He worried his staff between his hands, running his bent fingers along the knots and whorls of the wood that seemed to come alive and dance beneath his touch. “However,…” He fixed a grim look on Caelan. “A man like that’s appetite will only increase when he is rejected. He will become crazed for that which he canna have.”
“It has been almost two months since we arrived,” Caelan said, feeling worse than before he’d found Emrys. “Two moons wasted, and I’m no closer to joining with her or convincing her to return with us than I was when we first began. What would happen if I stole her back to our time? Stealing wives is a time-honored tradition in the Highlands, ye ken?” He searched for a glimmer of hope from the old druid.
Emrys rolled his eyes. “We already discussed that. Have ye forgotten? She must come back with us of her own free will. The Fates have made it known to me they are not so fond of that kidnapping habit, and neither is the Goddess.” He shifted on the rock and squinted up at the storm clouds gathering.
“Then ye are going to have to tell me how I can win her because everything I attempt is wrong.” Caelan held his head and groaned. “Leading my clan is nay as complicated as winning the heart of this one woman!”
Emrys scratched his head with the knot on the end of his cane, frowning as he narrowed his eyes and appeared to be plotting. “I’m thinking that Smith devil will reveal himself for what he truly is. I refuse to believe we’ve been allowed to come this far to watch the lass hand herself over to that ruthless cur.” He pursed his lips and nodded, making his mustache twitch. “Take a step back from the lass. Become her watcher without her knowing it. Only step in if ye see she’s in danger. ’Twould be even better if ye can hold off until she cries out and admits she canna help herself. She is a strong woman, your Rachel is, and ye drive a wedge deeper between the two of ye every time ye deny that strength.” He caught hold of Caelan’s shoulder and tightened his grip. “Can ye do that, my laird?”
Caelan blew out a weary sigh as he pushed off the boulder and attempted to roll the stiffness from his shoulders. “It appears I have no choice, old man.”
“If you putthat woman through one more time, you’re fired!” Releasing the intercom button, Jayden Smith spun in his chairand stared out the glass walls of his office at the city sprawled before him like fresh fruit waiting to be plucked from the vine and crushed.
How dare Rachel Hawkins give out his private number to some sex-crazed woman who said she was some kind of security guard? That guard sounded deranged and possibly dangerous. He made a mental note to hire extra personal guards to travel with him the next time he went to Kentucky.
And how dare Rachel, that little backwoods hick, turn him down when he could show her a better time than she had ever known by the looks of that shack she lived in.
With her looks, he could turn her into an absolute queen, a mesmerizing beauty that would demand the attention of every person in the room as soon as she walked through the door. But no, she was too busy floundering in financial ruin and trying to hang onto land left to her by parents who never wanted her.
Background checks and digging up old skeletons about insignificant individuals were so simple they were almost laughable. Especially, when the private investigator had been persistent enough to find Rachel’s ex trying to eke out a living off the worst streets in Vegas and willing to spill everything he knew about her for enough money to get good and high one last time.
Jayden’s interest in her had started simply enough. He had merely wanted her land. But now that he’d met the woman, the challenge of winning her had become an obsession. His personal quest and healwaysgot what he wanted.
The office door opened quietly, and his assistant silently moved across the plush carpet around to his side of the desk. “These are ready for your signature, sir.”
“Thank you.” Grabbing a five hundred dollar pen from the stand on his massive desk, Jayden lined up the forms and signed them with his legally given name,Christopher Jayden Smith Larkin.
CHAPTER 9
An oddly emotional mix of relief, disappointment, and worry shot through Rachel as she pulled up the driveway and noticed Caelan and Emrys’s rusted out old truck wasn’t in its usual spot beside the garage. Another confrontation this evening was something she wasn’t prepared to handle. Not right now. Her first day back at work had seemed harder than usual, and the soreness in her back reminded her it hadn’t been that long since she’d been so injured that she couldn’t even move. The sight of both dogs rounding the corner of the barn, barking and wagging their tails made her smile. There was no doubttheyloved her and could be trusted.
After stuffing the pile of bills she’d pulled from the mailbox into her upturned hardhat, she tucked it under her arm and eased her aching body out of the truck. “Hey, babies! I’m glad to be home too! I love you too!” She squatted down and laughed into their adoring kisses, patting and hugging them until they almost knocked her over with their wiggling.
A grunting huff worked free of her as she stiffly rose and made her way into the house, dumped her stuff on the kitchen table, and plopped down in a chair to unlace her boots. The hard toed boots with the metatarsal protectors probably weighedclose to three pounds each. They were always the first thing she shed at the end of her day.
Most of the mill workers changed in the shower house and left their work clothes in their lockers at work. But she preferred to make a beeline for her vehicle and head home, no matter how grubby she might be by the end of her shift. If she ended up covered in an excessive amount of the black mill dust, she’d hose her boots off before coming into the house. But being a crane operator, she was one of the lucky ones who stayed somewhat clean.
She leaned against the table and rested her head in her hand, trying to calm her churning thoughts and emotions about the last couple of months. A long white envelope taped to the outside glass of the kitchen door caught her eye. “How did I miss that when I came in?” She must be more tired than she realized. In her sock feet, she went to the door, peeled the envelope off the glass, and cast a leery look inside it.
“What in the world?” She pulled out three crisp one hundred-dollar bills. Staring at them, she made her way back to the kitchen table, sank into her chair, and gingerly smoothed open the letter that had been folded around the money.
My Dearest Rachel,
Please acceptmy heartfelt apologies for my behavior last evening. I have no explanation for my actions. Enclosed you will find money to replace the screen door I destroyed.
I finally understandwhat you wish from me, and I swear to you that from this day forward, I will never be a problem to you again.
Your humble servant,
Caelan Foster MacKay
She swallowed hard,rereading the letter twice more while a disturbing sense of loss and uneasiness knotted in her chest and became heavier with every passing second. With her lower lip caught between her teeth, she swallowed hard and blinked against the sting of tears threatening to burst free. She never cried, but oh how she wanted to sob her heart out right now.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she choked out. “This is what you wanted—remember?”
But what did he mean he would never be a problem to her again? Had they headed back to Scotland without even saying goodbye? Or had he finally decided she wasn’t worth the effort? What about all those things he’d said about not leaving here without her? And that he was going tomakeher love him? How they were meant to be together? Had it all been lies? Some silly game for him to toy with the stupid American?
“Why are you even feeling this way?” she growled, as she smacked the envelope down on the table. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with a man. All she needed was a reliable tenant for the apartment. Rent money to pay the bills. Rent moneyon time. But if she was honest, it wasn’t the loss of the money that upset her. Her heart hurt, burned like an open wound. Her heart burned for him.
