Highland Guardian

by Melissa Mayhue

  “But there’s only one bedroom,” she blurted out, turning to look at him.

  “Aye.” An enormous grin covered his face. “You noticed that, did you?”

  “Should I assume your friends already thought we were a couple?”

  He shrugged, sliding his hand down to her shoulder. “It appears as though they did. I’d planned to ask Nessa about a change of rooms at the reception, but I got a wee bit distracted. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave things as they are now.”

  “How could they have made a mistake like that? I thought you said you’d told them about me.”

  He ducked his head in a sheepish gesture. “I did tell them about you, but I guess they jumped to their own conclusions.” His hand slid back to her neck. “You see, Sarah, in all the years I’ve been coming to stay at Glaston House, I’ve never brought a woman with me before.”

  They’d reached the cottage, but instead of going inside, Ian pulled her to sit next to him on the bench outside the front door.

  “It’s a fine evening. Much too fine to go inside yet. What say we stay out for a bit and enjoy the stars.”

  Leaning his head back against the wall of the cottage, he closed his eyes and they sat silently for several minutes. She had begun to wonder if he might have fallen asleep when he moved his arm to her shoulders, his fingers lightly caressing her neck.

  “How long were you married to him?”

  Finally the question she had expected. “Officially, about a year. But in reality, it was only a few months. I think we both knew right away we’d made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?”

  “Yes. I was young, and we rushed into marriage without taking the time to really know one another. It was all such a very long time ago.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to ward off the memories. She’d never spoken of this with anyone. That had been a horrible time for her.

  Brad had no patience for what he considered her psychotic behavior. No concept of her actually being able to feel his emotions each time she touched him. When she’d tried to explain, he’d thought her insane. And once he found out how long he’d have to wait to have access to her trust fund, he was done with her. Even after all these years, with only a little effort, she could still recall exactly how his contempt and greed had felt the first time she’d touched it.

  “How old were you when you married?”

  Her eyes flew open. She hated the whole age discussion, but she had been the one who opened the door to it when she allowed herself to talk about that part of her life. She sighed in resignation. It would have come up sooner or later anyway. “We married the year I turned twenty-one.”

  Ian snorted. “Disna seem to me that was so long ago.”

  Of course he’d think that. He was only twenty-eight. It seemed a lifetime ago to her.

  “I should never have married him. My grandmother tried to convince me I was making a horrible mistake.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  She took a deep breath. It had taken her years of soul searching to figure out the answer to that question. And even longer to admit to it.

  “I thought myself in love. I thought Brad would save me from…” She stopped herself. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. Couldn’t tell him she had yearned for someone who would understand and accept her for what she was. Someone who would shield her from the emotions of others. “From growing old alone.”

  “And how is it yer grandmother was the one to try to change yer decision to marry?”

  “My mother and I lived with her. Then, after my mother’s death, it was just the two of us.”

  “How old were you when you when yer mother passed?”

  “Six.”

  “And yer father? Why dinna you go to live with him?”

  “My parents split up shortly after my birth. I didn’t know my father at all. He came to see me once after my mother’s death, on my seventh birthday. I remember being surprised that he even knew it was my birthday, since I’d never seen him. We sat in my grandmother’s parlor while he asked me questions, trying to get to know me, I guess. Anyway, a month or so later, an attorney showed up at our front door, informing us my father was gone and I was his only heir. Grandmother claimed the money was the only reason Bradley had for marrying me. As it turned out, she was right.”

  She shook her head, attempting to rid herself of the empty feelings those memories carried with them. “But I was so sure I could make it work.” So sure that when she told him about her differences he would understand and accept her as she was. So sure that the intuitive warnings she had were as wrong as her grandmother. “So, I married him.”

  His hand slid to her neck, the warmth of it comforting her. “I’ve found over the years that even my mistakes teach me something. Did you learn from that experience, luv?”

  “Oh yes.” She paused, willing the tears not to fall. “I learned the importance of honesty. I also learned you can’t make something real just because you want it badly. Sometimes you must accept things as they are.” She had learned to accept that because of her differences she would always be alone.

  “I see.”

  She wondered how much he did see. His thumb started its marvelous circular pattern under her ear and soon she leaned her head back against the wall next to his. Her eyes drifted shut and her body relaxed in the peaceful quiet.

  She jumped when he once again broke the silence.

  “By the way, when you were being so observant about the cottage having only one bedroom?”

  He turned to look down at her, catching her eyes, and she felt a blush building on her face, heating the area of her neck covered by his fingers. She knew he must feel it as well.

  “Did you also happen to notice the bloody big sofa in the great room?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the starlit sky. “Because that’s where I’ll be sleeping. If you need to find me for any reason.”

  “Oh.”

  Damn. Reduced to single syllables again.

  Eleven

  Ian blinked, working hard to keep his expression completely impassive. He was sure someone would notice if he pounded his fist into Tanner’s arrogant face. After all, it was a beautiful, bright morning and they were in the middle of one of Britain’s more exclusive golf courses.

  “So I can only assume you haven’t slept with her.” Brad smirked his direction. “Or maybe you have and that’s why you’re so quiet this morning.” The man stepped up to the tee and took his shot.

  Quiet?

  His opponent understood nothing, not even how to recognize his own danger. A good warrior was always quiet while contemplating the manner of an enemy’s demise. In all his years, he had never been one to boast before a battle or to brag about his intentions. He quietly planned, then stepped forward and acted.

  The man smiling in front of him made him wish for a return to the old ways, to a time of swords and dungeons. He would have made quick work of Bradley Tanner in those days. There were some distinct disadvantages to this century.

  “Well, which is it?” Brad stood in front of him, adjusting his glove.

  “A gentleman disna discuss his private affairs in this setting.” Ian gritted his teeth.

  Paul and Daniel had already taken their turns and stood a distance away. Ian doubted they’d heard the exchange.

  Brad shrugged. “Well, she’s got money now, but you don’t look like the kind who needs her money bad enough to put up with that.” He slapped Ian on the back. “She’s an Ice Queen, McCullough. Stiffens up and sucks all the enjoyment right out of sex. She can’t stand to be touched, but I’m sure you’ve already found that to be the case.” The smirk on his face broadened. “Or you will very soon.”

  Ian’s muscles tensed across his shoulders and his eyes narrowed. He fought to consciously relax his grip on the club he held. “Perhaps it was naught but her poor choice of partner in the past.”

  Brad shrugged and
turned, heading down the green.

  Daniel joined him at the tee as Brad and Paul continued on to where their balls had landed. “So, what’s your impression of those two?”

  “Stephenson’s no the one we’re looking for.”

  “I agree. His is a gentle soul. What do you think of Tanner?” Daniel immediately grinned and held up a hand. “And I’m not asking on a personal level. That’s fairly easy to see.”

  “Tanner’s a bloody great fool. Too much so to my way of thinking to be the contact.” He shook his head. “As much as I’d like it to be him. No, the one we’re searching for has no yet arrived.”

  Ian returned the club he held to his bag, choosing another in its place.

  “What are you doing?” Daniel frowned. “I know you hate this game, but you’re much better than that.” He pointed at the club Ian held. “You’ll slice something awful with that one.”

  “Aye. I suppose I might at that.”

  “You’re not going to hit your target.”

  “I’m thinking you misjudge my target.”

  Ian lined up his shot and swung at the ball, a smile creasing his face as he watched its flight.

  Down the green a shout went up as the small white projectile slammed into Brad Tanner’s back.

  “Oh, that’s a bloody bad shame.” Ian’s eyes sparkled as he looked at his friend. “Poor chap. That must be frightfully painful.”

  “It’s a damn good thing I don’t really want a position on their board, with you doing your best to bugger the whole deal.” Daniel shook his head. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m feeling much better than I have all morning.” Ian grinned at him.

  “Come on. Let’s go collect our charges and get back to Glaston House. The next two will be arriving shortly after lunch.”

  “Do you think you can handle them yerself for a bit? I’ve a short errand to run when we get back.”

  “Of course. Anything I can help with?”

  “I dinna think so. I’ve decided to take Sarah shopping.” At his friend’s raised eyebrow he continued. “After seeing the other ladies last evening it’s occurred to me that my guest might end up feeling uncomfortable in the casual clothing I encouraged her to bring.”

  “I take it you were able to convince her to stay at the cottage with you.”

  “As a matter of fact, I was able to lay blame at the broad doorstep of misunderstanding, and then, with the whole Tanner issue, the matter resolved itself.”

  “It’s odd, don’t you think?” Daniel’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “This woman showing up on your doorstep and now her ex-husband being here? It’s quite the coincidence.”

  “Dallyn warned of exactly this sort of thing, in his own cryptic way. He said that Sensors drew to them others who need to be there.”

  “Well, let’s hope that she draws the one we need. At least the way things have worked out you’ll be able to keep a close eye on her, regardless of who shows up.”

  “Exactly.”

  And the time he’d be “forced” to spend with her would simply be a bonus.

  * * *

  Sarah awoke and stretched, unsure for a moment of where she was. She watched the tiny bits of dust dancing in the sunbeam shining through the window over her bed and gradually the evening before came back to her. Memories of Ian’s coming to her rescue sent shivers to her toes, a part of her wanting his act to be real. Then she thought of what—who—he’d rescued her from.

  “Damn.”

  Throwing back the covers, she sat up in bed. Brad was here. The one man she’d hoped never to see again in her entire life. And she was trapped in this place for three more days. She sighed and climbed out of bed, heading toward the bathroom. She needed a shower and a strong cup of coffee to face that terror again.

  After a quick shower, she slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but paused as she passed the mirror on her way out the door. The T-shirt probably wouldn’t be up to par for the group of people she’d be around today, but it was either that or one of the two sweaters she’d brought along. She had only that and the summer dress she’d worn when she’d gone out with Ian, and she still had three more dinner gatherings to dress for.

  She shrugged and padded downstairs. She wasn’t going to spend her whole weekend worrying about what people thought of her. Well, in all honesty, she probably was, but she refused to give in to it before coffee.

  A quick glance into the great room told her Ian was already up and gone, but the smell of fresh coffee filled the empty space. Next to the coffeepot, she found a tray holding a cup, sugar and cream, a fresh rose in a vase of water and a folded piece of paper.

  He didn’t miss a thing.

  She poured her coffee and took the tray out to the garden, sniffing the flower before settling into one of the chairs and propping her bare feet on the other. She savored her first sip and opened the paper.

  The note told her he’d gone golfing, but hoped to be back before she had a chance to finish her coffee. He promised a surprise when he returned.

  She smiled and laid the paper on the table, thinking about the man who had left the note. Ian’s handwriting was elegant, laced with old-fashioned flourishes she didn’t normally think of as typically masculine. Yet the note, like the man himself, felt entirely male. Tentatively she reached toward the paper again, brushing it lightly with her fingertips.

  How much could she feel if she really tried?

  When she touched a person, skin to skin, an awareness of all their emotions flooded into her. When it had first begun, as a child, she had thought everyone felt that way. That everyone also had the little voice in their heads that warned them not to go near a particular dog, or to avoid a particular person because he was bad, or to hurry home from school in time to warn someone about something that was going to happen.

  Her grandmother had quickly dissuaded her of that notion, accusing her of being “strange” like her father.

  She had spent the rest of her life trying to distance herself from those things. Trying to hide them, make them go away.

  The voice had receded until a few months ago, when it came back loud and clear, insisting that she spend the summer in Scotland.

  The awareness that came through touch had never gone away. It had grown stronger, no matter how she fought it, until she learned to avoid touching people as much as possible. Recently, since she’d promised to give herself over to the Fates, she’d found that the awareness was no longer limited to people. When she touched objects, she felt faint impressions of those who had handled them before.

  If she thought of these afflictions as powers, she would have to say it was almost as if her powers had begun to grow.

  Closing her eyes, she flattened her hand against the note, clearing her mind and breathing deeply.

  The note felt warm under her hand. She sensed a fleeting touch of impatience. Had Ian been in a rush when he wrote this? Her fingers began to tingle, even warmer now, and her brow furrowed. What was that swimming around, just out of reach? She could almost see him writing, see him smiling. Her breathing sped up as she felt the heat of temptation seeping off the paper into her hand. Temptation and desire.

  But whose emotions was she sensing? His or her own?

  “Sarah? Are you all right?”

  At the sound of his voice, her eyes flew open and she jerked her fingers from the paper as if burned, quickly clasping both hands around her coffee cup. With her sudden movement, the paper fluttered to the ground unnoticed.

  Had he seen what she’d been doing?

  “Morning. I’m fine. Good game?”

  A small shrug of his shoulders, and an almost guilty smile preceded his response.

  “I suppose. It did have its moments.”

  He disappeared through the doorway, reappearing shortly with his own steaming cup. Gently he swept her feet up in order to sit in the chair she’d been using as a footrest. When she would have moved them to the ground, he tight
ened his hold, positioning her feet in his lap after he sat.

  “You found my note?”

  She could only nod her reply. His thumb was working a slow magic on the sole of her right foot. The sensations his fingers produced were so exquisite that only by clenching her jaw was she able to prevent a moan from escaping.

  His ministrations switched to the left foot.

  “Are you ready then? For my surprise?”

  “Your what?” How could she possibly be expected to answer, or even think, when he was doing that to her feet?

  “Surprise.” He dropped her feet to the ground and stood, taking her hand and hoisting her to stand. “Come on, lazybones, go get yer shoes on. I’ve a surprise all planned that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” He gave her a little push toward the door.

  It was difficult for her to imagine anything she would enjoy more than what he’d just been doing.

  * * *

  “Ian McCullough and”—he paused, turning to her with a satisfied smile before completing his announcement to the black metal box—“Miss Sarah Douglas.”

  He continued to smile as he drove through the gates and slowly headed toward the castle.

  “You see? I am no the chauvinist you named me. I announced the both of us.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid that one little act does not absolve you of today’s crimes. I told you. I cannot let you pay for those things.”

  “But I already paid for them.” If anything, his smile grew larger. “And lunch as well, I might add.”

  “Only because you tricked me.”

  Ian’s surprise had turned out to be a day trip to Bristol, to some very exclusive dress shops Nessa had recommended. He’d managed to get her out of the cottage without her purse by telling her they were only taking a short ride.

  “And you lied to me.”

  His smile disappeared. “I did no such thing.”

  “You said you had something to show me…only a short ride.”

  “And that was completely true. Technically. I wanted to show you the shopping district in Bristol.” He favored her with another of his grins. “Even you must admit it was a short ride compared to the one down from Scotland.”