Page 13

Eleven

I an blinked, working hard to keep his expression completely impassive. He was sure someone would notice if he pounded his fist into Tanner’s arrogant face. After all, it was a beautiful, bright morning and they were in the middle of one of Britain’s more exclusive golf courses.

“So I can only assume you haven’t slept with her.” Brad smirked his direction. “Or maybe you have and that’s why you’re so quiet this morning.” The man stepped up to the tee and took his shot.

Quiet?

His opponent understood nothing, not even how to recognize his own danger. A good warrior was always quiet while contemplating the manner of an enemy’s demise. In all his years, he had never been one to boast before a battle or to brag about his intentions. He quietly planned, then stepped forward and acted.

The man smiling in front of him made him wish for a return to the old ways, to a time of swords and dungeons. He would have made quick work of Bradley Tanner in those days. There were some distinct disadvantages to this century.

“Well, which is it?” Brad stood in front of him, adjusting his glove.

“A gentleman disna discuss his private affairs in this setting.” Ian gritted his teeth.

Paul and Daniel had already taken their turns and stood a distance away. Ian doubted they’d heard the exchange.

Brad shrugged. “Well, she’s got money now, but you don’t look like the kind who needs her money bad enough to put up with that.” He slapped Ian on the back. “She’s an Ice Queen, McCullough. Stiffens up and sucks all the enjoyment right out of sex. She can’t stand to be touched, but I’m sure you’ve already found that to be the case.” The smirk on his face broadened. “Or you will very soon.”

Ian’s muscles tensed across his shoulders and his eyes narrowed. He fought to consciously relax his grip on the club he held. “Perhaps it was naught but her poor choice of partner in the past.”

Brad shrugged and turned, heading down the green.

Daniel joined him at the tee as Brad and Paul continued on to where their balls had landed. “So, what’s your impression of those two?”

“Stephenson’s no the one we’re looking for.”

“I agree. His is a gentle soul. What do you think of Tanner?” Daniel immediately grinned and held up a hand. “And I’m not asking on a personal level. That’s fairly easy to see.”

“Tanner’s a bloody great fool. Too much so to my way of thinking to be the contact.” He shook his head. “As much as I’d like it to be him. No, the one we’re searching for has no yet arrived.”

Ian returned the club he held to his bag, choosing another in its place.

“What are you doing?” Daniel frowned. “I know you hate this game, but you’re much better than that.” He pointed at the club Ian held. “You’ll slice something awful with that one.”

“Aye. I suppose I might at that.”

“You’re not going to hit your target.”

“I’m thinking you misjudge my target.”

Ian lined up his shot and swung at the ball, a smile creasing his face as he watched its flight.

Down the green a shout went up as the small white projectile slammed into Brad Tanner’s back.

“Oh, that’s a bloody bad shame.” Ian’s eyes sparkled as he looked at his friend. “Poor chap. That must be frightfully painful.”

“It’s a damn good thing I don’t really want a position on their board, with you doing your best to bugger the whole deal.” Daniel shook his head. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m feeling much better than I have all morning.” Ian grinned at him.

“Come on. Let’s go collect our charges and get back to Glaston House. The next two will be arriving shortly after lunch.”

“Do you think you can handle them yerself for a bit? I’ve a short errand to run when we get back.”

“Of course. Anything I can help with?”

“I dinna think so. I’ve decided to take Sarah shopping.” At his friend’s raised eyebrow he continued. “After seeing the other ladies last evening it’s occurred to me that my guest might end up feeling uncomfortable in the casual clothing I encouraged her to bring.”

“I take it you were able to convince her to stay at the cottage with you.”

“As a matter of fact, I was able to lay blame at the broad doorstep of misunderstanding, and then, with the whole Tanner issue, the matter resolved itself.”

“It’s odd, don’t you think?” Daniel’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “This woman showing up on your doorstep and now her ex-husband being here? It’s quite the coincidence.”

“Dallyn warned of exactly this sort of thing, in his own cryptic way. He said that Sensors drew to them others who need to be there.”

“Well, let’s hope that she draws the one we need. At least the way things have worked out you’ll be able to keep a close eye on her, regardless of who shows up.”

“Exactly.”

And the time he’d be “forced” to spend with her would simply be a bonus.

***

Sarah awoke and stretched, unsure for a moment of where she was. She watched the tiny bits of dust dancing in the sunbeam shining through the window over her bed and gradually the evening before came back to her. Memories of Ian’s coming to her rescue sent shivers to her toes, a part of her wanting his act to be real. Then she thought of what—who—he’d rescued her from.

“Damn.”

Throwing back the covers, she sat up in bed. Brad was here. The one man she’d hoped never to see again in her entire life. And she was trapped in this place for three more days. She sighed and climbed out of bed, heading toward the bathroom. She needed a shower and a strong cup of coffee to face that terror again.

After a quick shower, she slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but paused as she passed the mirror on her way out the door. The T-shirt probably wouldn’t be up to par for the group of people she’d be around today, but it was either that or one of the two sweaters she’d brought along. She had only that and the summer dress she’d worn when she’d gone out with Ian, and she still had three more dinner gatherings to dress for.

She shrugged and padded downstairs. She wasn’t going to spend her whole weekend worrying about what people thought of her. Well, in all honesty, she probably was, but she refused to give in to it before coffee.

A quick glance into the great room told her Ian was already up and gone, but the smell of fresh coffee filled the empty space. Next to the coffeepot, she found a tray holding a cup, sugar and cream, a fresh rose in a vase of water and a folded piece of paper.

He didn’t miss a thing.

She poured her coffee and took the tray out to the garden, sniffing the flower before settling into one of the chairs and propping her bare feet on the other. She savored her first sip and opened the paper.

The note told her he’d gone golfing, but hoped to be back before she had a chance to finish her coffee. He promised a surprise when he returned.

She smiled and laid the paper on the table, thinking about the man who had left the note. Ian’s handwriting was elegant, laced with old-fashioned flourishes she didn’t normally think of as typically masculine. Yet the note, like the man himself, felt entirely male. Tentatively she reached toward the paper again, brushing it lightly with her fingertips.

How much could she feel if she really tried?

When she touched a person, skin to skin, an awareness of all their emotions flooded into her. When it had first begun, as a child, she had thought everyone felt that way. That everyone also had the little voice in their heads that warned them not to go near a particular dog, or to avoid a particular person because he was bad, or to hurry home from school in time to warn someone about something that was going to happen.

Her grandmother had quickly dissuaded her of that notion, accusing her of being “strange” like her father.

She had spent the rest of her life trying to distance herself from those things. Trying to hide them, make them go away.

The voice had receded until a few months ago, when it came back loud and clear, insisting that she spend the summer in Scotland.

The awareness that came through touch had never gone away. It had grown stronger, no matter how she fought it, until she learned to avoid touching people as much as possible. Recently, since she’d promised to give herself over to the Fates, she’d found that the awareness was no longer limited to people. When she touched objects, she felt faint impressions of those who had handled them before.

If she thought of these afflictions as powers, she would have to say it was almost as if her powers had begun to grow.

Closing her eyes, she flattened her hand against the note, clearing her mind and breathing deeply.

The note felt warm under her hand. She sensed a fleeting touch of impatience. Had Ian been in a rush when he wrote this? Her fingers began to tingle, even warmer now, and her brow furrowed. What was that swimming around, just out of reach? She could almost see him writing, see him smiling. Her breathing sped up as she felt the heat of temptation seeping off the paper into her hand. Temptation and desire.

But whose emotions was she sensing? His or her own?

“Sarah? Are you all right?”

At the sound of his voice, her eyes flew open and she jerked her fingers from the paper as if burned, quickly clasping both hands around her coffee cup. With her sudden movement, the paper fluttered to the ground unnoticed.

Had he seen what she’d been doing?

“Morning. I’m fine. Good game?”

A small shrug of his shoulders, and an almost guilty smile preceded his response.

“I suppose. It did have its moments.”

He disappeared through the doorway, reappearing shortly with his own steaming cup. Gently he swept her feet up in order to sit in the chair she’d been using as a footrest. When she would have moved them to the ground, he tightened his hold, positioning her feet in his lap after he sat.

“You found my note?”

She could only nod her reply. His thumb was working a slow magic on the sole of her right foot. The sensations his fingers produced were so exquisite that only by clenching her jaw was she able to prevent a moan from escaping.

His ministrations switched to the left foot.

“Are you ready then? For my surprise?”

“Your what?” How could she possibly be expected to answer, or even think, when he was doing that to her feet?

“Surprise.” He dropped her feet to the ground and stood, taking her hand and hoisting her to stand. “Come on, lazybones, go get yer shoes on. I’ve a surprise all planned that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” He gave her a little push toward the door.

It was difficult for her to imagine anything she would enjoy more than what he’d just been doing.

***

“Ian McCullough and”—he paused, turning to her with a satisfied smile before completing his announcement to the black metal box—“Miss Sarah Douglas.”

He continued to smile as he drove through the gates and slowly headed toward the castle.

“You see? I am no the chauvinist you named me. I announced the both of us.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid that one little act does not absolve you of today’s crimes. I told you. I cannot let you pay for those things.”

“But I already paid for them.” If anything, his smile grew larger. “And lunch as well, I might add.”

“Only because you tricked me.”

Ian’s surprise had turned out to be a day trip to Bristol, to some very exclusive dress shops Nessa had recommended. He’d managed to get her out of the cottage without her purse by telling her they were only taking a short ride.

“And you lied to me.”

His smile disappeared. “I did no such thing.”

“You said you had something to show me…only a short ride.”

“And that was completely true. Technically. I wanted to show you the shopping district in Bristol.” He favored her with another of his grins. “Even you must admit it was a short ride compared to the one down from Scotland.”

She huffed out her breath in a half laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s much better.” He pulled the car to a stop at the far side of the drive. “You were so quiet after lunch and on the drive here, I feared you were really angry with me.” He turned serious black eyes on her, holding her captive with the power of his gaze. “I’d do almost anything to avoid that, Sarah.”

“Well, don’t think you’re off the hook yet. I do intend to repay every penny you spent on those dresses.”

All she’d have to do is figure out a way to determine exactly how many pennies, or pounds as the case may be, he had actually spent. He’d apparently given the store clerk quite a nice tip to ensure she didn’t tell Sarah the amount of the sale. Perhaps Nessa could give her a guesstimate based on her experience with the stores.

Of course, who paid for what and being a liberated woman was the least of her problems right now. After what she saw at lunch, she was still struggling with the concept of being a sane woman. Liberation would have to take a backseat to sanity any day.

“Sarah? Did I lose you again, luv?” Ian was leaning across the center console, only inches from her face.

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit distracted.”

The slow smile, the one she’d secretly dubbed The Heart Stopper, began to work its way across his face.

“Aye, well then, best I take advantage of that while I can.”

In the space of a heartbeat he closed the small distance between them, his mouth brushing softly over hers. Then he pulled back from her and lifted his hand to her face, stroking his thumb across her lower lip.

“Now we’re both a bit distracted.”

Sarah couldn’t think, much less respond, as he climbed from the car, coming around to open her door.

“I’m going to take Nessa’s packages from the bakery round to the back. I’ll meet you at the cottage later?”

She nodded her agreement, not quite able to form sounds.

“Do you want me to carry yer things up to the cottage when I come?”

This time she shook her head and watched him grin as he balanced the stack of boxes they’d brought back, each filled with the delicate pastries Nessa had ordered for tonight.

Her lips still tingled and she unconsciously ran a finger over them as she watched him walk around the back of the building, effortlessly carrying his load.

There was surely something she was supposed to say to him—something about how he shouldn’t be kissing her like that. But her brain couldn’t come up with the words. Perhaps her body, traitor that it seemed to be where Ian was concerned, had placed her brain on lockdown.

Serious brain malfunction.

Maybe that could explain what she thought she’d seen outside the restaurant today. It wasn’t a rational explanation, by any means, but she’d tried to come up one of those all the way back from Bristol without any success.

Either way, she was beginning to have some serious doubts about her sanity on all counts. Because it wasn’t sane to allow herself to get lost in pretending to be someone special to a man like Ian McCullough. And it was most certainly not a sane act to think she’d seen that man watching her from outside the restaurant. Especially not since she was so certain he was the same man she’d seen before. The same one who had jumped over her car during the rainstorm her first night in Scotland.

***

Sarah cut through the side yard on a path she hadn’t taken before on her way to the cottage. She was pleasantly surprised to find herself in a cozy play area.

“Sarah! You came to visit me just like you said you would.” Will jumped up from the sandbox where he had been busily occupied. “What’s that?” He pointed at the packages she carried.

“Dresses. Ian took me shopping.” She put the packages on a bench and seated herself.

Will climbed up next to her, immediately claiming her hand as he sat down.

“Don’t you like the clothing?” He snuggled close, putting one small arm around her waist, the other still holding her hand in her lap.

“Of course I do.” She looked down to meet his intense gaze, surprised that she’d had no reaction to his touch this time. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

“You’re unhappy.” He squeezed her hand. “I feel it. Like you can.” His head snuggled against her side.

“What?” She felt her breath catch in her lungs.

“I’m like you. I never met one of us before.”

“One of us?” Her voice wavered. What was this child saying?

The reproachful look he gave her was eerily adult. “We feel things. Things about other people. About what they’re like, what they feel.” He patted her back. “Didn’t your mommy and daddy tell you it’s okay, Sarah?” He waited, his large blue eyes fixed on hers.

“No,” she whispered, his words hitting her like a punch to the stomach.

“We’re special.” The little hand continued to pat her back. “It’s because of our ancestors.”

“Our ancestors?”

He nodded. “The Faeries. We have their blood. So we’re special.”

“Faeries,” she repeated skeptically. “Little winged butterfly people?”

Will giggled. “They aren’t like that at all. They might want you to think they look like that, but they really don’t. And we would see them the way they really look.” He shrugged his little shoulders. “It’s in our blood. It’s who we are.”

Faeries. What an imagination. Still, how did he know about the feelings? She didn’t discuss that with anyone. Not anymore. Not since…

“Will, did you hear one of the grown-ups talking about this? One of those people who are here visiting your mom and dad?” Surely Brad wouldn’t talk about that. Not after all this time.

“No.” At her look of doubt, he continued, “Feel me, Sarah. You’ll know I’m telling you the truth. We’re the same. We’re special.” He squeezed her hand, staring at her earnestly.

She closed her eyes, allowing the feelings to flood her. There was no question about it.

“I believe you, Will.”

Rising to his knees, he threw his little arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. “It’s okay, Sarah. We’re special,” he whispered.

What was her world coming to? She felt more confused than she could ever remember. From the fright of seeing that man outside the restaurant to Ian’s kiss in the car, things were simply moving too quickly for her to grasp today. And now this oddly mature little boy with his eerily accurate knowledge of something she worked so hard to hide. It all had her almost seriously considering the imaginary Faerie ancestors living in the mind of an inventive six-year-old.

***

“Have they arrived yet?” Ian lounged on the leather sofa in Daniel’s study, holding a large glass of lemonade.

“Only Storey. The aide, O’Dannan, is flying in separately. He’ll be here later this evening.”

“Until you mentioned him last night, I’d no heard anything about this O’Dannan. There was no file, nothing at all on him in the intelligence we looked at.”

“I’m aware of that. Makes him all the more interesting, doesn’t it?”

“Aye, that it does. Along with this chairman, this Servans. There’s something about that name worrying at the back of my mind.”

“Something more than the lack of information on him?”

Ian nodded slowly. Something he’d seen, something he’d read. He just couldn’t place it, but it would come to him in time.

“Have you heard of him before?”

“I’m no sure. What about this Alexander Storey? As I recall, he’s the head man at EHN, is he no? What’s your impression of him?”

Daniel shook his head, disappointment clear in his expression. “I don’t think he’s the one, Ian. From what I hear, some financial deal forced him to the side, putting the new chairman in the driver’s seat, though he’s rarely there.”

“From what you hear?” Ian raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. From my new top secret undercover agent.” Daniel smiled. “Nessa told me. It seems Marlena Stephenson gets very talkative with only a few mimosas under her belt.”

“She talked about it in front of Storey’s daughter?” Ian frowned.

“No. When Brad returned from our game this morning feeling…uh, under the weather”—Daniel rubbed at his nose, obviously hiding a grin—“Nicole had the driver take her into town shopping. I don’t suppose you ran into her?”

“No, we dinna.”

“And your shopping day went well?”

“It did.” Perhaps too well. The thought of Sarah’s lips, her soft breath as he’d kissed her in the car brought a smile to his face. A kiss he shouldn’t have taken, but one he couldn’t regret. He shook his head. He had to stay focused on the matter at hand. Not on Sarah.

“Has Tanner recovered from our wee fairway accident?”

Danny shrugged. “I haven’t seen him all day. I suppose he’ll be at this evening’s festivities.”

“That’s more the pity. I had rather hoped he’d be indisposed this evening and spare me his company.”

“Spare you, or is it Sarah you’re thinking of?” Daniel leaned back, propping his feet on the small table between them.

“His behavior toward her was quite unacceptable last evening. I simply prefer she not be upset like that.”

“And why is that, do you suppose, Ian? Why would her being upset bother you so?” Daniel’s eyebrow had lifted in question. “Could it be you’re losing your objectivity where Sarah’s concerned?”

“Why the bloody hell is everyone so convinced that my objectivity is suddenly endangered?” Ian abruptly stood from the sofa and stalked to the window to look out. “First Dallyn, now you.” He shook his head.

“Perhaps because we can see what you don’t.” Daniel rose and followed his friend to the window, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I see how you look at her.”

Ian continued to gaze out the window. From here he caught sight of Sarah and Will walking together toward the Caretaker’s Cottage. Will was carrying one of her packages, holding her hand. They stopped and she leaned down to speak to the boy, her blond curls brushing against the fair hair of the child. Ian shook his head, and closed his eyes briefly before turning from the captivating scene.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m simply asking you to remember what you risk, what you stand to lose.” Daniel dropped his hand and walked back to his chair, picking up his lemonade.

Neither man broke the silence for a few moments.

He was well aware of what he risked, and he had no intention of failing to honor his oath. Though there were moments when he was with Sarah. Moments when he could almost imagine his life being different.

“If you had it all to do again, Danny, would you do it differently? Do you regret yer decision to give it all up?” Ian watched his friend closely.

“I’ve no regrets at all, Ian. I’d gladly trade the few extra powers I was given and all eternity for whatever time I might have with Nessa and Will.” His brow furrowed. “But there’s a big difference between you and me. I’m not the one who promised my dying father I’d serve as a Guardian.”

The memory of Larkin’s death still hurt, even after all these centuries. His father, a full-blooded Fae, had been one of the last to die at the hands of the Nuadians in battle. The last battle prior to the Great Spell that prevented the Fae from fighting in the Mortal Plain.

Ian had been there waiting when they’d brought his father into the Hall. Pain etched deeply on Larkin’s face, he’d held on long enough to reach his son. To ask—no, demand—his son’s promise to guard the Fountain of Souls and the humans living in the Mortal Plain. Only in that way, he’d said, could his death be avenged. Ian had given his oath without thought. It was, after all, his beloved father.

“I’m pleased you’ve no regrets at yer choice. I, too, believe you made the correct decision. And yer right, Danny. There is a difference between us. But the difference is that you found yer Soulmate. Mine disna exist, so I’ve no reason to dishonor my oath.” He turned and looked out the window again. The lawn was empty.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

Good question. One he used to think he could answer easily. But not now. Not since he’d met Sarah.