by Dani Harper
She came up for air to find that he’d somehow tucked her into his lap. Or perhaps she’d slid into it herself—she didn’t know and didn’t care. Gloriously half-stunned by the storm of sensation he’d caused, she simply settled back against him in delicious warmth and wonder, her head under his chin.
“What do you see in the sky?” he asked. The rumble of his voice, so close she could feel it as well as hear it, was like a caress.
“I always find the hunter, Orion, first, and then I look for his dog.”
Rhys chuckled. “It is no surprise that you should choose that one. What you call Orion, my father called Lludd of the Silver Hand. The god of healing. Lludd has a dog too—right there—a great deerhound that could cure any disease with a lick of his tongue.” He then pointed to the crescent moon. “When the moon is like that, we called it Dwynwen’s Bow. Like most Celtic women, Dwynwen was a huntress and a warrior, but she also became the patron of all sick animals.”
“I sure could have used her help today,” said Morgan.
“Perhaps she is helping. Dwynwen also looks after all true lovers. She brings them together and comforts them when they are apart, and strengthens the tie between them. Perhaps she was the one who woke me and told me something was amiss with you.”
True lovers…Uh-huh. She decided to let that lie for the moment. “Is that why you’re awake? You thought something was wrong?”
“I felt it. So I came.”
It was so matter-of-fact, it reminded her of her grandmother. Always sensing things, knowing things, as if she could pluck the information out of the air. Morgan couldn’t imagine what that would be like—or could she? What about the vivid dreams she’d had of Rhys before she’d met him? Hadn’t she decided they were premonitions of a sort? A ripple of pure pleasure shot through her as she recalled how incredibly sexy those dreams had been—and realized they could be true. If she wanted them to be. If she wanted Rhys. True lovers…
Her sensible side intervened at once. She hadn’t had enough sleep. She was too tired to make relationship decisions. She had to get up early. And she hadn’t known Rhys all that long—and still didn’t know much about him. If he remembered his last name, he hadn’t announced it. And if he’d forgotten something that basic, what if he’d forgotten he was already married with six kids and a mortgage? With anyone else, she’d just ask them outright. But with Rhys, would she trust the answer?
Fiery arousal fizzled abruptly, doused with the cold water of reality. She could practically hear the hiss of steam as she struggled to her feet.
“I’d best go inside,” she said.
He rose as well. “Aye, you’ve been awake overlong. And I’d best see to Lucy.”
Neither of them believed it was best, she thought, as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I hope you rest well,” he said and headed down the steps and across the yard.
Damn.
Even in jeans, even when the light was dim, even when she was doing her darnedest to quell her attraction, he still had the best butt on the planet.
It was so not fair.
FOURTEEN
Morgan didn’t come out to the stable the next night. Or the next. On the third night, she came by to ask Rhys if he still had enough food in his fridge—and of course, he did, but he invented a few things he needed just to be sure she’d return. She lingered a few minutes, checking over Lucy’s dressings, but he sensed there would again be no companionable visit.
He caught her arm as she turned to leave. “Have I given you offense?”
“No, of course not. I’m just really busy this week, that’s all. I’ve got a new vet joining us on Friday.” She looked uncomfortable and more so when he stroked her upper arm with gentle fingers.
“Glad I am to hear you’re to be having more help—the gods know you’re needing it. But the weight of the world seems on you still. Perhaps I could be lifting some of your burden?”
Morgan shook her head. “Thanks but no. It’s something I have to work out myself. Alone.” She gave him a weak smile and left.
Aye, he thought to himself as frustration sparked. You’re working out if I’m mad and if you dare get any nearer to me. There was no help for it, however—she’d made it plain that she didn’t want his company while she sorted through her feelings. All he had to offer was patience and more patience.
By all the gods, he was weary of being patient. Leo had encouraged him to court Morgan, but it was impossible to do when she was pushing him away. Or perhaps not…“It’s always those little things, the little attentions that count the most.” According to Leo’s words, maybe there was a way to win Morgan’s approval without actually being present.
It was worth a try.
Despite sleeping poorly all week, Morgan was up and ready for work early. She told herself that she had paperwork to do and supply orders to place and correspondence to attend to at the clinic before the new vet arrived that day…anything but the real reason she’d left so soon the last few mornings.
She still wasn’t ready to face Rhys, not after the night they’d kissed. Her body and her heart definitely wanted a repeat of that evening. Her mind, however, was more troubled than ever.
The front door locked neatly behind her, and she was both relieved and disappointed to see that the porch was bare. Rhys did a huge volume of work around the farm—and really, how had she managed without him? She hadn’t even realized how much there was to do. Yet, he’d found time lately to leave small delights on her doorstep for her. A few stems of late flowers from the nearby woods, a handful of wild strawberries that should have been out of season, a spray of leaves that had changed color early. Even a pair of bright feathers that a blue jay had left behind. It was like finding treasure every day.
Unused to such attention, she had wondered if he was just sucking up to her—after all, he had room and board here, even if it was humble—but was immediately ashamed of the cynical notion. Jay repeatedly told her to trust her instincts, and all her instincts said that Rhys’s offerings were genuine. Of course he had a motive. He obviously cared for her and was trying to show it.
Her attraction to him was genuine too. That had simply increased since the evening that Jay and his friends had held practice. She’d studied Rhys’s every move that night, done everything but drool over him, for heaven’s sake—and she might have done that as well. Small wonder that her system all but hummed with arousal in his presence. Small wonder that she had sought expression the other night in his arms. And her heart had urged her on.
Which led to her current dilemma. Go forward or back? Allow the relationship to progress or run for her life? She felt she didn’t know enough about him—and yet he insisted she knew everything that was important.
Stalemate. A lover’s limbo if ever there was one.
Grabbing her bag, she hurried out to the driveway. Just as she put the key in the door handle, she saw something on the hood of her car—and froze. Omigod. Morgan put a hand to her throat and took an unsteady breath, then another, moving closer until she could touch what was definitely the most beautiful carving she’d ever seen, and assure herself it was real.
A mastiff, just like Rhyswr.
At about a foot and a half high, it was large yet exquisitely detailed, right down to the dog’s expression. The canine figure was seated but not stiffly so. Instead its position was relaxed, one hind leg tucked sideways—and she couldn’t help but smile because Rhyswr had often sat just like that. The grain of the wood was dark. A little mottled too, almost as if the dog was brindle. Reverently, she stroked her hands over the carving and finally picked it up, marveling at the weight of it as she cradled the wooden dog close to her.
Morgan didn’t realize a tear was on her cheek until a large thumb gently wiped it away.
“I’ve been working at this for a long while,” said Rhys, nodding at the carving. “I know you’ve been missing your dog, so I thought to make you one like him. I wasn’t after making you sad again.”
She laughed a little and swiped her face with her sleeve. “I’m not sad, not at all. It’s just that this is so incredible and so perfect and so—omigod, I can’t believe you made this. It’s beyond beautiful. I don’t even know how to thank you properly for such an amazing gift.”
“I can help you with that,” he murmured, and before she could move, he brushed his lips over hers. Light. Heat. Unseen sparks flared to life between them, as surely as if a blade had caressed flint, and every cell in her body leapt with sudden arousal. If she hadn’t been holding the wooden dog, she might have thrown her arms around Rhys’s neck and—
He stepped back and grinned. “A perfect thanks and plenty. I’ll be seeing you tonight.”
Both breathless and speechless, she simply hugged the dog to her as he walked away—and was it her imagination or was there a slight swagger in his step? All she knew for certain was that if the kiss had lasted any longer, she’d have made the evening news: “Spontaneous human combustion occurs in Spokane Valley! Story after this commercial break.”
Rhys mounted the last of the nest boxes on the inside wall of the old granary. The tiny building had been empty for years, from the looks of it, but the roof was sound. It would make a fine chicken coop. It was late in the year to find chicks, but perhaps someone would give up a few hens rather than overwinter them. He wondered what breeds there might be in this country. And ducks, he reminded himself. There should be a few ducks here as well to eat the garden slugs in the spring. Some waterfowl would look fine on the pond across from the house. Morgan would like it, he was sure.
He stood back to admire his work and nodded approvingly. He’d always been good with his hands, and Leo had been tutoring him on modern building methods. He didn’t agree with all of them of course—after all, a Celtic roundhouse was of sturdy construction, perhaps stronger than Morgan’s own house. And some of the materials used in this time seemed flimsy. Yet he enjoyed the learning, and Leo kept him supplied with books on building. Rhys read them religiously, determined to learn everything he could, not only to fit into this world but to thrive in it. Accordingly, he’d insulated the walls of the coop against the coming cold weather and installed a small window he’d chosen from a stack in the barn.
Now he was contemplating ducks, of all things, and it felt completely natural.
Rhys considered what a surprise and a relief that was. After years of battle, some men found that they could only be warriors, that they were no longer at home in the world they had fought to protect. He’d thought that might happen to him. As the Bringer of Death, his world had been awash in blood and carnage—first fighting the Romans, then fighting for his life in the arena. After all that, how would he ever be able to return to who he was? Or be anything else but a destroyer?
Yet here he was. Surrounded by fertile land that called to him and work that was satisfying. It was the way of his people to grow crops and tend cattle—and in this short time, he’d come to know that he could live that life again. Perhaps all the centuries of watching humanity had eased some of the lust for battle in him. And like water over rock, the countless years seemed to have worn down the worst of his memories, so he wasn’t as haunted as some. He had good friends, and best of all, he had a woman who stirred his heart.
By all the gods, he’d relived those recent kisses countless times. He was restless, left wanting so much more than Morgan was prepared to give. She’d pulled back after he’d kissed her under the stars, and he didn’t know if she was afraid of him or of herself. Probably both. His strange story troubled her deeply, yet she was undeniably attracted. A quandary to be sure, and one she refused to share. Ha. As if he wasn’t sharing in the hell of it just the same.
He was startled out of his reverie by the barely audible sound of a footstep outside. Hammer in hand, Rhys sprang from the newly refurbished coop in a heartbeat only to discover Jay Browning trying to take a step back, tripping, and falling on his backside.
“Easy boy,” said Jay, his voice a bit shaky and his eyes wide. “It’s just me.”
“Aye, I remember you just fine.” Rhys lowered the hammer, tossing it to one side and offering the younger man a hand up. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“I walked in from the road.” Jay dusted himself off, still eyeing Rhys with apprehension. “Starr’s picking some of Morgan’s crab apples there. I’m damn glad she didn’t come up here with me. You’d have scared her with that hammer.”
So much for thinking that he was no longer a warrior or that he could blithely be a simple farmer. Habits died hard—even after centuries, his reflexes were battle sharp. Rhys sighed inwardly. “I apologize for that. ’Twas only instinct.”
“Yeah, well, that’s one of the things I want to talk to you about. Your instincts are out of this world. You’ve got some incredible skills, and the guys and I have learned a lot from you. I can’t wait to use some of this stuff at the Ren fair coming up. What I want to know right now, though, is where did you learn to fight?”
Rhys was silent for a long moment. He hadn’t expected anyone to ask him outright. It was one thing to omit the truth and allow people to fill in the blanks on their own. It was another to lie baldly, and he didn’t have a taste for that. “Tell me why it is you want to know,” he countered.
Jay folded his arms over a black T-shirt with white letters on it—“If the zombies chase us, I’m tripping you.” “I know what you told Morgan when she found you. You’re not from around here, and you’re a helluva lot older than you look. You’ve been a Celtic warrior, a gladiator, and a dog. Some malicious fairies put a spell on you, and Morgan broke it.
“So I came here this afternoon when I knew Morgan would be busy orienting Tyler, our new veterinarian. She thinks I’m out on a farm call, but I wanted to talk to you, buddy. I want to hear from your own mouth if some, or all, of your story’s true.”
Rhys studied the man. His face was open and honest—and dead serious. “Do you believe I told Morgan the truth?” he asked Jay at last.
“I think I do.”
“And if you have my word on it, what will you do then?”
Jay grinned. “Pester you with a million questions about the past, hope for more weaponry lessons, and invite you to our next fair. Other than that, not a damn thing. I’ll keep your secret, even from my friends—but not from Starr, you understand—and you have my word on that.”
They gripped hands, yet Rhys was puzzled. “Why is it you accept the truth and yet Morgan does not?”
“Well, for myself, your story explains a helluva lot—like why you can ride a horse like you’re part of it and use weapons like a Jedi Master, yet driving and phoning and changing channels on the TV don’t seem to be in your box of skills. Not to mention that walking around naked has been out of style since the sixties.”
Aye, thought Rhys. He’d suspected he wouldn’t be living that down.
“As for Morgan,” Jay continued, “I have to give you fair warning first. She likes you. A lot. In fact, I’ve never seen her so lit up. I’m guessing you like her too?”
Rhys nodded. “A great deal more than like.”
“Then one of the things I’m here to tell you today is don’t break her heart. As her unofficial big brother, I’d have to get medieval on you, and I doubt that I could take you—but believe me, I’d try. And so would Grady and the guys who were at practice, and probably at least a couple dozen or so of her clients who love her and care about her. Understand?”
“Plainly.”
“Good. I can check that off my list. So as far as her belief system goes, you gotta understand that Morgan has worked very hard to earn her veterinary stripes. It takes years, Rhys. She’s been busy studying while most people are off building relationships and trying things out and figuring out who they are. Then her grandma died while she was at school, and I think Morgan coped with the loss by digging even deeper into her studies. So she’s devoted herself to facts, Rhys, to science. She’s safe there. And it’s not because she doesn’t
feel, but because she does feel, and deeply—she uses her knowledge and skills to serve the animals she cares so much about.”
“And what about me?”
“Well, you’re different. She cares about you plenty, as I said, but your story just doesn’t stand up against accepted science.”
Rhys had seen the march of progress over the centuries. “Science once said the sun revolved around the earth. That didn’t make it true.”
“I know. But eventually it was overcome by proof. I don’t think we can prove your story to Morgan.”
He could, actually, but he didn’t want to. “I’d rather she trusted me.”
Jay simply shrugged. “For both your sakes, I hope she comes around sooner rather than later. I think her exceptional heart will lead her to the truth—but it could take a helluva long time, so you’re going to have to be patient.”
More of the same, then. Well, patient he could be. “My thanks to you for your honesty and also for your trust. Morgan is fortunate to have such a friend. So—were you saying something about a fair?”
“There’s a Renaissance fair in two weeks,” said Jay. “The guys and I were wondering if you’d join our team for the medieval combat events. We’ll follow your lead, adopt whatever strategy you decide on. And we’ll practice with you from now until then so we don’t embarrass you too much. But, um…” He looked uncomfortable. “There’s just one catch, Rhys—it’s not real, okay? The whole event is for entertainment. You’ll have to promise not to kill anybody.”
