Awaken the Highland Warrior (19 page)

“You finished the floor, Briana. I thought your sander broke.”

“It did.” Bree stared at the finished floor. Her mouth dropped. She looked at Faelan’s eager smile, and her eyes stung. “You finished it for me? By hand?”

“Oh, my.” Orla beamed and dabbed at one eye.

“Thank you,” Bree whispered, squeezing his arm. They headed to the living room where her mother continued her embarrassing stories, and Faelan listened with rapt attention while Bree dug through a box of her old things her mother had brought. She picked up Emmy, the stuffed panda she’d had since she was a child. It was missing one eye and its black and white body was worn and ratty from being held through too many bad dreams.

“But she suffers from sea sickness, like Layla—” Her mother pressed her lips together and brushed at invisible lint on her skirt.

“Aunt Layla got seasick, too?” Bree asked.

“Lots of Kirklands do, dear. Even your grandmother did. Remember how sick she got on that cruise? I’ve been meaning to ask, did you find out what she wanted to talk to you about before she died? She called the house the day before, trying to find you, but I wasn’t there. Her message sounded strange. I tried to call her back, but… I haven’t asked before now, because I didn’t want to upset you, with everything going on.”

Her mother was almost rambling. Bree rambled when she was nervous. Orla Kirkland never rambled. It must be the wedding bells clanging in her head.

“She left a message, but by the time I got it, it was too late.”

“Perhaps she wanted to say good-bye. I think she knew she was nearing the end. She seemed troubled the last time I talked to her. Maybe she mentioned something in her journal. I don’t suppose you’ve found it,” she added, picking at her skirt again. As if lint would dare attach itself to Orla Kirkland’s clothing.

“No.” Why did her mother care? She’d never been interested in anyone’s journal before. “Besides working on the renovations, I’ve been busy cleaning up the graveyard and watching the archeologists dig.” Bree hadn’t mentioned finding Isabel’s journal. She hadn’t wanted to share her secret, not even with her mother and her best friend. Why had she shared it with Faelan?

“Archeology digs and graveyards. You should be thinking about marriage and children,” she said, casting a desperate glance at Faelan.

Dead people weren’t so bad. At least they didn’t judge.

“Her grandmother’s side of the family, that’s where she gets her adventurous spirit,” Orla said to Faelan. “Even in kindergarten. Oh, the drawings she brought home. Aliens one day, monsters and angels the next. Your old sketchbook is in there, Briana. I thought you might want it.”

Bree spotted the book at the bottom of the box. A chill slid over her body as her mother’s voice faded. She stared at the cover, hands heavy with dread. Slowly she opened it. The first sketch was of the house and graveyard with its leaning headstones. The crypt sat in the center, larger than everything else. The tree hovered over it, its blackened branches stretching out like claws. She shivered and slammed the book shut. She shoved it back in the box and looked up to see Faelan watching her. Bree realized she had Emmy gripped tight against her chest. She put the panda back in the box as her mother droned on about her recklessness.

“Thank God the nightmares stopped after the crypt. I wish the recklessness had. The migraines she gave me. All through middle school and high school, she was always looking for some relic or treasure. You’d have thought she was on a quest. There was the gold-panning fiasco in college… I don’t know what she was thinking, traveling alone out in the middle of nowhere looking for gold that didn’t exist. But Lord, were there snakes.”

Faelan cocked one brow. “Snakes?”

“Her grandmother and I thought she would die. The doctor said she should have died. He’d never seen anyone recover from so many poisonous bites at once. She fell into a den of them. Cobras.” Orla gave an elegant shudder. “But she always heals fast. Her cousin Reggie used to say she was indestructible. She fell a lot, you know.”

“Aye,” Faelan said, the edge of a grin peeking out of his sexy mouth. “She still does.”

“They were copperheads, Mother. They don’t have cobras in Colorado. And if the medevac helicopter hadn’t flown in to get me, they wouldn’t have found Todd.”

“Who’s Todd?” Faelan asked, grin disappearing as his eyebrows gathered into a glare.

“Your disasters usually do end well.” Orla sighed. “For someone else. The poor child was hiking with his uncle,” she told Faelan. “They got caught in a rockslide, and the uncle died. The boy had a broken leg. The cell phone was buried with the uncle, and there wasn’t a soul around for thirty miles. He took shelter in a cave. He’d been there two days without food or water. When he heard the rescue helicopter, he crawled out and waved his shirt. The pilot saw him. Sweet boy. Bree visits him every year.”

“Was that the cave where she broke her ankle?”

“
The cave
,” her mother drawled in horror, wrapping a manicured hand around Faelan’s arm. “That was a different time. They had to cut the bat out of her hair. Have you ever heard of a bat strangling in someone’s hair? It’s a wonder she didn’t fall off the cliff. There she was, hanging from a tiny branch with a dead bat in her hair.”

“Damnation.”

“It was a small cliff,” Bree mumbled, glad her mother didn’t know half of her adventures. Too bad her sixth sense didn’t work in her own life.

“Her father, rest his soul, should’ve put his foot down. He bought her the most beautiful dolls, but all she wanted to do was hunt for treasure and explore caves, so he trekked around the countryside after her, metal detecting, bringing home twisted bits of metal they called coins. And the Civil War reenactments, egad! All those men lying on the ground pretending to be dead. Just not healthy for an eight-year-old. It’s her specialty now, the Civil War.”

The laughter left Faelan’s eyes like a candle doused by a wave.

“Mother, you’re going to make Faelan think I’m unstable.” She gave her mother a
you’re-not-helping
stare.

“Oh, but she’s not nearly as impulsive now,” her mother said, tightening her grip on Faelan’s arm. “She has quite a reputation as an antiquities expert. Her knowledge is very much in demand. She authenticated a dagger last year for a prince. And since most of her work is consulting, it won’t interfere with having children. You do like children?”

Bree suspected her mother had the wedding half planned. “Aren’t you going to be late meeting Sandy, mother?”

Her mother glanced at her watch. “Oh, where did the time go? I’m going to miss seeing her granddaughter. I’m beginning to think I’ll never have one.” She gave a dramatic sigh.

If they weren’t careful, her mother might get one, wedding or not.

Bree set the box behind the couch. “I need to leave too. I’m supposed to meet Janie—”

“Not alone,” Faelan said, scowling.

Bree’s hands balled into fists. “Are you going to do this again?”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t trust Janie’s boyfriend,” he added, when Orla raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“So protective, Briana. Just like your father.”

Bree gave Faelan a defiant glare. She didn’t need another man protecting her.

“Give me a hug, darling. I’m so glad I got to see you. And Faelan, it was wonderful meeting you. I hope this won’t be our last visit. Oh, what’s this?” she asked, leaning back to look at Bree’s necklace. “A gift?” She blasted Faelan with a blinding smile, like the necklace was a three-carat engagement ring.

“Don’t you recognize it?” Bree asked.

“Should I?”

“It was Daddy’s. Grandma gave it to me after he died. I… lost it. Faelan found it for me.”

Orla’s smile collapsed. She looked blank. “Your father’s. Of course. How silly of me. I must have forgotten. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it. Well, I have to run. I’ll probably sleep at Sandy’s. I almost suffocated last night from the dust and perfume. Faelan, dear, would you start the car and load my luggage? It’s so nice to have a man around. You need to bring him to Florida for a visit, Briana.”

“What are we going to do about her?” Bree asked, when her mother drove off.

“I was thinking she could give you lessons in proper female behavior.”

She turned to glare at him and saw his grin. He’d seemed delighted to meet her mother. He probably missed his own.

“But I’ll have to talk to her about embarrassing you,” he said.

Bree felt as gushy as when she’d seen the sanded floor. She started to hug him, but decided against it. They’d hardly touched since the bed and breakfast. Neither seemed sure which direction to go after making love again. Faelan acted worried, like he’d taken advantage of her, and Bree was feeling the aftershocks of discovering she’d almost married an eight-hundred-year-old demon.

“Why’d your cousin lock you in the crypt?”

“He was a brat. We thought it was haunted. We called it the Tomb of the Unnamed.” She could still remember the terror as Reggie closed the door and his wicked nine-year-old laugh, as he’d taunted that she was locked inside with a thing so evil it couldn’t be named. That was all she could remember about the event.

“What made you think it was haunted?”

She smiled. “Maybe I knew you were in there,” she said and shivered. She thought he paled, but it might have been a trick of the light. “There’ve always been stories about lights moving at night, shadows near the graves. Forget Cousin Reggie. I’ve been dying to show you something I found this morning.” Faelan followed her to the computer and stood behind her chair. “See there? Faelan Connor, born 1833.”

“It’s me.” Faelan leaned closer, eyes soaking up the words on the screen. “Aiden there, that’s my father.”

“Duncan Connor. He must be your brother’s what, great-great-grandson? He was born in 1983, so he should have a year or so left as a warrior.”

“You’ve done it. You’ve found my clan.” Wrapping both arms around her shoulders, he kissed her cheek.

“And there’s a Sean Connor. There’s a phone number listed for him.”

“We can call.”

“We shouldn’t drop the news over the phone. I know it seems like days for you, but it’s been over a century and a half. The stories may have been lost.”

A muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth, and he nodded.

Bree knew his greatest worry wasn’t that there wouldn’t be warriors to help him, but that his clan had forgotten him. “I’ll call and say I have news of a relative, and we’ll fly there tonight. We need to get out of here anyway. Between the archeologists, the demons, and Peter, it’ll be impossible to keep you hidden.”

“What about your mother?”

“I’ll tell her something’s come up, and I’m going to meet your family. She’ll think we’re… well, it can’t be helped.” She’d be so excited about her misconceptions she wouldn’t mind.

“She’ll think we’re considering marriage.”

Bree enjoyed a brief daydream; her in a wedding dress, gliding down the aisle to join a dark-haired man…

“Does she like me, or is she desperate?”

Her daydream screeched to a halt. “Desperate? Don’t you think I can get a husband?”

“It’s just that a lot of people are trying to marry you off. I guess they figure you need a husband to keep you out of trouble.”

“That’s a chauvinistic thing to say.”

He grinned. “It’d bloody well take a jailer, not a husband.” The phone rang before she could throw out a sarcastic comment. “You’re going to answer it?” he asked, as she picked it up.

“It’s probably Peter. If I don’t answer, he’s going to show up at the door again.” Faelan had given her the note Peter left. Bree scrambled for an excuse to give him, but it was Jared.

“Can I come by? I need to talk to you.”

“I was just leaving. What’s wrong?”

“My backers are pulling out. Any chance you’ve made a decision about moving the dig? It’s probably too late anyway,” he said, voice weary.

She hated seeing Jared distressed after all he’d done for her. Maybe he was the one her grandmother wanted her to help, not Faelan. It was her idea to let Jared dig. Bree had met him here. She’d showed up at her grandmother’s, on the run from Russell, and interrupted Jared and her grandmother discussing excavating. Both of them had taken one look at Bree and known she was in trouble. Jared offered to track Russell down and tell him to leave Bree alone. She refused, but she and Jared had been friends ever since.

“I’ll let you move the dig if you can wait until I get back. I’m leaving town for a few days.” She couldn’t have Jared and his men here until Druan was no longer a threat. “You think it might help keep your funding?”

Faelan stood with his arms crossed over his chest, listening. With him, there was no such thing as a private conversation.

“It’ll have to do,” Jared said. “Thank you. This is a sudden trip. Where are you going?”

“I have some friends in Scotland who want me to look over some old documents.” Faelan lifted one sexy brow, and Bree tugged at her necklace, distressed at how easily lies were dripping off her tongue. “I’ve always wanted to visit Scotland,” she said, diluting the lie with truth. “We… I’m leaving tonight.” The chain snapped, and the necklace fell to the floor.

“After that murder, I’d feel better if you weren’t there. I caught one of my new guys snooping around. And someone broke into the trailer and stole a shovel and some clothes.”

She hoped Druan hadn’t planted one of his henchmen on Jared’s crew. She could warn him, but that might put him in more danger. Jared would barge out and confront the man.

“I won’t be around for a couple of days myself,” Jared said, “but I’ll check on the house when I get back.”

“You’re leaving, too?” She hoped he was. This place was too dangerous.

“My uncle is taking me to meet the backers, to see if I can get them to change their minds. The possibility of expanding the dig might do the trick.”

“What was that about?” Faelan demanded after she hung up.

“He wants to move the dig closer to the house.”

“I heard. He’s already too close.”

“I’m trying to hold him off until Druan is out of the way.”

“I should meet Jared,” Faelan said, frowning.

“He’s leaving for a couple of days. I’ll introduce you when we get back. I can say you’re Cousin Reggie.” She picked up the necklace, looking at the broken clasp. She hoped there’d be an earth left to dig in.

***

The trembling man watched as skin stretched and thickened, nose flattening, forehead bulging. The stench of sulfur filled the air as the man transformed into a monster.

“What did he look like?” the monster snarled.

The man shrank back. “T-tall. It was too dark to see anything,” he lied, not knowing why the monster cared.

“Did you hear his name?” Long teeth gnashed inches from his face.

“No,” he lied again, afraid to say more.

The monster turned to the skinny man beside him. Or was he another monster hiding under human skin? There was a bulge under his shirt, like a bandage, and the man looked as terrified as he felt.

“You didn’t tell me anyone was with her, Grog. Two centuries I’ve kept you, helped you increase in power, and you hide this from me? You’ve seen the man. Was it him?”

The skinny man’s skin rippled. “Master, I didn’t see anyone—”

“Liar.” The monster swiped with one of his claws, and Grog smashed into the wall. Half his face was gone. “If it’s the warrior, the plan will have to be altered. Keep looking, and find out the man’s name, or you’ll be keeping Grog company.”

The man ran from the room, sick with fear. He wiped his clammy forehead and tried to think. He was almost certain he had what the monster wanted. He’d found it by sheer luck when he’d stepped on a loose floorboard. If he gave it to him now, though, the monster would have no reason to keep him alive.

The hair rose on his neck. A stranger with long, raven hair stood in a dark doorway with a smug look on a face that was startlingly handsome after the earlier nightmare. The stranger watched from the shadows as two men talked farther down the corridor, one not fully human, the other immaculate, his hair streaked with silver.

When he looked back, the raven-haired stranger had vanished. This place was rife with secrets as well as horrors. He had to warn her. It was too late for him, but she shouldn’t have to pay for his sins.

***

Faelan gripped the arms of the seat, trying not to look at the earth disappearing below. His stomach dropped as the plane rose higher. He couldn’t remember what he’d eaten last, but he’d be lucky if it stayed down. Hot air balloons were one thing; this was madness. A big metal bird hurtling through the sky. He hadn’t stopped sweating since he stepped into the airport terminal carrying his fake birth certificate, driver’s license, and passport. In his time, a man’s name and his reputation were all the proof he needed.

At least the documents bore his real name. He didn’t know how he’d repay Bree. She’d given the man a wad of money that would have fed a family for a year, in his day. He was going to owe her his first bairn. If he ever had one.

“Can we change seats?” he asked Bree, averting his gaze from the clouds rolling past his window.

Her lips twitched. She patted his hand and stood in the aisle while he unbuckled and slid over. He didn’t dare try to stand, so she was forced to climb over him, her backside in his face as she took her seat. It was the only time his stomach had stopped rolling since he boarded this death trap. He wondered if the flight attendant would let her sit in his lap so he wouldn’t have to think about how long it would take for them to plummet from the sky.

Bree sat down and slid a cover over the window. Damnation. He wished he’d known the thing closed. He could’ve pretended he was in a car and worried instead about what he’d find when they arrived in Scotland. He started feeling almost normal until she said, “You’ll be fine. These things hardly ever crash.”

The plane landed none too soon, and he had to do it all over again. If he wasn’t afraid the disease would be released, he’d take a ship back to New York. Or did Bree expect him to stay in Scotland?

They rented a car at the airport, and after Bree finished chattering about having to drive on the wrong side of the road, Faelan got his first view of his homeland in more than a hundred and fifty years. This wasn’t the Scotland he remembered. Quaint villages had been replaced with crowds and buildings and cars, but outside the towns, the place was much the same. Homesickness gripped him as the scenery rolled by, flowers and sheep dotting hills and glens, farmhouses with curls of smoke drifting from stone chimneys.

“Look at those border collies. And sheep. I think there are more sheep here than people.” She turned her head as they passed a flock, and the car veered into the path of an oncoming vehicle.

“Watch out!” he yelled, grabbing for the wheel. They’d be lucky if they lived to meet his family, with Bree talking and driving and looking all at the same time.

“I see it,” she said, wrestling the car into the lane.

Trouble was, she wanted to see everything. At once.

“Look at that field of heather, and beyond it, the mist hanging over the valley. Can’t you picture the men in their kilts, raising their swords for battle? Oh my gosh, you experienced it, for real.”

He hadn’t battled other clans, but he’d battled many a demon on this soil.

“And the sky, it’s so… Scotlandy.”

“Scotlandy?”

“Just like I pictured Scotland. But better. I should have traveled here years ago.”

He was glad she was so enthralled with the land where he’d spent most of his youth. There was a kind of rightness about it all. It helped ease his worry over what he’d find when he arrived. He leaned his head back as she prattled on about fairies and kelpie, letting the gentle motion of the car and the scenery soothe his nerves. He wished he could show her the fields where he’d run and played with his brothers, the cold river where he’d caught fish and cooked them over a fire and frozen his arse off when the water was deep enough for swimming. The hidden cave where he’d camped, pretending to be a warrior long before he was. No matter where he roamed, the Highlands would always be home. Home. He closed his eyes.

“Faelan?”

Faelan woke with a start. Bree was shaking him.

“We’re almost there.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed the rest. According to the GPS, this is it. Oh, my.” She turned onto a paved driveway and pulled up to a large stone and iron gate.

Faelan wiped his bleary eyes and looked at the fence-lined fields rolling into green hills and copses of trees already showing red and gold. A dozen horses grazed, tails flicking. He leaned forward, gazing at the driveway that disappeared into the woods. A few feet beyond, it would cross a wooden bridge, spanning the gentle burn that in hard rain could reach Nandor’s head. The road had been dirt then. Home.

***

Duncan Connor surveyed the monitors covering the perimeter of the castle and grounds. Five hundred acres wasn’t easy to protect. In olden days, they’d relied on warriors stationed around the boundary. His father still talked of those days. Things were different now. In modern times, man had to use modern weapons, not that a demon couldn’t get through if he really tried, but he’d have hell to pay when he got over the fence. Shane moved into sight on monitor B, his sword strapped to his back, a Glock at his waist. He wouldn’t need the Glock. He was one of the fastest with a sword. Duncan glanced at the other monitors, checking the warriors’ positions. There were more on guard than usual today.

A beep sounded, announcing a visitor. Duncan turned to the gate monitor. A rental car sat at the entrance. This must be her. He pushed the button. “Yes?”

“Hello,” a female voice said. “I’m Bree Kirkland. I spoke to Duncan Connor about a relative. I believe he’s expecting me.”

Duncan couldn’t imagine what news she could have about a relative, but she’d sounded nervous, making him suspect a trick. He saw movement in the passenger seat. Almost surely a trick. She was supposed to be alone. Two warriors entered the room behind him.

“Gate’s open. Follow the drive and pull around back.” He pushed the button opening the gate, and the car rolled forward at a snail’s pace past the cameras mounted along the long road.

“Keep your weapons close,” he told the men flanking him.

“You think this has something to do with Angus?” Brodie asked.

“Aye. I’m starting to think so.” Her suspicious call, coming so soon after the one from Angus, made Duncan leery. Reinforcements had been called in, just in case she had something deadly up her sleeve. Duncan slipped his dirk into its sheath and listened for the car to roll to a stop. When he touched the doorknob, a shiver rippled up his arm. He’d been restless all week. Sorcha wasn’t helping, disappearing for days at a time, and when she deigned to resurface, she never revealed where she’d been. Did she have a serious boyfriend this time? The question stung like a hook in his gut. She flaunted her men like a fisherman flaunted trout.

He hoped her lies were as big.

***

“It’s a castle.” Bree stared at the large, stone structure and turned to gape at Faelan. “Druan’s castle. Why didn’t you tell me his castle looked like this one?”

“What was there to say? I don’t understand it either.” Connor Castle was almost the same as the last time he’d seen it. The stone appeared more weathered, and there were boxes mounted along the walls. Cameras, if his twenty-first century knowledge was correct. He’d seen them at the gate and on poles and trees along the drive as well. It would be interesting to see how time had changed the battle.

The castle sat in the middle of five hundred acres, encircled by a thick stand of woods blocking it from the prying eyes and the curious townsfolk of his day. Warriors had been posted at the boundaries, rotating every six months. Anyone who got past them—almost none did—found a horse farm, which it was, in part. It was also the seat of Clan Connor. Faelan had spent more than his share of time watching for busybodies and demons. When he wasn’t hunting, he stayed in one of the cottages along the boundary, to his mother’s delight and his. Her cooking beat his by far.