Midnight's Warrior (38 page)
“This will do fine,” he said over his shoulder before he tossed his two bags on the freshly-made cot.
Ronnie tried not to look at his ass, she really did. But she’d never seen a man fill out a pair of jeans the way Arran MacCarrick did.
In one word, he was yummy.
From his wide shoulders and muscular chest, to the way that chest narrowed, to jeans resting low on slim hips and encasing long legs. Ronnie would bet that beneath that black tee were abs so defined she’d be able to count every single one of them.
The newest member of her team was friendly enough, but she didn’t miss the way his gaze moved around the site as if trying to study everything without being seen.
Saffron had funded many of Ronnie’s digs, so Ronnie wasn’t about to say no to Saffron when she asked if a friend could help on the site. Yet now Ronnie had the urge to call Saffron and learn all she could about the man.
It wasn’t just his rugged good looks that set her off-kilter. It was the gleam in his golden eyes, the way he stood, as if he was ready for battle.
Which was silly, because there was nothing to fight.
Ronnie chuckled to herself.
“What is it?” Arran asked when he straightened.
She shook her head and grinned. “Every time I come to Scotland I find myself thinking I’ll see men with swords strapped to them, ready for battle.”
He didn’t laugh as she had expected. Instead, he gazed at her with his amazing golden eyes, an intensity about them that made it difficult for her to draw breath.
Dark brows slashed over those eyes amid a high forehead. A wealth of hair so dark a brown that it almost appeared black was kept long and hung around just to his shoulder. He had impossibly long, thick eyelashes, and the dark stubble on his chiseled cheeks and square jaw only added to his appeal.
Then there were his wide lips, which were fuller than a man’s ought to be. They made her think of kissing, of long, sensual kisses where she’d forget everything but the man touching her.
As a total package, Arran was the kind of man who drew heads wherever he went. Women wanted him, and men wanted to be him.
Ronnie knew what came with having a man like Arran around. Every instinct told her to have him leave, but she needed extra hands around. And she couldn’t refuse Saffron’s request.
“You’re no’ off the mark,” he finally said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “My land has seen countless battles as men fought to rule us.”
“You speak as if you’ve lived here from the beginning of time.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I have, in a past life.”
Ronnie normally dismissed such inane sayings, but somehow, she believed it when Arran said it. Maybe not that he’d lived another life, but that he was much more than he appeared to be.
He was dangerous. Of that she was sure.
Dangerous to her psyche. Dangerous to her capacity to forget him as she had done so many other men.
He was captivating, charming, and entirely too interesting.
“Why do I get the feeling, lass, that you doona want me here?” Arran asked.
“Because men like you—”
“Men like me?” he interrupted.
“Yes, good-looking men who come to the digs distract the women. They flirt and get involved instead of focusing on the dig. People can get injured, artifacts lost, broken or even stolen, and any number of things when people aren’t concentrating on their tasks.”
“So, you think I’m handsome,” he said with a crooked grin.
Ronnie sighed and rolled her eyes. She had the urge to return his smile, but she had learned her lesson long ago with such dangerous, gorgeous men.
“What I think is beside the point. You’re here because Saffron requested it. I know her. There’s a reason you’re here, and if you’re her friend, I just want to ask that you remember that when the women begin to take notice of you.”
His smile disappeared and his gaze narrowed on her. “I know my duty. You willna have a problem with me sniffing around any of the women. I canno’ help if they come to me, but I give you my word I will dissuade them.”
This Ronnie hadn’t expected. “Uh … thank you.”
“I’m many things, Ronnie, but I wouldna think of compromising this dig, or you.”
She shifted from foot to foot feeling like an ass for saying all those things to him. “I just needed you to understand.”
“And you did, lass. Doona fret over it anymore. My hide is thicker than most, so it’ll take more than your honest words to rile me.”
“I’d almost like to see that,” she said with a grin. Though as soon as the words were out she wasn’t sure where they had come from.
She cleared her throat. “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening to look around? We’re wrapping things up for the night, and Andy and Pete are around if you need anything. First thing in the morning, I’ll give you your duties.”
“Sounds good. Only, you might want to think of covering that,” Arran said as he pointed to the twelve-foot-by-four-foot section that was being excavated. “There’s about to be a downpour.”
“They said not until sometime tomorrow.”
“Scottish weather is as fickle as I’ve seen. You canno’ trust what weathermen say. You have to learn to read the weather yourself, lass.”
Ronnie looked at the section. They’d dug just four inches, but already they had found bits of broken pottery. If it rained, there was no telling what would get washed away.
Yet, if they covered it now, it would put them behind schedule.
The other six sections they had been digging on for over a month were already covered to shield ninety percent of the rain.
Ronnie glanced at the sky before she looked at the new section. There was something important underneath all that dirt. She knew it in her soul.
She felt it.
It wasn’t something she told anyone, but that same feeling was what had led her to so many finds on her past digs.
“Andy,” she called. “Cover the new section ASAP. Rain is coming!”
Andy gave a nod, and instantly the diggers moved while others hurried to cover the section. Ronnie was surprised when Arran rushed to help.
So surprised that it took her a moment before she followed suit. As they all struggled with the bright blue tarp the wind howled around them, trying its best to jerk the canvas out of their hands.
It wasn’t until the tarp was staked securely in the ground that Ronnie looked up. And found golden eyes watching her.
A heartbeat later, the first fat raindrop landed on her cheek. Before she could gain her feet the heavens had unleashed a rainstorm like none she had ever seen.
While everyone rushed to get out of the driving rain, Ronnie checked the stakes one more time before she moved on to the other tent-like structures that had been erected over the sites.
The rain soaked through her jeans, but her jacket, which was waterproof, helped to keep her upper body mostly dry. The way the wind lashed the rain couldn’t stop all of it.
And the droplets running down her face and head and into the neck of her shirt were quickly drenching her.
As she checked on the ropes of one structure covering a dig, another came loose and began to flap wildly in the wind.
Ronnie jumped for it, but it seemed to flap higher, as if teasing her. Suddenly, a shadow loomed behind her as a large hand grabbed the rope.
She jerked around to find Arran. He blinked the rain out of his eyes, and with a nod, knelt to retie the knot. She didn’t watch him or the way the wet tee clung to his back so his muscles moved and bunched as he worked.
At least she tried not to notice.
It was difficult when he so big. She wasn’t a tiny person, but he made her feel that way.
With both of them checking the rest of the structures, Ronnie was done in half the time. She motioned Arran to follow her as she ran to her tent, her boots splashing water with each step.
It wasn’t until she was inside her shelter and had turned to watch Arran dip his wet head to step inside that she wondered what had compelled her to invite him in.
No matter how handsome he was, dangerous was dangerous. Despite how much she argued with herself, she was intrigued by Arran.
It was a precarious and perilous game she played, but she was confident she wouldn’t make the same mistakes she’d made before.
That was, until Arran’s golden eyes fastened on her, then dropped to her breasts, which were outlined by her impossibly wet shirt and tank.…
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES BY
DONNA GRANT
THE DARK SWORD SERIES
Dangerous Highlander
Forbidden Highlander
Wicked Highlander
Untamed Highlander
Shadow Highlander
Darkest Highlander
THE DARK WARRIOR SERIES
Midnight’s Master
Midnight’s Lover
Midnight’s Seduction
Midnight’s Warrior
THE DARK KING SERIES
(e-book series)
Dark Craving
Night’s Awakening
Dawn’s Desire
A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR
Bestselling, award-winning author DONNA GRANT has been praised for her “totally addictive” and “unique and sensual” stories. She’s the author of more than twenty-five novels spanning multiple genres of romance. Her latest series, Dark Warriors, is the new spin-off of her bestselling Dark Sword series featuring a thrilling combination of Druids, primeval gods, and immortal Highlanders where ancient magic meets the modern world. She lives with her husband, two kids, a dog, and four cats in Texas.
You can find Donna at
www.DonnaGrant.com
.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MIDNIGHT’S WARRIOR
Copyright © 2012 by Donna Grant.
Excerpt from
Midnight’s Kiss
copyright © 2012 by Donna Grant.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN: 9781466814882
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / December 2012
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
