by Diane Darcy
“I’m sorry.” He took a breath, released it. “If ye truly wish to, we can go back and join the others. Though I do not claim to understand it, I know tis what ye’re here to do.”
He was suddenly anxious she didn’t think him a fearful sort of man, someone who would run, rather than protect her.
She clutched his hand, smiled up at him, and lifted a shoulder. “It’s no biggie. Really.”
He could not help but be charmed by the easy way she had about her. “There are still sights tae see along the way back.” He saw other couples strolling hand-in-hand, enjoying the Edinburgh Castle in the near distance, the pubs, the many shops and stalls along the way.
“Yes, it’s nice, isn’t it? It’ll be fun.”
He started to relax as they slowly made their way, occasionally stopping to look in shop windows, or to watch a street entertainer.
“It’s been quite the day today, hasn’t it?”
He thought back over the events leading to this moment. Had he truly only known her for a day? His emotions had engaged so quickly and the fact that yesterday at this time he’d not even known of her existence stumped him. Amazed him. His throat tightened. “Aye, that it has, lass.”
Something in his tone must have alerted her to his feelings, because she squeezed his hands, and looked up at him like he, personally, was the one to hang the moon and stars.
He could not get enough of that look.
She glanced away taking in the sights once more. “Is it very different?”
“Different?”
“From when you were here last, you know, centuries ago.”
He understood she was teasing him again, not claiming to believe him, but was glad to answer all the same. “Verra different, indeed. The people,” he waved his hand around to indicate the passersby, “are far better dressed for one thing. I mean, all of them. Ye can hardly tell between those with money, and those without. My fellow ghosts and I used to wonder about those with trousers torn to shreds, wondering if they were of a lower-class, or simply impoverished individuals, but we finally came to the conclusion it was done apurpose, as a mark of fashion.”
“I’m not sure which of that to address first. There’s more than one of you? And do you mean young adults with ripped jeans?”
“Aye, there are 79 of us, and aye, they usually were young people with the ripped clothes. We did not pick up on it right away, thinking that perhaps the younger the individual, the less time they’d had to make their fortune.”
Ashley laughed, and once again he was caught by her charm. The way her dark eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her head was thrown back, her dark hair swinging.
“To tell you the truth, I have my share of jeans with tears in them.”
He made a harrumphing noise deep in his throat, which set her to laughing again.
“If I’d the coin, I’d see you dressed properly, in velvets, and silks.”
“Did you know that it takes about 30,000 silkworms to produce 12 pound of silk? No? Anyway, I do have a velour tracksuit you might appreciate. Very classy, and no holes anywhere.”
They continued to discuss fashion, his thoughts making her laugh more often than not, and he was glad to have wiped away the cobwebs of the frightening things they’d seen this eve.
It was probably a good thing he was not to live in this century, as there were many things he did not understand. But the thought of parting from Ashley, made his heart suddenly ache.
The moor had been a lonely, sometimes frightening, and confusing place. Not knowing why they’d been left behind had left many of them with a sense of shame, as if they’d not lived right and were in need of punishment.
But being here with Ashley made it all seem worthwhile. Every blistering moment of it. If he’d known she was the prize at the end of the journey, that he’d have these days with her, he’d have borne it much better.
They turned off the busy thoroughfare, heading back to their inn, when a man stepped out of the shadows and lunged for Ashley.
She cried out in distress, and Ronan went from contented to a flashing rage within an instant.
By the time he’d hauled Ashley behind him, protecting her with his body, the man was around the corner, gone.
“My purse! He cut the strap on my purse and stole it!”
Ronan was moving before she’d finished speaking the words. “To the inn! You are to go straight to the inn! Go!”
She turned and ran and he watched long enough to see she was inside the doors. Jaw clenching, fists tightening, he turned, stepping slowly at first, and then faster and faster as he let his rage blast free.
Ashley was inside the building before she’d thought about it. He’d told her to run, and she had.
She stood in the lobby, her heart pounding, her breath coming in fast gasps as she realized what she’d done.
She’d sent Ronan after a man with a knife!
Why had she done that?
In the heat of the moment, she’d panicked. She raised a hand, cupped the underside of one breast and could easily feel her thumb drive was still safe within her bra.
What did her purse have?
A credit card, easily canceled. Under a hundred dollars in travel checks. Maybe 30 pounds and change. A favorite lipstick.
None of that was worth risking Ronan’s life for! Nothing was! Within seconds she was back out the door and running fast. Before she knew it, she’d rounded the corner and come out on the Royal Mile and looked to her left, searching for Ronan.
Nothing.
To her right she heard an ear-piercing racket, one man screaming, and another roaring. The crowd in that direction had completely stopped, and everyone seemed to be looking at the same thing.
She took off running, hoping fervently that she wasn’t going to find Ronan lying on the road somewhere, a knife stuck in his heart.
She made it to the edge of the crowd, and tried to push her way in, couldn’t, and ran around the other direction.
She heard a rumbling voice, low, threatening, and speaking in a language she didn’t understand.
Ronan?
She wasn’t sure.
She found a break in the crowd and wormed her way in to see Ronan, lifting a man by his neck, and shaking him like a dog shakes a toy.
“Ronan?”
He continued to speak in that guttural, threatening way, and Ashley stopped at the edge of the crowd, non-pulsed by this version of the man she’d come to know.
He pulled his knife, twisted the man around, and held it to his throat.
“Ronan! No!”
A man in the crowd turned to her. “You can’t really blame him. The guy was trying to slash him with that knife,” he pointed at the ground, “just a moment ago.”
Ashley looked to see a knife off to one side, and then looked up to see Ronan staring straight at her. And frankly, he looked a little bit crazy, his eyes wild, his lips pulled back in a grimace. He looked feral, frightening.
“Lass?” his voice was deeper, more guttural than she was used to. “What are ye doing here?”
“What are you doing?”
The man struggled within Ronan’s grasp, but the way Ronan had him locked tightly against his own body, kept him from escaping.
Ronan looked at her like she was crazy. “What do ye mean what am I doing? The man stole yer possessions, he had a knife near ye. I’m retrieving it for ye, and givin’ out the punishment he justly deserves. Tis what ye hired me for if ye will remember.”
“Yes, but not at the expense of you getting hurt. The man had a knife.”
Ronan snorted. “A tiny blade of no significance.”
Another man darted forward, picked up the purse she hadn’t noticed, and handed it to her. Sure enough, the man had slashed the strap and it dangled to the ground.
“Would ye like me to snap his neck for ye?”
At that, phones were raised, and she realized others were already filming.
“No. And of course, everyone here knows t
hat he’s joking, right?”
Ronan made a negative sound in his throat.
She looked at the man in his grasp, realized he was turning blue in the face, and told Ronan, “Ease up a bit, he can’t breathe.”
Ronan looked stubborn for a moment, his chin jutting, and his lips pressing together. Finally, he did as she asked and the man gasped, choked.
Ashley took another step forward and addressed the thief. “Who are you? Why did you take my purse?”
The man zoned in on her face but didn’t say anything.
Ronan gave him a shake and kicked one leg out from under him as he tried to regain his balance. “Ye will answer the lady, else face the consequences.”
“What do you think I wanted? I was hoping for a bit of cash, maybe a credit card or two.”
“Don’t believe him,” Ronan said. “I saw him twice before this eve. He’s been following us.”
The thought of it gave her a chill, and she wondered if there could be any chance at all that this was the same man who’d broken into her house and threatened her.
Her next thought was that she was being paranoid. He was likely just a thief, as he said.
“What would you have me do with him?”
She looked around the crowd. “Can someone call the police?”
“They’re on their way,” a nearby girl stated.
“What will they do with him?” she asked.
The girl shrugged, and then another man said, “Like to give him a slap on the hand and send him on his way.”
Ronan’s expression darkened once more, and he tightened his grip again until the man started making choking noises.
“At least let me cut off his hand. He’ll learn no lessons here, but those I teach him myself.”
“What? No, you cannot cut off his hand.”
Ronan shot her and annoyed glance. “Three fingers?”
She started to feel inappropriate laughter bubble up within her. Surely, he wasn’t serious? Surely, he was just trying to teach the man a lesson with his threats? “No.”
“A thumb?” His jaw set, the stubborn look back on display. “A man with no thumb would have a hard time using a knife against females.”
“No.” This time she said it softer and shook her head. “And you are choking him again.”
Ronan leaned down and whispered something threatening in the man’s ear once more.
“Coming through! Coming through!”
Everyone looked toward the police officer, and then back again at the sound of a hard punch, and a groan.
Ronan released the man, who fell to his knees, gripping his ribs. Ronan then moved to Ashley, grabbed her hand, and made his way through the crowd, never slowing until they rounded two corners, and were on their own once more.
“Why didn’t you want to talk to the police?”
“In my experience, government men always turn blame about, especially toward a Scotsman. A man with my build and temperament somehow always gets the reprimand.”
She could see how that might be true.
“And I cannae be separated from ye, else how would I keep ye safe?”
She reached up with her free hand and placed it high on his chest, patting him three times. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Ye shouldnae have interfered. Ye should have stayed safe within the walls of the inn until I returned to ye.”
She shrugged. “I realized that whatever was in here,” she lifted her broken purse, “wasn’t worth you getting hurt over. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
He scowled. “I’ll decide what’s worth my time, or no’.” He still looked angry, upset, bristling. She didn’t know if this relationship of theirs was going to go anywhere, but for now, he was essentially her boyfriend. He certainly acted as if he was, so she felt it was her right to try and calm him.
She closed the distance between them, and slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I was very impressed that you caught the man, and so fast, too.”
He made a sound in his throat and his arms remained at his sides.
“You’re fast, and so strong. I was so impressed.”
She didn’t look up at him, kept her face pressed to his chest, but she could feel some of the tension leave his body.
“Just so.”
“I mean; he couldn’t even move against you. You were amazing.”
Finally, his arms wrapped around her, and he held her close. “All right, tis back to the inn. Perhaps a hot drink will soothe yer nerves and calm ye.”
Then she’d better make sure he drank a cup or two himself. “That would be wonderful.”
He pulled away, took hold of her hand, and turned her toward an alleyway, seeming to know where he was going.
The entire journey back, he looked at every passerby with suspicion and animosity, causing several to step out of their way as they passed by.
For her part, she spent it worrying what she would have done had her app actually have been stolen and put out on the market. Would she have had to hire lawyers and get into a legal battle over it? Unlike some people she knew, she wasn’t exactly equipped for war. It scared her that her hard earned work could be simply taken, and she’d be left helpless to do anything about it but get into an unwanted legal battle.
Soon they were at the inn, and Ashley went straight to the front desk and asked for her backpack.
It was handed over, and she quickly opened it, relieved to see everything in its place and undisturbed.
After she zipped it back up, Ronan took it from her, and led her up the stairs. Reaching into her purse, she quickly found her key card, and opened the door.
Swinging it open revealed that the room had been thoroughly searched, cupboards and drawers opened, cushions on the floor, and a glance through her bedroom showed that her luggage had been thoroughly scattered about.
A sound of distress left her, as Ronan pulled her into the room and shut the door.
“Ye should have let me kill him.”
Ronan quickly searched the room, though he wasn’t expecting to find anyone as he suspected the man he’d had within his grasp had visited the room first, before trying to steal Ashley’s purse off her.
Tendrils of rage still fired through him and he did his best to tamp it down for Ashley’s sake. She needed tenderness at the moment, not temper.
He searched the closets, under the bed, in the bathroom, and everywhere in between. He checked the windows to make sure they were locked, and then went back to find Ashley still standing where he’d left her, her expression blank.
Grabbing her up into his arms, he walked over to one of the chairs at the table, flipped it around, sat down and held Ashley on his lap.
He was gratified when she relaxed into him. “Are ye upset, lass?”
She gave a small shrug. “I’m not sure. Some whack job went through my clothes, which I find upsetting. And then he went in search of me, found me on the street, and stole my purse. Which is also upsetting.”
She sighed. “Now it looks as if the man was more than just a common street thief, but had likely targeted me and was probably looking for my laptop. Just like the man I caught in my home. Now that was upsetting.”
She leaned her face against his arm. “Honestly, because you’re here with me, I’m a lot less freaked out than I have the right to be.”
She sighed. “Maybe it’s time I tell you the whole story.”
Chapter 9
The man who broke into yer home? Was it the same man I captured tonight?”
“I don’t know. He was wearing a mask, and it was dark.”
She could tell he wanted to say more, to chastise her, but he finally just let out a breath. “I will no’ pretend to understand what sort of valuables they are trying to steal, but understand this, I am here to help you in any way I can.”
She gave him a slight smile. “Thank you.” The soft words were sincere on her part. She’d never in her
life met someone she trusted so fast, or so completely. “I mean it, Ronan. I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.”
Ronan looked grim, upset. “Ye should have told me all this sooner so I could protect ye all the better.”
“Well, I just met you this morning.” It was true, but felt like a ridiculous statement when she was curled up in his lap the way she was.
“It feels as if I’ve known ye longer.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
He sighed. “So, the man is after yer thumb?”
“My thumb drive, actually. Or my computer.”
“And this is why you keep it so close?”
“Yep.”
Ronan studied the thumb drive she’d fished out of her shirt for a long moment. “I still doonae see how this could be worth a lot of money.”
“It’s the information that I have on it that’s worth money.” She could tell he still didn’t quite understand and so she reluctantly removed herself from his lap, dug out her laptop, and fired it up.
She opened her first app, and listened to the crazy music play until it was loaded. “Okay, you know Star Wars, Star Trek, Aliens, and all those wonderful characters and story lines and sci-fi geeky stuff that people go to conferences for?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, pretend you do for a moment. I created an app, Space: The Final Conventioneer, that puts that information at people’s fingertips. All sorts of trivia. Do you want to know what Luke Skywalker’s aunt and uncle’s names were?”
Ronan just stared.
She typed in the question. “Owen, and Buru Lars.”
“You want to know who Captain Picard’s first true love was?”
Again, Ronan looked blank.
“That’s actually a trick question. He was married to his job, of course, though Beverly Crusher gets an honorable mention, as does Vash, and Kamala. Though, as many have pointed out, Kamala was an empathic female metamorph, and was born and bred to be attractive to any man in any way, so she may not count.”
And … he had no idea what she was talking about.
She lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “Anyway, it was more of just a fun project for me, and the app does so much more than just pulling up trivia. You can put in the conferences you want to go to, sync your schedule with friends, talk about movies and leave reviews. Anyway, it ended up taking off in a big, big way.”
