by Willa Blair
Darach spoke again as he moved out into the hallway, and Abby followed on his heels. “Aye, but there’s only one way to get a true sulfuric smell, and that’s from a demon.”
She stopped so quickly she almost lost her balance. “Are you trying to tell me there was a demon in my house?”
“No, I’m telling you there were at least two if not three by the combined and slightly different odors.”
“So…what do we do? We need to do something.” She hated the slight tremor to her words, but knowing demons had invaded her home—her sanctuary against the world—gave her the shakes. Abby would much rather fight them off her home turf. How had they found her?
“We do nothing. I will make sure they are no longer here, but ye are to stay put.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to bite her only to have him close it with a gentle grip on her chin.
“I mean it, Abigail. Ye cannot jump into the thick with these creatures. They will kill ye and…”
“Yes, I know. Take my soul, but Darach, they were or are in my house. I will not allow them to stay without a fight.”
He tugged her closer and slid his arms around her. “Aye, ye be a right brave lass, but ’tis better at times to wait.” Tears came unbidden and she blinked them back. She would not give into her rage and fear. Besides like it or not, she now had a keeper.
A keeper who unsettled her almost as much as the demons.
“Everything will be all right, Abigail. I willna let them hurt ye—ever.”
With her face muffled against his chest, she could only nod acknowledgement of his promise. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, and he was totally not the type of guy she could ever entertain real emotion about, but she wanted to stay in his arms forever. For the first time since losing her grandmere, she felt a kinship with another. She reveled in the feeling, but then he pushed her away.
“Darach?”
“Although, I be sure they probably left when we arrived, I need to check the house, and then we’ll talk.”
Before she could say another word, he was gone. Poof, no warning, no nothing. After a moment or two she heard footsteps overhead.
Not sure what to do now or how long Darach would be, Abby decided to head to the kitchen, but first… She darted into the downstairs bathroom and tugged off her ruined panty hose. A quick wash with a cloth removed some of the dirt from her abused feet, and then she went in search of sustenance. Did Darach eat food? If so what kind?
She was slapping ham and cheese on top of a hoagie bun when the man in question popped up right in front of the oak kitchen table.
Abby almost swallowed her tongue but managed to keep the scream begging to escape inside her throat.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Why?” Darach’s mood seemed to have lightened if the cocked eyebrow and half-smile on his sensual lips were any type of indicators.
“Because I could have thrown this knife at you.” She held up the serrated blade resting beside the sandwich fixings to make her point.
“It wouldn’t kill me, so—”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m immortal, remember?” Darach looked like he wanted to smirk.
“Yes, but…even immortals have an Achilles’ heel right?”
“Ye watch too much television, Abby, but the knife would have hurt a bit, so thanks for not throwing it.” He tossed her a full-fledged grin.
She wanted to be just a bit incensed at his smug attitude, but couldn’t. For some reason, his teasing caused a flicker of warmth to spread from her toes to between her thighs, before finding a home inside her heart.
“I read more than I do anything, and I only watch one television show.”
“Probably the one where a Highlander gets to cut off people’s heads, but is always in danger of losing his.”
Her face heated as she realized she had thought Darach to be a true-to-life Duncan McLeod in some ways. “Well, I, uh…”
“It’s okay. I know how strange this is for ye, and God’s truth, for me also. You’re the first mortal that I actually can’t wipe my memory from their mind.”
Abby finished putting together the sandwiches, sprinkled a glob of chips on each plate, and then motioned for Darach to sit.
“I’m assuming you can eat?”
“Yes, immortals can eat.”
“Good, then after you finish, I want to hear about why I’m different, and about what you do as an immortal.”
****
Darach finished the last bite of his sandwich, and washed it down with a deep gulp of iced tea. Abby had finished her food a good five minutes before. Anticipation of learning more about the sensual, exciting Highlander had caused her to choke her food down like a starving rat.
He, however, ate with the niceties you would expect from a royal personage. She wished he would get on with it. Curiosity was beating a fast refrain inside her brain.
“Are ye ready for me to begin?” The smile he sent her was positively full of mischief. Darn the man, he knew she was on the edge of her seat, literally.
“If you don’t, I’m liable to conk you on that big Scottish head of yours.”
“Ye have a bit of a violent streak, Abby. Something I saw earlier tonight with the demon. Which reminds me, ye should never go after a demon with mortal weapons. And ye never did clean your throat.”
Abby wanted to pull her and his hair out. “Okay, I’m a bit impetuous, so why don’t you tell me what type of weapons I should have with me in the future. As to my throat, I will take care of it, but not now.”
“Ye willna be needing a weapon, I will protect ye.”
His statement irritated Abby, but at the same time a part of her was just a tiny bit thrilled. It seemed immortal or not, a man always had the attitude of protecting the little woman—whether they needed it or not. Of course to be fair, he had saved her butt from the demon, but he needed to know she wasn’t some frightened babe in the woods.
“I beg to differ. If I’d had a knife I could have done some serious damage, and besides, you can’t protect me twenty-four-seven, Darach.”
“Ye will be protected at all times, Abby.”
“You’re missing the point. Maybe I don’t need a keeper. I have managed to take care of myself for over…” Abby decided he didn’t really have to know she was over thirty. “And what about when you’re asleep? You do sleep don’t you?”
Darach frowned, but answered, “Aye, I do sleep, but ’tis usually during the daylight hours. However now I will be sleeping at night in your bed with ye.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Darach knew he was in trouble. Not only Michael’s faint yell from above signaled he’d said the wrong thing, but the thunderstorm brewing in Abby’s blue gaze foretold he would be in for a fight.
“Think again, Mr. Immortal Man. I sleep alone.” When he opened his mouth to ask why, she continued. “By choice, and I’m not happy you’ve been assigned to stick to me like gum on a shoe, but I do understand the need—for now. However, we need some ground rules.” Abby shot him a look he could only interpret as stubborn.
“And number one, you will be sleeping on the couch not in my bed.”
Darach could think of a lot of reasons to be in Abby’s bed. The most important was he yearned for her as he hadn’t lusted for a woman in a thousand years. Whether or not it was because she knew what he was and wasn’t afraid, or the fact she was not an ordinary woman, or the fact she gave as good as she got, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was she fascinated him.
And although, he didn’t plan on taking her to bed that way, he would welcome the chance to hold her close during—
God’s teeth! What was he thinking? He had a job to do, and his newly awakened emotions had no place in his quest to keep Abigail safe or to find and capture Angus. And most importantly, kill him.
“Besides, if you’re that concerned, why can’t you do some type of magic? Protect the house from demons without you having to sleep here?�
� Abby’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“I can do that—”
“Then there’s no need for you to be sleeping anywhere near me. You can just pop back home.”
“But I won’t.” Darach finished the sentence Abby had interrupted. However in truth, it would be for the best if he didn’t stay with her. The temptation of being close to her while she slept, if not squashed by both Abby and the archangel, could get him into real trouble.
“What do you mean, you won’t? You said you could do some hocus pocus thing and I’d be safe inside the house. So why on Earth would you insist on spending the night here?” Abby’s question ended in a shrill treble.
“Look, I have a boss, who says I have to stick to ye like white on rice, so that’s what I’m going to do.” He held up a hand to stop what would be another argument but it didn’t stop Abby. He wondered if anything would except for an act of God.
“Well, you’re not staying in my room.”
“Fine by me, Ms. Stubborn-as-a-Fence-Post.” His breathing grew rapid as he tried to quell the anger her words caused. You’d think he was a monster. But then again, she could see him that way. “Now, why don’t ye show me where I can sleep.”
Darach crossed his arms and waited on Abby to acknowledge his words or do something.
Although, she’d gotten what she wanted, Abby couldn’t decide why she felt a bit ticked. He’d given in way too easy for her self-esteem. A bit of an argument would have been nice. Maybe Michael had something to do with it—then again, it could be he just decided she was a job and nothing else. And anyway, it didn’t matter. She did not need or want a man in her life, especially not someone who fought demons for a living. She would much rather keep the female legacy in her family for fighting the creatures on the downside.
Still, it seemed they were stuck with one another, and since she didn’t want to live in a war zone in her own home she decided to take the high road.
“Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. I plan on cooking so I’ll be up fairly early. Is there anything you want in particular for breakfast?”
For just a split second his black gaze went silver. Not sure what that was about, Abby decided to get the couch made up and then hit the bed before her guest changed his mind about their sleeping arrangements. She had a lot of questions about how he came to be an immortal, but they could wait until the morning. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, and her body was beginning to ache big-time from her encounter with the demon. A hot shower, and then a few hours of shut-eye would make her a new woman.
“I’m be not fussy about food. Anything ye prepare will be fine with me.”
“Well, then, great.” Abby turned her back and moved to mount the stairs. She removed a sheet, blanket, and fresh pillowcase from the linen closet and then grabbed a pillow off of her bed before returning downstairs to Darach.
The immortal reached to take the items from her, but he was a guest in her home even if she didn’t want him to be and her grandmere had taught her manners.
“I’ve got it. It’ll just take a minute to get everything ready.”
And in that same time frame, Abby smoothed the pillow out and laid it on the couch. “There’s a bathroom right off the kitchen if you need it. It has fresh towels and a shower.” For the first time since she started making the bed, she looked him in the eyes.
“I’m going to grab a shower myself. Make yourself at home, Darach. I might not be happy about you being here, but I do appreciate you wanting to protect me.”
She turned to leave, but Darach caught her hand. “Abby, Angus willna stop at nothing to get back at me. I truly am here to keep ye safe.”
“I know, but I can’t quit living my life because of fear.”
“And ye shouldna. Just allow me to make sure ye stay safe until Angus is caught.”
The look in his gaze sent tendrils of warmth throughout her body. He really seemed to care. Again, dangerous territory.
“Fine, but you have to allow me to go about my business. I can’t stay locked up. I need to go back to work after the holiday.”
“As you wish. We can talk about that in the morning.”
“Good night, Darach.”
He placed a kiss on the top of her hand before letting it go. “Good night to you too, Abby.”
****
Darach punched his pillow once, twice, and then a third time. Nothing seemed to help. He couldn’t sleep. It was a pity neither he nor Abby had taken into account that his body was longer than the couch.
After an hour of tossing and turning, he’d tried sleeping on the floor, still no rest in sight. Even with being an immortal his body still required all the normal things a mortal man did. Sleep was not something he took for granted. Although he was nigh on invincible, he needed to stay as sharp as possible in his fight against demons. Angus in particular.
From the moment the man had arrived at MacRath Castle, claiming to be a cousin on his father’s side, he’d been a thorn in Darach’s side. Always arguing over how to defend the castle, which raids to go on, who to accept as allies, Darach was at the point of asking him to leave when he was called away to handle business several clan territories away. It was then, Angus tried to take over the lairdship. Upon returning, Darach banished Angus from MacRath lands. For a while there was peace, he and Briene married and even after Jamie’s birth and the years following, Angus stayed gone from their lives.
Darach punched the pillow harder this time. He had been a fool. He should have known Angus would not give up his fight to take all Darach held dear—as he did that cold winter night.
He shook off thoughts of the past and climbed off the couch. He needed to move, to think about where Angus could be, and what he would do in reference to Abigail.
Chills dotted his naked arms as he forced back the vision of his son and Briene’s murder, the rape with Abigail becoming the victim.
He headed to the kitchen. He needed coffee to clear his mind, and to wake him up to the early hues of sunrise. A few moments later, he found what he needed, and soon coffee poured into the glass carafe of Abigail’s coffeemaker.
Darach took a sip of the dark chicory-vanilla bean mix and sighed. Michael should have let another immortal guard Abigail. Then he would be free to hunt Angus without the fear that he would lead him straight to her.
He wondered if he implored Michael for another face-to-face meeting if he could change the archangel’s mind.
“Darach?” Abigail’s soft tone cut his thoughts in two.
“I’m in here.”
He heard the lighter-than-down pads of her feet as she moved toward the kitchen.
“Morning. What are you doing up so early?”
A smile he couldn’t stop found its way to his lips. Abigail dressed up as she was the night before was indeed a sensual delight, but this softer version made him want to tug her close and hold her beneath his heart.
Her silver mane of hair was tousled, her blue eyes held the remainders of sleep, and her cheeks were rosy from her slumber.
The pink robe she wore over her nightdress reminded him of cotton candy, a delicacy he’d discovered a few decades before. Her feet were encased in bunny slippers making him think of a child on Christmas morning.
Yet, when she moved closer to grab a cup from the cupboard, the womanly scent of musk and jasmine drove home the fact she was a beautiful, sensual woman. One he needed to distance himself from.
“I decided to make coffee.” His excuse was lame even to his ears.
Abigail’s body moved a fraction closer to him as she poured her coffee, and then rooted in the cabinet for a small packet of sugar.
Darach moved to the table, pulled out a chair, and straddled it—ignoring the hard bulge inside his pants.
“You don’t exactly strike me as the domestic type.”
“Ye have no idea what type of immortal I am or the type of man I was.” Darach’s lust rode him hard and his words were clipped, almost harsh, but he didn’t care. Abigail Dupree was a j
ob, nothing more—he dared not allow her to be anything else. His goal was to find Angus and exact his revenge.
Abigail bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at Darach. His words were cutting, but she’d glimpsed just a bit of hurt in his gaze. Strange, how his eyes would go from black to almost silver in sequence with his mood.
He’d told her earlier, that his family had been killed. Maybe he needed to talk about what happened. She shook her head; the past was over a thousand years gone, if his story was true. Would it still bother him after all this time?
She added the sugar to her coffee and then seated herself across from Darach. Before she spoke, she took the time to admire his naked chest. Lord, he was put together so fine and she so wanted to touch the flesh his missing shirt had covered, but that was ludicrous. The immortal was her bodyguard, nothing more.
“You’re right, so why don’t you tell me about the real Darach—before and after you were changed into an immortal.”
For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard her request. He took another sip of coffee, placed the mug on the table, and then cleared his throat.
“’Tis not a pretty story, Abigail. Ye would be better off letting the past die. We all would.”
She could do that, probably should, but something inside Abby needed to know what made Darach tick. If he truly did mean to guard her day and night until Angus was caught, then it would help to know more about him.
“And somehow I don’t think you have let it go. I truly want to know about your lives, Darach. Maybe it will help you to talk about it.”
His snort came right before a harsh laugh.
“Nothing helps the pain of what happened.”
Sorrow turned his eyes into a silver pool and made Abby want to yank out her tongue. Who was she to ask him to relive the horror of the past?
“Look, I’m sorry. I should never have asked. It’s really none of my business.”
As Darach continued to gaze at her, it looked as if he fought and then won a battle within his mind.
****
Angus loved the holidays of mortals. They tended to let their guards down. Full of goodwill, they tried to make up for the other days of the year when they were slothful, vindictive, and allowed themselves to be directed by his boss.
