Haunted Warrior

by Allie Mackay

  “Oh, please…” She could hardly breathe. “You’re killing me. Please…”

  “I mean to please you.” His lips curved in a slow, devastating smile as he slid his hands around her hips and beneath her, lifting her onto a ledge in the wall. When he raised one of her feet, opening her legs wider as he set her foot on the alcove’s stone bench, she nearly did climax. “Dinnae move, lass. Keep your legs apart and let me just look at your beauty.”

  “Oh, God…” She couldn’t stand it. The pleasure whipping through her was really too intense. He wasn’t just looking at her, but devouring her with his eyes. And she’d never felt so decadently female, so very desired and wanted.

  But when he dropped to one knee and leaned close to kiss her inner thigh, she jerked, embarrassment sweeping her. “Oh, no. Please don’t do that.”

  No one ever had.

  And if he kissed her there, as she knew he meant to do, she wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye again. He didn’t have any such qualms, one black brow lifting as he looked up at her, questioning.

  “I told you you’re beautiful, especially here.” Not taking his gaze off her, he lowered his head, kissing her belly, his fingers again working their magic on the place she was worried about.

  “And you taste delicious.” He kissed his way lower, grazing her with his teeth, teasing her with his tongue. “The sweetest nectar,” he swore, licking her then, each delicious stroke making her breath come faster. The tingles weren’t just there now, but everywhere. They raced through her entire body and even along her skin, electrifying her.

  “I can’t bear it, Graeme. Please.” She squirmed on the stone ledge, gripping its edge with one hand and digging the other into his hair. “You must stop.”

  “Is it no’ good, then?” He flicked his tongue over her clit, not once but again and again. And the maddeningly wicked sensations were going to shatter her at any moment. “It is for me.” His voice was rough, his burr thick now, the rich, buttery tones flowing through her as wondrously as the shivery pleasure he was giving her. “I’ll stop if you want me to. Just say and I will.”

  “No.” She couldn’t lie. “I didn’t mean it, really. I couldn’t bear it if you stopped.” The last words came out in a rush, heat staining her cheeks.

  “So it is good, then?” He was still looking up at her, holding her gaze, and his smile almost undid her. The next movements of his tongue did undo her.

  “Oh no-­o-­o…” She felt herself falling, the stone walls of the ruined tower and the sweeping view of sea and sky starting to spin around them as her heart pounded and she grew dizzy from the intense pleasure spiraling from her core. “It’s too much, Graeme. I can’t—­”

  “You can.” He slipped a hand between her legs, circling one finger around the spot driving her so wild. “And”—­he pushed to his feet as he stroked her, giving her a heated smile when she lifted her legs, locking them around his hips—­“I’d help you there now, with me inside you.”

  “Oh yes…” She tipped back her head, levering her body against the cold stones of the tower wall as he gripped her arms to steady her. His hard length nudged her and she arched her back, lifting her hips for him as he eased himself inside her at last.

  “Och, lass…” He stilled and then lunged deep, filling her completely, claiming her soul as she slid her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he moved slowly in and out of her. Each thrust completed her; his long, thick length felt so good, so right.

  Her entire body welcomed him. The world and all her cares and restraints no longer existed. Only Graeme’s strong arms holding her and his proud, masculine body making her his, branding her forever. As if from a distance, she could hear the crashing of waves and the barking of his seals. The wind seemed to increase, shrieking now as it rushed past the great open space that had once been a fine medieval window arch. All of that surrounded them, yet none of it mattered.

  Nothing existed except the two of them.

  Until he swept his hands up from her arms to grip her face, kissing her hungrily as he thrust deeper and faster, fiercely now. Almost as if he, too, knew this would likely be their only time together. Her heart lurched on the thought, even as her body arched, her climax ripping through her at last. And still he kissed her, rough, openmouthed kisses, frantic and ravenous, as he finally jerked and shuddered, spilling his seed deep inside her.

  And it was in that exact moment that another sound intruded on the solitude of pounding breakers and the wail of the cold, northern wind.

  It was the quiet putter of a boat motor.

  Drawing away from her, Graeme glanced toward the window opening and frowned at the small, dark blue boat just passing by the rock-­edged entrance to the cove.

  “Damn!” He stepped in front of Kendra, shielding her, although the boat looked too far away for anyone to see them up here inside the ruined tower.

  “That’s the Fenris, Ramsay’s craft.” Swearing beneath his breath, Graeme snatched up his clothes, throwing them on even faster than he’d torn them off. “It looks like he didn’t trust Ritchie or his own far-­seeing abilities enough to wait to see if his magic worked.”

  Kendra pushed to her feet slowly, the magic that she and Graeme had spun evaporating. She picked up her own clothes, pulling them on much more clumsily than Graeme had donned his. Unlike her, he seemed to have recovered at speed, already forgetting the passion they’d just shared. His eyes were dark and blazing again, but this time it was with anger and not desire.

  “He’s already gone.” She saw that when she retrieved her jacket from the stone bench. “I don’t even hear the boat’s motor now.”

  “Aye, he’s left.” Graeme stepped closer to the window, gripping its edge to lean out and look toward Pennard. “He’ll have had only to cruise by the haul-­out site to see we weren’t lying there, crushed by a stone.”

  “He’ll have seen your boat, though.” Kendra shrugged into her jacket, feeling sick that such beautiful moments had to end this way. “He must know we came up here.”

  “So he will, aye.” Graeme took her hand, already leading her away from the embrasure, back down the tower’s ancient, ruined stair. “And he’ll no doubt head straight to the Mermaid, where he’ll order a fish supper and a pint, hoping one of his lackeys will burst in with news that I’ve been arrested for killing Ritchie Watt.”

  “But you sent Ritchie away.” Kendra almost stumbled on the lower steps, her legs still shaky. “There won’t be any gossip until people start wondering where Ritchie went.”

  “That’s right.” Graeme looked up at the sky as they reached the bottom of the stair and stepped out of the tower’s protective half circle. The sun still shone, but gray clouds were building in the distance and the air smelled faintly of rain. “So”—­he turned to her—­“I think we should let him wait and wonder. If we go back down to the cove now, we’ll just have time to enjoy our packed lunch and then head back to Pennard before the weather breaks.”

  “Okay…” Kendra wished they could stay here forever.

  But she forced a smile. “I am hungry.”

  She was, but it was more of him that she wanted.

  How awful that he didn’t seem bothered by the same need. She stole a sidelong glance at him, hurt that he could appear so cool, as if nothing at all had happened between them. Or, and this really stung, as if he wished they hadn’t done what they had.

  He met her glance, frowning as he reached to squeeze her arm. Her breath caught and her heart jumped, and for a moment he looked again like the guardian she always thought him to be. A man who’d walk through fire and challenge the world for someone he cared about.

  He’d said he had, after all.

  “When we get back to Pennard, I’ll take you straight to the Laughing Gull.” His words put doubt in her mind. “I want you to stay there and not leave for any reason. I need to find out what Ramsay’s next move will be. I’ll come for you after I’ve dealt with him.”

  “What are you going
to do to him?” Kendra’s mouth went dry at the thought of them fighting.

  Graeme looked eager. “Only what I should have done many years ago. But dinnae you worry.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “It won’t be anything on the wrong side of the law. I’m not that daft.”

  “I know.” Kendra nodded, her stomach tightening as they approached the edge of the bluff. The way back down to Grath’s crumbling sea gate and its half arch would be worse than the climb up the cliff path.

  But it wouldn’t be as awful as the certainty that she’d made a terrible mistake. And it wasn’t getting naked and making love with Graeme in the ruined shell of a medieval tower. She’d wanted that and wouldn’t change a moment of the pleasure they’d shared. Whether he felt the same way or not, she believed they’d made magic together.

  Their souls had joined, if only for those special moments.

  None of that could ever be wrong.

  What did bother her was keeping quiet about her work and Jock MacAllister. She should’ve told him right away, taking her chances on his reaction. Now it was too late. But she still had to tell him.

  She just didn’t know how.

  Chapter 17

  Several hours later, Kendra stood outside the Laughing Gull with a whirl of conflicting emotions churning inside her. Half of her dreaded the well-­meant queries she’d face upon entering the inn. Iain and Janet would want to know how she and Graeme had enjoyed the special, romantic packed lunch they’d prepared. The locals lining the bar would eye her curiously, wondering what else she and Graeme had done while at his ruined ancestral home.

  It surely wasn’t a secret that his seals gathered in a cove right beneath the ancient walls of his family’s onetime stronghold. Everyone would put more meaning into the day’s outing.

  And they’d be right.

  The perceptive ones would see the truth all over her.

  She didn’t need to be Scottish to know residents of teeny fishing villages had a knack for such things. That particular trait was international, prevalent wherever small communities were found.

  There was another reason she didn’t open the inn door right away.

  The red phone box across the road stood empty. Yet she could feel the angry spirit energy simmering in the air around it. Her days in the village would end soon. Maybe within the next twenty-­four hours, if Zack called and discovered she was changing her mind about the reasons behind Scotland’s Past’s problems with their Pennard Project.

  Now she wasn’t even sure she could help the preservation society.

  Or if she should, knowing what she did.

  If Graeme’s theory was correct, Gavin Ramsay was the villain in this piece. Not Jock MacAllister and his fellow herring fishermen, though they had seemed determined to speak to her.

  They weren’t here now.

  But she could feel the phone-­box ghost hovering near the red call box, glaring as always at the front windows of the Laughing Gull.

  She now suspected she knew why. At least she believed she knew the ghost’s identity.

  He was Dod Murray, Janet’s deceased husband.

  And maybe she could do something for him.

  Helping him would also take her mind off her own problems. So she took a deep breath and looked quickly up and down the road, making sure no one else was about. Then she went through her usual psychic self-­defense procedure, this time also asking her spirit guides to help make Dod Murray more receptive to her. If they were willing, of course. And as long as they did so in a way that wouldn’t harm Dod or any other entities lingering nearby.

  Hoping she could reach him, she waited until she felt the familiar, tingling warmth of protective white-­light energy filling her. Then she silently whispered a few words of thanks before crossing the road to the spot where the phone-­box ghost always appeared.

  He didn’t disappoint. He manifested immediately.

  And he wasn’t pleased to see her.

  “Fool woman!” He glowered at her from beneath heavy brows. “Too thrawn to see beyond her own nose, she is. Her stubbornness was aye—­”

  “You don’t mean me, do you?” Kendra finally understood, wondering why it’d taken her so long to grasp that the ghost wasn’t staring at her, but looking through her. His fierce gaze and his rants were directed at someone inside the Laughing Gull Inn.

  She had a good idea who kept him earthbound.

  She decided to voice her concern. “You’re not railing at me, are you?”

  “You?” He blinked, seeing her at last. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He peered sharply at her, speaking, as so many ghosts did, as if he still lived.

  And so he did, in his own realm.

  “I’m only here a short while.” The words split Kendra’s heart. “Even so, I thought we might speak before I leave. If it pleases you, that is.” She smiled at him, reaching to touch his work-­reddened hand. “You needn’t say another word if I’m bothering you. I’ll leave if you wish.”

  “Leave?” He blinked again, looking perplexed. “How is it that you’re here? Speaking to me? No one ever does, no matter how long I stare, trying to get them to notice me.” He sounded sorrowful, grieved. “I doubt they ken I’m about.”

  Kendra kept her hand on his, squeezing gently, letting her aura’s warmth boost his energy. “I’m able to see and speak with you and anyone who lives where you do. It’s a gift, a blessing I’m grateful to have. If there’s anything troubling you, I will help if I can.

  “Do you have a message for Janet?” She took a chance, hoping she was right. “Is that why you’re hanging around here, watching the inn?”

  “You know me?” His blue eyes rounded in surprise.

  “I think so.” Kendra held on to his hand, the sudden jolt in his energy encouraging her. “You’re Dod Murray, aren’t you?”

  “That’s myself, sure enough!” His voice rose, lifting as if in pleasure to have heard someone say his name. “Dod Murray, fisherman. That’s me.

  “And it’s not just the inn I watch.” He leaned toward her, his gaze flicking to a cottage two doors down from the Laughing Gull. “I keep an eye on thon house, as well.”

  He meant Salt Barrel Cottage, the house Kendra knew belonged to Archie Dee, the small, weather-­faced man who walked about the village with his tiny, tricolored terrier, Charlie. She’d met the duo the first time Dod Murray appeared to her beside his phone box.

  “Archie Dee and his wee dog, Charlie, live in the Salt Barrel.” The ghost straightened, frowning again. “Archie’s as big a fool as my Janet. The two of them—­”

  “Are you angry at them?” A terrible suspicion rose in Kendra’s mind. “Is Archie interested in your wife? Is that why you’re so upset?”

  “Pah!” His brows flew upward. “Does it rain in Scotland? Aye, to be sure, I’m riled. But not because Archie’s soft on Janet.” He flashed another look at the Salt Barrel, shaking his head when he turned back to her. “Janet’s keen on him, too. She has been for a while. The besotted woman thinks she’ll be disloyal to me if she gives in to her feelings. That’s what’s annoying me.

  “I’ve been trying to tell her I don’t like seeing her alone.” He straightened his shoulders, appearing a bit fierce again. “I looked after that woman right good all my days, making sure she never had a care in the world. Now she’s so full of worries, I fear she’ll explode from all the sorrow she keeps bottled inside her. And”—­he took a deep breath, clearly wanting to speak now he had a chance—­“my old mate Archie is no’ better!”

  “He was your friend?” Kendra wasn’t surprised.

  “He was, and a better man ne’er walked these parts.” He leaned close, and Kendra caught a whiff of sea and brine in his energy. “We fished, laughed, and sank pints together. He’d make Janet happy again, and many are the times I’ve tried to tell him so.

  “But whenever I corner him and that wee dog of his, they walk through me as if I weren’t there. Charlie sees me right enough.” His brows snapped to
gether. “It’s not like he can tell Archie.”

  “I’ve met him.” Kendra recalled the little man’s jaunty step and friendly eyes. “I also know Janet. If you wish, I can speak to either of them, letting them know you’d like to see them together.”

  “You’d do that?” Dod sounded surprised.

  “Of course.” Kendra smiled. “I do such things all the time. It’s my work and something I’d help you with, anyway, because I like making people happy.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Dod’s eyes watered, and he looked again at the Salt Barrel. “Janet would be better off at Archie’s. His cottage is a right fine place, even fitted with a new kitchen she’d love. She mopes around our old house, fussing about memories.”

  “Then I’ll let her know your feelings. I can assure her you won’t be upset if she starts a new life with Archie.” Kendra wasn’t sure how to approach Janet, but something would come to her.

  It always did, even in the trickiest cases. She needed only some kind of toehold.

  “Can you tell me something no one but you would know about Janet?” Such proof was often the only way to convince people she’d really spoken with their loved ones.

  “Humph.” Dod scratched his chin, thinking.

  “Anything at all,” Kendra encouraged. “But it must be significant enough to prove beyond doubt that my message comes from you.”

  “I don’t know. This is so exciting, my mind’s gone blank.” He angled his head, still mulling. Then his eyes lit and he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got just the thing!” He looked so pleased, Kendra’s heart swelled. “Not a soul knows about this but me.”

  “That should do it.” She nodded, happy for him.

  “She won’t be pleased I told you.” But he hovered closer, whispering his proof in her ear.

  “That’s perfect.” She couldn’t think of anything better. “It will work well, I’m sure.”

  But before she could share her hope with the ghost, Dod Murray disappeared, his wet, yellow oilskin not leaving a single drop of water on the pavement.