Highland Guardian

by Melissa Mayhue

  How he felt was another matter entirely. He emanated a positive energy, overflowing with caring and curiosity—the type of feeling she would imagine might be given off by a great healer or scientist.

  She ducked her head to hide the grin she could barely contain as she joined Henry on the sofa. Thank heavens she hadn’t lost her ability to laugh at herself. All this touchy-feely practice was making her downright fanciful. If she weren’t careful, she’d turn into the nutcase Brad had accused her of being.

  Henry retained possession of her hand, stroking the back of it as if he held a small puppy. “So, Sarah—may I call you Sarah?” At her nod he continued, “How do you like Heather Cottage?”

  “It’s wonderful, exactly as you assured me it would be when we spoke.”

  “I’m sorry I was no here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Ian has been a considerate host?”

  Sarah found herself unable to look away from Henry. His gaze bore into her, making her feel as though he were attempting to see to the very depths of her, like a man searching for something.

  A grunt from the chair directly across from her broke the spell.

  “I’m sitting right here, Henry. It’s hardly likely you’ll get Sarah to confide my failings in my presence.” He leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should let it go for the time.”

  “Perhaps. For now,” Henry murmured. Releasing her hand, he sat back, all twinkles again.

  A slight frown skittered across Sarah’s face. Emotional undercurrents swirled about the room, strong enough for her to know they were there, but remaining just out of her reach.

  “You haven’t anything to worry about. Ian has been a very thoughtful host. He’s gone out of his way to make my stay comfortable.” She turned to Ian, pinning him with a look. “And even if you hadn’t, if I had any complaints worth bothering your uncle about, your being here wouldn’t make a difference. I’d complain if I felt the need.” No reason to point out that she wouldn’t have complained to either of them. Complaints drew attention to the complainer, and attention was something Sarah had sought to avoid her whole life.

  “Dinner is served, yer lordship.” Peter’s announcement from the door drew their attention.

  Ian stood and reached out a hand to her. “May I escort you to the dining room?”

  Sarah darted a glance over at Henry, who smiled.

  “You go on ahead. Peter will assist me and I’ll be right along.”

  Sarah stopped at the entrance to the dining room, surprised by the old-world elegance. The room sparkled, candlelight reflecting off mirrors and crystal. Ian allowed her to survey the scene before tugging her forward to the table.

  “Henry likes the ambiance,” he whispered into her ear as he assisted her to sit.

  His warm breath stirred over her ear and down her neck, leaving a little trail of electric energy in its wake. Energy she could feel sparking out all over her body. For now, she’d chalk it up to the ambiance.

  He straightened and moved to take a seat opposite her. “Martha has worked all day to treat you to an authentic Scots meal.” A mysterious little smile played over his lips. “I’m looking forward to yer review of it.”

  * * *

  Fortunately she’d studied her travel guides and wasn’t taken completely unawares. The haggis, tatties and neeps were expected and, amazingly enough, quite good. There was a moment when Martha announced “spotted dick” that had given her pause, but even that turned out to be a fairly tasty sponge cake kind of thing.

  After dinner they’d adjourned to the library for snifters of brandy. The McCullough men were amazingly old-fashioned when viewed together like this. Sarah could easily imagine them standing before that same fireplace a century ago exactly as they did tonight. Of course, she would have been exiled with the women a century ago rather than invited to join them for a drink. That would have been a shame. She was rather enjoying her first taste of brandy.

  Sarah nodded and sat quietly for a moment, thinking over the evening’s details, when one in particular popped into her thoughts.

  “Both Peter and Martha called you ‘your lordship’ this evening. Is that a custom associated with a Scottish clan?”

  Ian chuckled. “I believe yer thinking of a Highland laird. Though I was born there and will always be a Highlander, I’ve few ties to the area now. And I’m no the laird of the McCullough clan.”

  “So why do they call you that? I thought that form of address was only used for people with titles.”

  Both men smiled at her now.

  “That it is,” Henry explained. “Ian’s official title is Earl of Dunscore.”

  “Earl? I had no idea.” She turned to look at Ian. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

  He shrugged. “What would you have me say to you? It’s no something I consider verra important, actually. The title came into the family so long ago, it’s almost as if it has nothing to do with me.”

  “So it’s a hereditary title?”

  He smiled at her, as if considering his response. “Aye. It was awarded as hereditary.”

  Another sip of brandy warmed her throat and chest, sending residual heat to her cheeks.

  “But why is it your title? I mean, if it’s hereditary, wouldn’t it fall to Henry as the elder McCullough?” She looked from one man to the other.

  Ian shifted his position at the fireplace, but it was Henry who answered.

  “Other side of the family, you might say.”

  Both men nodded.

  The room was silent for a few moments as Henry made his way to the sofa, waving off Ian’s attempt to help him.

  “By the way, I understand you met our good friend and neighbor yesterday.” Henry had at last managed to get himself seated again, his leg propped on a stool.

  “Dallyn? Yes. He stopped by the cottage and introduced himself.”

  “So he just dropped right in, did he?” Ian spoke without taking his eyes from the fire.

  He sounded irritated.

  “No. Actually, I was the one doing the dropping and he was there to save my…”—she grinned at Ian who had finally turned to watch her—“…nose. Literally. I missed the top step on the back porch and your friend Dallyn was all that stood between me and a face-first landing.” She rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

  “Yes, well, he’s ever the hero, is he no?” Ian muttered.

  “I believe he dined with you?” Henry watched her closely, continuing after her nod. “I dinna think in all these years he’s ever taken a meal with one of my lodgers.”

  “Really? Well, all I can say is that man was giving off some serious hunger signals….” She stopped when Ian snorted and strode across the room to refill his glass.

  “Would you care for another?” He brought the decanter with him to refill Henry’s snifter. At her nod, he splashed a bit more into her glass as well.

  Henry leaned toward her, and in a stage whisper confided, “It’s Ian’s belief that Dallyn considers himself quite dashing where the ladies are concerned, though he would not say it about his friend.”

  “Really? I guess I could see that.” Sarah twisted in her seat to look at Ian and was surprised by the dark scowl on his face.

  “You should be more careful. Just because some strange man walks up to yer door, disna mean yer to invite him in for a meal.”

  “Perhaps not, but when one walks up to my door and rescues me, that should qualify for something.”

  Ian’s scowl grew to a full glower.

  Henry had once again claimed her hand, patting it. “I think what Ian’s trying to say is that you need to use caution with strangers. You had no way of knowing that Dallyn was a good person.”

  “Yes I did. He felt good.”

  Whoa…how did that slip out? The brandy must be as strong as it was tasty.

  “Aha!” Henry crowed, still holding her hand.

  Ian simply stared at her, his face devoid of any emotion at all.

  Well, wasn
’t that exactly what she had known would happen? Wasn’t that how everyone reacted when they witnessed her oddities?

  Henry let go of her hand and groaned as he shifted in his chair. “I fear I have to forgo much more of our extremely pleasant evening.” The man was obviously in pain.

  “Have you still no taken any of yer medication?” Ian tilted his head toward the older man, frowning once again.

  “No. And considering the amount of brandy I’ve poured into my system, right on top of the wine with dinner, I dinna believe I’ll be taking any tonight.” Henry grinned at him like an unrepentant child.

  “Then at the verra least, you need to get some rest.”

  “And so I shall.”

  Ian assisted Henry to stand and gave him the cane he was using to get around, calling Peter to help the man upstairs.

  “Oh, before I go.” Henry cast a mischievous smile Ian’s direction. “I think you should escort our lovely Miss Douglas on an evening constitutional. It would do both you youngsters a world of good.” In response to Ian’s glare he continued, “What? It’s quite good for the digestion. I’d walk meself but for this.” He pointed down at his knee and, donning an innocent look, leaned heavily on Peter as they made their way out of the room.

  Sarah waited until she thought the man would be out of hearing range. “It’s okay, Ian, you shouldn’t feel you have to take me for a walk.” She tried for a smile that wouldn’t come as she stood up. “I should leave now anyway. It’s getting late. Thanks for a lovely evening.”

  Ian stopped her before she reached the door, his hands on both her shoulders. She hadn’t even heard him move. She made a mental note to avoid after-dinner brandies in the future.

  “No, Henry’s right. A walk is just what we need. The fresh air will do us both good.”

  He led her down the hall and outside, where he released her in order to turn and shut the front door.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It felt like the first she’d had in several minutes. Somehow Ian’s fingers on her shoulders had restricted her ability to breathe properly.

  That was a new feeling—even for her.

  They walked for a while in utter silence, Sarah trying to decide how to broach the subject. She didn’t require, or even appreciate, Ian’s forced companionship. It was embarrassing. Although she accepted that Henry was trying to be a good host, she’d rather be alone than to have him force her company on his nephew. Especially now that she knew Ian was someone so important. As if an actual earl had time to waste on her.

  By the time they reached the Night Garden, still having no diplomatic words prepared, she decided to make do with the plain, undiplomatic ones running through her head like little joggers.

  “I’m impressed by how you go out of your way to humor your uncle, but you don’t have to continue to spend time with me because he asks it of you.” Her voice breaking the silence sounded overly loud to her own ears.

  “I dinna do that.” Ian took her hand and pulled her to sit on a bench in the corner of the garden.

  “Well, it appears to me that’s what you’ve done. Tonight’s a perfect example. You were obviously unhappy with Henry’s request that you walk with me, yet here you are.” She pulled her hand from his. One more deep breath to keep up her courage to finish this confrontation.

  “Just goes to prove that appearances can be deceiving. My irritation with Henry had nothing to do with his suggestion that we walk.”

  She studied her feet. He might be telling the truth. If only she had the nerve to touch him, she’d know for sure. No, she didn’t need proof one way or the other. It didn’t matter.

  “I’ve spent time with you because I chose to. Because I wanted to get to know you better.” He paused. “Sarah?”

  When she didn’t look at him, he gently took her chin in his fingers and turned her face to him. “Sarah. It’s important to me that you believe me. I’m no out here tonight because of Henry. I want to be here. With you.”

  She suspected it was coming. Thought she could see his intention in his eyes. The adrenaline kicked in, giving her plenty of warning to take flight, but she couldn’t seem to get her muscles to cooperate with the directive from her brain.

  He leaned over and kissed her. Only a light feathering of his lips across hers, yet it packed the power to send her eyes fluttering shut and her stomach plummeting to her toes and back again.

  “Come on, Sarah, let’s get you home, luv.” He stood in front of her, his hand extended, waiting for her to take it.

  When had he risen? How long had she sat there with her eyes closed?

  She took the hand he offered and let him walk her to the cottage. At the door, he leaned down and touched a light kiss to her forehead.

  “Friends?”

  She couldn’t quite make out his expression in the shadows where they stood.

  “Friends,” she agreed, a bit breathlessly.

  She watched his back, the muscles highlighted as he moved from shadow to patches of light along the pathway to the manor house.

  That kiss at the door might have felt like friends, but the one in the garden certainly hadn’t.

  * * *

  All in all, it had been quite an evening.

  Ian sat in the library, staring into the fire, the book he’d thought to finish lying untouched in his lap.

  Before Sarah arrived for dinner, Henry had insisted on rehashing the details of both of Ian’s encounters with Sarah’s soul. The man had been fascinated. Apparently, for all his contact with souls, and in spite of the numbers he had healed, Henry had never actually seen one.

  It had been a first for Ian as well, but that didn’t seem to make it any less frustrating for Henry.

  Ian knew the man had been trying to look beyond Sarah’s barriers all evening, constantly probing and making physical contact. He hoped Henry’s little outburst before he called it an evening meant he had gained the knowledge he sought. Ian would be grateful for any insight into the mystery of Sarah.

  She had agreed to be friends.

  Certainly that would make it easier to discover what he needed to know—if Henry hadn’t already accomplished that. And it would make it much easier to keep tabs on her, protect her, if necessary.

  So if being friends was going to make everything so much easier, why did the prospect feel so complicated right now?

  Ian puffed out his breath, dropping his head back against the chair. The question might be complex, but the answer was really very simple.

  Because in the garden tonight, she hadn’t felt like a friend. She hadn’t responded like a friend.

  He closed his eyes and instantly pictured her as she’d been when he dragged himself away from that kiss. Her face tilted up toward him, her soft lips slightly parted, her eyes fluttering open, momentarily unfocused.

  Why had he done something so foolish as to kiss her?

  He could rationalize that, in that moment, she had needed to be kissed. But the truth was, when he’d gazed into her eyes, he had desperately needed to kiss her.

  Because the hurt in her eyes had stung him. Because it bothered him she’d misread his reaction to Henry. He could hardly confess that his irritation was due to worry over a rebellious nephew who wouldn’t follow his doctor’s orders.

  He had to regain his normal control, which seemed to slip in the woman’s presence. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy. He had responsibilities that could not be ignored. And, for now at least, she was one of them.

  Tomorrow he would call Danny and decide what to do next. He’d talk to Henry and see what he could learn.

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, as if to erase any doubts, any confusion.

  Friends?

  That would work for now. It would have to.

  Seven

  “She actually said she thought I felt good?” Dallyn grinned at the other two men.

  “You needn’t let it go to yer head,” Ian muttered, resulting in laughter from the Fae.

 
“And you needn’t get your knees out of joint.”

  “Nose, Dallyn,” Ian automatically corrected. “Nose out of joint.”

  “Ah, yes…nose, nose,” Dallyn repeated, as if trying to memorize a new fact.

  “It’s all verra logical, you see,” Henry interrupted. “I think she’s a Sensor.” The man was beaming. He’d been excited all morning about his discovery the night before.

  “You think she’s a Sensor?” Ian reached for a piece of the toast from the rack in the center of the table.

  “I’m sure she’s a Sensor. I just dinna know how much she absorbs through her touch.” Henry paused to refill his cup from the teapot. “I can tell you this, though. However much she’s sensing, it’s probably no to the full capacity of her abilities.”

  “What do you mean?” Dallyn leaned forward, arms on the table.

  “Ian was correct about her soul no being wounded. Although I’ve still no seen it.” He frowned and glanced at Ian. “I could feel it.”

  Dallyn looked to Ian in surprise. “Do I understand Henry to mean you’ve seen the woman’s soul?”

  Ian nodded his response.

  “And what did you feel?” Dallyn turned his gaze back to Henry.

  “It’s been blocked for years while Sarah has apparently denied her abilities. It’s that frustration and unhappiness that came across to me when I spoke to her on the telephone. I simply misdiagnosed.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “So, why now, I wonder?” Dallyn sat back, steepling his fingers in front of his chin, tapping lightly. “Why has she chosen now, after so many years, to loose the flow?”

  “The bigger question for our purpose is, has she decided or has someone else decided for her?” Ian dropped the half-eaten toast to his plate. It suddenly tasted like sawdust in his mouth. “That’s what yer really asking, is it no?”

  “We can’t rule out anything.”

  “We can rule out any evil intent from that woman.” Henry set down his cup. “I’d know if she had it. It’s no there.”

  “Which makes her all the more dangerous. What better tool to use against us than an innocent?” Dallyn’s faraway gaze hardened as he turned to Ian. “All the more reason not to let her out of your sight.”