Awaken the Highland Warrior (7 page)

“Is he staying at the house?”

“Yes. No. I mean, he’s leaving.”

“Does Jared know he’s here?”

“Not exactly. Do you think you could not mention him to Jared… or anyone?”

One eyebrow lifted. “One horse at a time, girl,” he whispered as Faelan approached.

Bree introduced the two men and maneuvered a hurried conversation in which Peter briefly explained the incident again, scrutinizing Faelan as he spoke. “I’ve got to get back to the office. Just stopped to get coffee. Call if you need me, Bree. Faelan, nice meeting you.”

Faelan muttered a reply, staring at the street outside, his eyes narrowed, body stilled. A tingle tiptoed across Bree’s arms. She followed his gaze, subconsciously looking for Russell’s dark-blond head.

“Let’s go home. We have enough food for now.” She took the ice cream from the second cart and hurried Faelan to the checkout. His jaw dropped as he watched the items being scanned. He asked the lusty-eyed cashier to charge him for the half a pound of grapes he’d eaten, and she simpered and sighed, paying more attention to him than the groceries sliding past. Bree was certain at least two items made it into the bag without being scanned. When the third item missed the scanner, she started to mention it, but alas, it was a box of extra large condoms.

***

The tall man reached inside the coffin and removed the metal object hidden under the corpse’s hand. He stared at it, stunned. God in heaven, it was true.

This was far beyond what he’d expected. He needed help.

***

“You did this?” Faelan asked, looking at the newly sanded floor in one of Bree’s second-floor bedrooms. Sweeping and scrubbing floors was a woman’s work. Refinishing them was not.

“I’m doing the smaller stuff myself. Grandma’s dream was to restore this house to its former glory. I’m going to finish it for her. And the chapel, too. There’s still a lot of work to be done. My sander broke. I’ll have to finish this room by hand, but it keeps me occupied until I go back to my job.”

“You work outside your home?” He’d assumed her grandmother had left her provided for, since she had no husband to take care of her.

“If I don’t have a job, I don’t eat. Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

It wasn’t enough that he’d brought hell to her door. He was a burden on her purse as well.

Bree led him to the room across from where he’d slept last night. “You can sleep here.” There was a dresser, one table, a chair, and a small bed frame without a mattress. He wasn’t sure if he’d fit on the bed, but was pleased to see a window facing the graveyard so he could keep an eye on the crypt. No point in sending the time vault back when he’d need it for Druan, but it wasn’t safe to leave unguarded. At least he’d hidden the key.

“We’ll have to get a mattress from the attic.”

“Are you sure you won’t—”

“I told you, I’m not going to stay with Biff. This is my house. I’m not leaving.”

If he could drive that confounded thing she called a car, he’d throw her over his shoulder and take off. If he had a horse, he’d do it anyway. “A man’s been killed not a mile from your back door. It would be prudent to leave.”

“Prudence has never been my forte. I’m sure it was a fight between two campers or a wild animal attack.”

It wasn’t an animal. He knew that scream. It meant one thing.
They
were here. But did they know he was?

“I don’t suppose the trip jogged your memory,” she said, stacking the rest of Faelan’s new clothes on the chair.

“No.” He knew she doubted his story, but he couldn’t tell her the truth, not until he knew for sure who she was. “Do your doors and windows lock?” he asked, resuming his inspection of the room.

“Yes.”

“Keep them locked. And stay away from the graveyard.”

“Why?”

Because something was out there. And it wasn’t human. Not fully. “You mentioned your great-great-grandfather was killed out there.”

“In the chapel, not the graveyard. A falling stone hit him. And I think I’m perfectly capable of deciding whether or not to visit my graveyard. Somebody has to pull the weeds. I’m going to start dinner.” She stalked out of the bedroom and left him staring after her.

He’d never seen anything like her. She was intelligent, beautiful, and he felt some kind of connection to her that scared the hell out of him, but he’d never met a woman who explored caves and searched graveyards for treasure, not to mention let him get away with things that would’ve had a woman of his time hysterical. He hoped she wasn’t touched in the head.

It could be she wasn’t scared because she was the one who’d brought
them
here. He looked around the room, relieved it was simple, with no newfangled devices. He’d seen enough modern inventions to make him wish he was still in the time vault. Automobiles and airplanes and buildings that reached the sky. He touched his pocket where he kept the phone she’d insisted he have, claiming someone could talk to him on it from the other side of the world.
If
anyone knew he was alive.

The quest for knowledge and convenience in this time was alarming. Nothing was left unexplored. There was some machine or apparatus to do anything a person might want. It seemed to him people had more need for things now, and less for each other. If this generation knew what evil walked among them, their
technology
wouldn’t be so prized. If he didn’t find Druan, all the knowledge and all the gadgets in the world wouldn’t save them.

Faelan started for the door, when he heard a squeak. One end of the board he stood on had risen. He kneeled and lifted the plank, peering underneath. A piece of paper was tucked next to a small box. He picked the paper up, and a necklace fell to the floor, a tarnished silver cross. The bottom tip was notched, like a key. He turned it over and saw an emblem on the back. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t think why. The paper was more disturbing, written in a child’s hand.
Dear Shiny Man. Thank you for sending my protector to keep the monster away.
It was unsigned. Was this a child’s game, or was the monster real? Demons weren’t the only monsters out there. Humans could be evil, as well. There was nothing lower than someone who preyed on a woman or child. A painful memory seeped in. He pushed it back and concentrated on matters at hand.

The letter might not be Bree’s. Many children would have lived here over the decades. He examined the small box, and heard something move inside. Did the cross open it? There wasn’t a lock, not even a lid. He’d wager Ian could open it. His brother loved puzzles and secrets. Holding the necklace, Faelan went to find Bree.

She was bent over the bed, removing the muddy sheets, her skirt revealing more leg than he’d seen on a woman dressed. In his time, that is. He’d seen things downright scandalous in this one. A rush of heat settled in his loins. She hadn’t heard him. She raised the edge of the mattress, and he heard her gasp. Moving quietly, as all warriors learned in their youth, he eased back, watching to see if she’d take the key. He couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands. She pulled it out, and he reached for his dirk. Pish. She still had it. Muttering to herself, she replaced the key and dropped the mattress. He’d have to find a better hiding place, and he’d have to keep a closer eye on her. That would be hell, he thought, rubbing the ache between his legs.

He started to leave, but she turned and saw him. If he hadn’t been so disturbed by her legs and her discovery of the hidden key, he’d have done the decent thing and covered his groin.

“I’m going to take a walk, see if I recognize anything,” he said. He needed to find out how he’d gotten here and what part she played in this game.

***

Bree slid the apple pie in the oven, then stirred the beef stew simmering on the stove. If this didn’t loosen his tongue, nothing would. She glimpsed something outside the window. Faelan was headed toward the dig. This was her chance. She grabbed her camera and ran out the back door. Opening the iron gate, she hurried through the graveyard, stopping just long enough to pick up the piece of broken gravestone she’d used to prop open the crypt door last night. She didn’t know who Orenda was or why she’d been buried here, but Bree had used part of her gravestone so many times she felt she owed the woman a debt.

She passed Rosalie Wood and her stillborn baby, resisting the urge to stop and pull a lone weed that dared grow against the aged stone. Her great-great-great-grandfather Samuel had buried his wife and child together. Isabel had been only eleven when her mother and newborn sister died. When Frederick built the house, he put it near the graveyard, so Isabel wouldn’t have to walk far to tend the grave.

Bree couldn’t tend her sister’s grave. She’d been cremated. Perhaps that was why she felt so connected to Isabel. They’d both lost a baby sister. What would it have been like having someone to play with, to share her thoughts and dreams?

Other than her twin, all her family members who’d died were here. Samuel, Isabel, Frederick, her father, grandmother, and Aunt Layla. They would be nothing but bones now and a few scraps of cloth, but Faelan, who’d been buried with them before she was born, was bursting with life, eating all her food, and lusting after her with every glance. He’d been here all her life, every summer she visited. When she was a toddler chasing butterflies. Sixteen and heartbroken because her first love thought she was weird. And a few months ago, when she ran to her grandmother’s to escape Russell.

Would Faelan leave when he found his family? Bree’s chest felt tight, like her bra was too small. But wasn’t that her plan, to find out who he was and get him back where he belonged?

She set Orenda’s stone against the crypt door. “I’ll put it back again, I promise.” Bree followed Faelan’s muddy tracks to the burial vault. She picked up the shovel, placed the square tip against the stone covering, and pushed. Wood cracked as stone scraped against stone, exactly how she’d imagined it sounded when the angels opened Jesus’s tomb. Finally the time vault stood uncovered for the second time in more than a century and a half.

***

Faelan passed the archeologist’s holes, continuing until he came to a withered pine. He touched the deformed trunk and remembered standing a few yards away when lightning struck. This was the field where Druan had ridden up, the trees where Faelan had hidden the time vault. They were taller now, some bare, some gone.

The earth had aged, but not him.

He didn’t know what happened to Druan’s disease. Maybe the other demons played some part in it. And his brothers, what of them? He’d dreamed of Tavis last night. Faelan looked at the sky, tracking the waning sun. He needed to get back. Demons preferred the dead of night, still he wanted Bree safely away before then. Until he knew otherwise, he had to assume she was innocent, but getting her to leave would be a fight. Tomorrow he’d check the place where the body had been found and secure the crypt. If anyone discovered the time vault’s secret, human or demon, the clan was doomed. He turned and retraced his steps back to the house. When he neared the graveyard, his stomach dropped. The crypt door stood open.

In the light of day, the time vault was as breathtaking as when she’d first seen it. Wood inlay adorned metal etched with symbols as far as she could see, like a sarcophagus. A polished gemstone was set in each corner. Green jasper. Was that what she’d glimpsed inside? She was dying to inspect the interior, but opening it would be too dangerous. A streak of dried mud smeared the front edge, and she imagined Faelan being dragged there unconscious. Or worse, awake. Who had stood over him, turning the disk, stealing his family, his life?

Bree raised the camera, and a shadow rose from the floor, obscuring the vault. A low growl came from behind her. She turned. A figure loomed in the door of the crypt, blocking the light. The darkness lengthened and grew as it came closer. She opened her mouth to scream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Faelan! You scared the stuffing out of me.” She glanced guiltily at the time vault, then at Faelan’s face, and almost wet her pants.

His eyes were obsidian slits. “What are you doing here?”

The low rumble of his voice made the hair on her neck stand. She backed against the burial vault, clutching the camera to her chest to keep her heart in place. “I lost an earring last night.”

“Why is the time vault uncovered?”

“I thought while I was here, I would get a couple of pic—” She yelped as he ripped the camera away.

“Why?” The word dripped with venom.

“Why? Because it’s incredible, that’s why.”

His hands clamped around the camera with so much force she thought he’d crush it. “No photographs.” He tugged the heavy cover of the burial vault into place with one hand, grabbed Bree’s arm, and pulled her outside, eyes scanning the graveyard and woods.

“Wait,” she said, wrenching free. “I promised Orenda I’d put this back.” She picked up the piece of headstone, cradling it in both hands.

Faelan’s expression was hostile and wary, as if he expected her to bash him in the head. If she could lift the headstone high enough, she would. She left him standing there and started toward Orenda’s grave.

Faelan caught up, planting himself in front of Bree. He opened his mouth to speak, looked past her, and his jaw dropped. He walked to the back of the crypt.

Bree turned. From this angle, she could see a pile of dirt behind the crypt. She followed him, still lugging Orenda’s stone. Outrage rumbled through her as she stared at the gaping hole. Was this what he’d been doing out here? “What did you do? This is my favorite grave.”

“I didn’t do it—” his head snapped up. “We have to go. Now.”

“Orenda’s headstone—”

Faelan snatched it up as if it were a marble and dropped it on the ground. “Put it back later.” He pushed her past Layla’s and her dad’s graves and out the gate.

“Wait. We can’t leave the grave uncovered.”

“I’ll come back.”

Had he seen something? She expected gunshots or screams as he dragged her into the house. As soon as they were inside, she wheeled around to blast him for being so rude, and the phone rang. Frustrated and angry, she answered without thinking.

The voice caught her off guard. She gripped the table to steady herself, leveling her voice to hide her dread. “What do you want, Russell?”

“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

She wrapped her hand around her shoulder to stop the shaking. “I have nothing to say to you.” He’d stolen her money, her dignity, and peace of mind. What more could he want? Her blood? “I’ve asked you not to call.”

“I miss you, Bree. Don’t do this to us—”

He sounded sincere, like the old Russell from college, and for two seconds she remembered how charming and sweet he’d been. After she moved to Florida, the relationship died a long-distance death. A year and a half ago, she ran into him in an antique shop while visiting her grandmother; the same shop where she’d bought the Highland warrior painting. Bree had reached for an old book, only to find Russell’s hand there too. They’d both laughed, and he bought the book for her. She couldn’t remember which one now, she had so many. They went to lunch and a friendship renewed, blooming into a relationship, followed by an engagement. But little by little, he’d changed, turning into something dark and ugly. When she finally escaped him, it took her months to feel like herself again.

“There is no
us
, not anymore.”

“Just meet me, please. I have something to tell you.” His voice grew raspy, like it did when he was desperate. “Something important.”

“It’s all been said before.”

There was a pause on the other end that chilled her blood. “This hasn’t.”

“Leave me alone, Russell.” Bree hung up and threw the phone on the table, swiping at tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, angry she’d let him get to her again. Someone moved behind her. Faelan. She’d forgotten he was here. He stood a few feet away, watching her, his eyes stormy.

Men. Sometimes she wished she were a nun.

Letting Russell make her cry was bad enough, without witnesses. She couldn’t deal with Faelan’s lies right now.

***

He didn’t know who Russell was, but Faelan wanted to crush the man’s skull for making Bree afraid. Yet he’d acted no better in the crypt. “Are you okay?” he asked, following her out the front door, onto the porch.

She jumped and turned away, but not before he saw her damp cheeks. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so,” he said softly, moving close behind her. He put his hand out, wanting to touch her, to take away the tears, but he doubted she trusted him any more than the bastard who’d put them there.

Her knuckles tightened on the railing and her shoulders began to shake. This was a new side of her, a dangerous one. It made him want to dismiss the suspicion and fear still coiled around his mind like a poisonous snake.

“Who’s Russell?” He moved closer, daring to put a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched. “An old boyfriend.”

“Wasn’t he a good one?”

“What?”

“You said you couldn’t find a good one.” The problem wasn’t lack of male interest. They’d all but leered at her in town. If she belonged to him, he would have put his fist upside a couple of heads. He’d wanted to anyway.

“No, he wasn’t good. He was slime. Most men are.” She turned, leveling him with a condemning glare.

Faelan pulled his hand away. He didn’t deserve to touch her after acting as he had. “I apologize if I was too rough out there. I might have overreacted.”

“Might have?” she said, her damp eyes shooting sparks. “You’re acting like Russell, trying to scare me, dragging me out of the crypt.
My
crypt. I was just trying to take a picture.”

“Why?” She was too smart to still believe it was a treasure chest. Did she have more devious reasons?

“Someday I’ll want to show my children.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not? If you can’t remember anything, why are you protecting the time vault?”

He couldn’t answer without giving away more secrets. He’d already made a dire mistake by calling it a time vault. “It’s just a feeling.” She should understand that. Women always acted on their feelings. “Who’s buried in that grave?” he asked, hoping to distract her. “There was no name.”

“I tried to find out, but kept running into dead ends. I don’t think it was ever marked. The stone’s too uniform. No indentions or discolorations. I can’t imagine why someone would dig it up.”

“Maybe the archeologist got bored.”

“He wouldn’t do that. He’s out of town, anyway.”

“Could be the killer was going to bury his victim there. Who’d think to look for a body in a grave?” Even demons had to hide their carnage. Secrecy was as important to them as the warriors they fought. “Or someone else is looking for McGowan’s treasure. Who knew about the map?”

“Anyone in the family could have found it. Cousin Reggie was always nosey.”

The trait must run in the family. “Did he ever mention it?”

“No. He didn’t visit Grandma much after he grew up.” Her forehead did that pretty puckered thing it did when she was thinking. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was playing a prank.”

“Nasty prank. Who’d want to frighten you?”

She let out a string of curses that scorched Faelan’s ears. “That jackass. I bet he’s trying to scare me away so I’ll run back to him. He’s probably been watching the house, waiting for me to find the grave. That’s why he called.”

“Russell?” Something had been watching, but Faelan doubted it was human. “How far would he go to scare you?”

“I don’t know if he’d kill someone, but if he heard about the dead man, I could see him trying to freak me out. I should tell Peter—”

“No.” Faelan’s voice was sharp. “Not yet. Please.”

Bree studied him so intently he feared she was rethinking her decision to let him stay. He wouldn’t blame her. He’d frightened her, nearly beheaded her, was eating all her food, and he’d almost ravished her. She knew he was hiding the truth. If he didn’t do something to make up for his actions, he’d end up sleeping under a tree. “You said you lost an earring. I’d like to help you find it.”

“Thanks.” She sniffed, arms stiff across her body. “It was my great-great-grandmother’s.” She rubbed her ear, and he noticed the tiny hole.

At least it was in her ear. He’d held the door for a lass in town with enough metal in her face to make a small sword, and she was covered head to toe in black, right down to her fingernails and lips. Better than some he’d seen wearing what Bree called shorts that barely covered their arses.

She still looked uncertain, so he tried a different approach, one that would appeal to her curiosity. “I’ve remembered something,” he said. He despised having to depend on someone and didn’t like having to lie, but until he found his clan, he needed Bree’s help.

Her eyes flashed, and she pulled in a quick breath. “You have?”

“A name. Connor. I think it might be a surname.” He hoped it was enough to lure her inside to her research machine and off this porch. He wanted to believe the shadow he’d seen in the woods out back a few minutes ago was one of her lost campers. Or even a vicious murderer who’d tried to dispose of a body in an old grave. But he wouldn’t wager they were so lucky. He desperately needed to find his clan. He’d see if her modern machine could do that.

***

Connor. The clan named in the
Book of Battles
. Proof he was connected to the legend. So why all the pretense? He couldn’t be that desperate for a meal.

He didn’t look angry now, he looked worried and ashamed. He probably expected her to toss him out. She should, but she supposed she’d be upset too, if she found someone poking around at the thing that had stolen a lifetime from her. Still, it was no excuse for acting like a caveman. “The computer’s in the bedroom.” Connor could be a Scottish or Irish surname, but he had a bit of Scottish brogue, and he’d been wearing a kilt. They had a starting point.

Bree fired up the computer while Faelan inspected the artifacts and treasures she’d collected over the years. “What are these?” he asked, running a hand over one of the wooden boxes.

“Puzzle boxes,” she said, as the image of a face blinked across the screen, fading to black. She rubbed her eyes. She had to get more sleep. “They were my Aunt Layla’s. My dad’s youngest sister. She was only twenty-five when she died.” No one in the family talked about Layla. The topic was as taboo as Bree’s twin. “I always loved the boxes, so Grandma gave them to me.”

Faelan moved behind Bree, so close she smelled the warmth of his skin. She pushed her chair back and jumped to her feet. “I think this computer’s possessed.” She felt like tossing it in the yard.

Faelan glanced out the window and frowned. “It’s getting late. We should leave.”

“We haven’t even had dinner. Are you that afraid?”

His muscles bulged. “I’m not afraid, but there’s a killer out there, Russell or someone else. It’s not safe for you to stay.”

“I’ll take you to a hotel, but I’m not running away.” She was tired of running. Russell always found her. Besides, what would he do against a big, bad warrior? Or a big bad demon, for that matter.

“I’m trying to protect you, and you’re making it bloody hard.” He scowled at her and left the room. A second later, she heard his door slam.

Male chauvinist. She’d never asked him to protect her in the first place. After his behavior in the crypt, she wondered if he was the threat.

***

Bree studied the names until her eyes blurred. She’d seen hundreds, but no Faelan. The oven timer dinged. His apple pie. She should let it burn. She put the
Book of Battles
back in the box. Tonight, after he was asleep, she’d find his name. The aroma of apples and cinnamon filled the house. She opened the oven. “Ouch.” She blew on her burned finger and pulled out the apple pie. Perfect. The crust was golden brown, the smell delicious. She started to dump it in the trash, when it occurred to her there was food cooking and Faelan was nowhere in sight. Maybe he’d left without her. She set the pie on the counter, fighting off a wave of panic.

A thump sounded outside, followed by a crash. Alarmed, she hurried to the back door. Faelan stood near the orchard, beside a pile of wood almost as tall as he was, holding an ax. Her eyes smarted with relief. He’d changed into his kilt again. His hair was loose, his shirt hanging over the shed door. Muscles bunched and released as he raised the ax, sinking the blade into a piece of wood. He tossed it on the pile and reached for another, splitting it clean in half. He looked up, and his eyes met hers. Something quivered inside her, terrifying in its force.

He grinned. If she hadn’t dodged it, Cupid’s arrow would’ve nailed her right there on her back porch. After all the inconsiderate jerks she’d dated, one mention of needing the wood split, and he’d done it for her. Even though he was upset.

She swallowed the ball of emotion and called out, “Dinner’s ready. I made a pie.”

“Give me a minute to stack this, and I’ll be in,” he yelled back, picking up an armload.

She walked inside, oddly disturbed for someone who’d avoided having to split a load of wood. She’d never had this strong a reaction to a man, and she’d sought out handsome men like a plant seeks light. This was bad. No matter what secrets he held, he had the power to destroy everything she’d worked for, normalcy, peace of mind. Maybe she should let Jared give Faelan a bed. That thought gurgled and died when Faelan stepped in the back door. His damp shirt hung from one hand, and in the other, he held a clump of wildflowers. He stretched out his hand. “I’m sorry.”