The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo (Love at Stake) (22 page)

The door opened and Dougal invited her in, looking as handsome as ever in his kilt and old-fashioned shirt. “Ye’re ready?”

“Yes.” She stepped inside and smiled at Howard and Rajiv, who were both munching on donuts. “Thank you for filling in for Dougal.”

“Not a problem.” Howard cast an amused glance at Dougal. “Take your time.”

“Pooh Bear and I will be fine.” Rajiv laughed when Howard’s nudge nearly knocked him over.

“Come on.” Dougal led her back into the hallway and shut the door.

“They don’t seem very scary for a grizzly bear and a tiger,” she said as he walked beside her.

“They can be plenty scary if ye’re a bad guy.”

“You won’t be offended if my apartment is a bit—” She hesitated when he held the door open to her bedroom.

“No camera inside.” He gave her a gentle push.

“Oh. Okay. Privacy is good.” She stepped inside and retrieved a folded piece of paper from her lab coat pocket. “Here.”

“What is it?” He took the paper. “A love letter?”

She snorted. “You wish.”

“I do wish.” He gave her an injured look. “I had one for you weeks ago, but ye never came down to the basement to read it.”

She winced. “I-I was avoiding you.”

“I noticed.”

She punched his arm. “I’m not avoiding you anymore. I’m very . . . fond of you.”

“
Fond
? Is this a bloody fondness letter?”

“No. It’s my address. So we can teleport to my apartment.”

“Yer address?” His mouth twitched as he opened the note. “Do ye think I’m a GPS system?”

She blinked. She didn’t want him reading her mind. “Is there another way to get there?”

“I need a sensory beacon. Or I could slip inside yer brilliant brain for a second to see where to go.” He stepped closer, his eyes twinkling. “And while I’m there, I might see just how fond ye really are.”

She stepped back. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I do dare.” He moved closer, a slow smile curling his mouth. “Of course, I wouldna have to if ye simply told me how ye felt.”

She huffed. “I won’t be coerced into a confession of love—”

“Love?”

She winced. “And I won’t have you invading my mind.”

“Doona fash.” He gathered her into his arms. “Lately, I’ve been much more interested in invading yer body.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. That was the main reason she didn’t want him in her mind. He might see all the naughty thoughts and dreams she’d been having. “So what do you mean by a sensory beacon?”

“I can teleport somewhere if I can see it or hear it. If there was someone there to answer the telephone—”

“An answering machine?”

“Aye.” He gave her a rueful look. “That would work.”

“Excellent.” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in her home number. “Okay, it should come on soon.” She held the phone up to his ear.

“Grab on to me.” He pulled her tight and bowed his head to gaze into her eyes. “Love?”

She grinned. “You wish.”

“I do wish.”

She went up on tiptoe to wrap an arm around his neck and give him a quick kiss.

“Och, lass.” His eyes darkened.

The answering machine kicked on, and everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-one

A
s soon as they arrived, Leah glanced about. Not too shabby. There were some dirty dishes, but at least they were in the sink. “It might be a little dusty.”

“It canna be worse than my house on the Isle of Skye. I havena been there in six months.”

She realized he was still holding her. “Are you going to let me go, or did we accidentally fuse together?”

His mouth curled up. “Any fusion ’twould no’ be by accident.”

She snorted, her hands resting on his chest. “You told me that the first night we met.”

“Aye, and I’ve been wanting you ever since.” He heaved a forlorn sigh. “Eighteen days I’ve been waiting.”

“You’re such a player.”

His eyebrows rose. “A what?”

“A player. How did you win me over in only eighteen days? Especially when you’re dead half the time.”

He gave her an injured look. “Can I help that? I was laying there in my death-sleep, innocent as a lamb, when ye molested me. Perhaps ye’re the player?”

“What?”

“Ye unbuttoned my shirt and felt my chest.”

“I was checking for a heartbeat. That’s all.”

His eyes twinkled with humor. “Ye were no’ admiring my manly physique?”

“You wish.”

“I do wish.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “My heart is beating something fierce. Would ye like to check it now?”

She swatted his chest. “Player. I need to pack.” She headed for the bedroom.

“I’m packing something for you,” he mumbled.

She stifled a laugh as she glanced around the bedroom. She grabbed some discarded pajamas off the bed and smoothed some wrinkles in the comforter.

“Need any help?” He sauntered into the room.

“I’m fine.” She tossed the dirty clothes into the hamper, then pulled a large suitcase from her closet. “Are you going to be able to teleport this back with me?”

“Aye.” He sat on the bed and gave her a hopeful look. “Can I make myself comfortable?”

“Sure.” She grabbed several pairs of jeans and some T-shirts from her closet. While she was folding them into the suitcase, she heard two thuds and glanced up. He’d taken his shoes off and was rolling down his socks. Her pulse sped up. How far was he planning to strip?

He dropped his sporran on the floor, then propped up some pillows and sat with his back against the headboard. “This is verra comfy. Would ye like to try it?”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I’ve tried it before.” She selected several sweaters from the shelving unit in her closet and dropped them into her suitcase.

As she continued to pack, she became more and more aware that he was watching her every move. She could feel his desire, so strong it seemed to reach across the room to caress her. Her skin began to tingle. Her breasts felt heavy. When she leaned over to grab a pair of boots off the closet floor, he groaned.

She glanced back, and sure enough, he was focused on her rump. Without thinking, she squeezed her thighs together. The thought of getting caught up in one of his volcanic explosions made her heart race. And made her womanly core feel agonizingly empty.

She quickly zipped the boots into the front section of her suitcase, then moved to her chest of drawers. She tossed some underwear and bras into the suitcase, along with some thermal underwear.

In a flash, he was there beside her, picking up one of her panties. “ ’Tis so tiny.” He examined the small triangle of silk. “It must barely cover yer honey pot.”

With a snort, she snatched it from his hand. Honey pot? Stifling another laugh, she stuffed all her underwear in a zippered compartment. Then she opened another dresser drawer to retrieve her warmest flannel pajamas.

“Och, now this is nice.” He pulled a long red nightgown from the drawer. “Ye should bring this.”

She tossed it back. “It’s not warm enough.”

“Ye wouldna keep it on long enough to notice.”

She shook her head, smiling. The man had a one-track mind. “This is a business trip, remember?”

She went into the bathroom to gather some toiletries. When she returned to pack them, she discovered the red nightgown had been neatly folded and slipped between two sweaters.

“Is this yer family?” He lifted a framed photo off the top of her dresser.

“Yes.” She moved closer so she could point out each person. “That’s my mom and dad. Kathleen and Kai Ling. They’re both physics professors.”

“Ye told me about yer Irish grandfather. So yer mother is Irish?”

“Yes. When I was about five years old, I asked her why my eyes couldn’t be green like hers, and ever since then, I’ve been fascinated with genetics.”

“Ye like green eyes?” He gave her a wide-eyed look.

She smiled. “Yes. And I love the pipes, too. My grandfather used to play.” She sighed. “The summer I spent with him was one of the happiest times in my life.”

“We’ll make more happy times for you.” He pointed at her in the photo. “Ye were a bonny lass.”

She snorted. The photo didn’t capture how gawky and shy she’d been at the time. “I was eleven. An unplanned late addition to the family, or as my father called it, an accident of cosmic proportions.”

Dougal winced. “I would have called you a miracle. Ye are to me.”

Her heart swelled. How many times would she have loved to hear that while growing up? Instead, she’d been constantly pressured to live up to the high standards her brothers had set. Homeschooled, devoid of any friends until she’d gone off to college to swim among the sharks.

“And these are yer brothers?” Dougal asked.

“Yes, this one is Albert. He was eighteen at the time. And the one in the graduation robe is Isaac. He was sixteen and graduating college.”

“That young?”

Leah nodded. “Albert and Isaac both started college at thirteen. And they both had their Ph.D.’s by the time they were nineteen. I left for college when I was fourteen, but I didn’t become a doctor till I was twenty-one.” She made a face. “I took some flak for that. They thought I should be a doctor of some kind before the age of twenty.”

Dougal frowned. “Are ye serious?”

She shrugged. “My parents weren’t happy with my decision to go to med school. And they think genetics is a waste of time. I was supposed to be like Albert and Isaac and get my doctorate in quantum physics. Why study lowly humans when I could take on the entire universe?”

Dougal gave her an incredulous look. “Do they no’ realize how brilliant ye are?”

“I was slower than my brothers.”

He huffed. “Give me yer parents’ address, and I’ll track them down and knock their heads together.”

Leah grinned. “That would get you off to a great start with the future—” She stopped herself from saying
in-laws.
Dougal hadn’t even confessed to loving her, so she was getting way ahead of herself. “It’s not like I was abused. They paid for all my education, and I’m very grateful for that.”

“They shouldna have made ye feel like a failure,” he grumbled. “Ye’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and I’ve been around a few centuries.”

Her heart squeezed. How could she not love this man? “Thank you.”

He slanted her a worried look. “Connor thinks ye’re too smart for me.”

“Well, I’ll have to track him
doon
and knock him in the head.”

Dougal chuckled. “So yer brothers—are they named after Isaac Newton and . . .”

“Albert Einstein, yes.” She put the framed photo back on the dresser. “Leah is just a nickname. My parents named me after Galileo, so my name is actually Galileah.”

He flinched.

“I know. It’s weird.”

“Ga-li-leah?” he asked slowly.

“Yes.” She wondered why he looked so shocked. “You don’t like it?”

“I-I dinna realize how . . .”

“What?”

“Ka-li-lei,” he whispered as he wandered back to the bed and sat on the edge. Staring at the floor, he shrugged his right shoulder.

“Is something wrong?” She approached him.

“Nay, it all seems verra . . . right.” He rolled his shoulder again. “Sometimes my tattoo itches and burns.”

“Is it infected?” She reached out to unbutton his shirt. “Let me see.”

He frowned but didn’t stop her. “Can ye accept me as I am? I’m far from perfect.”

“You mean the vampire thing?” She finished unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t understand it, but I’m okay with it.” She skimmed a hand over his tattoo. It didn’t look infected.

“I left home when I was fourteen, too.”

“You went to college? Or a boarding school?”

“Nay.” His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “I was kidnapped. Taken aboard a British merchant ship as forced labor.”

“Oh, my gosh!” She sat on the bed beside him. “Are you kidding me? That’s terrible!”

“I tried to escape. The first time, because I was young and ignorant, they gave me only ten lashes. But the second time, they gave me twenty-five.” He took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. “Ye should know what ye’re getting with me.”

She gasped when he twisted to the side. His back was crisscrossed with welts. “Oh, my God. Dougal.” The poor man had carried these scars for almost three centuries.

Tears burned her eyes as she traced a scar with her fingertip. “This was so cruel.” A fourteen-year-old boy, taken from his family and treated like this. “How did you survive?”

“There was a cook on board, an old Irishman, who took pity on me. He told me the best way to survive was to be valued by the crew. He did that by cooking for them and entertaining them with his bagpipes. First he taught me how to play the tin whistle. When I caught on quickly, he taught me to play the pipes.”

“The Uilleann pipes?” She smoothed her fingers over each scar.

“Aye. After a few years, I had adjusted to my new life, but one time, when we were leaving India, we were attacked by some Indonesian pirates. I was captured and taken to Shanghai, where I was sold.”

She flinched. “Sold?”

“Aye. A few years later, after I regained my freedom, I took on the dragon as a symbol of power and to hide my mark of shame.” He turned toward her to show her his right shoulder. “This is where I was branded when I was seventeen. As a slave.”

Wincing, she touched the raised skin. Whoever had done the tattoo had made the welts look like scales on the dragon. “I’m so sorry.”

“Eventually I made it back to Scotland, but my family had died.”

“And then you died at the Battle of Culloden,” she finished, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, Dougal.” She placed her hands on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“Doona fash. ’Twas long ago.” He took her hands in his own. “I only told you about the scars ’cause I dinna want you to be alarmed or to think I was a criminal.”

“How could I think poorly of you?” A tear ran down her face.

“Och.” He swept it aside with his thumb. “I shouldna have told you. The last thing I want is yer pity.”

“What do you want?”

“Ye doona know?” He gave her an exasperated look. “Lass, I’ve taken everything off but my kilt. And I can be rid of it in about three seconds.”