SHADOWLOVE--STALKERS

by Claudy Conn

  Limitations—might it have limitations?

  For now however, she had to get herself together. She looked up at the squire’s attractive face and saw the concern in his hazel eyes.

  She touched his arm in an effort to alleviate his concern. “Oh…it’s nothing. I scared myself. I thought I heard something, and then of course I thought I saw something, but it was just a trick of the eye. Nothing at all—and here you are coming to my rescue again.”

  “I’ll confess at this point that I rather hoped you might be walking this morning. I came with the express purpose of bumping into you.”

  “Well, that is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

  “I find that hard to believe. I know American men are not up to par with us Scots, but they can’t be that blind or stupid.”

  They both laughed and fell into step beside one another as he commented, “You’ll do…the color is back in your cheeks.” He smiled warmly at her. “Shall we continue to walk together?”

  Shawna sighed with relief. It would be nice to be normal, and with the squire that was just how she could be…for a time. “Lovely.”

  He grinned broadly, and a flicker of heat in the recesses of his hazel eyes caught her attention. However, he began animatedly telling her an anecdote about his housekeeper that made her laugh.

  He touched her again, this time taking her hand and patting it. “But you will see for yourself, for we are nearly at MacDunn, and I mean to abduct you and force some lunch into you.”

  Shawna beamed. Although she knew the ‘no ties, no relationships’ edict still held, she didn’t think a friendly lunch could hurt. “That would be great. I am sure it is early, but I am starving, and the truth is, I don’t have anything worth eating in the cottage.”

  “Good then. Yes, it is early, but I did say I was going to abduct you, didn’t I?” He grinned wickedly. “That entails having you at my mercy and taking you on a tour of MacDunn while Mrs. Patrick prepares our meal.”

  “Abduct away. I accept.”

  ~ Nine ~

  SHAWNA LEANED BACK against her garden chair as she pushed away the plate of crumbs in front of her. She had eaten everything in sight, to the point where the squire had laughed and commented on her healthy appetite.

  “Hmmm, I know. I’ll have to work it all off, but everything was so good.” She sighed and looked around the solarium where they had taken their meal. “This place…” Her hands moved expressively. “…has the touch of a woman, no doubt your mom…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she had lit on a subject that might be off limits.

  He frowned and used his fork to play with some crumbs on his dish. She waited as he pushed at the food, and finally with something of a sigh, he offered, “Yes, my mother renovated this place after my father died. It has her essence in every fabric, every placement of every painting…” His voice faded, and he looked off as though looking into another time.

  Shawna was on the alert. There was a mystery here and her curiosity bone got the better of her. “Then I am amazed she gave it all up to live in the cottage.”

  “Her decision came as a surprise, and an unwelcome one to me. I was in fact shocked that she could leave. You must have already heard from the grapevine leader, Mrs. Carver, that I adored my mother…” Again he let his last words drift off.

  She could see a darkling look shade his hazel eyes, and she knew that she should be the perfect guest and let the subject go. He clearly did not want to be rude, but neither did he wish to speak about his mother.

  And instead of being the perfect guest, she dove right in. “Which brings me back to my original question. Why? You obviously didn’t want her to leave, and she obviously loved this place—her home. Why did she move to the little cottage?” Shawna’s silver eyes opened wide with attention as she watched the changing expressions flit over his face. He looked shocked at the audacity of her question. He looked angry, but more than either of those two emotions, he looked bitter.

  “She had her reasons.”

  “Of course she did, and it is all none of my business.” Shawna backed off.

  He set the fork aside and stood up to offer her his hand. “Come…let me show you her hothouse. I maintain it exactly as she left it, in memory of her. We house her prized rosebushes there.”

  Shawna stood and gave him her hand, thinking she would withdraw it as soon as she could. “Great. I would love to see it. I am sorry if I hit a sore subject.”

  He grinned, and his eyes lit up as his mood suddenly changed once more. “Americans have this style—quite unique really—of being able to talk about the most personal things as though they were speaking about the weather. That particular quality, ability has always eluded me.”

  “I should not have…” Shawna’s lovely eyebrows met, and she sucked in her lips as she prepared her apology.

  “Not at all—your question was perfectly sound and quite exhibited a normal, very natural curiosity,” he said, interrupting her. “Your direct manner is one of the quirks that have already made be quite fond of you. Shawna…” He squeezed her hand gently. “I love the fact that you are so open and easy to talk to. I have never enjoyed that particular quality with anyone ever before.”

  “Quality, huh—I think you mean I’m nosey?” A short laugh escaped her throat.

  His smile was sweet. “Perhaps, but not too nosey for me.”

  “Ah—I am sure that can not be true, but you are too much of a gentleman to tell me so.”

  The hothouse contained an amazing collection of exotic plants, rose bushes, and citrus trees. One bush in particular was centered almost like a shrine. A single, long-stemmed red rose was in bloom as the squire led Shawna to it.

  “Smell that…”

  He didn’t know, of course, that Shawna’s sense of smell had already picked up on the scent of the single bloom. It overshadowed all others, and she was impressed enough once more to forget herself and dipped back into the forbidden subject. “I can’t imagine how your mother could have left all this…”

  “She was very angry and disappointed in me. She wanted to prove a point—she wanted to shake me back into my senses.” He sighed. “Once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. I discovered that I was, indeed, my mother’s son—just as stubborn, and I didn’t exhibit the patience and understanding she needed at the time.”

  Shawna gave him a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry. It must have been hard on both of you.”

  “More than I realized,” he answered simply. He took her elbow and remarked, “It is warm in here. Come on—we need some air.”

  “Yes—but I am sorry, Kenneth, it is already getting late and I have to get back. I haven’t even finished unpacking yet.”

  He looked at his watch. “Indeed—I can’t say that I am sorry…but you are right. I have kept you all day.” He shook his head. “I don’t know where the time went, and, Shawna, I can’t remember when it was that I have enjoyed myself more.”

  “Thank you. Yes, it was a lovely day, and the same goes for me.”

  He maneuvered her towards a door at the end of a narrow corridor. “Here…my car is just outside.”

  Shawna’s eyebrows went up. There reposed a magnificent vehicle—the Bentley Continental GT!

  “Ooooh…and navy…wow, what a car!” Shawna breathed. She had seen the sporty two-seat car advertised, but had never seen one in person. She liked cars.

  He laughed. “Come on…” He held the door open for her.

  She slipped onto the cream-colored leather upholstery and smiled. Nice.

  As he drove down his blacktop driveway, Shawna inwardly admired the line of tall oaks flanking the driveway. He turned right onto Darby Road and left the manor behind them. She sensed he wanted to speak but that he was choosing his words. She waited.

  “Shawna, the reason I find it difficult to talk about my mother is the fact that I took a stand against her. I was an independent man, and all I saw was that she was trying to interfere with my li
fe. I didn’t look deeper and ended by defying her when she was battling the last stages of her terminal cancer.”

  Shawna studied his profile. His face was white with the shock of the words he had just spoken out loud. She could see he had not talked to anyone about his guilt, and it was obvious to her that he carried way too much of it. “You must have thought it important enough to do so—which made it so. There are always two sides to every event—happy or otherwise.”

  He sent her a sharp glance and sucked in breath. “I thought I might be ready to tell someone—you, but…forgive me. I find that I am not.”

  “Sure.” Shawna wasn’t certain she wanted to hear anymore. Some awful tragedy had occurred here between a mother and son, and the son was left in the aftermath of guilt. “It really is none of my business.”

  “Perhaps not, but…”

  “Don’t, Kenneth. Don’t tell me anything you aren’t really ready to talk about. You have to pick the time and the person you want to spill your guts to.”

  He shot her a quick glance and said quietly. “I have,” and with that, he dove right in, sounding like floodwaters that had just broke through a dam. He was rushed, he was loud, and he was full with the hysteria of the tragedy, and Shawna’s eyes opened wide as she watched his changing expressions.

  “Helene came into my life at a time when I needed someone…and I was infatuated beyond imagination. M’mother despised her at first sight.”

  “Ah.” Shawna mulled this over—an age-old problem. “And Helene—where is she now?”

  “She wasn’t worth the air she breathed.” He almost spat the words, and Shawna heard the bitterness in his voice.

  “But you thought so at the time, and she came between you and your mother?” Shawna prompted.

  “Looking back at it in the aftermath, looking at it now, I think I would have seen through Helene had m’mother not challenged me.”

  “Challenges are powerful things.”

  He glanced at her again. They had reached her cottage, and he put the Bentley in park and turned to her. “You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you here, Shawna? A beautiful woman…out here in the middle of nowhere…to do what—why?”

  “Oh, didn’t Mrs. Carver tell you? I am an aspiring author. I love history, and Scottish history is so full of romance and battles—I thought I would do my research here and get a feel for the country. Gathering my notes, a sense of the culture…it all takes tremendous research, and the setting for my story is the Scottish Highlands.” This was her cover story.

  “No, she never mentioned, and in truth I never asked.”

  “How strange…” Shawna giggled. “I can’t imagine Mrs. Carver not volunteering any information.” She could see he wasn’t about to let her go yet, so she started the process by reaching for her door handle. He jumped to attention.

  “Let me, Shawna—please.” He was out of the car and coming round to make a flourish of opening the door for her.

  She smiled and thanked him and reached out her hand to touch his arm. “Thanks, Kenneth—no need to walk me to my door.”

  “Right then,” he responded and looked away for a moment before giving her a half smile.

  She started forward and he went round to his driver’s side, gave her a last wave, and got into his car. She watched him make a U-turn and start off before she dove into her jean pocket for her keys; however, even as she found them, she knew she wouldn’t need them.

  The door opened wide, and there Chad MacFare stood looking like the devil himself!

  She felt a flutter start to gain momentum as she stared at his big handsome self. As always he emitted an aura that spoke of an epic life. She could imagine him, naked to the waist, tattooed with Celtic knots across his belly…

  She shook the image free from her mind and pulled a face at him, “What are you doing here, and how did you get past my traps?”

  * * *

  A sizzling sound in the forest took shape. The dark sockets in its malformed head of blue and radiant red actually narrowed as it spied a red squirrel that unhappily crossed its path. It reached out and zapped the poor creature, injuring it. The squirrel wobbled and made a small noise of pain; blue finger moved to touch it again, this time slicing the wretched animal open while it still lived.

  The entity enjoyed the kill, but it was too short lived.

  It turned and glanced towards Shawna’s cottage, out in the distance—and yet not so very far away. She lived there. She lived, and the creature had already recognized that she was powerful. It wanted to slice her open and usurp her power.

  The entity melted itself down and slithered along the earth, between the trees, over the lush growth of ferns and moss, and came to the edge of Shawna’s back gardens. It brought itself up to stand once more, and it was a blue bolt of electricity. Sparks flew in every direction. It took on form—much like a human form—and it touched itself, causing sparks to fly in every direction.

  Through dark sockets it stared at the cottage, and then it heard Shawna speak. She was waving good-bye to the squire, and as it watched her, its hatred multiplied.

  It watched as the squire got into his navy Bentley and drove off. The entity melted into the ground once more, covering the earth with blue fire, spitting out bright daggers of rage and frustration as it moved towards the road and followed the squire’s car. Overwhelming anger imbued the entity with purpose as followed the Squire.

  It watched as he parked his car and re-entered his manor home. It hissed as it made a decision and turned back to the woods.

  It wanted to be, to continue, to thrive! It wanted to soar with mana. It needed strength to accomplish all that it wanted. Power was the only sure way to achieve its goals. Once more it would have to kill a human.

  Easy to do—they were so much nothingness…

  Killing satisfied. It liked the pain it inflicted on its victims as much as the taking of the life force into itself. Yes, but her life force was substantial. It had sensed her life force as soon as the human female had arrived at the cottage.

  There was great power in the female that lived there. If it killed her, it would gain all that power.

  * * *

  Shawna had not been taken totally unaware by Chad’s presence. She had known that Chad MacFare had breached her traps and made it inside. She had picked up on his enticing scent as she walked up her stone path to her front door; however, he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know what her abilities encompassed.

  Thus, she feigned surprise. She was however completely baffled and irritated that he had, in fact, gotten past her methodic traps.

  He stood in front of her, his green eyes glittering brightly and his mass of tawny-colored hair a mane around his handsome face. His wide arms in his cream-colored heavy knit sweater were folded across his massive chest. One thick, attractive brow was arched questioningly, and his lips were tight, almost as tight as the frown he wore.

  “Well—my traps?” she demanded. She knew that he wouldn’t answer her, and she was right; he didn’t. Instead, he gave her a stormy look that surprised her. What was he out of sorts about? She returned his frown. “What? Why are you standing there like that?”

  “What? You ask me what?” He uncrossed his arms, pulled her gently indoors, and shut the door at her back. “You are out cavorting with the local gentry at a time when you should be planning strategy with me, and you ask me what?”

  “I wasn’t cavorting, and even if I was, that is my business—and I don’t plan on planning strategy with you.” Her hands were on her hips.

  He came in close and took her hands off her hips. She couldn’t imagine why she allowed him the privilege. He held her delicate fingers in his strong and yet strangely gentle grip. “Cavorting is what it is, lass—and though it may be your business and you may think that you are entitled at your age to some ‘fun’, right now that kind of ‘fun’ will get you killed. I thought you smarter than that.”


  “I am smarter than that, and I wasn’t cavorting...”

  “It looked like it to me,” he snapped back at her.

  “I wasn’t,” she snapped right back and waved a finger at him. “I like to know who my neighbors are, and I bumped into the squire while I was walking. He invited me to lunch, and that was that.”

  “Like to know your neighbors, and yet you haven’t even tried to know me.” The words were quietly said and caught her attention. She eyed him doubtfully. What exactly did he mean? However, he immediately changed the subject back to his point of interest.

  “Do you know who he really is, lass?”

  She made an exasperated sound and pulled her hands out of his as she made an attempt to push past him. He had her shoulders and kept her in place as he directed a hard line gaze at her. “Do ye?” he asked, lapsing into a thicker brogue than usual.

  His accent was sexy and sent a shiver through her. Mentally she chided herself as she gave him a frown and answered, “Of course I know who he is, besides being the local gentry—the squire owns this cottage!”

  That stopped Chadwick MacFare into dead silence as he looked at her. He appeared deep in thought, and she waited for a response as they stood there together.

  He cast an impatient glance at her, and she could see the irritation in his bright green eyes before his dark, thick lashes met his cheek. Shawna’s delicate brows came together while she contemplated him.

  At last (for it seemed as though the silence had dragged on forever), he remarked quietly, “Now how is it I had quite forgotten that interesting piece of information?”

  She could see he wasn’t asking the question of her and rolled her eyes. He actually seemed stunned that he didn’t know something? How big was this guy’s ego anyway?

  “Oh, you mean there is something the all-knowing Chadwick MacFare doesn’t actually know? How refreshing.” She pulled out of the shoulder hold he had on her and moved into her living room. He had evidently made himself right at home, setting a blazing fire going in the small fireplace and helping himself to her rolls, cheese, and ale.