Hot Blooded (15 page)

“They are going to be mistaken if they think they can use me.” She met his gaze. “Thank you for telling me, though that doesn't make things easier.”

Laith bent and grabbed a rock. He tossed it in the air a couple of times, and then threw it over the water so it skidded thrice before sinking. “I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” she urged.

“What do you know about your employers?”

She chuckled and moved to sit on a large rock. “What does anyone really know of their employers? I know they're a group of people who have unlimited wealth, and they hire the best people in their fields.”

“Why?” His gaze returned to her as it always did. She drew his attention like no one else ever had—or ever would.

“Why?” she repeated, her face scrunched in confusion. “Why does anyone do anything? Because they can.”

Laith grinned. “Why do they want the best people in their fields? Why are they no' content to let you work with a magazine or other company?”

“I was approached by a representative for the Commune through e-mail,” she stated. “Abby explained the job offer. When I asked if I needed to submit something, she said I had already been chosen. I just needed to accept or decline the position.”

“And you didna think that weird?”

“Not at the time when I was submitting my work everywhere to find a job. The money offered was more than I ever thought to make.”

Laith considered her words. “What was the job description exactly?”

“That I would be given assignments—places, people, and things—that they wanted photographed. It seemed innocent enough. My travel and hotels were paid for, plus I got a massive fee. Next thing I knew, my work was showing up in national magazines, the news, and on the Internet.”

“Have you met any of your bosses?”

Iona's eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Oh, no. Everything is sent through their assistant, Abby.”

“Everything?” he asked.

“Everything. My assignments, travel itinerary, pay, and any correspondence.”

Laith took a step toward her as worry set in. “You've never even spoken to these people?”

“No,” she said slowly.

“You've no' seen or spoken with them? How do you know they're real?”

“My pay is real enough,” she said as she got to her feet. “Why do you think the Commune is bad? They like to keep their identities hidden. There's nothing wrong with that. Con does the same thing.”

Laith should've seen that one coming. “You checked out Con?”

“And you. Or I tried,” she muttered. “Hard to do when I can't get a surname. However, Constantine is another matter entirely. There's no picture of him anywhere. His name is rarely mentioned, and only his first name, never his surname.”

Laith couldn't exactly tell her they didn't have surnames. Some Dragon Kings picked up ones through the years, but changed them as needed. Laith was one who hadn't bothered with a surname. And of course Iona would notice that.

“Is Con hiding something? Are you?” she demanded.

“All I came here for was information on your company. We've no' been able to find much, and that worried us.”

“As if you refusing to tell me your surname doesn't worry me?” she asked with a raise of her brows.

There were too many correlations between Dreagan and the Commune for Iona to notice the difference between them, and Laith couldn't explain without telling her everything.

“That's what I thought.” She stared at him, as if daring him to contradict her.

His gaze lowered to her mouth, and he recalled all too clearly the taste of her lips beneath his, the way her body melted against him.

The way she opened for him.

Laith lifted his gaze to her eyes and noticed her features had relaxed. Her lips softened, parting slightly. He knew he should return to Dreagan and report what he discovered, but he remained where he was.

“Am I safe with you?” she asked.

“You have my vow that you are.”

As one they closed the distance. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he splayed his hands on her back holding her close as he bent her over his arm and kissed her.

He was ravenous for her, the hunger growing with every touch of her tongue against his.

 

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Desire blazed, passion raged. Both reigned, controlling Iona as nothing and no one else had. This time she wanted … everything.

She shifted her feet to get closer, and a rock slipped beneath her foot, causing her to lose her balance. Since she was already leaning over Laith's arm, she began to fall backward. In an instant, Laith lunged forward, his leg stopping their tumble. The kiss ended as they looked into each other's eyes and began to laugh.

Iona had never gone from such scorching passion to laughter before, while still in a man's arms. It was such a different experience that she wondered what else she had missed out on.

She wound the locks of his dark blond hair around her finger, trying to decide if she liked it better in the queue or not. Even with Laith holding most of her weight in their difficult position, his hold was steady, his gunmetal eyes watching her. In a blink, their laughter died as desire ensnared them once more.

Iona licked her lips, the taste of Laith still upon them. It scared her how much she needed to feel him, to touch him. If there were ever a man to make her consider the idea of love—it would be Laith.

She loosened her grip on his hair and lightly scraped her fingernails over his cheek to his incredible lips. “I could kiss you all day.”

Laith's gaze intensified. “All right.”

His head lowered to hers. Iona lifted her face, anxious for more of his kisses when Laith suddenly looked to the waterfall, a sad, dejected expression falling over him. Laith set her on her feet and then took a step back.

“What's wrong?” Iona had been in awkward situations before, but this was the first time she hadn't wanted to just walk away and forget everything. “Is it something I did?”

“Nay,” he quickly answered. “It's no' you, Iona. It's me. It's memories, actually.”

He was staring at the top of the waterfall, his remorse visible for anyone to see. Iona saw nothing but beauty and wonder at the waterfall, but it obviously held something bad for Laith. Had she gone anywhere else but there, they would probably be kissing once more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She glanced at him as she spoke.

He finally looked away from the waterfall to her. “I do, but I doona think you're ready.”

“Me?” she asked, now thoroughly confused. “I thought this was about your past.”

“It is.” He paused, his lips flattening for a moment. “I'm mucking this up badly. You need to read your father's letter.”

“I will.”

Iona didn't want to think of the letter, her father, or anything other than Laith and the passion they shared. Just as she knew he didn't want to remain at the waterfall. With reluctance, she started back to the cottage, and he fell in step beside her.

For several minutes, they walked in companionable silence with Iona aware of his every move. Twice their hands brushed, sending currents of longing snaking through her like lightning, building her longing, heating her blood.

“Are you still angry that I didna tell you I was part of Dreagan?” he asked.

She thought about that a moment, then gave a halfhearted shrug. “No one likes being lied to, even if that lie was by omission. I get the feeling there is more to Dreagan than you're telling me. It doesn't help with all the secrets and secrecy either.”

“I know. Read the letter John left you. I think that will help answer most of what you want to know.”

“And the rest?” She turned her head to him to see his reaction.

His gaze met hers. “I'll fill in the rest.”

It was more than she had gotten before. Iona hadn't cared about such things previously, but then again she hadn't met a man like Laith or had someone close to her murdered.

“The enemies you spoke of, do you know who they are?” she asked.

Laith's brow furrowed as he helped her navigate over an outcropping of large rocks. “We have our suspicions.”

“So no one knows who killed my father.”

He came to a stop and grasped her arm to turn her toward home. “No' yet, but I give you my vow we'll learn the truth.”

“Why do I get the feeling you won't turn the information over to the authorities?”

“Because they wouldna be able to do anything.”

She frowned, worry filling her stomach. “Who are these people?”

“They're dangerous. Just remember that. I want you safe. Unfortunately, just being here puts you in danger.”

“Because I'm the last Campbell?” Why hadn't she put that together sooner?

Laith nodded solemnly.

“And since this land can never be sold since it has to remain in a Campbell's hand, I'm screwed.”

“There could be another alternative.”

“How, if there isn't another Campbell in this direct line?” she asked in confusion. His hesitation spoke volumes. “More secrets? Let me guess. My father had more children with another woman? Not that I would blame him.”

Laith moved his hand to her lower back and urged her onward. “No' exactly. It's difficult to explain.”

“Everything seems to be difficult to explain. It wouldn't be if you just told me.”

“You're frustrated.”

“Bingo, Sherlock. Why all the secrets? Why not just tell me?”

“There are reasons, Iona. We doona tell anyone.”

“Someone must know or you wouldn't have enemies.”

All too soon the cottage came into sight. Iona wasn't ready to face the letter from her father, not after all she had been through since learning how he died.

“Do you want me to stay?” Laith asked.

Iona blinked and looked up at him. When had she stopped walking, and when had he moved to stand in front of her? She did want him to stay. It was so unlike her that it took her aback. Independence was a virtue she'd cultivated early on in her childhood. She had faced all sorts of situations by herself and came through fine. Why would she want Laith to stay now?

His kisses. That was definitely one possibility, but she suspected it had more to do with how protected and secure she felt when he was near.

“No,” she finally answered. “I need to read the letter by myself.”

If she let him stay, it would be a step she hadn't ever taken before. He could get close, leaving her vulnerable. She refused to allow that to happen.

He gave a nod and walked her to the back door. Even as Iona was unlocking the door, her mind screamed for her to invite him in. Iona fought against the urge, and somehow succeeded.

“You know how to find me if you need anything,” Laith said and gave a gentle tug of her hair.

Iona watched him walk around the house. She hurried inside and ran to the front to look out the window for a glimpse of him. With her arms wrapped around herself, she stared after him, loving the predatory way he moved.

When he reached his black Audi, he opened the door, but paused before he got inside. His head lifted so that he looked right at her through the window. Laith gave her a reassuring smile.

Oddly enough, Iona found it easy to return the smile. Then he got in the car and drove away. Once more leaving Iona by herself. She used to love the solitude, but she was beginning to hate it.

She turned from the window to look at her purse that sat on the end table next to the couch. Iona walked to her purse and found the envelope inside. She tucked a leg beneath her and sat on the couch, staring at the white envelope with her name written in her father's neat script.

During her years with him, she recalled him saying that handwriting was a lost art, one that he loved as much as writing his books. Iona smoothed her hands over the envelope, and then turned it over. On the back was a globe of red wax with the Campbell coat of arms imprinted in the wax. Iona broke the seal and opened the envelope.

She unfolded the pages to see more of her father's handwriting. Then she began to read.

My dearest Iona,

I hope that we've reconciled, and I've already explained some things to you, but just in case that doesn't happen, I've written down what I could.

This piece of land is always to remain with the Campbells. It can never be sold or given to anyone but a direct descendant of our line. I'm sure you're wondering why. There's no easy explanation. It goes back thousands of years. We Campbells were lucky to have found such friends as those at Dreagan. They are good people. Trust them, because they have been trusting us for generations.

I really hope I get to tell you this in person instead of just in this letter, because there's no easy way to explain who those at Dreagan are. They are different than us, lass. They are protectors, guardians if you will. The longer you remain on the land, the more you'll come to understand. You might even get a glimpse of something if you look to the night skies hard enough.

As with everything, those at Dreagan have enemies. During my time it's been relatively quiet, but I sense a change coming. There will be people who want on your land. You can't allow them access, because if you do, the consequences could be catastrophic.

That's all I can say in the letter in case it falls into the wrong hands. I'm praying that I get to explain everything in detail in person, because there is so much I'm having to leave out.

Be safe, be vigilant, and above all else, trust only those at Dreagan.

Your loving father.

Iona read the letter twice more before she set it aside. If only she had come to see him sooner, if only she had set aside her resentment and visited earlier she might have learned who he was. She might have seen the man beloved by everyone, and she would have learned what Laith was hesitant to tell her.