Immortal Scotsman

by McQueen, H. M.

  A giggle bubbled out of her at the thought, but she quickly lost her humor when the once-distant sound of rustling leaves grew closer.

  She dove under some bushes and turned her flashlight off, her heart pounding against her chest.

  After a few moments, voices became clear.

  “Are you sure you saw something, Lare?” The rough voice cut through the night. The man was not happy. “Ye got an imagination, especially when ye be drinkin’.”

  The other voice slurred slightly. “’Tis a fairy, I tell ya. We won’t catch it now that you opened yer big mouth. Let’s go. Forget it. I want a warm bed.”

  Wendy held her breath as the two men stumbled past her. Thankfully, they cut across the path and headed away from the village. They must have been returning from there and saw her flashlight.

  She gave them enough time so they would not be able to hear her before scrambling up and continuing her jaunt to the village again. This time, she didn’t use the flashlight. It slowed her progress a bit, but she didn’t want to take the chance that someone else would spot her. Forcing herself to a quick walk made for slower progress than jogging. Better safe than sorry. A broken leg would not be a good thing right now. Her ankle was aching some, so slower was better in more ways than one at the moment.

  Hours later, Wendy exited a small grocery, where she’d bought coffee and a few snacks, and then boarded a bus bound for Dublin. It wasn’t until the bus was rumbling down the road that she began to believe she’d actually gotten away.

  Pulling a small leather bag out of her backpack, she peeked inside. She’d taken two thousand dollars out of her father’s safe. A pang of guilt shook her, and she reminded herself that she’d left him a note promising to pay him back. Her parents didn’t need the money, but it was a matter of principal. Besides, she had more than enough in her own account to repay him once she got back to Georgia.

  She checked for her passport and the small journal in the pouch and then pushed them back into the backpack and zipped it up.

  An older couple in the seat behind her began discussing the beauty of the countryside as they passed a picturesque town, and Wendy had to agree as she studied it herself.

  She wondered if Kieran and his new wife would go on a tour and do the same. Somehow, it was hard to picture him as a tourist. It was even harder to think of him as married to someone else.

  A myriad of images assaulted her, Kieran’s darkened eyes when he was aroused, the softness in them when he kissed her, and the tight furrow between his brows when he concentrated on something.

  Sniffing, she dug out a tissue and blew her nose. Enough of that! Buck up, Wendy. Hopefully, time would help the images fade until one day she would be able to recall him without the tightness in her chest.

  Wendy rolled over in the lumpy bed and reached for her cell phone to see what time it was. She’d purchased a throwaway cell phone in Dublin while staying in a small hotel over the last two days. It was almost time to head to the airport. In a few hours, she’d be on her way to Atlanta.

  She strolled out of the inn a few minutes later, her backpack slung on her shoulder as she made her way toward a line of taxis. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red hair and broad shoulders. Without thinking, she turned and took off running.

  Her heart thumped hard as Wendy raced down a narrow street and ducked into a doorway. Her breathing was labored as she tried to calm down. Maybe it wasn’t anything, but she could swear the man outside her hotel was Patrick. Had she given herself away by running?

  She listened intently for footsteps, but the sound of traffic and other things made it impossible to hear anything. If Patrick had followed her, he would have reached the doorway where she stood by now. It was probably someone that just looked like him.

  Trembling, she stepped out of the doorway.

  Straight into a man’s hard chest.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wendy took a step back. She opened her mouth and then closed it, beyond words at this point. Her legs threatened to give out, and she didn’t protest when Patrick wordlessly took her arm and pulled her toward an approaching car.

  After taking a couple steps, she stopped walking and yanked her arm out of his grasp. “I don’t want to marry you, and I know you don’t want to do it either,” she cried. “I saw how that girl back at the Queen’s house looked at you. Patrick, please, let me go. Just go back and tell them you couldn’t find me.” She held her breath, waiting for him to reply.

  “I will not disobey our Queen. You have been away from our people for too long, Gwendolyn. You don’t understand our ways.” Patrick’s hazel eyes met hers. She stiffened, noticing the incredulous look he gave her.

  “Come.” Taking her arm, he maneuvered her toward the car again. “I will let your parents know we are on our way.”

  Once they were settled in the car, Wendy lay her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. Why hadn’t she just gone straight to the airport? Would she have really gone through with seducing Fallon?

  “Is he waiting for you?” Patrick interrupted her thoughts.

  “Who?” she asked him, not opening her eyes.

  “The man you were going back to. The man you’re in love with. Is he waiting for you?” he asked in a low voice.

  Wendy glanced at the male who drove. She knew he could hear their conversation, but he didn’t look at her in the rearview mirror. Patrick watched her intently. She took a deep breath. “I was not going back to someone I love. I…I just don’t want to get married to a stranger.” Wendy turned in the seat to face him.

  “This is 2010 not 1810. Women can take care of themselves. We don’t need to be protected by warriors. I mean, an arranged marriage? Who does that anymore?”

  Patrick didn’t reply. He pressed his lips together and looked to the driver, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Wendy took advantage and studied his profile. There was no denying that he was extremely handsome. He wore his wavy auburn hair long like other Fae, probably to cover his pointy ears. He had a straight nose and a stubborn chin that gave him an authoritative aura. While he seemed to be considering his reply, she noted his fingers drumming on his muscular thigh. She allowed her gaze to travel up to his bicep, which bulged under his shirtsleeve. She could do worse, she finally accepted. Maybe who she married shouldn’t matter at this point, as she’d never love again. And if she couldn’t marry Kieran, she might as well carry out her duty to her people.

  Patrick must have seen the look of acceptance. “We’ll get married as soon as possible. Once you get settled at your parents, I will make the arrangements so that it is done without delay.”

  Wendy laughed almost hysterically at his words. “I don’t want to go back to my parents’ house. We’re getting married. I will stay at your place.”

  Patrick’s eyes widened slightly at her words, but he nodded in agreement. “Very well.”

  Two hours later, she walked into his apartment while Patrick remained at the car, speaking to the other male. Wendy was not surprised to see that like that of most bachelors, Patrick’s place was disorganized and compact. The small flat was airy with large windows that allowed a view of the inner courtyard. The front room had a couch, a coffee table that seemed to serve as Patrick’s dining table, and a plate with the remnants of a meal on it. She continued past to a small, clean kitchenette. She peeked into his bedroom. Besides a rumpled bed, there was a nightstand and a chest of drawers. All of the furnishings were made of light-toned wood. Other than some clothes strewn on a chair and a pair of jeans on the floor, the room was not too cluttered.

  She tensed when the front door closed, and she lifted her eyes to the living room.

  The Fae male, looking as uncomfortable as she felt, barely glanced at her and began straightening up, picking up the dirty plate and glass from the coffee table. Patrick hurried into the kitchenette and washed them. It was almost endearing to see him go into the bedroom, pick up the pants off the floor, and fumble with the bed covers. />
  Not sure what she should be doing, Wendy went to sit on the couch. “Awkward start to a marriage,” she mumbled under her breath.

  When Patrick walked back into the room, he didn’t sit. “You can sleep in the bedroom. The sheets are not dirty. I’ve slept on them only once since washing them.”

  “Come and sit by me,” Wendy replied. When he sunk down, the couch suddenly seemed too small. His leg touched hers, and Wendy fought the urge to move away.

  “So, what’s your last name Patrick?”

  “Bailey,” he replied, his entire body stiff, his gaze scanning the room.

  “What do you do for a living, Patrick Bailey?” Wendy asked him, her eyes searching his face.

  “I, er, my family owns a delivery company. We deliver goods to companies all over Ireland and some parts of Scotland.” He seemed to relax a bit.

  “Delivery business? I thought you were a full-time fairy guard.”

  “Fae,” he corrected her, still not facing her.

  Wendy continued unabated. “So, what am I supposed to do? Can I do delivery work?”

  “You are the keeper of the key. Since my job will be to guard you and keep you safe, we will have to spend a lot of time together. Yes, I suppose you can travel with me.”

  He changed the subject. “Who is he? The man you’re in love with.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Now, it was her turn to stiffen. “He’s probably married by now.” Wendy touched his arm. “Patrick, we don’t have to get married. I mean, I noticed that look that passed between you and the girl back at the Queen’s. Are you in love with her?”

  Patrick gave her an incredulous look. “You don’t understand because you were not raised as a Fae. I have always known that I would marry whomever the Queen chose. I’ve not allowed myself to get close to anyone. I know my destiny.”

  Wendy’s eyes narrowed, she leaned forward and studied his face. “Are you a virgin?”

  This time his eyes almost bulged out of his head. His mouth opened and then closed. “No!” he cried. “I’ve been with women. Lots of women,” he added.

  “Oookay.” Wendy sat back. “I wasn’t raised knowing any of this. All this stuff about keys, demons, guards, and a queen, not to mention being a fairy—it’s a lot to take in. And then you.” She pointed at him. “I have to marry you. A total stranger.” She stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and frowned at him. “I can’t just accept it, not as calmly as you.”

  “Fae,” Patrick replied, looking off put. “I don’t like being called a fairy. We don’t use either actually. It’s best not to. We have to keep the existence of our people a secret.”

  “Really? Seriously?” Wendy screeched. “You mean, I can’t walk up to the bank teller and say. ‘Hi, I’m Wendy, and I’m a fairy. I am a key keeper.’ I can’t do that?”

  Patrick got up and walked around her. He pulled two beers out of his small refrigerator and offered Wendy one. She grabbed it and guzzled from it. Neither spoke while they drank the beers, and then, they each had a second one.

  Wendy had moved to a chair, and she watched Patrick go back to the couch. He studied her. “Things are not going to change. I will do my duty, and I trust you will do yours.”

  “You know what? You’re right.” Wendy stood up and stalked toward him. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “What?” Patrick held up his hands as if he was prepared to defend himself.

  Wendy pushed his knees apart and stood between his legs. “I need to know if there’s chemistry. I need to be with you.” And get Kieran out of my system.

  She watched as emotions flickered across his face. He did not react or move. Climbing onto his lap, Wendy straddled him and leaned in to kiss him. When their lips first met, Patrick did not kiss her back. She nipped his bottom lip and ran her hands behind his head, running her fingers through his hair.

  Slowly, he responded and began to kiss her back, a soft kiss.

  A kiss between two strangers.

  Wendy leaned away and ran her hands under his shirt, moving her fingers across his skin, which made him inhale sharply. His eyes locked with hers as she took a hold of the hem of the shirt and pulled it up. He held his arms up and allowed her to remove it. She followed by removing hers over her head, leaving only her bra and jeans. Then, not tearing her gaze away, she reached behind and unsnapped her bra, allowing it to fall away. Patrick’s eyes darkened as his gaze flew over her breasts.

  He pulled her to him, and she fell against his heated skin. Wendy gasped at the contact. This time, when his lips crushed hers, the kiss was ardent, full of desire. Wendy placed her hands on his shoulders to push away from him.

  It felt too much like cheating.

  Anger surged in her. No doubt Kieran would not have a problem sleeping with his wife. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she relaxed her arms and pressed her breasts against Patrick’s muscular chest. He moaned and pushed her down on the couch, his large frame immediately on top of her.

  His lips began to travel down her neck until his mouth found her breast, and he began to suckle her. Wendy moaned, no longer allowing herself to think. This was going to be her husband. She needed to forget.

  Both began to lose control, his mouth on hers again.

  Then, his hand moved between her legs, and Wendy gasped, her eyes flying open.

  Her intake of breath had a strange affect on Patrick. He immediately pushed off of her and grabbed his shirt. “We can’t do this right now. You need some time to… er…I need to go. I’ll be back later.” His eyes were locked on hers, his breathing was labored, and his erection strained against his jeans.

  Wendy did not speak. Frozen in place, she tracked him until he left, the door slamming behind him. When she heard a car start and drive away, she began to sob with relief.

  A few hours later, she pretended to be asleep on the couch when Patrick returned. His footsteps hesitated next to the couch and then headed to the bedroom.

  She knew her parents would probably come pick her up in the morning.

  But she’d be back after the wedding.

  She lay in the darkness awake, listening her future husband’s soft snores in the bedroom.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Protectors sat around Fallon’s kitchen table and watched on as Roderick held a piece of silvery fabric with both hands while Logan stabbed it with his sword. Roderick stepped back at the force of Logan’s last thrust, but the material didn’t tear.

  Satisfied that he couldn’t penetrate it, Logan gave up and sat back down. Roderick smiled at Kieran. “It works.”

  Then, he spoke to the others. “Kieran and I have been working on this for a couple of years. We’ve had body armor made out of it that has been forged together. It’s light enough to wear under your clothing, and as you saw, it withstands a lot. Each of you will get a couple sets. Soon, every Protector Earth-wide will be wearing them.”

  Cyn groaned. “Won’t they be hot as hell during the summer months?”

  Kieran answered the question. “The fabric is thin enough that it allows air to move in and out of it freely. I won’t lie, since we have to wear undershirts and underwear beneath it, the armor-wear does add another layer. So far the Protectors testing it in warmer climates aren’t complaining too much.”

  “Beats the hell out of getting jabbed with whatever Kieran got stabbed with,” Fallon said, as he paced the room restlessly.

  At Kieran’s grunt, he gave him a dismissive look. “What? You almost died.”

  Kieran shook his head. Fallon, always the superior Lord, seemed back to his normal self today. “Did I scare you, dear?” He lifted an eyebrow at Fallon’s flat look.

  “Julian wants everyone armored up, beginning tonight. So suit up and head out,” Roderick told them sternly. As the oldest Protector present, the Spartan assumed leadership when Julian wasn’t present. He looked at Kieran with concern. “Kieran, are you sure you’re ready?”

  Kieran didn’t reply. He got up and grabbed his scabbard an
d then checked his jacket, touching the daggers before slipping it on. He tensed as Cyn neared. He loved his brother, but the man was driving him crazy of late. He understood how bad things had gotten when he’d been ill, but his brother needed to relax a bit.

  “I’m fine, Cyn. I can demonstrate by kicking your ass right now if you wish?” He spoke without looking at him.

  “Let’s go, Fallon.”

  Cyn didn’t say anything, but Kieran could sense apprehension flowing over him in waves. He turned and glared at Cyn. But when he saw the unease in his eyes, his anger deflated “Brother, I’m fully recovered, all right? I assure you, I’m fine.”

  “If you don’t believe him, go by my house and see all the furniture he and Logan destroyed while sparring.” Fallon stepped up. He tapped Cyn’s shoulder, a silent message that he had Kieran’s back.

  Cyn relaxed and gave Kieran a lopsided grin. “Sorry.”

  The night was unusually bright, the moon almost full. Kieran leaned on a tree in a courtyard surrounded by skyscrapers. The sound of traffic was almost like the sound of ocean waves, and he relaxed, his legs crossed at the ankles.

  He tilted his head, studying a shadow. Fallon was patrolling around the block while he waited for any demons that tried to hide by running into the small park. The shadow moved again, and he tensed. It was a demon. Or two.

  A male demon hurried into the courtyard, pulling a young guy by the arm. The human didn’t seem distressed.

  Kieran moved slowly into the darkness to watch and ensure that the demon did not intend to hurt the man. The males embraced and began kissing. He looked away momentarily. After a few minutes, they sat on a bench and began to talk. It was obvious the demon was not going to hurt the human. Their soft laughter flowed over to him, and Kieran moved soundlessly away to the busy street. The human male was safe. He doubted a demon bent on killing would attack the guy as long while he was with another.

  He stalked to the corner and waited for Fallon.