“Money.” She rose from the table and placed her empty mug in the kitchen sink. “A trip to Scotland is a luxury I can’t afford right now.” Another wistful sigh escaped her. “But maybe one of these days…Never say never.” She fixed a dreamy eyed look out the window and slowly swished her cup under the running water.
With the caution and ease he used with unsuspecting prey; Caelan folded the dishtowel as he studied Rachel at the sink. “Ye know…” He paused, choosing his words with the greatest of care. “Ye could always come back to Scotland with Emrys and myself when it’s time for us to return. We've plenty of funds, and ye would nay have to fash yourself about paying for an inn. We’ve plenty of rooms in our keep. Stay with us as long as ye like.”
She seemed to brace herself against the sink, and her shoulders returned to the tensed slant of earlier. After a deep breath and a loud, whooshing exhale, she turned and faced him, forcing a smile he knew she didn’t mean. “Thank you for the kind offer. But when and if I ever go to Scotland, it will be becauseIpaid my way.”
He tossed the dishtowel to the table and closed the distance between them. With his hands planted on either side of her to hem her in, he leaned closer, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Have ye so quickly forgotten what I told ye earlier?”
He kept his voice to barely above a whisper but fueled his tone with the intensity of the longing she stirred within him. “I waited a verra long time to be with ye, lass, and ye ken well enough, that I am not a patient man. The love and the life I offer ye is not charity, and ye would do well to remember that.”
Just as he was about to seal the oath with a fiery kiss, a loud knocking rattled the screen door that opened into the side yard. Growling a Gaelic curse under his breath, he pushed himself away from her so she could answer the door.
She stared at him with her lips parted and a leeriness flashing in her eyes. It was almost as though she wished to say something, but either couldn’t decide if it was the right time or couldn’t find the words.
He stared at her, waiting, praying she would say what he wished to hear. She had to feel the same as he did. He saw the beginnings of it smoldering in her eyes.
Blinking hard and fast as though suddenly waking from a dream, she cleared her throat, smoothed down her shirt, and hurried to the side door.
“Can I help you?” she asked whoever stood outside.
Caelan couldn’t see the visitor, but he would listen—and make sure Rachel was safe since both dogs had gone off exploring with Emrys.
“I hate to bother you,” the deep voice said, “but I was wondering, would it be all right if I used your phone? My car stalled, and my cell phone can’t seem to get a signal out here. My provider must not have any towers nearby.”
Caelan moved closer, angling to get a look at the man. Rage exploded within him, and fury poured through his veins. It was the man whose image the pond had reflected as a danger.
The dark-haired devil leaned against the porch post with his arms crossed over his broad chest as though he had not a care in the world. His white teeth flashed like dangerous fangs against his tanned skin, and when he smiled, the cleft in his chin deepened to match the dimple in his right cheek. Aye, that was the bastard from the pond. The one Caelan needed to oust from Rachel’s world.
“If you’d rather not let me in, I understand completely,” the evil one said with the craftiness of an artful liar. “If you have a portable phone, simply pass it out here to me, or would you rather I write the number down for the car rental place for you to call? Either way, I’d really appreciate your help.” The man’s voice was like poisoned honey. He spoke as though trying to hypnotize Rachel, like a snake mesmerizing a bird.
Caelan longed to lunge forward, grab the bastard by the throat, and crush him. But he held back, knowing if he behaved as his instincts wished, it would terrify Rachel and break the fragile connection he felt growing between them. She was not of his world. She would not understand his bloodlust and need to protect her in whatever way necessary—even if that meant killing a man. Emrys had hammered that advice into him dozens of times before they traveled to this century. Caelan clenched his teeth, holding hard and fast to the old druid’s wisdom.
She opened the screen door wider and waved the man inside. “It’s okay. You can come in and use the phone. It’s right over there.”
The vile devil grinned and hurried inside. “By the way, my name is Jayden Smith, and you are?”
“Rachel Hawkins, and this is my friend Caelan MacKay.” She backed away, eyeing the two men with a smugness that warned Caelan the minx was in the mood to see if he would lose his temper. Perhaps the lass wanted to see him battle for her heart after all.
Smith held out his hand to Caelan, his smile icing over to match the cold heartlessness in his eyes. “Jayden Smith, Mr. MacKay. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Caelan glared at the man and allowed him to stand with his hand extended for what seemed like an eternity. The cruel reflection of the bastard’s face in the pond kept running through his mind. But it was always wiser to keep an enemy close—where they could be watched. He caught hold of Smith’s hand, squeezed it hard, and gave a curt nod. “Aye, Mr. Smith. So ye say ye’re having a bit of car trouble?”
“Yes,” Smith bit out as he pulled his hand away and flexed his fingers, frowning down at them with a pained grimace that gave Caelan no small amount of pleasure. “A rental. So, there’s no telling what’s wrong with it.” He swept a gaze around the room, then he lifted his nose higher and sniffed. “Something smells great. I always enjoy my trips to the country for the food.”
“I can’t take credit for it,” Rachel said with a sly twitch of a brow at Caelan. She cracked the oven door and assumed an innocent expression that made him itch to turn her across his knee and smack her fine arse for her. A teasing minx, she was. “The chicken pie he prepared is huge. I’m sure there’s enough for three. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“I am certain Mr. Smith would prefer to be on his way as soon as his car can be seen about.” Caelan narrowed his eyes at her, sending her a silent warning to behave.
“Actually, I would love to stay,” the fiend said with a damning smile that made Caelan itch to throttle him. “The rental place will take forever to show up way out here.” The bastard made himself comfortable in a chair at the table and stretched out his long legs in front of him. With a subtle nod at Caelan, he barely flexed his nearly blue-black eyes into cunning slits as though accepting the silent challenge. “So, where do you live Mr. MacKay since from your accent you don’t sound as though you’ve been in this area very long?”
Teeth clenched so hard that his jaws ached, Caelan flexed his right hand, aching for the sword usually sheathed at his side. “Scotland is my home,” he said with a low warning growl. “My uncle and I rent the apartment above the garage while we’re here as consultants on the dam construction.”
“Consultants? I see.” Smith stroked his chin, keeping his tone condescending enough that Caelan contemplated tossing Emrys’s advice to the wind and thrashing the fool. With a smug nod, Smith reached for the portable phone Rachel had set on the table, then excused himself as he dialed the number on the card he pulled from his pocket.
“Be nice,” Rachel whispered, brushing against Caelan as they pulled dishes from the cupboards.
“Ye dinna ken anything about this man, lass,” he said in a low voice for her ears only. “Dinna trust him.” He stole a glance at the wicked wretch still talking on the phone.
“I don’t know very much about you either, but I’m still nice to you.” She went a bit sheepish and twitched a shrug. “Well…most of the time, I’m nice to you. Sort of.” She nudged him out of the way to get into the silverware drawer.
