Defending Destiny (The Warrior Chronicles) (3 page)

It landed with more force than he’d intended, and a bright yellow notebook fell out. He recognized that particular shade. It was Daisy’s favorite color. He’d teased her about it when they were younger, naming it “Daisy yellow.” Many of his enameled sterling-silver pieces had “Daisy yellow” accents. His daffodil pieces all featured bright yellow accents. They were among his best sellers. His life wouldn’t be as bright without it. It wasn’t as bright without her, even when the air around them was charged with “I’d like to wring your neck” passion. That wasn’t his favorite kind of energy, it wasn’t even in the top ten, but he’d take it over the anemic “I feel nothing for you” vibe she was trying to sell.

Magnus picked up the notebook, left the towel where it landed, and headed into the suite. Closing the sliding glass door behind him, he glanced out into the pool courtyard. Daisy was nowhere to be found.
Gerry
was on his way to his suite with a laughing handful of willowy woman under each arm. Magnus shook his head. He’d favored willowy women once. Now only the petite, muscular ones seemed to draw his eye. He needed to get laid, no doubt about it. Unfortunately, only one face flashed through him at the thought and her narrowed, chocolate-colored eyes didn’t scream “come get me, boyo.” More’s the pity.

Knowing Daisy was not making Gerry’s night, Magnus made his way to the couch inside, studiously avoiding the suite’s one bedroom. He took off his engineer boots and his socks, thankful for the freedom bare feet brought. When he’d left Orkney this morning it was cool. It was hotter than Hades here, and if he were going to spend one more day, he’d have to invest in a pair of hiking sandals.

Magnus grabbed an apple out of the bowl of fruit on the cocktail table in front of the couch, sat back, and plopped his feet on the cool wood. He’d been traveling for the better part of a day and was tired, irritable and hungry. Seeing Daisy hadn’t diminished any of those feelings. It had intensified them—at least two of them. Leaning back, he took a bite from the apple, savoring the sweet-sour spurt of juice as he crunched away. Honeycrisp, his favorite. From his seat he could clearly see the courtyard and every inch of the pool.

No Daisy.

He opened the notebook and began to read. It had to be a relatively new acquisition because there were only a handful of lists in it. From what he knew of Daisy, she wrote several lists a day, so this one was a day, maybe two, old at most.

Skimming through, Magnus’ gaze lit on a pencil drawing in the margin of one of her lists. It was a stick-like image of a man of giant proportions with large, kind eyes and wavy, shoulder-length hair. He was smiling, which was interesting since she’d drawn him with large devil horns. Magnus smiled at the image. Until he read the title.

10 Reasons I’m Over Magnus and Will NEVER Dream of him AGAIN:

Magnus didn’t know whether to be flattered that she made a list about him or scared by its content. An optimist by nature, he decided to be flattered. Then he started reading and that emotion died a quick and surprisingly painful death.

1.
He’s a giant oaf and I am no longer attracted to giants or oafs.

He’d give her the giant part, but what in the bloody hell was an oaf? “Now you’re just looking for reasons not to like me, lass.” Magnus took another bite of his apple, feeling a glimmer of hope that Daisy still found him as desirable as she used to.

2.
He
only
thinks about himself and his feelings.

Daisy had drawn a line through the word “only” and made several hastily scribbled additions under number two on her list. Magnus smiled. Daisy’s scratchy penmanship indicated she was less than pleased with her additions, but she’d added them anyway. Daisy was painfully honest when making her lists. Something Magnus knew well. He’d been on her “Stinky People” list more than once when she was a teen. Magnus read the first of her additions and hope again swelled in his heart:

A. He cares about his mom, his father, his grandfather, my mother…okay, pretty much everyone at Potters Woods.

B. He also cares about that teenaged criminal he’s teaching metal smithing and jewelry making as well, but I can’t figure out exactly why. The kid mopes and swears like a sailor. What was Magnus thinking, adopting this particular stray?

There was a “C” and a “D,” but Magnus didn’t bother reading them. He was too surprised that Daisy knew or cared about Cian, the kid he’d taken under his wing. Cian had a good heart and a keen mind. The kid could be something wonderful if given half a chance. How did she know about Cian? He hadn’t brought the kid to Potters Woods, Daisy’s home, when Daisy was there. And then it hit him.
Seamus.
His grandfather had been bending Daisy’s ear again. The old man just couldn’t leave well enough alone. He was constantly trying to play matchmaker. “Hope it works, old man.”

Magnus continued reading.

3.
Magnus is not that
attractive.

Magnus grinned, took another bite of his apple, and chewed thoughtfully. “You got that one right, love.” He finished the apple and tossed the core over his shoulder onto the tiled kitchenette counter, hearing it land with a resounding
thud
. He glanced toward the pool then back to Daisy’s list, a smile still lingering in his heart. “Here’s hoping you can overlook that particular flaw and have me anyway.”

Magnus skimmed items 4-8, which went on in colorful detail about his less-than-stellar qualities. His ego was only marginally battered until he got to number nine.

9.
I will NEVER dream about Magnus again because he crushed my heart and he spat on my soul. All I have left is scar tissue. Scar tissue doesn’t feel, and what doesn’t feel doesn’t dream. I am done.

There was no number ten. Her list wasn’t finished. Thank the Lord and Lady for that. If Daisy didn’t finish her list, if she couldn’t think of at least ten reasons to do or not to do something, then she wasn’t nail-in-the-coffin convinced.

With a shaking hand, Magnus reached up and tore the list from Daisy’s notebook. She’d never finish that list if he could help it. Magnus stood, feeling his legs shake. A tremor he couldn’t explain racked his body, leaving the hope he’d felt earlier hanging by a thread. He stuffed the list in the front pocket of his jeans. He was going to change Daisy’s mind on every last thing on that list.

“Then I’ll watch you tear it to tiny pieces, lass. You’ll no’ be makin’ a list like this again.” Magnus made his way to the sliding glass door, looking in vain for the girl who used to love him. “I’ll make you love me again, my wee flower. That I will.”

…

When Daisy returned to her suite, it was dark. Only the small floodlights illuminated her path by the private pool she shared with Gerry’s suite. Not sure how to handle Magnus without either jumping his bones or strangling him, she’d chosen avoidance until she was fairly certain she’d do neither.

After leaving the pool, Daisy showered in a communal shower attached to the resort’s nearest indoor pool and took a fresh robe from the stacks provided for guests. Then she took a chance and stopped by the spa. She was in luck—they had a last-minute cancelation, and yes, of course they’d be happy to accommodate a ninety-minute massage.

Her masseuse, a small woman with large, capable hands,
tsked
repeatedly while trying to rub out the knotted tension twisting Daisy’s musculature and tissues into masses of pent-up pain. The small woman lasted a full forty-five minutes before excusing herself. The spa’s deep-tissue man took the woman’s place, and by the time he was finished with her, Daisy was gritting her teeth as she willed herself not to take a swing at the man. She did growl, though, once, low in her throat, as she squinted through one eye and saw a man who looked a lot like Vin Diesel mashing her skin under hands the size of dinner plates.

She left the spa feeling surprisingly refreshed instead of beaten to a bloody pulp. She was given the universal mantra to make sure she drank plenty of fluids over the next twenty-four hours. She murmured what she hoped was a polite reply, thinking,
Does tequila count?

By the time Daisy opened the sliding glass door to her suite, she’d had plenty of time to formulate a plan. It was a simple plan consisting of two words: be civil. That thin veneer of calm civility fled with the gentle breeze of air carrying Magnus’ pine and smoke scent. He was still here. In her suite. Occupying her space, her world, her heart.

“Why are you here, Magnus?”

His voice came from a chair in the corner. He flipped on the light next to the chair, covering himself in soft amber light. Magnus looked both like an animal ready to pounce and a concerned parent trying to decide what kind of punishment to mete out to a child long past curfew. Daisy didn’t appreciate either response. She left her robe in the spa, opting to wear her swimsuit on her oil-slicked body. What she needed was another quick shower and her bed.

“I told you why. I’m here for you.”

He put way too much meaning into those last four words than Daisy was comfortable acknowledging.
Well, that’s too damn bad, big guy. I’ve got no intention of going anywhere with you.

Daisy stepped out of her flip-flops. Even the bottoms of her feet were oily. If she needed to make a run for it or if she needed to kick, she couldn’t do either in slippery footwear. She tried to sound bored, but then her eyes lit on the towel she’d tossed earlier, lying on the cocktail table, neatly folded. Right next to her open notebook. Her face flamed and all the tension the Vin lookalike forced from her shoulders, lower back and arches of her feet, was back.

“What’s going on, Magnus? I’m in no mood for your games.”

“I don’t play games. You know it, so don’t hide behind sins you’ve imagined I’ve lived in your mercenary mind.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it when there are plenty of real sins to fall back on. And I don’t hide behind anything.”

Magnus stood and walked to her, stopping way too close. Close enough that even in the dim light she could see specks of platinum in his storm-gray irises. Even when his mood was uncertain and all Daisy could read in his expression was a banked need for control, he was compelling.

“You’ve been hiding from me for years. That ends. Right here. Right now. We’ve got a job to do in Kilmartin, and until it’s finished you’re not going anywhere without me.” Magnus reached out and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. It took every ounce of self-respect Daisy had to hold her ground. He was doing it again, messing with her insides, making her blood pulse hot and thick, burning her from heart to core without so much as breathing heavily himself.

His words penetrated a heartbeat after they should have. Had he been anyone else, she’d have taken him to his knees with a quick flick of his wrist. At the right angle, it wouldn’t break it if he didn’t resist, but would cause pain for as long as he did. Her eyes narrowed as his gaze moved from her head slowly down to her toes then back up again.

Heat flashed in his eyes as his nostrils flared. He let his hand drop back to his side as he took a step back. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a kind smile. The man he used to be had only kind smiles for her. This man wasn’t the same. He was older, harder, more dangerous than the man she remembered.

“I don’t answer to you, Magnus—”

“You called me Gus in your notebook. Then Gussie. Three times. There was only one thing that got you to use that name, and I remember it very well. Do you?” His tone turned thick and heavy and so inviting she wanted to lean in.

Yes. I remember. Every detail. Several times a night.

“That was long ago. There’s been a lot of water under that bridge since.”

Magnus’ eyes narrowed and Daisy sucked in her breath as he went from gentle seducer to predator in the span of an ill-timed word. “Don’t push me, Daisy, or you’ll find yourself flat on your back with your legs in the air before the air leaves your lungs from the impact.”

Daisy sucked heated air into her painfully restricted lungs, but didn’t back away. She took a step closer. Some animalistic part of her would have welcomed his attempt. She knew he would never hurt her, but she would certainly bruise him if he tried to make her do anything. A dark part of her wanted to cause him pain for the better part of the last decade.

“Enough. Spit out your reason for darkening my door, Highlander. Or get the bloody hell out of my suite. Why are you here and what would make you, or anyone else who knows me, believe I’d go anywhere with you?” Daisy didn’t realize she was shouting until the heat went out of Magnus and he showed her his unflappable good cheer once again. She found him infinitely less appealing when he wasn’t smiling at her with that naughty Scottish twinkle in his eye. He’d gotten to her and he knew it, the bugger.

“Lauren thinks he may have a line on one of the Ulfberht swords…”

Daisy’s heart kicked into gear and she forgot she was angry with Magnus. She stepped up and grabbed his shoulders. “Really, Gus? A true Ulfberht Viking sword?” She let him go and started to pace with ideas of where to look and how to find one. “What a find. I mean…” She turned to Magnus. “Can you imagine if I found a real Ulfberht? Lauren would have to sponsor me as a full-fledged Finder.”

She started to pace again. Kilmartin wasn’t one of the areas she’d mapped out as potential resting spot of one of the legendary Viking swords a thousand years ahead of their time. If she found one, well, the King and the Council would have to take her seriously. She didn’t know why the Arm-Righ seemed to hate her, but a find like this…