Midnight's Kiss (8 page)

Andy grew pale and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Have I mentioned I hate the sight of blood? This is why archeology suits me. Everything is already dead. Bones I can handle. Blood? Yeah, not so much.”

“So I guess I shouldna come to you if I get cut?”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Dude, you were just joking with me! I should’ve known. Ronnie says I take everything too serious.”

He walked away, leaving Arran chuckling after him. He liked Andy. Arran grabbed a shepherd’s pie, a roll, two apples, and a beer. There was a huge tub of bottled beer stuck in ice off to the side, and everyone had taken at least one.

Arran sat with other volunteers. Even though he’d been in this modern world a year and had learned much, he still found the people interesting to listen to. Especially when they came from different countries.

Many at the site were Brits, but there was also an equal number of Americans. There was the odd Irishman, Frenchman, and even a German or two.

Arran was content to listen to them talk of their homes, their lives, and mundane things. He tried to keep in the background, but all too soon they noticed him and pulled him into the conversations.

He hated having to lie, but in order to keep who he was, and his family, secret, lying was essential. A good liar mixed in as much of the truth as he could.

It had soon become common knowledge that he was friends with Saffron, and everyone wanted to know about her and what had happened when she disappeared for those three years.

Arran quickly diverted those questions by asking some of his own. He was always amazed at how people wanted to talk about themselves, given the chance. And he made sure they had those chances often.

It was well past ten when he rose from the table and made for his tent. Yet, as he stood in the night air, he found he wasn’t tired.

His gaze went to Ronnie’s tent. The light was on but dim, and he saw no movement inside. Arran started walking toward her tent, even when he knew it was a bad idea.

“Ronnie,” he called as he reached the tent.

When there was no answer, he poked his head inside and found her lying on her stomach on her cot, her feet and one arm hanging off the side.

For long minutes, Arran simply looked at her sleeping. Her bun that she tied her hair in every day was hanging loose. It would take the smallest touch to knock it free so he could see her hair in all its glory.

But he didn’t touch her. The light from her lamp cast her face in a golden glow, and it was then he saw the dark circles under her eyes.

“She does this,” Andy whispered as he came up beside Arran.

Arran raised a brow in question.

“She works herself into exhaustion. Tomorrow she’ll wake refreshed and ready. She might go a few nights without sleep because of something involving the dig, and then she collapses.”

“You look out for her,” Arran said.

Andy shrugged, his thin hair blowing in the breeze. “She took me as her assistant when no one else would. She’s taught me so much.”

“You’re loyal. Everyone needs someone like that.”

“She’s loyal to me as well,” Andy said. “No matter what, she keeps bringing me on these digs as her site manager. She’s even allowed me to take the credit on my finds.”

Arran nodded and turned his attention back to Ronnie. “She can no’ sleep like that. She’ll wake with a crick in her neck.”

“What are you going to do?” Andy hastily asked.

Arran grinned at him. “Doona fash yourself, lad. Her virtue is safe with me.”

“Yeah, right. I see how you look at her,” Andy said, and set aside the clipboard on Ronnie’s chair. “I’ll get her boots. Just turn her over when I’m done.”

Arran waited while Andy made quick work of removing Ronnie’s boots, and then it was time to touch her. He hesitated for a minute because he wanted to feel her skin again, but at the same time, he knew it wasn’t a good idea.

“Arran?”

He glanced at Andy. “Doona tell her it was me.”

“Why?”

“I doona think she cares for me much.”

When Andy didn’t immediately respond, Arran glared at him.

“Okay,” Andy said, and held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll be sure to leave your name out.”

Arran took a deep breath and rolled Ronnie into his arms. He cradled her against him, the shock of her warmth and softness causing him to still instantly.

Blood pounded in his ears and his balls tightened as all the blood pooled in his cock. Just from the exquisite, amazing feel of her. Arran’s fingers squeezed her as the sudden need to hold her against him forever filled him. She sighed and rested her head against his chest.

That simple movement touched something deep within him. And caused his desire to soar until he shook with the force of it.

It took everything Arran had to lower Ronnie back onto the cot. He’d never been so grateful to have someone watching him as he did at that moment.

Arran pulled the blanket over Ronnie and straightened. He gave her one last look before turning off her lamp and walking out of the tent.

“Arran?” Andy called.

But he couldn’t answer. He needed a run. Anything to calm the need consuming him.

Instead of running off as he wanted, Arran went into his tent and pretended to sleep.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

The box was small. The wood was smooth and dark, unblemished and seamless except for the line around the top where the curved lid opened.

Veronica.

Her name was whispered in the musical notes that sounded whenever her abilities were used. She could feel the box beneath the ground, sense it inciting her to find it.

If her name hadn’t been whispered, it would have been as every other artifact she’d gone looking for. Yet she felt fear now.

Every instinct she had cautioned her, but she couldn’t listen. The box wanted
her.

She was driven to find it. She’d known when she reached Muirkirk there was something special waiting to be found. Soon she would move aside the dirt separating her from the relic. She would hold the box in her hands. And she would open it.

Ronnie smiled. She placed her hands over the ground and felt the box below her. Its song was so loud, there were times it was all she could hear. It was begging her to release it, to let the sun shine upon it once more.

It was meant to be out in the world, not hidden away and forgotten. Its beauty was simple, its artwork meant to be marveled. She, along with all the others, would do just that. But first, she would be the one to hold it and drink in its beauty.

Ronnie could hardly contain her excitement. Her hands itched to open the lid and see what was inside. The box, and whatever was inside, was hers. It wouldn’t go to a museum. This one she would keep for herself.

Excitement coursed through Ronnie. The box’s music grew louder, her name more insistent.

“Soon,” she whispered. “I’m coming for you soon.”

She began to move away the dirt with her bare hands when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Ronnie shifted her gaze and found Arran staring. He was shaking his head, his golden eyes full of apprehension.

And then his eyes shifted to white.

*   *   *

Ronnie gasped and sat up, her breathing harsh and loud. She looked around the tent as her mind realized she was no longer dreaming.

She lifted her hands and saw they were coated with dirt as if she had been digging. With her bare hands. Ronnie worked the dirt from beneath her fingernails and tried to calm her racing heart.

It was true the song of the box was stronger than any she had ever encountered. And up until that dream, she hadn’t even known it was a box that called to her.

Then again, she’d never had a dream about an artifact she was digging up either.

She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. Her lips parted so she could breathe through her mouth while she tried to remember that dreams weren’t real.

It was a surprise that she’d had such a vivid dream of the box and the relentless need she had to find it. But what caused her stomach to fall to her feet was that Arran had been in her dream.

Was the desire she tried desperately to ignore spilling over into her dreams? It had to be. Her body wanted Arran with an intensity that shook her to her very core. That had to be the reason.

The only reason.

“Please let it be the only reason,” she prayed.

Ronnie threw back the covers and rose from the bed. She stared down at herself still fully dressed and tried to remember the night before.

She’d been beyond exhausted. She recalled that part. Past that was all a blur.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

She turned at Andy’s voice as he came into her tent. Her stomach let out a loud growl at the smell of biscuits, which Andy promptly handed to her.

“I figured you’d be hungry since you passed out last night,” he said with a smile.

Ronnie sighed and sank into her chair to eat the biscuits and drink the large mug of coffee. “Again? I knew I was tired, but I didn’t think I was that tired. I normally don’t take off my boots either.”

When Andy looked away so he didn’t have to meet her eyes, she set down her coffee and cocked her head at her friend. “Andy? What happened?”

“He asked me not to tell you.”

A sick feeling began in her stomach. “Who?”

“Arran. He found you asleep. I took off your shoes, and he turned you over and covered you with the blanket.”

Ronnie looked at her cot. Arran had found her and helped her. He’d held her. She’d been in his arms, felt his hard body and the strength of his muscles once more, and she hadn’t even been awake to enjoy it? She felt cheated and angry that she hadn’t been able to touch him again at her leisure.

“Probably for the better,” she mumbled.

“What?” Andy asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I won’t tell him you told me.”

“Good,” Andy said with a sigh. “He’s a likable fellow, but I get the feeling he’s not someone you want to piss off. I suspect he’d be a bad enemy to have.”

Ronnie recalled how easy he shifted from casual to “battle-ready,” as she’d come to think of it. It was as if he was primed for combat and just waiting for the right word or gesture. A Highland warrior of old, she inwardly mused.

Yes, she could see that. Arran, with his long hair, roguish smile, and the old soul she glimpsed in his eyes could very well have stood on the slopes of the Highlands hundreds of years ago in a kilt, sword in hand while an army stood at his back, waiting for him to give the word to go into battle.

“A true Highlander,” she whispered.

“What?” Andy asked with a small frown.

Ronnie shrugged and took a bite of the large, buttery biscuit. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t like the biscuits she was used to in the States. These were bigger and better. Different for sure, but fast becoming a favorite.

“He’s, ah, he started early again.”

Somehow Andy’s words didn’t surprise her. Nor did she have to ask whom he was referring to. Arran. Since he came to the site, he’d become a force to be reckoned with. She couldn’t look anywhere and not see or hear him.

Ronnie’s body tingled just thinking of his hands on her again. If she’d been awake, would she have been brave enough to kiss him, to test the waters of passion she’d shied away from for so long?

Arran kept her from concentrating on the dig. With him being so near, her thoughts turned to his strong arms, hard body, large hands, and gold eyes. She remembered his hard body, and the stark hunger she’d seen reflected in his gaze.

She shivered just thinking about it. No one had ever looked at her as Arran had. The offer was there in his gaze, in the way he held her. All she had to do was give in.

If she did, if she dared such a thing, she knew being with him would be glorious, but he’d likely leave her in such a mess that she might never function again. Arran was that strong, that appealing.

That captivating.

He was sex and need, temptation and desire all rolled into one package. And she wanted him. The compulsion to lean into him, to run her hand along his muscles and open her lips for him was so strong, she had to fight not to do just that when he was near.

“Ronnie?”

She blinked and looked up at Andy. They’d been speaking of Arran. But what about him? Oh, yes, his working early. “As long as he doesn’t mess anything up, I don’t care.”

“No chance of that. He woke me up and had me stay with him just to make sure he did everything right.”

For some reason, that made Ronnie smile. Then she realized Arran wasn’t doing it because he knew how much the site meant to her. He did it because that’s what he was supposed to do.

The smile quickly died, but not the excitement she couldn’t dispel at seeing him again. God, what was wrong with her? He was just one guy. One guy who had rocked her back on her heels since he’d walked into her life.

How in the hell was she going to survive weeks with him around? The bite of biscuit went down awkwardly and landed heavily in her stomach.

Weeks. With a hot Scot walking around, looking at her as if he were stripping off her clothes. It was never going to work.

“I’ll be out shortly,” Ronnie said as she got to her feet.

Andy left the tent and Ronnie zipped the opening to keep anyone else from venturing in. She ate the rest of her breakfast, and then sipped her coffee as her thoughts turned back to the dream. Anything to get her mind off Arran and what she’d like him to do to her.

There was no doubt she was close to the box. She’d sensed ancient artifacts before, but there was something different about this box. Why did it want her? Was it because it knew she could sense it? That had to be it.

She couldn’t wait to discover what was inside it. Was it jewels? Gold? Or something even more precious?

When her coffee was finished, Ronnie got ready for the day. She shivered against the cold water used to wash up and the cool summer air.

She’d gotten more used to the weather than when she first arrived in Scotland, but there were times she missed the tropic-like heat of Atlanta.