by Olivia Norem
No man should look like that. Even in repose, his endowments were… formidable. Kat’s lips parted in a silent gasp as Simeon shifted. His knee bent slightly, masking all evidence of sheer male perfection. Her heart pounded as she continued her perusal, conjuring all sorts of wicked images.
Her eyes roamed leisurely upward, traveling over the hard planes of his body where her lips longed to leave wet, hot trails on his skin…
Then horror struck. Simeon’s eyes were open. He caught her staring and was staring right back. His solemn, penetrating look speared straight to her core. It was Simeon who broke the awkward silence in the room, and worse, his husky voice was tender and unmistakably laced with concern.
“Whot troubles ye, Katherine?”
Heat flushed her skin as the hot rush of embarrassment seeped from every pore. Unable to speak, she fled, mortified.
For once, she couldn’t have cared less about having the last word.
Kat peeped cautiously from behind the door. The couch was empty. She released a grateful sigh as she heard the shower running in his bathroom. When had she become such a chicken?
It was complicated enough needing to finish this job, and deal with a man lost in time and an artifact that defied explanation, without heaping on top a pile of hormones screaming for relief. Of course, if Simeon wasn’t lusciously packaged in the body of Adonis and wasn’t so focused on her, that might simplify matters… still.
She really hadn’t meant to ogle him when he was vulnerable, and she certainly didn’t need any more obstacles thrown in her path. Sooner or later she’d have to face him, if for no other reason than to apologize and clarify her intentions. She was here to help him adjust. Nothing more.
Kat grimaced at the wide beam of sunlight streaming through the very source that illuminated last night’s guilty perusal. This morning’s light appeared completely different, and the room seemed almost hopeful. Besides, the light was better here so that she could closely treat her wound.
Kat slid a chair close to the window and propped her foot up. She peeled away the sticky gauze. The oval-shaped burn was still raw and red, and faint outlines of the strange writing on the mirror were scalded onto her skin as well. Damn. Kat hoped it wouldn’t leave any permanent scars — especially since she had no clue as to the translation. Unscrewing the lid of the zinc, a faint movement caught the corner of her eye. Simeon strode into the living room rubbing his hair with a towel and froze at the sight of her.
“Good morning, lass.” He smiled brightly and laid the towel aside.
“Oh my God!” Kat exclaimed.
Simeon had foregone the sweatpants and was wearing nothing more than the Lycra shorts she thought had been the solution to the boxer-brief argument. The clinging fabric molded to his hips and thighs, and the front of his shorts left nothing to the imagination. He stood like a proud, beautiful savage, with acres of exposed skin begging to be explored. His hair, mussed and wet, framed his shoulders like a cloud of sin. The man was frightening and seductive all at once. This was worse than seeing him nude. Much worse.
The tin clattered noisily to the floor.
“Whot is this thing that keeps slipping from yer grasp?” Simeon frowned as he squatted to retrieve the can from the floor at the same time Kat reached for it. Strong, firm fingers closed over hers.
Their eyes locked.
The heat from his skin summoned her like the draw of a fireplace after coming in from the cold. Kat swayed closer, helpless against the magnetic pull of this magnificent man. And why did he have to smell so mouth-watering? His skin radiated scents of warm, creamy cinnamon and caramel entangled with hints of secretive sin and leather.
Simeon edged closer. His eyes poured into her, briefly dipped to her lips, and then raised to imprison hers once more. The sapphire depths clouded, seeming to implore for understanding, as if he battled in some internal war.
“Katherine,” He rasped out her name, thick and warm, sending a cascade of ripples along her spine. Oh, dear God… would he simply kiss her already?
“The tin?” He raised their hands together and held the zinc between them.
The little voice in her head whispered something snide about complications, and her thigh throbbed — a harsh reminder she was here to acclimate him to the twentieth century. “It’s… it’s for my burn.” She stammered dumbly back to reality.
“Yer burn?” He squinted at the confession and leaned back to take a closer look at the angry red patch on her leg. “Och, lass!” he groaned, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I n’er imagined ye’d taken such an injury on account o’ me.”
“You were… kinda worth it,” Kat muttered, looking down at the mark he inspected, unable to meet his eyes. Simeon placed a firm hold on her waist.
“Haud still, Katherine. The least I can do is tend ye.”
“No, don’t touch it.”
“Nae, lass, dinnae fash yersel. I’ll be so gentle ‘twill nae hurt.”
Oh, would he be gentle? Could he be rough too?
“Are you sure?” Kat eyed him skeptically.
“Aye. Trust me,” he smiled and lowered to one knee between her thighs.
Kat turned her head. Her gut clenched rigid in anticipation as Simeon dipped a hefty glob of zinc with his fingers. As his hand crept upward she flinched. “Ow, don’t!”
“I hae nae e’en touched ye yet,” Simeon chided.
“This isn’t going to work.”
“Aye it will,” he growled impatiently.
“You’re going to hurt me!” Kat’s voice rose in panic.
“Haud still!” Simeon barked.
“No!” Kat pushed his shoulders, but he refused to budge.
Both of them were so engrossed in their argument, neither noticed the door opening or the solitary figure who stepped inside.
“What the HELL is going on here?” The angry male voice thundered across the room.
Kat’s head snapped up and her mouth dropped open. Simeon glared at the irate stranger and quickly jumped to his feet, positioning himself between Katherine and the threat. Simeon quickly sized him up. He outweighed the man by at least two stone, but he needed to account for the man’s obvious rage.
“Ian.” Kat gasped.
“Get away from her!” Ian’s face twisted with fury. His hands balled into fists as he closed in.
“Ian, let me explain.” Kat rushed from the chair and clumsily tripped over her own feet. Ian growled as Simeon’s hands shot out to steady her. His expression turned downright murderous as Simeon guided Kat protectively behind him.
“Ian!” Kat cried out and hopped behind Simeon’s shielding arm. The man had suddenly turned into a wall of stone and wouldn’t budge. She finally slapped it aside and shooed around him. “This is not what you think it is.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking, you little fool,” he thundered. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
“Deal with me?” Kat huffed and crossed her arms.
Both men ignored her.
Simeon frowned at the threat. So, this was his Katherine’s husband? The man who mistreated his woman, though the lass was reticent to admit it. He was not about to let this man “deal” with her. Not while he had breath left in his body.
Simeon leveled his opponent with a look so chilling it should freeze blood. “I dinnae like yer tone. Ye should be speakin’ kindlier to the wee lass.”
“Kindlier?” Ian shouted, incredulous. He inched forward, circling to Simeon’s left. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the mon who will be givin’ ye a lesson in respect if ye cannae find a civil tongue in front of the lady.”
The gauntlet had been thrown and Ian was only too happy to accept the challenge. He’d spent a hellish night rushing here, after Kat’s coded distress message, only to find his sister playing footsies with some random dude. His Irish temper could use an outlet, and a good bare-knuckle fight was just the balm he needed. Despite the height and build of this Colossus squaring of
f with him, Ian was ready. More than ready. His eyes narrowed as he gauged the enemy circling to his right.
“Did you bring a few more guys with you then, you arrogant prick? Because you’re sure as hell going to need them.” Ian charged headlong and slammed head and shoulders into Simeon’s midsection, shoving him backward into the glass-front bookcase.
Kat screamed as the panes shattered. Both men grappled, locked in a snarling rage.
“Damnit, Ian. Let him go!” Kat rushed forward clawing frantically at their arms.
“Back away, lass, a’fore ye get hurt,” Simeon growled as he shoved Ian an arm’s length away. He was silently impressed Ian had knocked him into the case, but he decided he wouldn’t beat the lad senseless. After all, this was Katherine’s husband.
“Oh, fucking hell!” Kat stomped her foot. “Stop it, both of you!”
A howl of rage tore from Ian’s throat. He lunged forward delivering three swift blows to Simeon’s ribcage. It was like hitting a side of beef. Simeon pushed his shoulders and Ian stumbled backward a second time.
“Are ye ready to fight now, mon? Or do ye need to keep warmin’ up?” Simeon taunted. He punched Ian hard in the gut with his left, followed by a blinding right cross to the jaw. That was for whatever abuse the lass had suffered, but he needed to cease this madness before it got out of hand.
Ian’s head whiplashed. Pinpricks of bright light clouded his vision as he lurched backward.
Who the hell was this guy?
“Simeon, don’t!” Kat shouted. He paused to look at her and the distraction cost him. Ian’s fist connected hard with his jaw. Damn he knew better. Lassies always seemed to dampen a decent brawl, and he hated to be caught unaware. On pure reflex, he punched Ian’s nose with a resounding crack.
A flurried fist landed just below Simeon’s eye socket and snapped his head to the side. He was more surprised than stunned. Damn this feisty lad could take a beating, and since he wasn’t backing down, Simeon decided to oblige him.
Kat shouted angrily, but he no longer heard her. All reason fled as they traded blow for blow, tackling each other over the coffee table, which splintered beneath their combined weight.
Kat scurried into the kitchen, no longer able to bear witness to the scene. An idiot Scot and her idiot brother tangled in a misunderstanding of reckless testosterone. She knew of one surefire way to stop this altercation. It had always worked when Ian came to blows with their brother Colin. Scrambling beneath the counter, Kat located the largest pot she could find, calmly placed it in the sink, and turned the tap wide open.
“Cease ye daft bastard. Ye cannae win,” Simeon gritted and spat blood to the side as he quietly admired the man from his inferior position.
“I’ll teach you to lay a hand on her.” Ian growled and landed another lightning-fast strike to the bigger man’s jaw before he stumbled backward.
“I dinnae ken…” Simeon grunted, as he rose to his feet. “…how a woman like her …” He blocked Ian’s upper cut. “…is married to beast like ye.” He landed a solid left to Ian’s stomach, making him fold over in pain.
Ian’s head jerked back in stunned surprise. “Married to her?”
As the two men regarded each other in panting confusion, the arc of cold water drenched them both.
“Are ye crazy, woman!” Simeon thundered.
“Have you lost your mind?” Ian snarled at the same time.
“No, but you two have! Or are! Or whatever! This stops now.” Kat hurled the pan angrily to the floor.
“Ye are nae her husband?” Simeon doubled over to catch his breath with his hands braced on his knees. He peered curiously at Ian.
Having taken the brunt of the water, Ian wiped his face with his sopping shirt and tried to stem the flow of blood from his nose. He broke out into wheezing laughter.
“Kat’s not married. I’m her brother.”
“Her brother?” Simeon straightened to full height and wiped his lip. He looked down at the trail of blood on the back of his hand.
“Unfortunately, he’s my brother. What the hell is wrong with you, Ian?” Kat fumed, her arms akimbo.
“Don’t you start with me, Kat. I swear to God, don’t you start.” Ian pointed, his temper winding up.
Simeon ignored the sibling volleys. His bonny lass wasnae married?
But, his Katherine had lied to him, and for that, he was going to enjoy her amends. Correction. He was going to thoroughly enjoy her amends.
“Now who are you exactly?” Ian panted.
“I’m Simeon Artair Campbell. Laird o’ the Clan Campbell and Earl o’ Kilchurn.” Simeon extended his hand to Ian, who clasped it heartily. “Ye hae me apologies and me condolences, Ian Goldman. I ken how being a brother to that contrary lass could drive a mon to violence.”
“Buddy, you don’t know the half of it.” Ian clapped him on the shoulder and glared at Kat. Simeon looked at her with a smug smile as Kat shifted nervously on her feet.
“What?” Kat waved her hands at them, and Simeon shook his head. He rubbed his jaw, assuring himself it wasn’t broken, and then turned to Ian.
“Ye must hae some Scot in ye by the way ye fight, Ian Goldman. I dinnae remember takin’ such a blow that fair threatened to split me skull,” Simeon smiled.
Ian rubbed his own jaw and winced through a grin. “And hitting you, my towering friend, is like punching a brick wall.”
Kat rolled her eyes. “If you didn’t charge in here all hell bent for leather, all of this could have been avoided, Ian.” Kat fought the urge to stick her tongue out.
“Don’t you dare turn this on me, Kat. All I heard was you crying out that he was hurting you. What the hell did you expect me to do after the message you left me?”
“You insufferable, arrogant, over-protective, demanding, reckless, controlling, narrow-minded, untrusting…” Kat’s voice continued to rise as Ian rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
“Haud, lass,” Simeon barked. “Dinnae blame yer brother for his actions.”
Kat’s brows practically disappeared into her hairline. “Oh, you’re defending him now, are you?”
“Were I witness, as he did with me own sister, I would hae acted much the same.”
“Thank you, Simeon,” her brother nodded.
“Yer welcome, Ian Goldman. But let’s speak more civilly. Where’s the whiskey, lass?”
Ian rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Whiskey? Now that is civilized. Pour us all some drinks, Kat, and you two can explain what the hell is going on.”
Kat sputtered in disbelief and stared first at Ian, then at Simeon, and then back to Ian. “Pour your own fucking drinks.” She stomped from the room. Both men followed her flight. With a simultaneous shrug of their shoulders, they exchanged a quizzical look.
Simeon excused himself to change into his only set of clothes while Ian searched what he thought was the bar. When Simeon reappeared moments later, Ian proudly held a bottle of scotch in smiling approval. As the glasses clinked together Simeon eyed the man over the rim.
“Whot de ye ken aboot curses, Ian Goldman?”
Chapter 11
“Ye lied to me lass,” Simeon frowned at her, his arms crossed in front of him. Kat’s mind catalogued a thousand different responses. None of them were polite. Why was he standing like that, towering over her, accusing her (rightly so) but trying to make her feel as if this was all her fault? And why did she feel bad about it? And why was he making her feel like a naughty child, scrambling for an excuse? Kat responded the only way that made sense to a person in her position. She became defensive.
“I merely bent the truth,” her eyes narrowed at him. Simeon snorted and shook his head.
“’Tis a brazen lass who keeps saying for me tae trust her whilst speakin’ lies oot o’ the other side o’ her mouth,” Simeon said tightly.
“Oh!” Kat gasped. “How dare you accuse me?”
“Oh, I dare, lass,” he growled and stalked toward her. It was a move
designed to intimidate, to dominate. Undaunted by the flashing fire in her eyes, Simeon continued his calculated prowl. “Tell me why ye so conveniently bent the troth aboot ye havin’ a husband?”
“I bent the truth to protect you,” Kat snapped.
“Protect me? From whot?” Simeon thundered. Kat stepped toward him, her eyes snapping with anger as she jabbed a finger in his chest.
“From being distracted!”
“Distracted? From whot, lass?” His words were measured and husky as his fingers closed over hers. Kat felt the sizzle of his touch course up her arm. If her face betrayed her feelings he certainly read it, because his demeanor immediately softened.
His blue eyes probed hers, and Kat felt like she was drowning. If he hadn’t been holding her hand, pulling her against his rock-hard body, her knees would have buckled on the spot.
Simeon felt her hand tremble in his, and her reaction pleased him immensely. He was going to draw out her seduction at an excruciating pace. He wanted her eyes misted over with lust, his name tumbling from her lips between his kisses.
“From whot, lass?” He repeated, low and provocative.
“I… uh, I…” Kat stammered. Simeon stole a smoldering glance to her lips. She licked them involuntarily and saw the heat flare in his eyes as he raised his gaze to hers again. His other hand slipped around her waist and pulled her even closer. She felt the rigid length of him pressing through her dress. Oh God, how aroused was he? A little whimper escaped her throat.
“Or should I be askin’ from who?” Simeon’s breath was hot on her cheek as he inched closer to her. His hand slid lower and gently cupped her hip, pulling her toward him.
“It’s not like… I mean, well…you’re not exactly unattractive, you know.” Kat finally blurted out. She raised her hands to his chest and braced herself trying to pull away, but Simeon held her fast. Simeon’s eyes widened at her confession.
“I’m nae unattractive?” A dubious smile played about his lips.
