by Olivia Norem
“I — I have to go out,” she answered lamely. It certainly wasn’t to arouse his lust, but now that it had… Her eyes flickered briefly to where his finger had been, marveling at the fiery trail in the wake of his touch, yet the fabric of her body suit remained unscathed.
Their eyes locked.
A flicker of surprise and uncertainty flared across Simeon’s face, but he quickly stayed his astonishment.
“Where are we gaun now, lass?” Tiny wrinkles deepened at the corners of his eyes as his lips quirked to smile.
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “We?”
Now it was Simeon’s turn to frown in misunderstanding. “Aye. The hour is late and ‘twould be unsafe tae roam aboot the streets without an escort.”
“You,” she emphasized, “are staying here. What I need to do must be accomplished alone.”
Alone? Was the lass completely daft? Wandering the streets? Unprotected? Clad in that… that thing…? Simeon couldn’t remember a woman refusing him, or, for that matter, treating him like a bairn. He was honor bound to see her safe. Every man was. The tides of lust swiftly retreated, and the frustrated swells of unrequited desire rushed in to take their place. Despite the fact he wasn’t dressed in full Highland garb, Simeon stiffened to a lairdly height, insulted.
“Unthinkable. I willnae allow it.”
Kat’s eyes widened, stupefied. “Allow it?”
“Nae,” Simeon spat with finality.
The spell between them broken, Kat jabbed his chest with her finger.
“Whoa there, Braveheart, you’re in my century now. You have no right, no right at all to control my coming and going. When I need you, I’ll let you know.”
Simeon’s body pitched forward as he clasped his hands behind his back, struggling for control. His once seductive gaze evaporated and was replaced with flinty determination. “But I’m no’ of yer century, lass. In lieu o’ yer husband’s presence, and, I remind ye, the only male in this household, I hae every right. I cannae imagine the basic duty o’ protecting a wee lass has been forgotten. Where ye gae. I gae.”
“Not this time you’re not, damn it.”
The firm set of his jaw was an inevitable sign she wasn’t going to win, but Kat had yielded on more points in these past hours than she’d ever relinquished in her life. She couldn’t risk taking Simeon on this part of the job simply because the Renaissance man possessed an overblown sense of honor.
Arguing with him was getting her nowhere. It was time to change tactics.
She tried reasoning.
“I won’t be gone more than an hour.”
“We won’t be gone more than an hour,” he corrected.
She tried distraction.
“Here.” She waved her phone at him. “You can watch all the videos of Seamus Campbell playing rugby.”
“I care no’ tae view such sights.”
She tried logic.
“This is business, Simeon. Would you risk having a stranger tag along, knowing they could blow the whole deal?”
“If the stranger took a vow tae protect me, I’d nae do them a dishonor.”
Kat huffed in exasperation. This was going nowhere. The man was more stubborn than her brother Ian, and she’d rarely won an argument against Ian. Kat’s frustration apexed.
“The sooner I leave, the sooner I return. Then I can get out of this damn bodysuit that’s killing my damn thigh — burned by your damned mirror I might add — crawl into the damned bed, and try to forget every damn thing I’ve seen tonight.”
“Try no’ swearing so much. ‘Tis nae helping yer argument. And whot’s wrong with yer leg? Let me see.” He moved to hold her at arm’s length.
“Don’t you touch me. Damnit, I wish I’d never released you from that fucking mirror.”
“If the women ‘o this time are as stubborn as ye, ye wee chit, I’ll consider returning tae that prison ‘o mine a reprieve. Now let us be off.”
“You are going to let me be about my business. Alone. End of story.” Kat spun away.
“And ye hae tae let me be aboot mine. If ye were me woman—” he muttered darkly.
“What?” Kat whirled back to face him and laid another hard jab to his chest. “If I were your woman, what?”
If she was his woman, he’d kiss her senseless, make love to her until her bones turned to butter, then accomplish her ‘business’ while she slept safe and warm in his bed. Simeon’s hand shot out and he ensnared the offending finger in his fist. “I’d take me strap tae yer backside ‘til I cured ye o’ that crude tongue.”
The threat echoed in the silence of the room. Hard. Immovable. How… how dare he try to bully her? The time for reasoning, logic, and negotiation was over. Something inside her snapped.
With a lightning fast reflex, Kat jabbed her finger forward and clutched his arm. Leveraging his own body weight against him, she swiped his foot, spun, and hurled him to the ground. Before he could recover, Kat leapt on top of him and pinned his forearms beneath her knees. Both thumbs pressed into his Adam’s apple.
“Still think I can’t take care of myself? Laird?”
“Ye truly believe ye can haud yer own?”
That was so not an answer. Why were his eyes twinkling? And was that a smirk? Kat’s fingers tightened on his throat, itching to wipe away that devilish smile.
“Are you ready to give up?”
“Ye ken this marks twice this night we find ourselves sprawled upon each other, lass?” He choked out in an insidious whisper.
While he’d never had a woman, or man for that matter, best him like this, Simeon was well aware of his superior strength, and arguing was pointless. Aye, he would concede and let her go on her business. Besides, the lass had said nothing about him following… But before he let her enjoy his mock surrender, Simeon had one final point to prove.
“When ye venture out this night, lass, remember well. N’er underestimate yer opponent.” Quicker than she could blink, Simeon bucked upward, thrust his arms from beneath her knees and clamped her hard to his chest. Before she could even gasp, he rolled her beneath him and lay cradled between her thighs, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Get off me,” Kat seethed as she pushed at his chest.
Simeon was still chuckling as he rolled away and lifted her to her feet. Kat hurriedly shrugged into her coat and clamped a black cap on her head.
“You’re wrong, Simeon.” She tugged on her gloves with angry jerks.
“Am I now?”
He may be physically stronger, but she’d be damned if she’d let him get the last word. “Yeah. That was three times.”
###
Simeon padded at a careful distance, crossing the uneven cobblestones of the streets, which were blanketed in a ghostly mist. The fog was eerie and bloodless tonight, cloaking the Highlander in blessed camouflage. And his footfalls were muffled in Mr. Nike’s bonny shoes.
He’d forgotten nights like these, where he and his men embraced the weightless mist… their preferred cover to reive livestock from a lowland border. Ever forward, trailing his mischievous hellion through the narrow, twisting streets, Simeon marked his passage well. It was not so different from traveling through a forest at night, but this forest exchanged bark and leaves for stone and glass. Musky scents of earth were traded for hints of mildew that seemed to seep from every pore of the old stone edifices. Lamps instead of moonlight cast eerie pools of contortions through the thick Scottish mist.
No more than a quarter hour passed; Simeon was convinced that Katherine had no sense at all, but he did have to admire her resolve. By reivers’ standards, she moved with all the stealth of a plodding cow, and he had no trouble trailing her.
Kat surveyed the building of Number One Drummond Street from the position she’d taken behind a trash bin on a diagonal corner. She’d chosen the location mainly for its vantage point after a quick recon of several choices. Initially, it also seemed the cleanest, so there was less probability of encountering a rat.
Kat was r
ethinking her decision as she shrugged off her coat and carefully folded it next to the steel container. The stink of rotted meat wafting from the bin made her eyes water. The stench was so pungent it swelled the back of her throat, threatening to gag her. It had to be a byproduct of the adjacent kebab house; it was enough to get her to swear off meat forever.
Should she simply enter the building and walk up the stairs? That decision was immediately rebuffed as a lone figure exited a double-door entrance and staggered down the street. No need to chance running into someone inside, and without any intel, she had no clue as to the positions of security cameras, if any were installed.
This job was too brief for a full harness and an industrial descender, and with the burning wound on her thigh, she’d never be able to tighten the first buckle. Besides, Brice couldn’t have picked a more ideal apartment. The Victorian building was covered with plenty of protruding quoins, decorative cornices, and lintels that would make perfect hand and foot holds. Granted they were only an inch wide at best, but that was enough. The fact that his apartment was, coincidentally, numbered 411 wasn’t lost on her either. It seemed ever since Simeon had been released from that mirror, her entire life was bathed in irony.
Screw irony. She’d do it the old-fashioned way. She’d climb.
Kat took a beat, rolling her shoulders and loosening her neck. A few deep breaths and she was ready to scale the building, yet Simeon’s eyes swam before her. As if he appeared through the dank mist obscuring every corner of every street, the man seemed to haunt her.
Impossible. She never allowed herself distractions on a job, but since she’d picked up that mirror, everything about Simeon was impossible.
Kat peered around the corner. The streets were deserted. Deserted in a classic horror film noire kind of way. The thick fog distorted what remained of the street lights and neon signage, skewing them in impossible angles. Kat could almost hear the clip-clop of a centuries-old carriage, complete with black-plumed horses, echoing off the eerie silence of shadows in the old town.
She darted across the corner, moving like a wisp of a shadow. Had she been inadvertently spotted by some sleepless onlooker, they would never see her reappear. She dashed into the alley. Craning her neck upward four stories, she noted that Brice’s apartment was capped with a sculpted dormer. Though the peak was barely perceptible in the foggy night, elation filled her. The best thing about ascending to a window that high? They were rarely locked.
Simeon’s eyes sharpened on Kat’s thin form as she scurried across the street. What was she up to now? His answer came in a mystifying spectacle as the shadowed form of his Katherine seemed to float up the side of the building. His jaw hung slack, half in surprise and half in awe.
She ascended slowly, like a dark specter, scaling the stones, hand over hand, toe over toe, climbing the building in shadows with stealth. Higher. Higher. As much as he was compelled to lunge forward and cry out in warning, Simeon kept his feet rooted to the spot. If he startled her, the lass would surely plummet to her death. He could only stare upward in hopeless fascination.
He crouched forward, straining to get a better glimpse. Like a squirrel scampering along a branch, Katherine skittered along the top of the roofline. Simeon held his breath lest she lose her precarious balance. Her wraithlike form bent to the darkened window, and without a backward glance, raised the sash and slipped inside.
His teeth clamped tightly in vexation. If she ran into trouble, there was nothing he could do from down here. A tiny halo of white light illuminated the window, danced through the pane, and then disappeared. It must be the strange lamp she had held between her teeth when she’d picked the lock at the merchant’s store.
His gut tensed as taught as a bowstring. At least reivin’ cattle there were signals to listen for among the scattered men of the clan. There had always been a modicum of comfort in knowing you were never alone. But this silence surrounding him was unnerving. The only sounds were his own breathing and errant plops of water somewhere beyond his shoulder. He sadly swallowed a bitter tang of regret. He’d never see the faces of his clansmen again. Never hear their laughter, or comfort their sorrows…
Keeping a watch on the dusky pane above, Simeon waited several minutes for her to reappear. Much to his chagrin, it felt like an eternity. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. He’d spent the last centuries interred in solitude, only to find his patience thinned in the presence of this hellion. This Katherine.
In four long strides, Simeon crossed the jagged street. Katherine may have climbed up with relative ease, but coming down would prove more difficult. He pressed his bulk into a wide alcove and cursed as he pitched backward over a wayward pipe and stumbled hard into a rippled metal door. The panel rumbled loudly beneath his weight. Bloody door. One kick from his Percheron and the flimsy thing would come tumbling down.
The streets remained quiet, and since there was no shrieking above his head, Simeon knew Katherine hadn’t heard his bungle either. Simeon crept to the opposite side of the alley and ducked beside a large metallic box.
Bloody hell! What was that smell?
Burying his head in the crook of his arm Simeon stifled the wretch that threatened. That’s when he spied the bundle neatly folded near his foot. And smiled.
Kat slipped unnoticed through the window and silently eased the wooden sash closed behind her. She squelched a swell of elation. The items were cozily stashed in Brice’s flat, but experience taught her that until she returned to the safe house, she wasn’t clear. Goldman rule number eight. Never get cocky. Besides, she still faced a thin ledge and a thirty-foot drop.
Kat tiptoed along the frieze then crouched low at the corner. Fingers firmly wedged against the quoins, she spidered her way down the side, using her toes to guide her block by block. Her knuckles tensed; the muscles in her arms burned as she brushed past the third-story molding. The second story would be easier, with its drainpipe and wide cornice that bracketed the perimeter of the structure. Just another meter to the ledge.
Her feet perfectly balanced on the wide width, Kat clutched the drain pipe. Ten more feet and she’d be back on level ground. Thank God for all those lessons Murray had insisted upon. She lowered herself over the side, slowly unfurling her body in an arm hang. Her right leg extended like a ballet dancer in a perfect arabesque as she searched for the next toe hold.
A crash and a bang fractured the night.
Kat froze, hoping to maintain her position as an innocuous shadow on the facade. The far-off reverberation of metal coming to rest was punctuated by a singular screech and a meow. She released a sigh and shook her head.
Nothing more than a wayward feline. Kat waited, hanging there until the night settled once more into a halcyon of inactivity. She turned her head to navigate the finish. Inches from her face, beady little eyes stared her down behind a haughty twitch of whiskers.
Rat!
A scream of surprise wedged in her throat. Kat recoiled without thinking and plummeted straight to the ground.
Simeon sprang from the shadows. He’d been admiring the artful way she negotiated the end of her descent, and it cost him. Unable to reach her in time, her knees crashed into his chest, sending them both tumbling to the cobblestones in a tangled heap of limbs.
Sensing Kat was about to scream, Simeon encircled her in his arms and clamped a hand over her mouth, lest her shouts awaken the sleeping neighbors. A vicious elbow jammed his ribs repeatedly as Kat scrambled to break his hold.
“Haud, lass. ‘Tis I.” He groaned in pain. Slowly, he eased his hand from her mouth and Kat, still prone and half-crushing his chest, turned to face him, her eyes flooded with disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He winced as she elbowed herself upright. Ignoring her harsh whisper, he plastered on a salacious grin and dumbly extended his hand.
“Makin’ sure ye dinnae forget yer coat.”
Chapter 10
Kat stumbled into the bathroom with half-closed
eyes. Sleep deprived and churlish, she didn’t have the courage to face her reflection — she suspected that the image in the mirror would scare small children.
After they’d both limped back in the wake of last night’s debacle — she still shuddered every time she envisioned that rat closing in — she couldn’t decide if she liked the Highlander or hated him. On one hand, he’d broken her fall, which would have resulted in a sprain (at minimum), and on the other hand, he should never have been there in the first place. Then there was Simeon’s inability to acquiesce to anything she said, especially when it came to directions. The scant interchange between them on the return trek to the safe house deteriorated into nothing more than clipped disputes through the murky streets about which way was correct. He’d never been outright rude, he’d simply issued orders like a man who naturally led. The fact that Simeon had been uncannily accurate on every route chafed even more.
But the final straw had come just before dawn. Tossing in a fit of restlessness, she’d slipped into the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find her unplanned roommate asleep on the couch instead of in his own room.
Nude.
A pale shaft of light from distant streetlamps that streamed through the French door had illuminated his skin to a shade of molten steel. He rested with one arm crooked behind his head, and Kat couldn’t help but admire the dark tangle of hair that spilled across the armrest. Her hands flexed in restraint, knowing that if she didn’t force her fists to her sides, she would surrender to the itch to explore the shadow of his jaw. Even asleep, seduction rolled off the man like invisible soundwaves, teasing, whispering, and awakening her inner siren. An insidious little voice inside goaded Kat’s conscience with murmurs of encouragement.
Who would be harmed if she looked?
Her mind wasn’t quite ready for the unplanned assault to her senses, but her body led the charge in all out betrayal. The shadows dipped beneath the outline of his sculpted pecs, and his breastbone was dusted with just the right sprinkling of hair. Her eyes followed the narrowing trail, tempting her gaze lower, across the lush ripples of his abdomen, lower still to the narrow line of his hips, and then… no!
