by L. L. Muir
She bit her lip and shook her head in denial, afraid her voice might betray her if she lied. He sounded more like a grumpy old codger than a seriously healthy young man who couldn’t be much more than 30 and could have the world at his feet.
“It is kind of ye to lie, lass.” He smiled to one side and turned her insides to pudding. “Perhaps I should make more of an effort to get along with the living, aye?”
Get along with the living? It was a pretty odd thing to say, but considering the fact that he could use the word witch in casual conversation, she really shouldn’t have been surprised. In addition, she was lucky she could understand him when he was making perfect sense, considering his thick brogue. Some of his strange phrases she had no hope of understanding.
“To be more amenable,” he continued, “let us say I believe in…predestination.
“Destiny?”
His smile brightened. “Sounds rather hopeful, wouldn’t ye say?”
She laughed. “It does. Destiny does sound better. Like I was destined to inherit this place. Destined to live here. Destined to meet—” It was too late to backtrack. “…so many interesting people. You know, from all around the world.” She could feel her face heat like she was leaning over the hot grill, so she turned her attention to the cool trees beyond the glass, wishing she could disappear into them before she made a complete fool of herself.
She tried a little mind-over-matter and imagined pressing the cool flat leaves of the Aspens against her cheeks, or standing beside the spring a hundred yards up the hill. A little creek water might cool her off…
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in…
Sensing her control returning, she pasted a smile on her face and turned back to her intruder, prepared to be mocked. But the guy wasn’t laughing at her, he wasn’t even smiling. She would say he’d returned to his sober self again, but the look in his eyes was new. Hell, he looked so stunned, she thought maybe no one had ever gushed over him before—because that’s what she’d done.
Gah!
For both their sakes, she acted like nothing had happened, that she hadn’t just admitted to being glad to have met him, and he hadn’t acted like he’d never heard a compliment.
“Yeah, I mean, I see people from all over. Not just Scotland. We’re pretty close to Yellowstone, so we get tourists through here…”
Her mind stuttered to a stop when he apparently set aside his fear of visions and closed the space between them. He held out a hand and without thinking, she placed her fingers on his. He tugged her closer. Her chest pressed against his midsection and she had to look up to face him. She wondered if that was what it felt like to be hypnotized, to watch herself move as if from a distance. But it all happened so naturally, like following his lead in a dance.
When they stood toe to toe, he released her hand, and it landed smoothly on his sash. Her other hand quickly took its natural position on the opposite side, but there was nothing to protect that one from the heat of his skin. It was like touching a wild animal—dangerous and thrilling.
Man, it had been forever since she’d stood toe to toe with a guy. And who knew how long it would be before it would happen again?
He leaned down, staring at her lips, then paused. “I shouldnae presume—”
She made a face. “Maybe just this once.”
His pleased smile slid away just as their mouths met. The kiss was tentative, testing, then firm. She ordered herself to seize the day and slide her arms up around his neck, but he was already pulling his lips away. He took her hands off his shoulders and held them.
Angel didn’t know whether to be flattered by his chivalry or offended that he found it so easy to resist the temptation of her. But she could hardly blame him for cutting and running. Once he’d wrapped his arms around her, he’d probably realized how far around that was. And seriously, a guy that lean had to be a gym rat, constantly surrounded by lean female gym rats. She was lucky he’d been tempted to kiss her at all.
When she summoned the courage to look him in the eye again, he was frowning at her. His brows, pressing together, made little v’s above his eyes.
“Ye’re displeased,” he said, and took a step back, though he still held her hands out between them. “Forgive me, lass, but I feel something is wrong…” He shook his head and looked out the window, then back toward the door.
Something was wrong, all right. He was making a fool of her.
She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, but he wasn’t paying any attention. He only held her hands absently, so she wrenched them out of his grip.
He turned and frowned at her again, like he’d forgotten she was there. “Heed me, Angel. Danger is coming. The mountain, it…shrugs.” He winced hard as if someone had just thrown sand in his eyes. Then he opened them wide and lunged toward the only exit. “No time to explain. I must stop those on the motorway! I must stop them all!”
Angel followed, reacting only to his panic. He touched only a couple of steps and was quickly out the door. By the time she hit the path running, he was fifty yards away, headed for the trees and the rise between Haggard’s and the road.
By motorway, he must have meant the highway! He intended to stop traffic! If he kept going straight, he’d come out at the most dangerous spot on the mountain!
“Stop! It’s too dangerous!”
He slowed, looked over his shoulder, then cupped his mouth to shout. When his words registered, everything froze—her feet, her heart, her stomach.
Landslide!
But how could he know?
She shook her head forcefully to get herself moving again. It didn’t matter how he knew or if he was right, she had to warn the rest, just in case. Maybe she’d been too distracted, hoping for the earth to move under her feet when he kissed her, that she’d missed the fact that the earth had actually been moving. Maybe he’d heard something she hadn’t.
“Stop!” She hollered at a couple of young men laughing and shoving each other toward the parking lot, carrying pastry boxes. “Get back inside!” She ran toward them, waving her arms to get their attention. “The canyon! It’s not safe. Earthquake maybe.” She was out of breath from adrenaline alone. “Go back inside until we know it’s safe.”
The tallest kid waved his keys. “We’ll be fine—”
“No. Listen—”
His friend wasn’t smiling. “You with that guy?” He pointed to the spot where Fin had run into the trees.
“Yes. He thinks there’s been a landslide or something. He’s gone to stop traffic.”
The kid was much quicker on the uptake than she’d been. He seemed to realize the danger immediately and headed for the rise. “He’ll need help.”
The tall one was finally convinced and moved away from the car.
“Go tell everyone inside to stay put, okay?” She backed toward the rise until the kid nodded. “Nobody leaves!”
“Got it!”
She concentrated on keeping her balance while her shoes slid on rocks and caught on saplings. But those same saplings created a series of little ropes to cling to as she climbed up the steepest part of the rise. She burst out onto the road long before she expected to and quickly stepped back again to the edge.
A diesel engine shifted and roared only fifty feet away. Its massive yellow cab looked like an angry face bearing down on Fin and the boy, standing in the middle of the road waving their arms. The diesel shifted and growled. The wheels locked and smoked.
Angel was sickeningly sure of two things: the truck could not stop in time, and there was nothing she could do save them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
No matter how gruesome the next second might be, Angel couldn’t just close her eyes and look away.
The sunset winked along the diesel’s grill as it bore down on the two, but at the last second, while the trailer swung to the right and the brakes screeched, Fin’s huge arm struck out to his left and knocked the teenager so hard he flew completely clear of the asphalt, rolled over the gravel shoulder,
and into the trees below. If she had been another twenty feet away, she would have thought it was the truck that knocked him into the air. But it hadn’t been.
Fin had saved the kid instead of diving for safety himself. He’d knocked the kid away and, a millisecond later, had been swallowed beneath the silver bumper. When the diesel finally stopped, twenty feet later, Angel was already on her third scream.
Cars slowed carefully behind the rig, then stopped. People jumped out and came running. The truck driver jumped to the ground. He pointed to Angel and asked if she was okay even as he ran back along the side of his trailer, ducking and searching the blacktop beneath.
She got moving. After all, miracles happened. There was a chance he was still alive.
The driver stopped. Apparently, he’d found what he’d been looking for. When he collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, Angel stumbled and fell too. But she climbed back to her feet and got moving again. She had to be sure there was nothing she might do that could help. She refused to assume anything.
Other drivers gathered around the trucker and leaned down to look, but no one crawled beneath the trailer. No one shouted for an ambulance. That, alone, should have been enough, but it wasn’t.
Angel knew she would remember every step. The incline was slight, but she felt it. There didn’t seem to be enough air in her lungs to move quickly. Five feet to go. She expected the others to try to stop her, but they didn’t. The trucker wept openly but never raised a hand in warning.
That was far enough.
She dropped to her knees and leaned forward onto her hands. Her head cleared the edge of the trailer easily. She looked where the driver had been staring, but the only thing lying on the road was Finlay Robertson’s leather pouch, faced down. The belt was broken and the ends, still attached, sprawled like arms to either side. Angel looked toward the front of the rig, then to the back, but there was no sign of Finlay’s body.
Maybe I judged the distance wrong.
She frowned at the driver. “Where is he?”
The man gasped a couple of times, then pointed vaguely. “He crawled out the other side. Probably checking on the other one.”
Thrilled Fin had survived, but horrified no one had tried to help him, she scooted and rolled under the trailer and out the other side. Back on her feet, she searched for a blood trail that might lead her to him quickly. She was sure she’d find him in a puddle of plaid and broken bones. But at least he was alive!
She heard voices and followed. The driver had been right after all. The silly Scot had gone looking for the kid. And though the latter’s face was scraped all along one side, he was sitting up and talking—to a completely healthy-looking Finlay Robertson who sat beside him with far too much of his knees showing.
Angel tried to tell her heart to stand down, but it went on racing. “Are you kidding me?” Of course, she wasn’t angry at Fin for escaping without a scratch. It was just unfortunate that she sounded that way.
The man’s knees snapped together and his smile fled. “Forgive me, lass. I had to check the laddie before I could see to ye. I struck him violently, ye see—”
“You think?” The kid touched his shoulder tenderly and sucked air between his teeth, but he was smiling. “I don’t think the truck would have hit me as hard as you did.”
Finlay flexed his jaw and pointed to his chin. “Ye’re wrong, there. If I were a less stubborn man, it would have taken this clean off.” He laughed. “Cannae kiss the lasses without a complete set of lips, now can I?” He winked at her, then looked away.
“I thought you were dead.”
Finlay nodded and pulled his feet under him as if he meant to stand.
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare get up on my account. I’m going to call an ambulance and you’re both going to have to go to the hospital and get checked out—” Finlay held up a hand to stop her, but she kept talking. “And if you don’t have insurance, it doesn’t matter. Haggard’s will cover it.”
The Scot put his chin on his chest and his arm shot out to the right, like he needed to catch his balance. She worried he might have a serious head injury after all, but when his head snapped up again, his face was pale but his eyes were clear.
“Angel! We must get those folks off the road, and now!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Off the road? Sure.
It didn’t matter that she was sick to her stomach from watching him take a semi to the face, or that she was sure she’d heard his head smack the ground. It didn’t matter that he shouldn’t have much of a head left, or a face, because he was sitting there as if it had all been her imagination, helping someone else, ordering her around when she’d been dead sure that lovely brogue had been silenced forever.
Off the road. Right. She gave Fin a nod and hurried back up the rise.
His earthquake or landslide had yet to happen, apparently. And once again, it didn’t matter if he was right or wrong, if there was a chance someone might be hurt, she would do whatever she could to prevent that.
Fin had risked his life to stop traffic, the least she could do was get them all off the road. And even if it turned out to be nothing at all, if it turned out that he’d been working for the Simplot Brothers, trying to make a mess of Haggard’s so she would miss her balloon payment, she couldn’t risk someone’s life just to call his bluff.
At the moment, she could forgive him just about anything, she was so relieved to see those blue eyes still open, still looking at her like they’d known her for ages, making her feel like she was…part of someone else’s life.
Maybe, in the morning, she would regret making a fool out of herself. But for now, bring it on.
She marched back to the middle of the road where she could see the trucker kneeling on the black-top, probably still thanking God that he hadn’t killed anyone. Over a dozen had left their cars to see what was going on, but the man could do little more than point and shrug.
She clapped her hands together and moved toward the gathered crowd. “Okay, everyone! Let’s get everyone off the road. Either leave your cars or turn back to this exit. Whatever you decide, you can’t go down the canyon. It’s not safe. We think there’s been a landslide or something. And maybe it’s not over.”
To her complete surprise, no one questioned her, and most seemed freaked out enough to forget their cars.
She lifted the trucker’s arm and urged him to stand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. Leave your rig for now. Fin says it’s not safe, and I am inclined to believe him.”
The man swallowed with effort and faced her with wet eyes. “He’s really alive, right? I wasn’t just seeing things?”
Angel laughed. “Oh, you’re seeing things, all right. And so am I.”
“Lass! Now!” Fin hurried to take the man’s other arm and together, the three of them rounded the front of the truck and hobbled down the slope. They made for the restaurant and were twenty yards from the door when they heard and felt a horrible boom!
Everyone froze. Angel felt like a giant hammer had just tried to pound her skeleton into the earth, but since she was still alive, still breathing, she got moving again. The white lights strung along the roofline of the restaurant flickered, then went dark along with the lights inside.
Quickly, but orderly, people funneled toward the doorway from all directions. The trucker’s arm was wrested out of her grasp as he got caught in the flow. Easily the tallest man in the throng, Fin’s form cut sideways across the tide as he came for her, wrapped his left arm around her waist and took her right hand in his. “Time to play my damsel in distress, if ye dinnae mind.”
No, she didnae mind.
Waiting just inside the doorway were two dozen customers anxious to hear what was going on. Tables were moved aside so people could stand against the window—until Fin suggested the glass might break. Then the tables were moved back and piled on top of one another. They did little to barricade the windows that ran the width of the wall, but the hanging tablecloths might at
least slow flying glass.
Angel instructed everyone to move deeper into the building, just in case. The hallway would comfortably hold two dozen people sitting on the ground, and the kitchen itself would hold another dozen. She told Curt to shut off the grills and cut off the propane out at the tank. Then she tugged Fin’s hand to pull him through the kitchen, past the restrooms, and into her tiny office. Once inside, she closed the door and faced him.
“As soon as their adrenaline burns off a little, they’re all going to want to know what’s going on. What caused that boom? Do you know?”
He shook his head sadly.
“Oh, come on, you have to know. You got everyone off the road before I ever heard anything, like you knew something was going to happen.” She folded her arms between them. “Were they explosives? Someone sabotaging the canyon just to shut me down? That seems pretty drastic for just a little greasy spoon—”
“I have no ken what has happened, only that the danger lay further down the glen. No matter what God may have decreed, I could not have allowed those people to rush to their doom, aye? For all I ken, automobiles have been crushed, just as I envisioned. After three centuries, I have yet to see the River of Fate diverted from its course—”
“Another vision?” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Nobody’s going to believe you. But at least we know that something did happen. They should be grateful we pulled them off the road, but I don’t think we should tell them you saw it in a vision.”
“Auch, well. It is unusual for the men of my family to be afflicted with the sight—either that, or they are better at holding their tongues than the women—I have been given the gift and the curse of being a seer. Though I admit to ye now, I am a poor one. Perhaps because I am a man—”
“I don’t think you understand. We can’t take that story out there to a restaurant full of people who are gearing up to freak out.” She put her hands to the sides of his face and forced him to listen. “We’ve got to think of something better, and we’ve got to think quick. They’ll be dragging us out of here, demanding answers in about three minutes. Maybe less.”
