You’d only just set your cup down when Rowena bent gracefully to snatch your jacket off the floor. She held it out with that absent minded flourish of hers, all charm and poise.

“Careful, darling, you’d lose your head if it weren’t stitched on.”

Her fingers brushed yours as she passed the coat back. Then her smile faltered. Just for a second. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, the kind that made your stomach knot because you knew she’d pieced something together. Rowena blinked, and then her lips curled slowly, wickedly, like a cat who’d cornered the mouse.

“Ohhh…”

She breathed.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a laugh that sounded halfway between amusement and outrage.

“I just- oh, bloody hell. I gave you your coat back, didn’t I? Your selkie coat?”

Her eyes glittered with mischief, but there was real exasperation too, like she couldn’t believe her own slip.

“Do you know what that means? By your precious little selkie law…”

She waved a hand vaguely.

“…we’re practically married now.”

She leaned back in her chair, dramatically pressing a hand to her chest.

“Rowena MacLeod, tied down! Who would’ve thought?”

But then her gaze softened, just barely, a corner of her mouth twitching upward. “Suppose there are worse fates,” she said with mock resignation. “At least you’re easy on the eyes.” After a beat, she smirked again, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Don’t think for a moment this means you can stop fetching the tea. I may be your wife now, but I’m still me.”