by Donna Grant
Ronnie recalled how easy he shifted from casual to “battle-ready,” as she’d come to think of it. It was as if he was primed for combat and just waiting for the right word or gesture. A Highland warrior of old, she inwardly mused.
Yes, she could see that. Arran, with his long hair, roguish smile, and the old soul she glimpsed in his eyes could very well have stood on the slopes of the Highlands hundreds of years ago in a kilt, sword in hand while an army stood at his back, waiting for him to give the word to go into battle.
“A true Highlander,” she whispered.
“What?” Andy asked with a small frown.
Ronnie shrugged and took a bite of the large, buttery biscuit. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t like the biscuits she was used to in the States. These were bigger and better. Different for sure, but fast becoming a favorite.
“He’s, ah, he started early again.”
Somehow Andy’s words didn’t surprise her. Nor did she have to ask whom he was referring to. Arran. Since he came to the site, he’d become a force to be reckoned with. She couldn’t look anywhere and not see or hear him.
Ronnie’s body tingled just thinking of his hands on her again. If she’d been awake, would she have been brave enough to kiss him, to test the waters of passion she’d shied away from for so long?
Arran kept her from concentrating on the dig. With him being so near, her thoughts turned to his strong arms, hard body, large hands, and gold eyes. She remembered his hard body, and the stark hunger she’d seen reflected in his gaze.
She shivered just thinking about it. No one had ever looked at her as Arran had. The offer was there in his gaze, in the way he held her. All she had to do was give in.
If she did, if she dared such a thing, she knew being with him would be glorious, but he’d likely leave her in such a mess that she might never function again. Arran was that strong, that appealing.
That captivating.
He was sex and need, temptation and desire all rolled into one package. And she wanted him. The compulsion to lean into him, to run her hand along his muscles and open her lips for him was so strong, she had to fight not to do just that when he was near.
“Ronnie?”
She blinked and looked up at Andy. They’d been speaking of Arran. But what about him? Oh, yes, his working early. “As long as he doesn’t mess anything up, I don’t care.”
“No chance of that. He woke me up and had me stay with him just to make sure he did everything right.”
For some reason, that made Ronnie smile. Then she realized Arran wasn’t doing it because he knew how much the site meant to her. He did it because that’s what he was supposed to do.
The smile quickly died, but not the excitement she couldn’t dispel at seeing him again. God, what was wrong with her? He was just one guy. One guy who had rocked her back on her heels since he’d walked into her life.
How in the hell was she going to survive weeks with him around? The bite of biscuit went down awkwardly and landed heavily in her stomach.
Weeks. With a hot Scot walking around, looking at her as if he were stripping off her clothes. It was never going to work.
“I’ll be out shortly,” Ronnie said as she got to her feet.
Andy left the tent and Ronnie zipped the opening to keep anyone else from venturing in. She ate the rest of her breakfast, and then sipped her coffee as her thoughts turned back to the dream. Anything to get her mind off Arran and what she’d like him to do to her.
There was no doubt she was close to the box. She’d sensed ancient artifacts before, but there was something different about this box. Why did it want her? Was it because it knew she could sense it? That had to be it.
She couldn’t wait to discover what was inside it. Was it jewels? Gold? Or something even more precious?
When her coffee was finished, Ronnie got ready for the day. She shivered against the cold water used to wash up and the cool summer air.
She’d gotten more used to the weather than when she first arrived in Scotland, but there were times she missed the tropic-like heat of Atlanta.
The summers could be oppressive they were so hot and humid, but when she’d been raised in that kind of weather, it was going to take more than a few years to get accustomed to the dampness and cold of Scotland.
Ronnie unzipped the tent and stepped outside. Only to find her gaze riveted on Arran. He was shirtless again. All his wonderful muscles fully on display as he bent at the waist and dumped a bottle of water over the back of his head.
He straightened, throwing back his dark brown hair that looked nearly black when wet. He shook his head, sending droplets of water everywhere.
She watched water trickle down his face to his chest, and then zigzag through the valleys of his muscle to disappear in the waist of his cargos.
Ronnie tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
When she lifted her gaze, it was to discover Arran staring at her. His golden eyes seemed to pierce right to her soul. There was an invitation there, as well as desire. Ronnie yanked her gaze away and found other women watching Arran.
Her only consolation was that he’d been looking at her.
“There you are,” Pete said as he walked up. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“What is it?” Anything to steer her thoughts away from Arran and his irresistible body. And amazing eyes.
Pete frowned a moment before he said, “The next fund-raiser is just days away.”
“Damn. I’d forgotten.”
“You always do,” he said with a laugh.
Ronnie blew out a breath. She hated the fund-raisers. They were a necessity, but it was time away from her digs. “Where is it at, again?”
“Edinburgh. I’d tried to get it moved to Glasgow since it’d be closer, but no such luck, kid.”
She shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”
“Have you thought about taking a date to this one?”
“No.” And then she paused. After the last one, where the men wouldn’t leave her alone, she’d vowed not to go alone again. “On second thought, I’ll take Andy.”
Pete laughed and then quickly coughed to cover it. “Sorry, Ronnie, but be serious. No man will think Andy is your date. He’s too much like a brother to pull that off effectively.”
She really hated when Pete was right. “Then you come as my date.”
“You’re sweet to even mention me, but that won’t work either. You’re going to need an actual date, kid, if you don’t want to spend the time fending off the men.”
“I know, but where in the world would I find a date on such short notice?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Arran’s laugh sounded. She found herself looking at him again. Her gaze was always drawn to him, as if he were the flame and she the moth.
Her hands curled as she recalled being yanked against his hard body while her hands grabbed a hold of his wide shoulders. It was only then that she realized Arran must have moved with the quickness of lightning to catch her before she fell over while he’d been tying the tarp.
“He’d do,” Pete said.
“No,” Ronnie said with a firm shake of her head. It was the fact that she wanted Arran to take her that made him so wrong. “Someone else.”
“There are plenty of men here who would like the honor of a date with you. Just pick one.”
“And then I’d have to come back and work with them. Besides, I don’t want to lead any of them on. They’ll think it’s more than what it is.”
Pete shrugged. “Then I suppose you go alone.”
Ronnie bit her lip and looked at Arran again. She could ask him. He’s the only one she’d even consider taking with her. And he’d certainly keep the others away from her. She wondered how he’d look in a tux. He was probably one of those men who looked good in everything.
And out of everything.
She inwardly groaned as she caught another look of his arm and chest muscles when he lifted a large rock. His stomach muscles tensed, m
aking his abs look like a washboard before he tossed the rock aside.
Clothes would hide all those wonderful muscles, she said to herself.
But she knew Arran couldn’t go with her. He might be the only one who she wanted to go, but he was also the only one who made her remember what it was to want to be touched by a man, to want to have him kiss her.
To feel the desire rush through her body. To crave strong arms holding her.
It was too risky. Much too risky. Especially after Max.
Ronnie didn’t allow the memories of Max to surface. Instead, she threw herself into the dig. She inspected the progress of the new section, and was amazed to find Arran and the others had done a good job. That wasn’t always the case with volunteers.
She got down on her stomach and reached for the large brush that looked like a paintbrush, and then gently brushed away the debris around a stone nearest her.
When more of the stone grew visible, she began to dig away additional dirt, going deeper until soon four stones were visible.
“They make an arch.”
She melted at the sound of Arran’s voice. He was beside her, his presence all around her. The air around her grew thick and hot.
“Yes,” she managed to say, and prayed he didn’t know the breathless sound of her voice was because of him.
“An entrance,” they said in unison.
Ronnie looked over her shoulder at him, and they shared a smile.
“An entrance to what?” she asked.
“Knowing the Celts, it’s most likely a burial mound. I know you’ve run across them before, but you want to be careful with these.”
His caution didn’t rile her as she expected. Instead, she took his warning to heart. Maybe it was the sincerity and worry in his eyes. Maybe it was just his proximity. Or it could be the dream she’d had that morning, where he’d been shaking his head at her as she dug.
“It’s just a burial mound,” someone said.
Arran’s head slowly lifted, his gaze narrowed. “Some chambers are no’ meant to be opened. Ever.”
A tingle of foreboding shot down Ronnie’s back. For a moment it was eerily quiet through the entire site, and then someone laughed nervously.
“Did the Celts put in curses like the Egyptians?” an American asked.
Arran’s body didn’t move a muscle, but she felt the anger begin to rise in him. She had to defuse the situation quickly.
“Curses or not, if it’s a burial chamber, we treat it with respect. Is everyone clear on that?” she asked as she got to her feet.
She looked down to find Arran still on one knee, both hands on the ground. His gaze was on the stones and his body tense, primed. But for what?
Ronnie squatted beside him. “What is it?”
“I know you willna believe me, but I doona think you should dig further.”
She laughed. “If I don’t, someone else will. The stones have been seen.”
Golden eyes turned to her. They were filled with uneasiness and agitation. “Tread carefully here, lass. I doona think what you find in there will be good.”
She thought of her feelings she got when a relic was near. Was Arran the same? Did he sense something? “Tell me why.”
“Nothing I say will stop you,” he said, and got to his feet. He raked a hand quickly through the dark strands of his hair. “But if you go inside, promise you’ll take me with you.”
“I’m not scared of finding bones, Arran.”
“You may find more than that.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Wallace Mansion
Jason Wallace rocked back on his heels, his hands behind his back, as he surveyed the new drapes that had just been hung in his office.
“What do you think, sir?”
Jason glanced at his servant. Servant. Harry had been the leader of a small neighborhood gang that had bullied Jason from the time he’d been a young lad. Until Jason changed all that with his inheritance money.
“I think they’ll do,” Jason said, and walked to his desk.
Harry followed slowly, a slight limp after the beating he’d taken. “Sir, your … guests … are waiting for you.”
“Why didna you tell me earlier?” he demanded.
“I did. You didna want to be bothered.”
“Next time bother me. Now,” Jason said as he started out of his office, “are they waiting for me below?”
“Aye, sir.”
Jason walked through his home, a home he had re-created from the burnt shards left by his cousin Declan Wallace. Declan had been raised with the family money, whereas Jason had worried where every meal would come from. There were many meals he did miss because there had been no money.
Declan had never had to work for anything in life, but Jason had from his very first breath. It’s what made rebuilding the family estate so sweet.
He’d been a little confused at the rooms belowground, especially the part that looked suspiciously like a dungeon. But Jason had even reconstructed those precisely as they’d been.
Including the hidden door beneath the stairs that led to the basement. Jason opened that door now and quietly closed it behind him before going down the narrow stairs.
Even now he recalled how he’d used a hammer to knock down a half-burnt wall and found a safe within. It had taken all Jason’s skills as a picklock to open the safe, but he’d been aptly rewarded when he did so. There had been money, but it was the red leather journal within that had been the real treasure.
Jason smiled as he found his guests waiting for him. The dungeon had been a surprise the first time he’d seen it, but so had the second office he found.
If only he’d known sooner that magic ran in the family. But better late than never, he always said.
“Welcome,” Jason said as he stopped before the six men and women waiting for him. “What news do you have for me?”
The woman nearest him rose and smiled as she came to stand beside him. Her ruby red lips beckoned, as did her kohl-lined eyes. She put a long red nail against him and let it slowly graze his shoulders through the blazer as she walked behind him until she stood on his left side.
“Oh, we’ve news,” she whispered in a husky tone that always made him hard and ready.
There was something about a woman with black magic that never failed to turn Jason on. Mindy, with her black hair and eyes, had been his favorite since he first saw her almost a year ago.
“Tell me,” he urged.
“One of the Warriors at MacLeod Castle left.”
Jason’s excitement waned. “So? They come and go often.”
“True, but none have left to be a part of an archeological dig.”
That got his attention. He shifted his gaze from Mindy to the two men off to the side. “What do you know of Charon, Phelan, and Malcolm?”
“Malcolm is hiding,” said the tallest of them, Dale. He was a big brute of a man with a shaved head and a goatee that made him look even more sinister.
Jason leaned against the wall and glared. “You are Warriors. You should be able to find him.”
“Charon still thinks his wee village is safe,” said the redheaded Warrior with a cold smile.
“That will soon change,” Jason said. He was eager for his plans to begin, and it was almost time. He’d planned everything out carefully. All the information he needed on the Warriors and Druids had been found in that red leather book.
And he’d used it to perfection.
Much had happened since he inherited the Wallace fortune. He might have taken his time rebuilding the estate, but he hadn’t wasted any in learning about the black magic that ran through his family’s veins.
He’d dived headfirst into that world and seized all that was his. It had taken some doing to create the Warriors, and even more in helping them control their god. Jason wanted them to kill, but he wanted to be the one ruling them.
If creating and controlling the Warriors had been trouble, it was nothing compared to findin
g droughs. Sorting the true Druids from the fake had been easy enough.
But now everything Declan had planned and penned in the pages of the red book, Jason had set in motion. Declan had failed and been bested by the MacLeods.
Oh, there was no proof it was the MacLeods, but if not them, then who else could have killed his cousin?
It was time for revenge. It was time for … payback.
“Aisley,” Jason called to his cousin. A beauty with a flawless complexion and long legs, her midnight hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her dark eyes remained anywhere but on him. “What news do you have?”
She kept her head turned away and her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned her hips against his desk. “No more mies have gone to the MacLeods, nor have any been located.”
“They’re out there, just as we were. We need to make sure we end them before they get to the MacLeods,” Jason warned.
He smiled as he heard a roar from the dungeon area. “It willna be too much longer before my next Warriors can join us. We have the advantage right now. The MacLeods have no idea we’re here or that I’m amassing an army.”
“When do we strike?” Mindy asked, excitement burning in her black eyes. Her red lips were lifted in a knowing grin.
Jason took her hand and kissed the top of it. “Soon, my darling. Verra soon. I want to know about this archeological dig and why a Warrior is there. If the MacLeods sent him, there’s a reason. Find it.”
“Maybe they’re just bored.”
Jason swung his head to Aisley and narrowed his eyes. “Are you bored, cousin? Maybe I should give you more to do.”
Aisley straightened, her hands clenching at her sides. “I’ve got quite enough. Cousin.”
“I’m no’ so sure.”
She looked away. “All I’m saying is that maybe this Warrior just wanted to get away from the castle for a bit. Family can be … stifling.”
Jason smiled as he walked to her. Aisley’s history was complicated, or at least that’s what she called it. Jason called it perfect for his uses.
Aisley had many uses, though she didn’t know of them. There were things about her Jason kept to himself, things that would be used to his benefit in the future. But she had to stay with him. He’d thought he’d made that point clear, but maybe it needed to be made again.
