Awaken the Highland Warrior

“Increase things?”

“You know… enhance.”

“Enhance?”

She glanced at his groin, ineffectively covered by the towel. “The feeling. The parts.”

“The parts?” His brows climbed higher. “Make it bigger?”

How did she get into these conversations? “Maybe we should…” she hesitated.

“What?” His eyes radiated hope and dread.

“Would it help if you could… if you could get it out of your system?”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

“I mean really get it out of your system. With a woman.”

He took a step forward. “Are you offering?”

***

Faelan licked the edges, swirling his tongue closer to the center, so smooth, so slick, and the taste! He would slaughter ten demons for one taste. He slid the Caramel Delight container into the freezer and moved into the hall, ice cream cone in his hand; sustenance for his battle with Bree. She was leaving, she just didn’t know it yet. He would carry her down the driveway on foot if he had to. Her determination to stay was admirable, but there was a time to fight and a time to leave. This was the latter.

The air stirred against his skin. His warrior senses kicked in. Hardheaded woman, she’d left a window open. It’d be a miracle if he managed to keep her alive until dark. He followed the breeze to the family room, stepping over boxes she’d been unpacking as he headed for the window. He was alarmed to see daylight nearly gone. He heard her voice and looked outside. She stood near the toolshed, her shirt loaded down with—he sniffed—apples. In the twilight, she looked pregnant. He puzzled over the odd warmth in his gut that wasn’t hunger. Then, he heard another voice. Male. He reached for his sword, cursed, and grabbed his talisman instead, ready to climb out the window, when he remembered her brother. He must have heard about the dead body. The man was an idiot to leave Bree unchaperoned. If he knew half the thoughts in Faelan’s head…

Maybe her brother could persuade her to leave.

“You know Jared,” the brother said, moving into view. “He was worried after the message you left.”

Who in tarnation was Jared?

“You split most of the wood,” the brother continued. “I’m impressed.”

“Uh, thanks,” Bree glanced toward the house, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“You should have called. I would’ve done it for you. I’ll finish it up after we get back on site.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss next to Bree’s mouth, then drew her into a hug so tight Faelan’s dirk, wherever in blazes she’d hidden it, wouldn’t have fit between them.

The cone in Faelan’s hand cracked. This was no brother. Was she courting someone? She didn’t act like a woman who belonged to a man, but clearly moral values had changed while he slept. Only a wife would have done what she had in the bathroom. Or someone who expected payment in return.

Whoever the man was, he’d better get his hands and mouth off Bree. Faelan spun toward the door. His shoulder banged into a candlestick on the mantel, sending it and a loose photograph tumbling from the edge. His hands shot out to catch them. The cone went one way, the ice cream another, hitting the wall with a sloppy thump. He wedged the candlestick back into a hole he hoped it’d occupied and started to put the fallen photograph back. It was covered in ice cream. He wiped it on his shirt, and a face appeared, a dark-haired woman, her hairstyle and dress from another time. His time. Faelan’s head felt thick, and the first two ice cream cones he’d eaten lay in his stomach like a rock. He stared at the picture, knowing if the image wasn’t black and white, he’d see eyes as green as moss.

As green as the first time he’d seen them.

One hundred and fifty-one years ago.

Chapter 9

Faelan waited until Greg left the tavern before slipping outside. To his right, a carriage was unloading. A man with a limp climbed out, followed by a well-dressed young couple, newly married, judging by their intimate smiles. The woman wore a long green dress that matched her eyes. Faelan felt a strange pull, and it disturbed him. He didn’t lust after other men’s wives.

The older man nodded to Faelan. “Fine day today.”

“Not bad,” Faelan said, too distracted for pleasantries. He tipped his hat as the couple approached, and darned if the woman didn’t trip over the hem of her dress and drop her satchel at his feet. Good manners demanded he help. He and her husband gathered the scattered items, waiting as she crammed them back inside her bag.

She flashed a grateful smile as Faelan handed her the last item, a heavy book engraved with a rose. Large, green eyes met his, and the smile slid from her face. She blanched, pulled her satchel close, and then turned away, hands shaking. The men nodded thanks, not noticing her reaction, and the three strangers walked inside.

Faelan stared at the picture, his chest aching. Only a being with demon blood could remain nearly unchanged for more than a century. She must be a halfling. Was the man outside really a man? He wasn’t Druan; the form and hair coloring were wrong. But he could be working for Druan. Faelan raced for the door, still gripping the photograph. He ran into Bree, already on the porch. Her shirt was doubled up into a bumpy pouch. “Who was that?” he demanded, yanking her inside and slamming the door. Apples tumbled from her shirt and rolled across the floor.

“That was Erik,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Who’s Erik?” He put his hand on the door, in case she tried to run.

“One of Jared’s men.”