Gareth

by Diane Darcy

And she was in his care.

  Was he starting to feel for her? Mayhap. But he was leaving, so there was naught to do about it.

  He didn’t deny he felt protective of her. It wasn’t something he’d planned on, but it seemed to be something he couldn’t help. Because she was a woman? Because she’d agreed to help him?

  He did have something to offer in return. He could help her to stand tall, to intimidate, to look unlike a victim. Then others wouldn’t think to steal from her, use her, or bruise her tender feelings.

  He was glad he’d not killed her, and his heart clenched at the thought of the spirited beauty slain—and by his hand. What had he been thinking? After all, she wasn’t The Young Pretender, and by all observances, the man’s blood had been completely diluted.

  Didn’t the witch promise him a chance at Charles Stuart himself if Gareth did a good deed?

  Did that chance still hold, since he’d cheated to get here? He couldn’t say he regretted it, but in case this was all the joy left to him, he planned to appreciate the time he had left.

  He picked up her bag, she tried to take it from him, but he shook his head. “I’ll carry it again, lass. Let’s go.”

  He held out his hand, and was gratified when she took it. Her hand was warm, small, and trusting in his. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a girl’s hand, and as her fingers tightened around his, his heart seemed to warm and expand.

  ~~~

  They walked to the next village to rent a car, and as they started up the road, Gareth took hold of her hand once more.

  Lissa enjoyed the connection and felt her cheeks warm. “So tell me about your family.”

  “Why would ye want to know?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Perry’s going to want a report on what kind of historical research I’m getting done. Though you were born during the Age of Enlightenment, I don’t personally know anyone more medieval than you. No offense.”

  He shot her a wry glance. “None taken, I assure ye.”

  “I just want to pick your brain while I have the chance.”

  He smiled at that. “Well, I’m the oldest, and then there are my two brothers and my sister.”

  “What did your dad do for work?”

  “He brewed the best ale in the country.”

  “So, you like to drink?”

  He shot her a look. “I’m Scottish lass, what do ye think? Of course I do.”

  “What was your mom like?”

  At the question, he looked slightly melancholy. He lifted a shoulder. “In her youth, she was purported to be a beauty. My father liked to brag he’d married her young and trained her up. But the truth was that my mother ruled our household.”

  “I can tell you miss them.”

  “Aye, I do. My sister was still quite young when I went off to fight. She was a bonny little thing, bright and happy. We all doted on her.”

  “I do hope she married and had children.”

  He nodded. “I hope so, too. I hope some of our blood survived.”

  She glanced at him, gaging his mood. “One of these days, I plan to look into my family history too. I’m not truly sure if I was related to Bonnie Prince Charlie, but what was he like?”

  Gareth’s brows contracted. “Are ye proud of yer history? Are ye proud to be related to a murderer, a fool, and a blackguard?”

  Her jaw jutted out. “I’m not even sure if it’s true, but as I’m a researcher, I intend to find out one of these days. Perhaps on this trip.”

  “Answer the question. Are ye proud?”

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. The thought we are related to him has always been sort of wonderful. My father loved the thought of it, and perhaps he passed those feelings onto me.”

  He wrenched his hand from hers. “Ye admit this?”

  Lissa threw up her arm. “Look, I’m sorry to upset you. But am I going around disparaging your relatives? I’m not doing that to you am I?”

  “Let me tell ye of yer blood.”

  They faced each other and she crossed her arms. “I’m not going to want to hear this, am I?”

  “Ye just admitted ye did want to hear about it! So I’ll be the one to tell ye about him.”

  “Well, maybe I do. But not from your point of view, obviously.”

  “Nae, I insist on givin’ ye the truth of the matter. Charles Stuart was a scumbag and a fool.”

  “Scumbag? Is that an 18th century description?”

  “Nae, it’s not. But I’ve heard the word plenty of times at Culloden. Never was a more perfect word invented for such a man. He’s a coward, he’s treacherous, he’s a scoundrel with women, and he’s a murderin’ thief. He’s also a preening fool and is lazy. The fact ye have his blood runnin’ through yer veins isn’t so wondrous anymore, is it?”

  “Well, thanks for that. If I read anything negative about any of your ancestors, I’ll be sure to pass along the information. Because you know what? Every single one of us has crappy relatives. Scumbags and layabouts. Criminals and thugs. None of us are exempt, but fortunately none of us are responsible for their actions either!”

  She glared at him. “But you can be sure if I find someone in your family tree who was a total jerk, I’ll be sure to lay the blame directly at your feet.”

  He glowered.

  She glowered back. “What? No comment? Has everyone in your entire family been super awesome? Because I’m thinking not so much.”

  He was studying her now. “I thought ye shy and withdrawn.” He said it like an accusation. “Afraid of yer own shadow. What happened?”

  Lissa crossed her arms. “I don’t care for injustice.”

  “Neither do I, lass.”

  “My parents are awesome. My grandparents are some of the hardest workers I know. If Bonnie Prince Charlie was a cowardly, whiny little loser —”

  “Not if! He was! He was also a drunkard and a fat old fool by the time he died.” Satisfaction permeated his voice.

  Her brows crushed together. “I understood he was handsome. Wasn’t that why they called him Bonnie?”

  That drew a satisfied smile out of Gareth. “He was considered such, until he became bitter, old, and whiny.” With a pleased smile, Gareth ran a hand down his own rock-hard stomach.

  Why did he have to be so irritating? “You might get old and fat, too.”

  He smirked. “Nae, lass. No such will ever happen to me. I’ll die, and likely go to the great beyond either today or tomorrow.”

  She put a hand to her throat. “You really believe that, don’t you.”

  “Tis true.”

  She might be buying into it, too. If he only had a day or so left, why was she fighting with the man? “I just have one more point to make. My parents and grandparents are fabulous, hard-working people who love their family. So if we are related to the fat fool, I suppose we stamped out the loser blood a long time ago.”

  He nodded once. “Well said, lass. ’Tis a good argument and one I agree with.” He held out his hand once more. “Come, I dinnae want to fight.”

  Surprised by his agreement, she warily slid her hand into his. She didn’t want to fight either. What she wanted was to spend the day with him, impress him with her awesome research skills, and find his family. She just hoped he didn’t disappear in the meantime.

  ~~~

  When they hit the next village they headed to the town center. Walking certainly gave Lissa a good appetite, and Gareth always seemed hungry, so they headed to get something to eat before renting the car. This time, Gareth wanted to try the fish and chips.

  After standing in line, they retrieved their newspaper wrapped food, and Gareth spotted a local park. “Let’s head over that way so we can sit on the grass.”

  That worked for Lissa. She might be the one purchasing their meals, and had even bought new clothing for the both of them, but she also quite enjoyed being coddled. Gareth had spent the day carrying her pack, as well as his new one. Directing her around rocks, taking her arm when he felt she needed extra help,
and holding her hand—all left her feeling cherished.

  She’d taken pictures of Scotland throughout the morning, and some of Gareth in his new jeans and tee-shirt. The man was gorgeous, and photos of him with Scotland as a backdrop—breathtaking. She knew she’d be glad to have the pictures later.

  She admitted her heart was softening toward Gareth, but also decided that was all right. A day or two, right? She was simply making a few memories to look back and smile on. As they walked to a likely spot on the grass, a young man stepped out from behind a tree.

  “What’s new?” His smile was extremely unpleasant.

  Lissa drew a breath and it felt as if her heart jumped to her throat. “Oh, my goodness, you scared me to death.”

  “Did I now?”

  It took her a second, but she finally recognized the boy. She swallowed, and was very glad Gareth was at her back. “You’re the boy who stole my backpack.”

  The young man chuckled. “Aye, love, that’s just so. And I’ll be takin’ it once again, won’t I? When I saw ye stridin’ about me hometown, I couldnae believe my eyes. This is my lucky day, I said to meself.”

  Lissa glanced at Gareth, saw his stormy expression, and glanced around at four other boys who surrounded them, faces menacing.

  This was not going to end well.

  “Here, Darlin’ hold this for me, will ye?” Gareth handed over their lunch.

  She raised her free hand in a calming gesture, even as her heart stuttered in her chest. “Look. I’m a visitor to your country, and I don’t want any trouble.”

  The young man stared at Gareth. “But ye’ve found it, haven’t ye?”

  She glanced at Gareth again, this time to find him grinning. “Gareth, I don’t think —”

  He shushed her. “’Tis all right, kitten, dinnae fash yerself.” To the young man he said, “One of us has found trouble, young laddie. And unlike the lass, I dinnae mind in the least.”

  “Gareth, let’s go.” She glanced around, looking to see if there was anyone in the area who could help, but people were leaving the park in a hurry. “Please.”

  She glanced at the backpack hanging from Gareth’s shoulder, and considered handing it over. She didn’t want to. It had everything in it. Her laptop, camera, wallet, and everything important. She glanced back at the young man. “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you let us pass.”

  “Lissa,” Gareth chided gently. “I know ye’ve a backbone. Ye certainly stand up to me. But, lass, if villains come at ye and try and take possessions off ye, ye’re not to offer them money, ye offer them a fight. Are ye hearin’ me?”

  Her spine straightened. “If you’re implying I’m a coward—”

  “Nae, lass. Never that. I’m simply teachin’ ye for future reference. I’ll not have ye unprepared when I’m gone if those men ye work with try to use ye ill.”

  “I’ll remember that in future. For now, I prefer prudence.” She sent a wary glance at the young ringleader. “Come on, let’s go around him.”

  The young man drew a knife.

  Lissa gasped.

  The boy grinned. “Ye’re not leavin’ until yer man here hands over both packs or gets by us.”

  Gareth pulled out his own knife. “Agreed. Five soft lads against a seasoned warrior?” He chuckled. “Let’s have at it, shall we?”

  Gareth grabbed her, spun her around, and pressed her back against a tree. He dropped the packs at her feet and swung to protect her, hands partially extended, one holding a dagger, the other splayed for balance.

  Her heart pounded as she reached out to touch his back. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. “Gareth, do you need my help?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t have a knife, but perhaps…” She looked around as if expecting a weapon to appear. She set their lunch down and picked up a rock with shaking fingers.

  That made Gareth glance behind him and chuckle. “Brave lass. I thank ye for the offer, but I’d prefer if ye simply stood still.”

  She’d prefer that, too. She backed up, but kept the rock in her hand.

  The young men pulled out weapons, mostly knives, but one man had a short bat with metal tipping the edges. Another youth hit brass knuckles into his palm, and every time it smacked she flinched. If they tried to look intimidating, they succeeded. She glanced around hoping the police were on their way.

  Gareth laughed again. “I must say, ’tis vastly entertainin’.”

  Rage and ill-intent lighting their features, the young men converged.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Gareth laughed as he jumped into the fight. This was exactly what he’d needed. As a ghost, he’d considered it a good idea to take out his revenge against the girl. But when faced with an actual woman for the first time in 270 years, a feminine beauty at that, it wasn’t as clear-cut.

  But one male against five? He liked those odds, indeed.

  When the thief lurched at him, it was an easy matter to grab his arm and slice as he divested the boy of his knife.

  The lad screamed and gripped his bleeding arm. He was on his knees by the time Gareth stabbed his knife into the leg of another and divested him of the metal about his knuckles. Handy that. He dropped it at his feet for further inspection and threw the knife into nearby bushes. He chuckled. “Come, lads.” He jerked his chin and grinned. “Surely ye’ve more fight in ye than that!”

  The two cursed him from the ground, one crawling away, the other scooting backward and out of knife’s reach.

  “Mayhap not.”

  Of the three still standing, one boy nervously shifted from foot to foot trying to work up his courage. After a glance shared between them, two others rushed forward.

  On the upswing, he punched the bat wielder in the nose and felt and heard the crunch. Cool satisfaction rushed through him even as he chucked the lad’s weapon in the bushes before the lad hit the ground. The other boy tried to shove a blade into Gareth’s side. It must have been too dull to pierce skin, because all he felt was pressure and he laughed. “Ye shoulda brought a sharper knife.”

  He elbowed the young man in the throat and watched him fall, clasping his throat and gagging.

  Gareth gestured the remaining boy forward. “Come now, ye’ll not want yer friends to scorn ye later for a coward.”

  The boy, fear writ clearly on his face, must have agreed because though he looked fit to piss himself, he lifted his knife and, with a weak imitation of a warrior’s cry, ran forward.

  Gareth sighed at the lack of skill involved. He wrenched the boy’s knife away and nicked his throat for being an irritant. The boy moaned and, gripping his bleeding throat, fell to his knees.

  Gareth thought to toss the knife, but it looked like a good one, so he dropped it for further inspection. He lifted his knife again, but after a moment he exhaled loudly. “Not much of a fight then. What say ye, Lissa? Shall I let them live or finish them?”

  That got them moving. They staggered up and stumbled away, leaning on each other and casting fearful, hate-filled glances behind them.

  He heard Lissa catch her breath. Felt her hands on his back. “Are…are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, lass. I wasnae touched.”

  “But…but you have a knife stuck in your side.” He turned to see her hands wavering as if uncertain what to do.

  “Ye’re welcome to touch me. Truth to tell, I like it just fine. But I promise ye I’m unhurt.”

  Her eyes widened with fear. “Gareth, you’re injured.”

  He glanced down to see a knife firmly planted in his side. “Blast it.” He pulled it out.

  Lissa gasped, and hurriedly pulled his shirt up. She gasped again.

  Gareth twisted his neck to look. He ran his hands across his side. He didn’t feel anything and found no blood.

  Lissa’s blue gaze slowly raised to his.”But…but…”

  “What is it? It must have caught in my shirt. Lass, I’m unharmed.”

  She glanced at the knife still in his hand.

  “See? ’Tis unb
loodied.”

  “I… I saw your skin. When you pulled the knife out, your skin closed itself.” She released him and took a step back. “I know what I saw. That first night, when I looked out my window, you were stumbling about. I thought you were the undead. A zombie.”

  “I am but a man, if only for a short while.”

  She still looked afraid.

  Curious now, he took the blade and cut his thumb. As quickly as he sliced himself, the wound closed over and he didn’t spill so much as a drop of blood.

  They looked at each other, shocked.

  He cut again, this time on his arm. The wound closed again. “It looks as if that witch forgot to tell me a few things.”

  “Like the fact you’re not mortal?”

  “It would seem so.” Curiosity had him slicing deeper into his forearm.

  Lissa moaned.

  It was good his wound sealed fast so he could catch her before she hit the ground.

  ~~~

  Lissa slowly woke to find herself in Gareth’s arms. She didn’t move or try to sit up. She just enjoyed his warm comfort for a moment. “What happened?”

  Gareth grinned down at her. “It turns out ye’ve a weak stomach. Apparently, ye dinnae care for it when I tried to slice my arm in half.”

  Memory came back in a rush, and she sat up and faced him. “What are you?”

  Gareth shrugged. “As to that, I suspect the wee witch left out a few details about the days I’ve been granted. Apparently I’m not to die or even get hurt while I’m here.”

  She stared at him. “You really are a ghost, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve not lied to ye, lass.”

  She took a deep breath and glanced around. “We need to get out of here before those boys return.”

  “I’m sure they’ll come back for the weapons, eventually. But not for a while, and if they do, I suspect they’ll turn around until we’ve left the place.”

  She took his hand. “I can’t believe you took on five guys.” She sounded admiring, even to herself, and she flushed.

  His lips curved. “They were simply lads, out for a good time.”

  “You call that having a good time? All I can say is I’m glad I wasn’t alone when they showed.”