Jane peeked over the top of the boulder again in time to see Alec shake his head at Duncan. “Then if Mac’s not worried about the energy, why are you?”
“Because apparently it’s my calling to protect this area,” Duncan growled, waving toward Bottomless, “because His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass is too busy protecting everyone else’s goddamn free will but mine.”
Jane saw Alec break into a grin. “That’ll teach you to ask for a mountain.”
“I didn’t ask! The bastard just up and gave me one.” Duncan strode onto the bridge and stopped on the other end to point across the fiord. “And every time I need its energy, the contrary thing is napping.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny piece of red material and waved it like a flag. “Just like it was sleeping last night, when it should have been scaring off the owner of these panties.”
Jane slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
“I found them snagged on a rock in the brook where it comes out onto the beach when I was walking the dog,” Duncan continued. His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I hear that rattletrap old boat of yours go by the house last night around eleven o’clock?”
Alec snorted and got down on his knees at his end of the bridge. “Sorry, uncle, but that lovely bit of lace isn’t my style—or my size.”
Jane leaned back against the rock again and covered her flaming cheeks with her hands. Uncertain of Alec’s mood last night when he’d finished his swim in the fiord, she hadn’t dared mention not being able to find her panties. She peeked over the boulder again to see both men on the upstream side of the bridge, stacking rocks against it at each end—she assumed to keep the flowing water from undermining the large, flat rocks Alec had set into place as abutments.
Their conversation continued, only now she no longer could hear what they were saying, and Jane wondered if she dared creep closer or if she should make a run for it while they were occupied. “Let’s go, Kitty,” she whispered, pushing the wolf toward the woods on the downside of the trail. She crawled on her hands and knees as silently as she could, hoping the babbling brook covered the sound of the crunching leaves.
Dammit to Hades, how long was Duncan staying? Because she really didn’t want to spend the night sandwiched between Kitty and a rock, trying to hear a bear before she woke up to find it sitting on her chest. Jane stopped midcrawl. Oh no; if Duncan went back to the shelter he’d see her satchels!
She started crawling again, only this time at a diagonal back toward the brook until she was far enough down the mountain that she could stand up without being seen, then started running through the forest toward camp.
Chapter Eight
His patience gone and his mood as black as the cloud-covered night, Alec waved an obscene gesture over his shoulder as he opened the throttle on his brand-new shiny boat and headed across the fiord. Christ, his uncle could be long-winded sometimes, and he should have anticipated that Duncan would insist he come up to the house when Alec had taken him home. And that, of course, had led to his staying for supper, then to his having to smile his way through a campfire with Peg and the kids if he didn’t want to look suspicious, because they always had a campfire when he visited. Then he’d had to act all excited when Duncan had pulled a tarp off the bigger, faster, heavier boat he’d needed at the beginning of the season, not the goddamn end of it.
And the entire time he’d been basking in the glow of family, all he’d been able to think about was Jane alone back at the lean-to, curled up in the corner with all the lanterns blazing, hugging Kit as she held two pots to bang together.
He’d spent the afternoon working himself into a good fit of frustration, starting when state troopers had shown up to ask more questions about the dead men since the rain had wiped out any usable evidence. Then he’d worried that Jane would suddenly come strolling down the trail, all while he kept finding excuses to keep Duncan away from camp. And he still didn’t know if his uncle suspected anything or not, because even without the magic he had now, Duncan had always been a little too astute—which certainly kept Alec on his toes and his lies to a minimum, especially when they talked about their respective tours of duty. That’s why he’d served occasional months in the Afghan mountains between missions, just so he could sound like he knew what he was talking about with his cousins and brothers and long-winded uncle.
Duncan had flown Black Hawks in Afghanistan and Iraq, their cousin Robbie MacBain—who also happened to be their clans’ magical Guardian—had spent several years in special ops, and another MacBain cousin was in the coast guard. Alec had supposedly been a marine, and his three brothers had been equally diverse: Ian had also been in special ops, Hamish had served on a carrier, and their younger brother, Seamus, was right now trying to make sense of the truckload of documents they’d found in Bin Laden’s lair. All of which made for some interesting conversations whenever they all managed to be home at the same time.
But every MacKeage and MacBain male was expected to serve at least one stint in the military, because they were first and foremost warriors. After that they were college-educated businessmen, expected to take over the ski resort and the MacBain Christmas tree farm when their fathers finally retired—which at the rate the elders were aging probably wouldn’t be for another thirty years. And all first-generation highlanders, male and female, were expected to help rebuild their respective clans to the greatness they once were, albeit in twenty-first-century Maine instead of medieval Scotland.
And Jane thought she had a dictatorial patriarch; near as Alec could tell, eleventh-century highlanders determined to hold on to the old ways were just as inflexible. Hence his quiet vasectomy nine years ago, as he couldn’t quite see a cold-blooded bastard having little heathens of his own after murdering someone else’s child.
Instead of going to the small beach where he usually stowed his boat, Alec aimed for the rugged shoreline directly below camp, only slowing down at the last minute to allow the backwash of the transom wave to push him onto the ledge. He tilted up the motor and strode over the seats, jumped onto the ledge and grabbed the bow, and pulled the heavier new boat completely out of the water. He tied it to a stump for added insurance, then headed into the pitch-black forest.
And while dodging trees, he ran several apologies through his mind.
He probably should start by apologizing for not anticipating that Duncan might need an afternoon of male bonding, then move on to his having a belly full of venison roast while Jane had likely finished off the tin of trail mix. Yeah, then he’d cook her a big plate of pan-fried potatoes and ham, and dig out his bottle of Scotch and coax her to down a couple of shots to take the edge off her haughty princess anger.
Lord, he hoped she’d been far enough down the trail that she hadn’t seen him flying to the second brook, or he’d be apologizing for that, too. And last but by no means least, he was going to admit he’d made up that goddamn bear.
He’d just reached the trail not a hundred yards south of camp when he felt the first raindrop, and broke into a run with muttered a curse. But the fine hairs on his neck stirred when he didn’t see any light coming from the lean-to, and a chill ran up his spine at the absolute silence but for the rain hitting the dried leaves still clinging to the trees.
“Jane,” he called out. “It’s just me, lass, and I’m all alone,” he thought to assure her on the chance she’d seen Duncan with him earlier and was hiding. “Jane? Dammit, woman, say something!” he snapped as he scaled the lean-to steps. He lit one of the lanterns and hung it back on the rafter, then dropped his jaw in disbelief as he gazed around the neatly organized shelter—which he noticed didn’t include Jane’s satchels.
He squatted onto his heels and rubbed his face with a growl. Where in hell was she? She’d obviously caught sight of Duncan this afternoon and snuck back to hide her belongings and then herself; but where? He rose to his feet, grabbed the headlamp out of one of the pouches on his larger backpack, and ran down the steps and up the trail toward the ledge where h
e’d hidden her the afternoon the sheriff had come for the men. Christ, she had to be cold and hungry and scared to death, and probably soaking Kit’s fur with her sobs.
That damn wolf had better not have abandoned her, or he was skinning it alive.
He slid the lamp onto his head as he ran, and adjusted the straps and turned it on just as he left the trail to once again weave up through the trees. “Jane!” he shouted as he approached the ledge. “Answer me, lass.”
Only the beam of his light revealed nothing—no woman, no satchels, no wolf. He stepped under the outcropping to get out of the rain and took a steadying breath when he felt himself start to shake either in fear or anger—or both. Had she gotten lost? Or found someplace else to hide? Or had she finally had enough of camping out with a lust-blinded idiot and had hiked up the mountain to the resort?
Give me your word that you won’t step between me and my father, or I swear I’ll disappear on you, too, she’d threatened when he’d offered to help her stand up to Titus. Alec wiped a hand over his wet face. Sweet Christ, had she swum away?
But Carolina Oceanus, aka Jane Smith, had arrived on an unnatural storm. And he hadn’t heard any thunder today, and this rainstorm was a plain old everyday cold front moving through.
Then where was she?
He suddenly stilled. The grotto; the intelligent woman had figured out it was the one place a big old bear wouldn’t be able to reach her. And the shallow cave offered shelter from the rain and wind, and it had a bubbling spring and a floor of soft sand.
It was a hell of a hike carrying two heavy satchels, though, and there weren’t any trees so she couldn’t build a campfire to keep warm. There wasn’t even any driftwood, because the point of land that kept the cove hidden protected the beach from waves.
Alec scrambled back down to the trail and started running again, realizing it was high tide, and by the time he made it to the grotto he’d still have to wade through several feet of cold seawater to reach it. He took the lean-to steps in one stride, pulled down the large backpack he always kept packed, and stuffed some dry clothes on top of the small camp stove and mess kit and dehydrated food. He then wrapped his bottle of Scotch in one of his shirts and shoved it on top of his clothes with a snort, figuring he was going to need a couple of shots himself before this night was through.
Hell, maybe he’d get them both drunk.
He rolled up his sleeping bag and attached it to the pack’s frame, then dug the rain shield out of one of the pouches, slipped it on over the pack, and secured it in place. He put on a dry shirt and his jacket, then settled the heavy pack over his shoulders and cinched the waist belt, took one last look around before dousing the lantern, and headed down the stairs. Reaching the trail, he adjusted his headlamp with a heavy sigh and started north at a steady but ground-eating pace. He estimated it would take him maybe ninety minutes to reach the turnoff, then another full hour to reach the point of land—assuming he didn’t slip in the mud during the steep descent and break his neck.
By God, Jane had better be rehearsing a couple of her own apologies, first and foremost for making him run up and down the mountain several times because she couldn’t be bothered to leave him a clue as to where to find her. Why hadn’t he thought to make a plan for in case they got separated? Apparently he had been out of the game too long, or else he wasn’t used to planning anything around anyone else. After his murderous sixth mission, he’d insisted on operating alone—that is until his last time out, when he’d agreed to take along an old partner.
Oh yeah, he definitely hadn’t looked back when he’d walked away.
Two hours later, figuring he was about a mile past the last bridge he and Duncan had set, Alec bent at the waist and braced his hands on his knees to fight the heaving in his stomach. Damn, running flat-out on a full gut while carrying a forty-pound pack was hard on a body that had spent the day wrestling flying bridges. He could already feel his muscles threatening to cramp, and he still had over an hour of treacherous going.
Yeah, well, he better find the smart little princess tucked safe and sound in the grotto, or she was going to discover that dear old dictatorial Daddy was actually a saint compared to an angry Celt.
Seeing the power gauge start to blink, Jane shut off her iPad with a sigh, hoping the sun came out long enough tomorrow to use her solar charger. “I guess it’s time we call it a night, Kitalanta,” she murmured, giving her friend a pat when he lifted his head off her thigh. She looked out at the cove and sighed again, realizing she couldn’t even see the dark outline of the point because it was raining so hard. “I guess Duncan did spend the night after all.” She snorted. “Or else Alec couldn’t be bothered to hike—”
Jane stilled and pressed a hand to her suddenly pounding chest when Kitty gave a soft growl at the sound of splashing coming from the cove. She snapped off her flashlight and scrambled deeper into the cave, then stilled again when she saw the shadow of an unnaturally tall man wading through the waves.
Sweet Athena, had her father somehow discovered she was here and come after her? Because the only men she knew who ever made themselves that tall where Titus and Mac, and then usually only when they were using the magic. But she sighed in relief when the dark figure called out, realizing he was hoarsely shouting Jane, not Carolina. “Alec!” she cried, jumping up and rushing into the driving rain. “I’m here!”
She stopped at the water’s edge, but then scampered back when he stepped onto the beach and dropped whatever he’d been holding over his head and collapsed to his knees. His hands suddenly shot out and snagged her waist, and he pulled her down to him and folded her into a crushing embrace. Jane stopped struggling when she realized he was shaking uncontrollably, his chest expanding on ragged pants as he buried his face in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him to find he was freezing and his jacket was soaked through.
“Alec, come,” she said, struggling to get free. “We need to get you dried off. Alec,” she whispered, touching her lips to his ice-cold face when his embrace merely tightened. “Sweetheart, come on,” she gently urged just as a tremor shot through him, jerking them both. “Come into the cave with me. I’ll have you warmed up in no time.”
But he still refused to let her go, muttering something about a bear, his rasping breaths heightening her alarm. For the love of Zeus, had the bear been chasing him? She kissed his drawn cheek. “It’s okay, I won’t let that mean old bear hurt you. You’re safe now, I promise.”
She was finally able to wiggle enough to loosen his hold, and ducked under his arm and shot free, only to jump to her feet and grab hold of his jacket when he nearly fell flat on his face. “Alec!” she snapped, giving him a tug. “Stand up!” She lifted his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Now walk!” He staggered forward and Jane slid a hand under his jacket and grabbed the back of his belt. “That’s it,” she urged more gently, guiding him up the beach and stumbling into the cave when his knees started to buckle. “No!” she snapped. “Keep going.”
She waited until they were well out of the rain before she dropped to her knees with him, easing his fall as he rolled onto his back. But then she immediately pulled him onto his side and held him steady as he coughed up seawater. “Sweet Athena, did you swallow half of the fiord? Oh, Alec,” she whispered, gently wiping his mouth with her wet sleeve. “You really are an idiot. Why didn’t you stay at the shelter?”
“Damn b-bear,” he said through another fit of coughing. “S-sorry.”
“Yes, I’ll just bet that damn bear is sorry it tangled with you” she soothed, brushing back the hair plastered to his face, only to realize there was blood mixed with the rain and seawater when she felt the oozing bump on his forehead. “Stop talking and help me get you undressed.”
Only she’d had an easier time dressing up her pet seal when she was three than she did getting Alec out of his soaked clothes. First the laces on his boot were so swollen tight that she ended up pulling his knife out of its sheath and simply c
utting them. And he was shivering so violently that getting him to roll one way and then the other to get his jacket off proved nearly impossible. She eventually managed to peel off his shirt along with the jacket as she pushed and pulled against him, but knowing she’d never sit him up to get his T-shirt over his head, she simply cut it off also. It then took her several attempts to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans when he started in on another fit of coughing; although once she did she was able to use his restless twisting to pull off his pants and boxers.
But now what? Was she supposed to dress him in her clothes?
Remembering that he’d been carrying something over his head, Jane blindly felt around in the dark and found her flashlight, turned it on, and angled it toward Alec—only to suck in her breath at the sight of him fully naked.
Holy Hades, the man made Hercules look like a mere boy. Alec didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on him; his body long and lean and powerful-looking as his muscles tightened with shivers, his broad chest and wide shoulders appearing to be made of stone, his thighs and hips sharply sculpted into his…his…
Jane dropped the light and jumped to her feet, realizing her blush could probably warm him up as she ran back out into the rain. Sweet Prometheus, it was a good thing he had left his pants on last night, or she very well might have fainted dead away. She walked back and forth across the beach looking for what he’d been carrying while remembering the movies she’d downloaded onto her iPad, and decided that although she might have blushed the whole time she’d watched, the men in them were nothing compared to the real thing. She slapped her hands to her cheeks as she stumbled to a halt. Had she really threatened to do to Alec what he’d done to her last night?
Courting Carolina Page 11
