Shadows and Light

how fast the water went from cold to steaming, they brought another basin and a couple of pitchers of water. When the water began to steam again, they took that basin and slid the next one into place, pouring more cold water over his hands.
    Witches were very practical people, he discovered. They were using all the hot water he was providing to wash the evening dishes.
    Practical and strong-willed. Any gentry woman of his acquaintance would have become hysterical after what happened in the pasture. Breanna had remained in control—right up until she’d run her fingers through her hair and combed out a piece of charred nighthunter wing. Her shriek had brought everyone running, and he’d watched that strong will crumble under the fear she’d held at bay.
    Now they were both sitting at one of the tables in the kitchen, wrapped in blankets to fight a coldness that came from within.
    He glanced longingly at the kettle of soup simmering on the stove. He wanted something that would help thaw the chill in the rest of his body.
    “Almost done,” Breanna said, smiling wearily. “I figure another basin of water will absorb enough of the power so that it’s back to what you’re used to.”
    Used to? He’d felt that heat under his skin all his life, but nothing like this had ever happened before. “
    Why did this happen now?”
    “I don’t know, Liam,” Breanna said softly. “I can only guess that whatever wall you’d built inside yourself to protect you from having the gift manifest itself broke because the need to use the gift was stronger than the need to deny it.”
    “But I—” Liam swallowed hard. He’d been drinking water to ease the fever-dry feeling, but his throat still felt tight. “What am I, Breanna?”
    “Nothing more and nothing less than what you’ve always been. You’re still gentry, still the Baron of Willowsbrook. But you’re also a Son of the-House of Gaian. You always were. The only difference is you know it now.”
    “Am I a witch?” He held his breath, not sure which answer he wanted from her.
    “It’s not a word we usually use when a man has a gift from one of the Mother’s branches.” Breanna shrugged. “Gentry, baron, witch. They’re words, Liam. Just words. You’ll have to decide which words you’ll claim as your own and which ones you’ll let go.” She supped her hand into the water, curled her fingers around his. “But I can tell you one thing you’re not and never will be.”
    He looked into her woodland eyes—eyes so like his own—and saw a mischievous sparkle in them. “
    What’s that?” he asked suspiciously.
    “You’re not one of the Mother’s Daughters. You don’t have the tits for it.”
    He didn’t think anything could make him laugh after the things that had happened that day, but as his laughter filled the kitchen, he felt the last of the heat in his hands fade away.

    Breanna stepped outside. Liam was finally getting the bowl of soup he’d been wanting. Nuala had returned from the pasture and was sitting with him now, having assured both of them that the fire in the pasture was out. The rain she’d drawn from the clouds had quenched the fire better than anything else could have done. Tomorrow Nuala would begin teaching Liam how to ground the power he could channel from the Great Mother. Together, she and Nuala would begin teaching him how to use it safely.
    But that was tomorrow. Tonight, all she wanted was a hot, deep bath so that she could scrub her hair and skin clean. A hot bath, a bowl of that soup with some bread and cheese, and settling into bed early with a favorite book that she knew had a happy ending. In real life, one couldn’t count on happy endings.
    Tonight she needed one.
    She wasn’t going to get any of those things until she dealt with the other male who had wedged his way into her life.
    At least he wasn’t going to make her look for him, Breanna thought sourly as she spotted the hawk perched on one of the poles that supported the clotheslines.
    “You!” she shouted, pointing a finger at the hawk. She swung that finger until it pointed to the bench under the tree where they would have a little privacy for this discussion. “Get over there!”
    She saw several of the men gathered around the stables take a half step to follow her command before realizing she wasn’t talking to them. Deciding to save her temper for dealing with the Fae featherhead, she ignored the men’s grins as she strode to the tree.
    The hawk