Page 15 of The Fae's Gamble

Calum held the book out towards her.

* * *

When Calum arrived at Fern’s flat, he genuinely hadn’t expected she would be asleep. Sleeping only a couple of hours a night was normal for him.

He hadn’t expected how strongly Fern’s presence would affect him. Their attraction had been undeniable in his office, and he assumed it was a fluke. She awakened parts of him he thought were long dead.

But she did, and it was happening again right now.

If it had been anyone else, he would’ve been more critical of their appearance, frankly. It still deeply mattered to him to always look presentable, even though the human world was much less formal than Faerie. Yet, he looked at Fern, and a sense of longing ran through him that was so intense, he nearly fell to his knees.

She looked warm and comfortable, with her sleep-mussed hair and soft eyes. Fern radiated a sense of home that Calum had long forgotten. He could tell that she recognized there was something between them, but of course, she wouldn’t know what it was.

Calum was almost relieved when she responded by baiting him; he had been sorely lacking for an opportunity to develop battle strategy, no matter what the battle was.

When Fern pushed him about why he was standing outside her flat, he sobered. He knew what Emmett and Mara would’ve told her tonight, what they would’ve left out, and that Fern would still have a million questions for him.

Calum held his book out towards her.

“The answers that you’re looking for are in here.” He couldn’t look Fern in the eye. Calum stared at the yellowed, uneven pages of the tome, his fingers twitching even as he handed it over.

There were pieces of himself in that book Calum wanted no one to see, but this was no longer about him. He had tried to make things about himself once, three hundred years ago, and all of Scotland had been suffering ever since.

“The answers…?” Fern repeated back, her voice dropping to a shocked whisper.

Calum nodded. “Yes. I assume, like any talented researcher, you were planning to go to the School of Scottish Studies Library first thing in the morning?”

The University of Edinburgh had a library that was strictly dedicated to Scotland’s history and her archives; it was one reason Calum had moved from Inverness.

“Um, yes.” Fern blushed. “I was. I wanted to—”

“You wanted to find anecdotal proof of everything you learned tonight.” Calum’s voice was sharp. He cringed internally. It wasn’t his intention to come across so boorish, but these were painful memories to relive. It was difficult having someone question them.

“Yes.” Fern admitted, looking thoroughly admonished. Calum coughed awkwardly.

“I don’t blame you. That’s why I’ve saved you the trip. The Scottish Studies Library will only have archives pertaining to its human history. That…” he pointed to the book now in her hands, “will have what you’re looking for.”

Fern didn’t respond. He could sense her arousal and the attraction between them, even now. Calum had to look away when she bit her lip, her fingers caressing the heavy volume. He turned to leave, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sure I’ll only have more questions when I finish this,” she whispered after him, her tone almost cautious. He paused and turned around.

“I would expect nothing less.”

“Should I—” Fern stepped off the small front porch, freezing after only a few paces. Calum turned to look at her, his heart racing. Her mere presence made him feel more alive than he had in years.

“Should I return this to you after I’m done?” Fern let out a sharp exhale. Calum didn’t think he was breathing.

“I would expect nothing less.” He repeated it and forced himself to look away, using all his resolve to put one foot in front of the other and walk back to Old College.

Chapter Seven

Fern watched Calum leave. A sudden, sharp pain in her chest appeared in his wake. Her reaction to his presence baffled her, but it was too strong to deny. Even with all the life-altering information that she had absorbed over the past few hours, how Calum Welsh made her insides clench was the most concerning.

He is infuriatingly hot. Fern grimaced at herself and rubbed her eyes as she went back inside. Her desperate need to sleep evaporated, consumed by the mysterious book that Calum had given her.

She walked over to the small kitchenette and put the kettle on. The cabinets were devoid of groceries, except for an unopened bottle of whisky. Fern luckily kept an emergency bag of tea in her purse.

“There you are,” she sang to herself, pulling the packet of Yorkshire out. A couple of minutes later, Fern was getting comfortable on the couch, wrapped up in a heavy wool blanket with a hot mug of tea.