He tried to leave it, to do as Nicol ordered, but he couldn’t get Brachan off his mind. If Nicol had known what Maddock had been trying to tell him, he wouldn’t have been so insistent that they wait until after the wedding to address it. Nicol would want to know. He needed to know.

As the sun set behind the castle, Maddock knew there was only one place that Nicol was likely to be—in the withered, long-forgotten garden with Freya. Killed and cursed by Machara, the spirit of their Master’s wife now roamed the castle gardens at night, and each evening Nicol walked down to spend the evening with her.

Maddock heard voices the moment he reached the garden, but Nicol’s wasn’t among them. Instead he heard Freya, her melodic tone welcoming and warm, laughing as she spoke to Marcus, Laurel’s best friend and the newest member of The Eight.

Maddock spoke the moment he could see them, sitting on the edge of a long-since dried up fountain talking like old friends.

“Ye are not the one I expected to find here, Marcus. Where is Nicol?”

Marcus pointed to the walls of glass on the castle’s highest corner—the location of Nicol’s bedchamber.

“Sleeping. He woke early so he could greet you and Kate, so I told him that if he needed more rest, that I would come down and visit with Freya for awhile.”

Freya smiled at him, but shook her head. “Not that I’m not pleased to have ye here, Marcus, but ’tisn’t necessary. I truly doona need to have someone with me every moment that I am here.” She paused and patted the stone next to her. “Come and join us, Maddock. Tell me all about yer journey to collect our newest resident.”

Maddock did as Freya asked and dove into an explanation of much that had occurred over the past few days—the wonders of seeing a small part of the twenty-first century, the hard journey, and Kate’s illness—although his mind was elsewhere as he spoke. When he finished, he realized he couldn’t recall much of what he’d said.

He looked up to see Freya watching him thoughtfully.

“What is it, lad? What is on yer mind so?”

Marcus gave a short chuckle and knowingly crossed his arms. “I know that look. That’s the look of a man perplexed by a woman. It’s Kate, right? She’s twisted you all up.”

Freya smiled and leaned into him, and part of her shoulder simply disappeared as their figures touched. He could feel nothing, but he understood her gesture.

“Ah come, Maddock. Do tell me. I love a good love story. Mayhap I can even give ye some advice.”

Maddock shook his head at Freya’s reference. “’Tis hardly a love story yet, lass.”

She smiled at him. “But ye’d like it to be?”

Maddock glanced nervously at Marcus. Both Kate and Laurel spoke of Marcus with such adoration. He was certain Marcus would be as protective of Kate as he was of Laurel.

Marcus smiled, seemingly understanding his worry. “I love them both, but you can speak freely about them in front of me. I’m probably even more aware of their quirks than you are.”

Maddock stood and began to pace in front of them as his confusion surrounding Kate rushed to the surface. “The lass is unlike any I’ve met before. She is strong and beautiful, although I doona think she recognizes either such quality in herself. She can be so warm and open on one occasion, and the next make a man feel a fool for opening himself up to her. She is filled with wit, and her love for so many things is infectious, but by God, she is infuriating.”

Marcus snorted and gave him a knowing grin. “That’s a trait all Adams women share.”

Freya chimed in. “’Tis a trait all women everywhere share, lads. We are complex creatures. ’Twould do ye both some good to remember that.”

Maddock shook his head as he paused and ran both hands through his hair in frustration. “The night I met her, we stayed up all night talking and I never sensed that she was withholding anything from me, but now it seems like the more time I spend with her, the more she pulls away. Each new effort I make is received a little less warmly than the last.”

“She’s scared, Maddock.” Freya made her observation so confidently, as if there were no other possibility.

He watched her for a moment, but before he could respond, Marcus added his agreement. “Freya’s right. Before the fire, Kate was the sort of person that dove in head first with everything—her work, relationships, adventures—she feared nothing. The loss of her arm was traumatic for sure, but I’m not even sure that was the worst of it. I think Kate went through life believing it a safe place, one that could only hurt you if you let it. And then, out of nowhere, everything she believed about life was turned upside down. The world was no longer safe. Everything could change in a matter of moments.

“I think perhaps it was too difficult for her to rectify that life was so much more complicated than she always believed it. That it could still be safe and wonderful, but also terrible and tragic, and that one wasn’t truly possible without the other. So, she just shut herself off. It was easier to avoid emotion than face her own existential crisis.”

Marcus shrugged and continued. “It’s not like she’s done anything different than what we all do. I think every one of us goes through a time when it’s easier to just not feel than to deal with whatever’s eating at us, but where Kate got all messed up was that the trauma of that night was so much more than what most of us deal with. She needed to shut some things off just to get herself up in the morning, to deal with the pain of letting herself heal, but she let it go on for far too long, and now it’s just a sticky habit that’s hard for her to break.”

Maddock moved to resume his seat by Freya as he pondered this. It made sense to him. The way she would be receptive to his kiss, but then grow uncomfortable at his mention of it. The way her breath would grow quick against his chest in response to his touch, and then change the subject when he mentioned how she affected him. She wanted to feel, she just no longer held the belief she was strong enough to withstand it.

“How do I help her?”

Freya reached out to lay her ghostly hand up on his knee. “Ye doona give up on her. Ye delight in every instance where she shows ye who she truly is, and ye doona stand for any time that she may put up a false front to protect herself. Let her know that ye want her—the real her—and that ye willna settle for anything else.”

He looked over to see Marcus nodding. “Again…she’s right. Kate’s strong, and it’s really the only thing she responds to. She made remarkable progress so quickly in terms of her mobility and adapting to the loss of her arm, and a lot of that was due to the fact that her physical therapist and Laurel never put up with any of her shit. They didn’t let her get away with anything. Perhaps, it’s time for someone to do that with her feelings, too.”

He didn’t want to be harsh with her. He wanted to love her, to make her feel cared for, to wrap her up in his arms and kiss every last inch of her.

“She may hate me for it.”

Marcus nodded. “She might for a bit, but she’ll get over it. Is she worth it?”

He had no doubt that she was.