Cait had the baby cradled in one arm as she ran water in the sink to clean the newborn. “Shower before dinner. Ya look terrible.”
“Yeah, no imposition.” Maura laughed softly. To her mother, she asked, “Ya all right if we leave Abigail with ya?”
Cait arched a brow at the stupid question.
“Oh and have someone check on the Crimson Tavern to make sure the waitress locked the doors last night.” Maura yawned. “Please?”
“Consider it done,” Cait said.
Maura led the way through the kitchen.
Curtis didn’t readily follow. “How is she?”
“Sweet as an angel,” Cait answered. “Ten fingers. Ten toes. One nose.”
“Since I’m still alive, does that mean we get her back where she belongs?” he asked.
“Unless ya fractured some timelines or are stuck in some kind of loop.” Cait kept her voice soft as she continued to wash the baby. “Go rest. We’ll get Abigail settled, and I’ll confer with the other elders. See if we can’t patch up any holes in the natural order.”
Curtis reached into his pocket and pulled out the letters. He looked at Maura, who nodded that he should give them to her mother. He set them down on the counter. “I don’t know if this will help, but we found them tonight. Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. MacGregor.”
“See that, Maura? The boy has manners. Ya could learn a thing or two from your handsome friend,” Cait said.
Chapter Six
Curtis stared at the large painting of Maura dominating a wall of the bedroom as he listened to the sound of the shower coming from the en suite. Though the portrait looked like it came from the Victorian era, Maura’s face appeared precisely the same as if age had not touched her. He would have assumed it was a novelty if not for the fact warlocks were immortal unless murdered.
The bedroom reminded him of luxury spa advertisements. White painted walls contrasted the dark wood of the oversized furniture. Thick tapestry curtains blocked the light from outside but for a beam of light coming through the opening.
“I’ve always hated that portrait,” Maura grumbled.
“I think it’s beautiful.” Curtis turned to look at her.
Maura wore a long silky nightgown. Her red hair had been slicked back from her face. She’d insisted he took the first shower while she found him a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that belonged to a cousin.
“I hate what that portrait represents. My brothers would say what I’m about to do is called a tirade,” she warned.
“By all means, rant away,” Curtis said, completely enamored with her.
She didn’t need much invitation. “All right. In my family, the men act like women are delicate flowers who they need to keep safe. Then my mother insists that I act like a lady. Have ya ever tried to pelt gremians with energy balls through white gloves? There is not enough bleach on Earth to get that stain out. And don’t get me started on running in heels and a corset.”
Maura inhaled a deep breath.
“My ma keeps trying to convince me to grow my hair out like that picture. And watch…” Maura conjured a fireball in her hand and threw it at the portrait.
Curtis stepped back in surprise. The magick sizzled and disappeared, leaving the painting intact.
“Indestructible. Every time we move, that monstrosity shows up in my bedroom. I keep telling her it was a different time.” Maura ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at the strands to show the length. “Ya don’t have to have long hair and ballgowns to be a lady.”
Curtis smiled.
She sighed. “OK. Rant over. Thanks for listening. Sorry, I’m so tired and grouchy.”
“I like how you have your hair.” Curtis liked a lot of things about this woman. She had a kind smile and gentle voice but also showed confidence and bravery in the face of danger. Most people liked to think they’d be brave if tested, but the truth was not many people would face an 1860s colony ruled over by vampires. Maura hadn’t hesitated. “I thought you lived at the motel.”
“I do.” Maura sighed. “I can’t tell ya how grateful I was when the family assigned me to take over Hotel Motel because it meant I wouldn’t be expected to live here in the family mansion. This place may be huge, but there is absolutely no privacy.”
“How many people stay here?”
Maura yawned and gave a dainty shrug. “Um, my parents, Uncle Raibeart, Uncle Angus and Aunt Margareta, Uncle Fergus and his new wife Donna when they’re not traveling. Angus’ children all have rooms here. Kenneth lives here with his new wife and his daughter, who is six. Aunt Margareta probably wouldn’t let him leave even if he wanted to. She is all about being a grandma. My twin brothers, Rory and Bruce, though Bruce technically lives at the motel too.”
“That’s right, the brother who paints obscene pictures on the motel walls.” Curtis put his hand over his mouth to suppress a yawn.
“Ya must be exhausted.” She yawned the words as she spoke and gestured at the bed. “Ya can have this one. I’ll find another.”
“This bed is big enough for ten of us.” Curtis pulled the covers back and collapsed onto the high mattress.
Maura followed suit, crawling up before rolling on top of the gold comforter. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she didn’t move. “How’s your stab wound? I forgot to ask ma to check it.”
“Sore. Fine. I don’t care.” Curtis closed his eyes.
Somewhere in exhausted sleep, he felt energy calling to him. It lingered like an orb floating through his consciousness, weaving in and out of fragmented dreams. When he finally opened his eyes, he felt as if the night in the Mississippi countryside had to have been an illusion.
That didn’t explain why he awoke in a luxurious mansion or why Maura MacGregor lay next to him with her hand firmly intertwined with his, fingers tangled together. Her eyes were open, sleepily staring at him as if they’d woken at the same time.
Curtis did not have moments like this in life. He didn’t date much. With so many secrets, it was hard to let people get close to him. Instead, he concentrated on work and providing for Abigail.
“What do ya want out of life? Don’t think, just answer,” Maura whispered. A soft light came through the window, adding to the intimacy of the moment.
“To not be a dhampir.” The admission surprised him. That was not something he could change. “How about you?”
“I don’t know anymore.” Maura inched closer. “I feel like I stopped knowing around the time that my ma commissioned that portrait to be painted.”
“What did you want?” Curtis liked the smell of her shampoo, lavender with a hint of tea tree. He only knew that much because he’d been in the shower before her.
Maura laughed. “I don’t remember an exact thing, but there were things I was excited to try and learn. I ran the MacGregor stables for a time. I seduced a king to stop a war. That was fun. I—”
“You slept with a king?” Curtis frowned, finding himself strangely jealous without reason to be.
“No, seduced him, didn’t have sex with him.” Maura laughed. “Royalty is too easy. Kings can never imagine that someone might not be in awe of them. I find it a disgusting trait.”