Haunted Warrior

by Allie Mackay

  Even so, she’d allowed herself a moment to summon a protective shield of white-­light energy, letting its power surround her, cleansing and blessing a sacred circle of space around her.

  Psychic self-­defense, once learned and practiced, was as simple as brushing teeth.

  It didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to let ghosts approach her. They still could if they desired. Her talent was an inherited gift, passed down through the women in her family. No one knew when it began or who’d be the last so blessed. What did stand out was that it jumped generations indiscriminately, following no given pattern. For whatever reason it occurred, it was a legacy meant to be used and accessed. So she kept herself open to discarnate visits, encouraging and welcoming such encounters.

  She was just selective.

  Ghosts didn’t lose their personalities simply because they’d moved on to dwell on another plane. Zack had a favorite caution: once an ax murderer, always an ax murderer.

  There were also braggarts, liars, and connivers in the spirit world.

  She’d also encountered more than one lothario. Ethereal men who’d been more than willing to leave the place—­and the earthly women—­they’d been haunting, only to reappear in Kendra’s apartment on her return home, usually surprising her in her bedroom or bathroom.

  Some ghosts were just plain mean.

  It paid to be prudent.

  But she was curious about the fleet. Hopefully she’d soon know what they wanted from her. She’d also love to see the phone-­box ghost again, now certain that the big, gruff-­faced fisherman was none other than Janet Murray’s late husband. She was always careful not to press discarnates to speak to her, but she did have ideas when it was necessary to make a connection easier for them.

  Something told her Dod Murray needed such a nudge.

  Dod was a troubled soul, reliving his passing each time he left the call box and ventured into Harbour Street.

  At least that was her interpretation.

  “Have you no’ seen them yet?” Graeme’s voice startled her.

  “Them?” Kendra’s eyes flashed open. Her pulse leapt as she whipped around, for a moment thinking he’d guessed her secret: that she was one of the rare people able to see and speak with ghosts.

  “The seals.” He gave her a smile that made her forget all about spirits. “We’re here. This is where I come to watch and record their behavior.”

  “I don’t see any.” She didn’t. She saw only rocks and surging water, the glitter of flying spray.

  “You will in a beat.” He sounded amused. “They’re aye glad for company. Like pet dogs they are, I say you.”

  “I’ve heard that.” She glanced at him again, and his dimple flashed when he looked at her. She wished he didn’t have one. It only added to his appeal. Worse, his burr was working its usual magic, his soft, lilting words making her heart beat faster.

  His looks didn’t help.

  His sleek black hair whipped about his face, and although it was still morning, a sexy trace of beard stubble already shadowed his chin. His dark eyes seemed to look deep inside her, peering into her soul….

  She tore her gaze away, not wanting to go down that road.

  She was going ashore with him.

  While she’d been thinking about Dod Murray, Graeme had slowed the boat to a putter. They were only a few feet from the dark bulk of Grath Point. And dead ahead, a curving sweep of jumbled rock formed a sheltered, deep-­sided cove.

  They’d arrived.

  Kendra felt instinctively that she’d know Graeme much better when they left.

  Sure of it, she blew out a long breath. There was only one problem with getting closer to him: he’d also learn more about her.

  And that’s what she was supposed to avoid.

  What a pity having to say good-­bye to him felt like the greater hardship.

  Chapter 12

  “My seals”—­Graeme’s voice held pride and affection—­“they’re there. You can see them through the opening in the rocks.” He was pointing ahead, with a broad smile splitting his face.

  Kendra followed his gaze, the arm he held outstretched to help her know where to look.

  “Oh, my. You’re right!” Kendra shaded her eyes, her worries of the moment before fading at the sight in front of her.

  Morning sun glittered on the water. And beyond the secret inlet’s narrow entrance, a crescent of stony beach beckoned at the cove’s rear. Kendra leaned forward, squinting to see across the bright-­glinting waves to the rock-­strewn beach. Seals were there, more than she could count. The strand sloped gently and it was clear that Graeme meant to run the Sea Wyfe up onto the shingle.

  As if the seals recognized him and knew, they made room, wriggling aside or sliding down into the surf so that a landing place opened for the boat.

  Kendra’s breath caught watching them. “They know you.”

  “They should.” Graeme’s dimple winked again. “We’ve been friends for many long years.”

  Something in his tone made her skin prickle. But when she glanced at him, she couldn’t see any reason for the ripple of chills.

  He’d turned his attention on the seal-­free strip of shoreline looming so close now, and she couldn’t help but notice the flex of his arm muscles as he ran the boat deeper into the cove. Wind blew his hair about his neck and shoulders, making him look like a pagan Celtic prince or a dashing medieval warlord.

  She could go for either.

  Mostly she just wanted him.

  She ached for him, her whole body needing and desiring him in ways she’d never wanted any other man. She felt a powerful attraction to him. She wanted him to kiss her, long and deep, and not because someone was watching and he wanted to give credence to their sham relationship. It wasn’t just his sexy Scottish accent and dark good looks that attracted her.

  It was him.

  There was something maddeningly irresistible about a man who wasn’t just drop-­dead gorgeous and had a voice like a verbal orgasm, but also clearly cared deeply about the land and sea that was his heritage. So much so that he was fighting to hold on to tradition. His views and attitude spoke straight from her own heart, resonating with her on levels that went far deeper than mere physical attraction.

  He loved dogs.

  She couldn’t get away from that—­a love of animals, especially dogs, was right up there with old-­fashioned honor and a good sense of humor. He met all those qualifications and then some.

  And that made him an ideal candidate to break her heart.

  Especially since—­unlike her UK-­based colleagues with Ghostcatchers International—­she couldn’t just up and relocate to the wilds of northeastern Scotland.

  Life didn’t work that way.

  At least it didn’t for Americans keen to transplant themselves across an ocean.

  Like it or not, when her work was done, she’d be winging it back to Newark.

  Kendra frowned, not wanting to think of her return.

  She had today, this outing….

  “The seals are greeting you.” Graeme shot a look at her. He smiled and then nodded at the curving strand. “Do you hear their singing? They save such a chorus for special guests.”

  Kendra followed his gaze, feeling better already.

  The strip of rocky beach teemed with seals of all shades and sizes. They did seem to serenade her, the sound a cross between a dog’s bark and the haunting cry of geese. Many were dark gray, some almost slate blue. A few small ones sported rich, chocolate brown coats, while others appeared mottled. All seemed playful and friendly, watching the boat’s approach with round, curious eyes.

  Kendra blinked, dashing salt spray from her own eyes. Though deep inside, with the backs of her lids stinging hotly, she knew that flying spume wasn’t the reason her vision suddenly blurred.

  She did love animals.

  And she never thought to see such an incredible sight.

  The seals were everywhere now, their domelike heads popping up in the
water. Unafraid, they swam near, diving beneath the waves only to bob up again, their welcoming gazes never leaving her and Graeme.

  “I knew you’d enjoy seeing them.” Graeme smiled over at her again, his voice betraying his affection for the seals. “The wee ones are harbour or common seals. They’ve been diminishing in number in recent years. No one knows why.” He turned back to the wheel, letting the boat glide gently onto the pebbly strand. “I have my own ideas, but no one wants to hear them, and any who did would deny it.”

  “What do you mean?” Kendra didn’t like his tone, or the crease that had marred his brow for just a second.

  “Ach, it’s just a notion.” He didn’t look at her as they came to a smooth, scrunching halt. “People along this coast are of the sea. Even today, many of them depend on these waters for their livelihood. A fisherman needs a good haul to pay for his boat and his house, feed a wife and children. Seals eat fish. They’re a natural competitor.”

  Kendra felt her eyes rounding. “Surely you’re not saying—­”

  “Visit any isle in the Hebrides and folk aren’t so secretive about it.” Graeme grabbed a line and slung it around a huge iron anchor protruding upward from a mound of broken rocks. “Hereabouts, such things aren’t admitted. If it happens, and I cannae say it does, any mate who talked would lose his work, ne’er to be hired again.

  “And”—­he knotted the line—­“if he bought his own boat, he’d soon find himself run off the best fishing grounds. If he tried his luck elsewhere, he’d only discover his buoys cut. If that didn’t send him on his way, he’d start losing gear or suffer an accident that would leave his boat in flames. Worst case, he’d end up as crab bait.

  “So no one speaks of such things.” He gripped the anchor stem, looking at her.

  “You just did.”

  “And I’ll keep on.” A thread of steel entered his voice. “My family fished, too. Such cruelty isn’t necessary. Hard work and long hours fill a day’s quota just as well as eliminating fish eaters.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of—­”

  “Ending up as a crab’s dinner?” He tossed back his hair, smiling again. “Nae, I’m no’ worried. I irritate a lot of people around here, but there aren’t many who’d dare do anything about it.”

  Kendra bit her lip to keep from mentioning Gavin Ramsay.

  Instead, she looked at the anchor, not wanting Graeme to see that his smile affected her. Or that the way his long black hair shone in the sunlight made her forget everything except her wish to touch the gleaming strands.

  Besides, the anchor was interesting.

  Badly rusted, a thick growth of wet, slippery weed covered its length, making it almost indistinguishable. It was the largest anchor she’d ever seen, and only half of it raged out of rocks.

  Graeme caught her staring. “The anchor’s from an old whaling ship that went aground here centuries ago. It holds the Sea Wyfe secure in all weathers.” He patted the anchor’s seaweed-­draped stem. “I like to think it’s glad to still be of use to someone.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” Kendra’s heart squeezed, listening to him.

  In this special place, she could believe such whimsy.

  And she doubted she’d find a single man back home in Bucks County who’d harbor such a sentiment.

  She’d probably have difficulty locating such a man in all Pennsylvania. Americans weren’t raised on legend and lore. They didn’t hear lonesome pipers playing on eerie, mist-­draped medieval battlefields. Or give names of meaning to stones and believe that a red-­berried rowan tree holds special powers. They didn’t know the heady elixir of peat smoke on a chill autumn wind.

  Even Zack, who definitely believed in ghosts and other things that went bump in the night, would draw the line at giving feelings to a rusty old anchor. That Graeme did, allowing the anchor its dignity and pride, only made him more attractive to her.

  “Are you coming, then?” He already stood on the shore, his hands extended to help her from the boat. The seals were all around him, clamoring for attention. Many perched on rocks, others surged forward, their round dark eyes inquisitive. The air rang with their doglike barks and soft gurgling. “They won’t hurt you.” He glanced at one seal that was rolling in the surf just a few feet from the beached Sea Wyfe. “They’re only curious.”

  “I know. They don’t frighten me.” They didn’t. But she did try hard not to notice the jolt of sensation that whipped through her when Graeme caught her by her waist and lifted her out of the boat. He set her gently onto the smooth-­pebbled beach, forgetting her again as soon as he’d seen her safely on solid ground.

  At least, that’s the impression he gave her.

  Yet she would’ve sworn he’d felt the physical charge between them. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her body, the warmth spilling through her, tingling and delicious. Powerful sensations that caught at her heart and made her ache inside.

  His smile deepened, wholly oblivious. “So what do you think of my seals?”

  She looked around and did not need to feign interest. She understood his fascination with them. “They’re wonderful, truly. I’ve never seen any this close.”

  They were coming nearer now, craning their necks to peer at her, their welcome giving her an excellent excuse to focus on something other than Graeme. How easily she could fall in love with him. How apparent it was that despite his kisses, he wasn’t interested in her.

  He lived for his seals.

  Even Gavin Ramsay had called him seal man.

  Apparently, he didn’t do two-­legged relationships. And that should be a warning not to get any further involved with him. The more she opened her heart, the greater pain he’d inflict on her, however unknowingly.

  But for now they were here, and although she knew it’d been a mistake to accept his invitation, she had little choice but to get through the day.

  Hopefully, she’d be able to do so with her feelings intact, her emotions buffered by her usual reserve.

  Unfortunately, his proximity made that unlikely.

  And he was looking at her in a way that set her heart to racing. His smile was warm, intimate, and so sexy that she almost forgot to breathe. He was good-­looking in Pennard and he’d really knocked her socks off on the beach at Balmedie. But here, in this wild place that was so clearly his element, he made her think of a god.

  She swallowed, sure her knees were trembling. “We don’t have to stay here long,” she offered, grasping the only excuse she could think of to speed them on their way. “I doubt your breakfast was as filling as the one I had at Iain’s. You must be starving by now.”

  “I’ve brought a packed lunch.” He vaulted into the boat, returning a moment later with a backpack and folded length of plaid. “Not a bad one, either. There’s smoked salmon sandwiches, some aged Stilton, and mackerel pate with oatcakes. For a sweet, chocolate biscuits, which are”—­he paused, winking at her—­“cookies to you. And to wash it all down, a thermos of strong tea.”

  Kendra just looked at him. “That’s a feast.”

  She was still bursting from breakfast at the Laughing Gull.

  “Aye, so it is.” He shrugged into the backpack all the same.

  Kendra smiled, her mouth watering despite how her waistband bit into her. “Didn’t you say something at the Laughing Gull about a good Scottish breakfast lasting the whole day?” She couldn’t keep a teasing note out of her voice. “I do believe you did.”

  He held up his hands. “I would’ve insulted Iain and Janet if I’d not brought along the food. They prepared it for us, thinking this was a romantic outing.”

  Kendra wished it was.

  “Why were they so surprised to hear you have a girlfriend?” She had no business asking, but the words just popped out. He fascinated her. “I mean”—­she could feel herself coloring—­“I know we’re not really a couple. But surely they’ve seen you with your real girlfriends?”

  “Folk in small Scottish communities see every
thing.” He glanced aside, looking at a seal tumbling in the surf. “There are no secrets. If someone sneezes on one side of Pennard, you can be sure someone on the other end of the village will say, ‘Bless you.’ ”

  Kendra couldn’t argue.

  She did pretend to follow his gaze. But rather than watching the frolicking seal, she noted the emotions playing across his face.

  Her question didn’t sit well with him. And he’d avoided answering her.

  That left one conclusion.

  “Did you recently break up with someone?” The thought pinched her heart. It was an unmerited reaction, but one she felt strongly. “Is that why Iain and Janet were so stunned when you said I was here to see you?”

  “Nae to both.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the clouds. “I haven’t split with anyone, leastways not in a very long while. The truth is”—­he turned to face her—­“I’ve been too busy in recent years to think of getting involved with a woman.

  “Everyone here knows that.” He took her arm and led her past the seals, guiding her with long, sure strides toward the far side of the cove. “They’ve also heard me declare myself a die-­hard bachelor. I’ve been to more weddings than I can count and never leave one without someone cornering me and getting the same answer: that I’ve no time for a woman in my life, settling down, and all that.

  “Now…” He glanced at her as they skirted a large, well-­muscled seal. “They’re wondering what happened to make me change my mind. They’ll be curious about you, watching everything we do together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they spread a rumor that you’re a selkie. It wouldn’t be a stretch for some to believe such a tale. They’ll think you turned my head and are keeping me under an enchantment after I found you with my seals, like as not here.”

  Kendra smiled. “That’s ridiculous.”

  He shrugged one shoulder, not turning a hair. “This is Scotland.”

  “I know, but—­”

  “We’re weaned on all sorts of stories told around the fire on dark winter nights.” He stopped, flicking out the plaid he’d been carrying, and spreading it on a broad rock ledge too high for seal intrusion. “There isn’t a Scot born, especially a Highland Scot, who’d deny the existence of second sight or the evil eye.