Rowan’s heart sank. He’d hoped Kiera decided to stay here because she missed her old friends, him especially. Images of their shared past flitted through his mind, but he shut them down. He was about to usher Kiera into the house when the rumble of a second approaching car had them turning.
Kiera stiffened like a cat stroked in a place they didn’t like as Miles emerged dressed in his typical groundskeeper garb. Jeans, a brown T-shirt, and sturdy boots. He held a pair of gardening gloves as if he intended to pull weeds the second he was out of the car. Indeed, his gaze went directly toward an overgrown patch of them by the pathway.
“Good morning, old friends!”
Rowan nearly winced. The morning had been peaceful until Miles used that too-loud voice he seemed so fond of. Get used to it, Kiera’s look seemed to say. The dryad had forgotten that Kiera and Miles had kept in touch more over the past twenty-five years while Rowan was tied to this place.
A spark of jealousy fired in him at the thought, but he shoved it down. They were all here now because of him. Because of the home he’d helped make for himself.
Thank you, Catherine, he thought. I’ll never forget this gift.
Kiera observed Miles with cool detachment. “I forgot how much of a morning person you are,” she grumbled.
Rowan nearly smiled as Miles unloaded four suitcases from his trunk. “Come on inside, you two. I have breakfast ready in the kitchen.”
Miles grinned and thumped his suitcases onto the porch. “Two meals in the space of twenty-four-hours made by the great dryad Rowan? I wish you’d keep it up. I’m afraid for when Kiera starts cooking. She’ll lace mine with poison.”
A cunning smile crossed her lips. “You know me so well, Miles.”
Inside, Rowan set Kiera’s luggage on the floor by the staircase. Miles followed them and did the same before the trio trailed into the kitchen. There, Rowan motioned for his friends to sit at an aged oak table and fetched them drinks along with the pastries he’d begun baking around dawn. He had made enough for Amy and her friend, himself, Kiera, Miles, and Stacy, whenever she decided to wake for the day.
Rowan handed them their drinks. “Jasmine tea with honey for you, Kiera, and coffee with one creamer for you, Miles.”
Kiera’s eyes glittered. “You remembered.”
“You two were always quite particular. I recall Miles throwing a fit when I accidentally ordered him a coffee with two creamers.”
“At that point, you might as well be drinking a glass of milk!” Miles hurried on quickly. “A bit odd that our employer ain’t at breakfast, eh?”
“I am the estate manager. That means I handle matters of employee transfer and training,” Rowan answered calmly. “Stacy has many things of greater importance to focus on. One thing you both need to know about her is that she enjoys staying up late, like her mother did. She completes her best work then.”
Kiera lifted a teacup to her lips. “I’m liking Stacy the more I learn about her.”
Miles stuffed a pastry in his mouth and asked another question before he swallowed all of it. Years of hearing Miles talk around food had given Rowan an ear for understanding him. Otherwise, it would have been muffled nonsense. “You think Stacy will want training in our kind of magic? I’d be happy to teach her a thing or two. Witches are attuned to the earth, ya know. I could probably show her how things are done.”
Rowan frowned over his coffee. “She probably will want to know more.” He paused, glancing at Kiera. “From both of you. I don’t want you shirking your duties, Miles, or using Stacy as a gardening hand and calling it ‘magic lessons.’”
Miles put a hand to his heart. “I would never!”
“I remember—” Kiera started, but Miles’ scowl had her leaving it at a short laugh and sipping from her teacup.
Miles waved. “I’ve been wanting a job like this for some time. A quiet country place where I can convene with the earth. My last job was for a nutcase. I was groundskeeper for an old bat of a woman who wanted her hedges cut a certain way. That was fine until I realized I couldn’t make her happy even with magic!”
Rowan and Kiera shared a look, and Miles demanded, “What?”
“Nothing,” Rowan answered gruffly.
Miles wagged his finger. “Your standards might be high, Rowan, but at least you’re a reasonable person.” The groundskeeper had somehow scooted closer to Kiera until he nudged her with an elbow in her ribs. “What made you wanna come here? Miss me too much, so you had to follow me?”
Kiera’s eyes were cold, shifting from soft violet to something darker and murkier. “Rowan purposely left out the fact that he was asking you to work here, too, when he first spoke to me. He must have known I would say no if I had to hear your braying every morning.”
This only pushed Miles further. “I was always your favorite jackass, eh?”
Kiera simply sipped from her cup. Finally, she lowered it to the saucer and added, “I was intrigued about Stacy. I met her last night and liked her. Now, here I am, and it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
She glanced at Rowan, and something cracked in his chest. Kiera seldom allowed any feeling beyond cold detachment or amusement to show on her face. Now, a fleeting look of sadness filled her eyes, turning them a deep blue. He’d caught the same look a few times last night.
Miles babbled on about the appropriate height to cut hedges and how his previous employer had been “a real bitch about it” while Rowan and Kiera ate their breakfast in silence. Finally, Rowan stood, saying it was high time he showed them to their rooms so they could settle in. “See the grounds today. Get used to your surroundings and have a feel for how things run in the house. You can officially start tomorrow.”
Rowan led them up the staircase and through the many corridors. Though the pair had already seen the house last night, they noticed more in the daylight. Several times, Rowan caught Kiera slowing, her gaze trailing the framed photographs and paintings lining the walls. At one point, she halted to stare at a portrait of Catherine Thorn beside Constantine Drake in those early days of their courtship before they wed and took the last name “Drakethorn.”
“There’s something about her,” Kiera murmured.
“About Catherine?” Rowan asked.
Kiera nodded. “I can sense how powerful she was simply by looking at her portrait.”
Kiera had the ability to sense magic and its potency on other people. It was why he’d been upfront from the beginning about both lines of Stacy’s heritage. If he hadn’t told her, she would have figured it out anyway.
“Where’s my room?” Miles called from down the hall.
Rowan scowled, gestured for him to be quiet, then pointed at one across the hall. “In there.”
Miles lugged his suitcases in. Rowan brushed Kiera’s elbow to lead her farther down the hall. Much farther. She gave him a knowing, appreciative smile. “Thanks for not putting me next door to him.”
Rowan returned the smile. “Do you think I want to hear you two bickering all night?” He opened the door to another bedroom suited for her. The walls were a soft lilac purple, and dark curtains hung from rods over the windows. An adjoining bathroom had everything she could want, and a large, comfortable bed stood in the center of the room. A window overlooked the gardens at the back of the estate. “This is all yours.” Rowan set her suitcase against the wall.
Kiera nodded. “This will be good. Thank you, Rowan.” He could have sworn a hint of fondness touched her voice.
