Emma ignored Moira’s weak cough from beside her as the older woman pressed a warm towel into her hands. “Why would you think I want to dine with you tonight? Or any other night, for that matter?”
“I didna ask if ye wished to dine with me. I stated we must do it.” Sliding the clipboard onto the counter, Alex’s unblinking blue gaze bored into her as he returned her scowl. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, you and me. If we’re to help these children, we must learn to get along. The way I see it, the only way we can do this is if we saturate ourselves with each other’s company.”
“You started this whole unable-to-get-along thing.” Emma clamped her mouth shut as soon as the words left her lips. How could she blurt out such a childish retort? Easily.Here she stood soaked to the skin with a sickening throb pounding inside her skull from a lack-of-sleep headache. She wasn’t in the mood to be mature orgenerous. He had launched his attack on their first meeting. Why should she trust him now?
“Aye,” Alex replied with a nod. “And apparently, I’m going to have to be the adult to see it finished.”
“Whatever.” Emma whirled, coming up short at Moira’s stricken expression peeping over the pile of towels in her arms. Dammit.The woman looked like somebody had just shot her dog. Closing her eyes, Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and remembered she had promised Moira she would try to be nice. “Fine.” An exasperated growl escaped her as she snatched a lab coat off the hook and shoved her arms through the crisp white sleeves. “Just give me the directions to the restaurant and I’ll meet you there this evening.”
His flexing biceps stretched the material of his white coat as his arms crossed around his clipboard. Alex raised his chin and tightened his mouth into a thin-lipped frown. “No. I dinna ken where American men get their manners, but I shall be ’round to your cottage to fetch ye at eight o’clock. Sharp. Ye will be ready. Aye?”
“Fine. Whatever.” Emma waved his words away as she yanked a handful of case files from her bag. If Alex Mackenzie wanted to play thewe-need-to-be-friendsgame then she’d slog her way through the evening. At least she’d get a meal out of the torture and not have to nuke leftover stew in the microwave. A fleeting moment of panic fluttered through her as thoughts of Torin crossed her mind. She forced in a relaxing breath. No. He had left this morning and with the way she’d booted him out, surely he wouldn’t be back.
“It’s done then. I’ll be prompt. Ye will find I’m never late.” Alex dropped the clipboard into the chart rack with a thud and headed down the hall, his victorious whistle echoing in his wake.
Moira clapped both hands with frenzied excitement, her silvery bracelets echoing her joy. “Oh well done, Dr. Emma. Ye have a DATE with Dr. Mac. Many a woman on this Isle would trade their favorite purse to be standing in your shoes.”
“Tell them to come on.” Emma rounded the counter with a handful of files, scattering their printed sheets across the floor as Torin pushed through the door.
“Oh, my.” Moira’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Can I help ye, sir?”
Slicking his long, wet hair back from his face, Torin nodded in Emma’s direction as he wound his water-soaked plaid loosely about his waist. “No. I am here to see the lass.”
Heart pounding, Emma clenched the empty folders against her chest. Had Torin finally listened to her advice and decided to seek out some help? Bare-chested, damp kilt slung low around his hips, Torin electrified the room, filled it with a primitive energy.
Emma swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of heat steaming away any sign of dampness from her rain soaked skin. What in the blazes was her problem? Other men didn’t trigger that molten lava feeling from her waist down. Of course, other men didn’t walk into the clinic flexing their tanned, muscular abs like a peacock spreading his plumage for a mate. Dragging her stare from the tattooed glyphs shimmering across his chest, Emma struggled to find her voice. “Wh-why—what are you doing here?”
“Perhaps he thought ye could help with his scars since ye come from overseas.” Moira sidled closer to Emma’s shoulder, whispering behind a shield of papers as she tucked them into Emma’s hands.
Ignoring Moira, Emma took a step toward Torin and repeated, “Why are you here?” Torin needed to state that he needed help. Only then would she believe he had finally arrived at the logical decision and might be ready to heal.
Torin’s grey eye narrowed in Moira’s direction, indicating he had overheard her whisper behind the papers. With a chest-expanding inhale, Torin widened his stance as his gaze riveted back to Emma. “You and I have unfinished business.”
Emma’s hopes disappeared. Great. Torin hadn’t realized he needed help. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emma hugged the files tighter, clenching the folders until the stiff cardboard edges dug into her palms. “You and I have no business. We settled everything this morning when I asked you to leave.” Emma ignored Moira’s sharp intake of breath behind her. She would explain it to the prying old woman later. Maybe. She wasn’t so sure she understood it herself.
“I am trapped in this reality with you until I have fulfilled theCailleach’swishes. She willna be ignored.” Torin’s gaze meandered around the room, his scowl deepening as he took in his surroundings. “Our paths are fated to merge as one. Until we have fulfilled our destinies, we canna part.”
“What is he talking about? Where did he come from?” Moira spoke behind her hand, nudging Emma with a plump elbow while never taking her gaze from Torin.
“It’s a long story,” Emma groaned. Nauseating panic coiled like a snake in the pit of her stomach as a woman and three small children chose that moment to wander in through the double doors. “Torin, you cannot be here. This is a medical clinic, and I’m here to take care of these children. Please. Just leave. Now.”
The smallest of the children broke free of his mother’s grasp and ran to stand just inches from the tips of Torin’s water-soaked boots. With the wide-eyed gaze of one meeting a larger-than-life hero, the child wiped his runny nose on the blue woolen sleeve of his rain-spotted jacket. His little mouth formed into an awe-inspired “o” as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other with an excited hop. He edged a step closer, cleared his throat then finally spoke in a high-pitched whisper. “Are ye truly a guardian of the stones? Have ye returned to save our land?”
“I am terribly sorry.” Emma shot an apologetic glance to the woman still standing just inside the door. What must the mother be thinking? She had brought these children to the brand new clinic only to find a half-dressed man looking as though he’d just battled through the eye of the storm.
Torin held up a hand and fixed Emma with a warning glare. “Ye dare apologize for my presence? At least, the young lad knows his history.” His fierce scowl softening, Torin nodded down at the boy. “Yes, child. Ye are a wise lad. I am the chieftain of all stone guardians and I have returned.”
“Mama, look! A guardian just like the one Da told me about. I told ye they were real. See? Now can I be a stone guardian when I grow up? Peleeeaze?”
“Come away from the man, Fergus. Mind your manners as ye’ve been taught.” The woman hurried forward after pointing a warning finger that rooted the rest of her brood to a spot over beside the toys. “Please forgive him, sir.” The young mother nabbed the child by the collar and pulled him close to her side. “His father and grandfather filled his head with stories of the forgotten times. He’s fascinated by tales of the stones and thinks he’s bound to be a guardian.”
Torin reached out and ruffled the boy’s curly brown hair. “He is a brave lad, and I’m honored to have his friendship.”
Emma’s heart lurched beneath the folders clenched against her chest. The loneliness flashing in Torin’s face eroded her misgivings about the strange man. Why did he have to be so kind? So, patient with the inquisitive child? She clenched her teeth and reminded herself of the eeriness surrounding him. The sooner Torin disappeared from her life, the better off she would be.
The young mother’s tensed expression smoothed into a relieved smile. “Thank ye for finding the perfect way to make my son feel welcome and not fear the doctors anymore.”
“What do you mean?” For the first time since the family had arrived, Emma noticed the child’s color wasn’t quite right. His blue-veined skin stretched too tight across his cheeks and shimmered with a pale unhealthy cast. Purple, gray shadows hollowed the skin beneath his overly bright eyes. His little chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.
