When he’d gone there was an awkward silence as Megan struggled to absorb the situation. Finally she swallowed her drink and turned to Douglas. ‘So…you’re…gay?’
    Douglas shrugged. ‘Guess so.’
    Megan sat back. A gay werewolf? That was novel. At least it explained why Douglas didn’t fancy her. She looked at Douglas. ‘Does your father know?’
    Douglas shook his head. ‘No.’ He observed her closely. ‘Will you tell him?’
    Megan shook her head violently. ‘No! Why would I? None of my business.’
    Douglas smiled. ‘Thanks, Megan. I’d like to tell him, but I don’t think he’d get it. You know?’
    Megan glanced at the bar to the broad back of Dino. ‘No, perhaps not.’
    â€˜What do you think of him?’
    She grinned. ‘I was kind of hoping he swung both ways.’
    Douglas laughed. ‘’Fraid not. Still, there’s plenty here who like the Eve. Do you want me to introduce you?’
    And then she recalled the moment in the stable yard: the brilliant blue of his eyes, the thrust of his dimpled chin, and the mouth-watering proportions of his frame. And she decided that if Douglas could be gay, then she could be off the scale too. She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ she said.
    After all, what harm could it do?

Chapter 20
    For a moment Sean had to consider the possibility that this was all a dream. After all, it was highly unlikely that he’d really encounter a coven in the bottom paddock.
    â€˜Stop it, Nancy!’ said Lydia, who turned to Sean. ‘Take no notice, Sean, she’s just winding you up.’
    Sean looked from one to the other and let out a hoot of laughter. ‘What is it with you two? How do you know my name?’
    Lydia bent down to stroke Salem. ‘Sarah told us all about you.’
    All about him? Well, that would have been a short story. Still, he was curious. ‘What did Sarah tell you?’
    Nancy came and stood beside Lydia, her expression sombre. ‘Sean, she told us that you had the gift.’
    Sean was none the wiser. ‘Gift? What gift? Gift of the gab?’ he hazarded.
    Nancy nodded. ‘In a way. You see, Sarah sensed that you are a…poet. Or, perhaps bard would be more accurate.’
    Sean blew a raspberry of contempt. Poet! What a crock of crap. ‘Listen lady, no disrespect to Sarah, but you’ve got it all wrong. Look, I can read and write, but I’m kinda slow. Not so great with the whole book thing.’
    Lydia leaned towards him, her dark eyes bright in the moonlight. ‘Sean, Sarah was quite sure. But she said it was all locked away. You just need to let in the light.’
    Sean backed away. They were barmy. He’d best be off. ‘Well. Ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but I must be going. Don’t catch a chill now.’
    And he turned and strode across the dewy meadow.
    â€˜Sean, wait! What about the dreams? Do you think you can contain them with whisky forever?’
    He stopped dead as a cold finger ran down his spine. How the hell could they know about the dreams? The whisky, he could understand. But not the dreams.
    Slowly he stalled, stopped and turned around. ‘How do you know about the dreams?’
    Nancy stepped forward. ‘Sarah heard you. She said that they were consuming you and that we must help you.’
    Sean was flustered.