The Heart of a Hero

by Janet Chapman

  “By the gods,” Mac shouted as he scrambled to stand upright on the vessel now dwarfing its cavernous hiding spot deep inside Whisper Mountain. “I swear I will—” The rest of the mighty theurgist’s threat was lost to the jets of steam that suddenly shot out of several valves, one of which sent Mac scrambling to safety with a startled yelp before he could once again stand glaring down at Nicholas.

  A small door opened on the giant underwater vessel with a hiss of pressurized air just before a gangplank emerged, followed by Titus Oceanus—making Nicholas rush over with a curse of his own when he saw the elder theurgist carrying Rana.

  “I’m fine,” Rana assured him as Titus stepped onto the ledge. “Or I will be as soon as I feel solid ground beneath me again.” She turned and gave her husband a tight smile. “I swear I don’t know whether to feel cherished or insulted when you start coddling me. You know I get a silly bellyache every time you use the magic to get us here in a hurry, and you know I’m fine within minutes of—Maximilian, what on earth are you doing on top of our ship?” she called up to her son. “And why are you soaked?”

  “Nicholas was being a sore loser.” Mac then slid down the curved side of the vessel, landed with a grunt when he bounced off the wall of the cave, and walked over and extended his arms. “Let me take her,” he said to his father.

  Nicholas shoved him out of the way. “You’re wet. I’ll take her.”

  Titus stepped back, giving them both a regal glare. “I believe I’m still capable of looking after my wife.”

  Rana leaned her head onto Titus’s neck—Nicholas assumed to hide her smile. “Actually, I believe I’m still capable of looking after myself. Sweetheart,” she added, her smile widening when Titus muttered something under his breath as he set her on a large rock—then immediately sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “So,” Rana said, smoothing down her shirt with a deep sigh as her gaze traveled over Nicholas’s wet pants and her son’s wet pants, shirt, and boots, “what were you two gentlemen discussing that ended with the both of you taking a swim?”

  “I was trying to explain to our illustrious warrior here,” Mac began before Nicholas could, “that kissing a woman within thirty minutes of meeting her and calling her a walking disaster to her face is probably not the best way to begin a romantic pursuit.”

  “Now who’s acting ten?” Nicholas snapped, even as he felt his neck heat up when Rana’s brows lifted in surprise.

  “You’ve begun a romantic pursuit, Nicholas? Of a wo—” She suddenly smoothed down her shirt again. “Yes, well, how wonderful. Is she anyone I know?”

  “He’s dallying with the help,” Mac answered before Nicholas could. “But you may know her, as she takes care of the cottages. Her name is Julia Campbell.”

  Rana shook her head, although she was still looking at Nicholas, her expressive brown eyes speculative. “No, I enjoy tending our cottage myself. So, Nicholas, you’ve finally found a lady who’s lovely enough to pursue . . . romantically?”

  Whatever Mac had intended to answer for him came out a grunt instead when Nicholas drove his elbow into the wizard’s ribs and stepped forward. “As a matter of fact,” he said, extending his hand to Rana, “I have. Which I wish to speak with you about,” he continued, tucking her arm through his when she stood up, then leading her toward the large metal door in the side of the cavern. “As I prefer taking advice from someone who knows what they’re talking about,” he said over his shoulder, “rather than someone who needed magic tricks and an epic stunt to catch his lady’s interest.”

  Rana pulled him to a stop when they stepped into the tunnel that ran from the fiord up to the summit of Whisper Mountain. “I must say, you’ve caught my interest.” She looked in both directions, then up at him. “Are we riding or climbing a million stairs?”

  Nicholas turned them toward the fiord. “You have a choice of riding the tired old horse your son brought you or the really fast boat I brought.” He bent to whisper in her ear when they emerged into the sunlight as Mac and Titus came up behind them. “I’ll let you drive.”

  “Oh, Nicholas,” Rana said with a musical laugh, pulling him past the horses toward the fiord. “You always know the perfect cure for a bellyache.”

  Chapter Eight

  Julia straightened when she heard the sound again, and even stopped breathing to listen as she looked around the sun-dappled old-growth forest. Did lynx hang out in pine groves? Or those curious, sneaky coyotes? Only it hadn’t been a twig snapping or an animal grunting she’d heard, but more like a muffled thwack. Sort of mechanical, but muted. Distant. Yeah, it probably wasn’t even nearby, Julia decided, knowing that sound traveled strangely on the side of a mountain riddled with cliffs and ravines. Or it might only be the breeze rubbing branches together.

  Then again, it could be the wind turbines she’d heard about—but had never seen—that supplied most of Nova Mare’s electricity. The turbines were rumored to be some fancy new design that didn’t have to rise above the ridgelines to be efficient, and Julia had heard they were hidden on this side of the mountain someplace. The entire resort ran on wind and solar and geothermal energy, making it completely self-sufficient as well as eco-friendly—which, now that she thought about it, made heating an outdoor swimming pool all winter not such an outrageous luxury. It also explained the massive number of pipes running through all the granite corridors.

  Julia went back to gathering the explosion of pinecones littering the forest floor, unable to believe her luck. Well, luck and a little reconnaissance. But she’d finally had time to really explore the facilities now that she was actually living up here, and she’d been blown away by the view from the gazebo that sat on the windswept ledge a short hike up from the conference pavilion. But where most of Nova Mare’s buildings faced south and east overlooking Bottomless, the gazebo had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, including all the way into Canada.

  It had been from there that she’d spotted the stand of tall pines halfway down the western side of Whisper. And since she didn’t have to be at work until ten o’clock, and she only had a three-minute commute now, she’d gotten up with the sun, grabbed a handful of sacks, and made the trek out here this morning.

  It had been very kind of Nicholas to leave a note on her apartment door yesterday offering to take her to a pine grove that he knew of across the fiord on her next day off, but she’d sent him a note very politely declining via the front desk again, as she really didn’t want to spend an entire day with a man being kind to her out of pity.

  And besides, someone at the marina would see them together when she got in his boat, and that person would tell everyone, and before she knew it some busybody would feel compelled to tell the town’s most eligible bachelor that he really shouldn’t be seen in public with the town slut. “Oh, and did you know she’s also the daughter of the town drunk?” Julia muttered as she stuffed a fistful of cones in the sack.

  Nope, she’d already humiliated herself enough to Mr. No Last Name.

  And if his stupid cats broke into her apartment one more time, she was going to shave them bald, which would certainly stop them from strolling around the resort like they owned the place, wouldn’t it? Well, at least until their hair grew back. Yeah, and maybe she’d take all that shaved hair, add it to all the hair she was still vacuuming up, and make Nicholas a big fat pillow to rest his big kind head on. “Size matters,” she growled, bending to grab the last of the cones in the immediate area. “Yeah, well, not everyone spends all their time daydreaming about being pulled into your big strong arms and kissed until their toes curl. Some of us have better things to do, like earn a living any—”

  Julia heard the sharp thwack at the same time something slammed into her backside with enough force to knock her to her knees. Her scream of surprise apparently drowning out the second thwack, she was hit again in the head hard enough to send her sprawling, this time the shock freezing her scream in her throat.

  A hunter was sho
oting at her!

  No, the entire mountain was closed to hunting, so it had to be a poacher.

  “You’re dead!” a man shouted—sounding way too happy about it. “But if you still don’t think so, maybe a steel blade on your throat will make you a believer,” he added, his voice moving closer.

  Heaven help her, he knew he’d shot a person and was coming to finish the job!

  Julia started to belly-crawl toward some bushes, but went perfectly still when she heard the man laugh at something another man said to him. There were two of them, and they were getting closer. Realizing she’d never make it to the bushes, Julia looked around for something to defend herself and reached for a rock the size of her fist—only to still again when she saw her glove covered in blood. It was then she realized the whole left side of her hair felt wet and sticky. She grabbed the rock and pulled it beneath her, reached for a branch and tucked it down along her right side, then closed her eyes and went limp just as the man spoke again—this time nearly to her.

  “Give it up, Rowan,” he said with a chuckle. “Your adage that old age and treachery overcome youth and— Sweet Zeus, it’s a woman!”

  Julia erupted the moment she felt his hand touch her shoulder, rolling over and striking the man in the face with her fist holding the rock at the same time she snapped the stick into his groin as he crouched over her. She continued rolling away as he momentarily froze before crumpling into a fetal position with a groan, and jumped to her feet and hurled the rock at the other man’s shocked face.

  Hearing the simultaneous thunk and shout of surprise as she spun away, she ran down the ridge toward the dense forest. For the love of God, she’d been shot! Twice! Having heard there usually was very little pain with trauma, which explained why her head and backside only stung, Julia figured she could keep going on adrenaline alone—assuming she didn’t bleed to death before she made it back to the resort.

  “Get her before she’s lost,” one of them said in a strangled hiss. “Or we’re dead.”

  Julia heard footsteps racing after her. “Lady, stop,” the man called out over the sound of snapping branches. “We mean you no harm.”

  Yeah, right. They’d shot her and intended to finish her off with a knife! She ran darting through the trees despite knowing every beat of her pounding heart was pumping out precious blood, until she was suddenly jerked nearly off her feet when a branch snagged the pocket on her fleece. She unzipped the light jacket and frantically shrugged free, then took off again at a ninety-degree angle for another hundred yards before ducking behind a large tree to look back. She saw the man stop and scan the woods to his left, and Julia realized he was expecting her to flee toward Nova Mare.

  Not daring to even touch her wounds for fear she’d faint, despite the slowly oozing blood making her hair stick to her face and the sting in her backside making her want to rub them, Julia started running along the ridge away from the resort. She just had to hold on long enough to get behind them and head up the mountain to the summit, which should be the opposite direction they’d be looking for her. Then she’d find Nicholas and tell him that poachers were shooting employees in his supposedly secure woods—just before she humiliated herself again by bleeding to death at his feet.

  * * *

  Nicholas stared down at the three empty sacks in his hand, undecided if his heart was pounding so hard from having spent the last hour running through the woods trying not to be shot, or if he was having a heart attack at the thought of Julia believing men were actually trying to kill her. Micah finally staggered to his feet, carefully tugging on his pant leg as he straightened, and Nicholas stepped forward and drove his fist into the idiot’s face, sending him sprawling onto his back with another black eye to match the one Julia had given him. “That was for taking a shot without identifying your target,” he growled. “Now get up and let me show you what I think of your letting a woman bring you to your knees.”

  Micah wisely stayed on the ground.

  Nicholas turned his glare on Dante, who immediately stepped back with his hands raised in supplication, the cut on his cheek still oozing blood. “She can’t be hurt badly, sir. She’s obviously light on her feet to have slipped away so quickly, which is why I chose to find you instead of chasing after her.” He used one of his still-raised hands to gesture east and actually grinned. “She’s probably already back at the resort.”

  Rowan beat Nicholas to the punch with a powerful blow to the jaw, sending Dante sprawling beside Micah. “Terror overrides pain, you ass,” Rowan growled, bending down to pull the idiot back to his feet.

  “Leave them,” Nicholas said, tossing the sacks at the two men. “I expect to see those full of cones and sitting in the woodshed in an hour.” He then turned and headed in the direction the men said Julia had fled, determined not to roar. “Remind me again why I didn’t send you all back to Atlantis after you let Alec MacKeage walk in and out of the resort right under your noses last year?” he said when his second in command fell into step beside him.

  Rowan snorted. “Because you would have had to send yourself back with us, as I recall he rubbed your nose in it, too. Sir.”

  Figuring Julia didn’t need to see a half-naked man running her to ground, Nicholas pulled his T-shirt off his belt without breaking stride, took off his rifle and slipped on the shirt, then slung the weapon back over his shoulder. Of all the places she could have found to collect pinecones, why in Hades here? Nobody ever roamed the west side of Whisper because the terrain was too rugged, which is exactly why he and his men used these woods for their war games.

  And just how had she planned to carry four bags of cones back, anyway?

  “Here,” Rowan said, veering to the left just as Nicholas also spotted the pale pink garment hanging from a branch by its pocket.

  He took it from Rowan and ran his finger over the red smears on the collar. “She was hit in the head or neck,” Nicholas said roughly. “Damn, that had to have stung.”

  “Micah is certain he also hit her in the lower back,” Rowan quietly added. He began studying the area. “It says a lot about Julia for how she kept her wits enough to surprise two . . . warriors. Here,” he said, scuffing the ground with his feet. He lifted his gaze to the north, then looked at Nicholas and grinned. “Dante lost her because she headed away from the resort.”

  Nicholas felt his heart slowing to a steadier rhythm as he looked north and then up the ridge. “She’s a lot smarter than people give her credit for.” He sighed, trying to dissipate more of his anger—although it did nothing to stem the heat radiating off him like an erupting volcano. “I’ll go it alone from here,” he said, handing his rifle to Rowan. “I don’t want her further terrorized by having two men coming after her.”

  “Once they’ve gathered the cones, I’ll see that Julia’s kindling is also split and stacked in the woodshed,” Rowan said as he headed up the ridge. “Assuming our two elite idiots can manage a hatchet without maiming themselves. And maybe I’ll give them a nice long lecture while I watch, on how old age and treachery—and one cunning woman, apparently—always overcome youth and skill.” He turned to Nicholas with a grin. “Which you would do well to remember when you catch up with your Julia.”

  “She’s not mine yet,” Nicholas muttered to himself, tearing off in the direction she’d gone the moment Rowan was out of sight. Hell, he’d be lucky to be in possession of his own manhood when Olivia learned what his warriors had done to one of her employees this morning.

  Nicholas focused his senses on the desperate energy he was chasing and, although he was working himself back into a fine rage, couldn’t help being impressed by Julia’s cunning. And at her courage for defending herself against two powerful men with nothing more than a rock, a stick, and a quick mind. But having learned something about a woman’s thought process during his years shadowing Lina, he had a worry this false victory might encourage Julia to be even more reckless should she find herself in a truly threatening situation in the future. Because the trut
h was, if Dante had gone after her instead of coming to find him, the man would have caught her within minutes.

  Nicholas knew the moment Julia realized he was closing in on her, as he felt the desperation trailing in her wake turn to terror. He thought of calling out to let her know it was him, but understanding that terror played tricks on the senses, he feared her flight might turn frenzied and she’d run off a cliff. By the gods, Micah would be ready to swim back to Atlantis by the time he was through with the idiot.

  Nicholas caught up with Julia just as she was trying to scale a waist-high ledge, his gut tightening at her frantic whimper when she glanced over her shoulder and spotted him, lost her grip, and tumbled down the steep incline below the ledge. But he couldn’t help being impressed again when she sprang to her feet holding a stout branch and actually charged him.

  Nicholas stopped and prepared to take the blow, only to see Julia suddenly toss the stick away and throw herself at him instead, making him have to sweep her off her feet when her legs buckled. “Oh, thank . . . God . . . it’s you,” she rasped between panting sobs, clinging to him. “Men chasing me. Two. Sh-shot me. Poachers. I’m . . . bleeding . . . to death.”

  Nicholas dropped to his knees, but it wasn’t until he tried to smooth back the hair stuck to her face that he saw she’d fainted. He knelt cradling her, Julia’s racing heart pounding against his, and sighed at the realization this likely wasn’t going to help his romantic pursuit any. He rose to his feet, settled her comfortably against his chest, and started for home, his mood somewhat lighter when he remembered Julia’s first instinct upon realizing who he was had been to run to him instead of away.