Awaken the Highland Warrior

“We were on the way home and got too tired to drive. I have trouble seeing at night, and he gets migraines.”

“Poor thing,” she said to Faelan. “I do too. I have medicine, if you need it.” After checking them in, she led them up a wide staircase to a landing and pointed out a large room to the left, with walls painted green and a canopied bed. “The other one is right next to it. Fresh toothbrushes are in the bathrooms. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs for another hour. Breakfast is at eight.”

“Any preference on rooms?” Bree asked, feeling awkward after making out in the car.

Faelan wasn’t listening. He’d walked inside the green room and was staring at an old painting hanging over an antique dresser. Bree followed and stood beside him. The dark-haired girl in the painting was feeding her horse an apple.

“She looks like Alana,” he said, his eyes so haunted Bree wanted to kill Russell with her bare hands.

“She must have been lovely.”

“Aye. She was full of life. Loved people, animals, especially horses. And painting. She painted anything that would sit still. Tormented me and my brothers.” A smile touched his lips. “She hid a portrait of me in my trunk before I left Scotland. Her note said it was so I wouldn’t forget her. I could never forget.”

Bree touched his arm, wishing she could erase his pain. He pulled her close and buried his mouth in her hair.

“I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose everything she loved, everything she knew, in one instant. “You may get to meet Alana’s descendants. Won’t that be amazing?”

“Aye, that will be amazing,” he said, his words muffled. When he stepped back, there was sadness on his face. “I apologize for what happened in the car, and before. You shouldn’t have to put up with me.” Before she could speak, he touched her cheek and walked away.

***

“Eek! ” Mrs. Edwards’s plump hand flew to her equally ample bosom as she stared at the tall, raven-haired man who’d entered. “Oh my word, I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“My apologies. I know it’s late, but the sign out front did say welcome.” His eyes flashed, then he smiled, and something she couldn’t name wound its way up her body. “I’d hoped you might have a room for the night.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” she said, fanning her face. “Most of my guests checked out already. Thank God. They were part of that strange conference in town.”

He smiled again, and she glimpsed strong, white teeth. She was no spring chicken, but looking at him made her insides all gushy, like she hadn’t felt for thirty years or more. Or was it thirty minutes, she thought, remembering the other man who’d just arrived. This one looked almost too pretty with his long, glossy hair, like one of those male models, but bigger. Odd that she’d get two such handsome men in one night. Three, if you counted the other one. Made her wonder what the guest she hadn’t seen looked like. She glanced out the window. “Where’s your car?”

“I didn’t drive.”

“You’re lucky you found a taxi. This darned conference has taken over everything.” Then again, he probably didn’t have trouble getting taxis or anything else. With that smile, he could sell Bibles to atheists. “No luggage for you either, I suppose,” she said, looking at the floor. “Nobody has luggage tonight.”

“I think my brother’s friends might be staying here. Young couple, both dark-haired, attractive.”

“What are their names?” Mrs. Edwards asked, handing him his invoice.

“I don’t recall. I only met them once.”

“I can’t give out guests’ names. Policy, you know. I’m sure you’ll see them at breakfast.”

“I doubt it. I’m not much of a morning person.”

***

Bree scrubbed herself raw with the vanilla soap Mrs. Edwards provided, but the horror of the castle, and Russell, still coated her skin. There was a knock on the door. Bree turned off the shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and went to the door. “Yes?”

“It’s Mrs. Edwards, dear. I brought some toiletries you might need, and I think you dropped something downstairs.”

Bree opened the door, and Mrs. Edwards handed her a notebook. “It’s not mine.”

“I found it on the stairs. I thought… well I suppose I should look inside for a name—oh, Mr. Smith. Did you drop this?” Mrs. Edwards took off toward a tall, light-haired man who’d started up the steps. He stood with one foot on the landing, staring at Bree as the color drained from his face.

She grabbed hold of the door, her head spinning. The man took the notebook and thanked Mrs. Edwards, his eyes never leaving Bree. Instead of going to his room, he turned and started downstairs. With one quick glance at Bree over his shoulder, he hurried out the door. Unless Bree was mistaken, his hand had been trembling.

“Did he just check in?” she asked Mrs. Edwards, when she gave Bree the toiletries.

“No. He arrived several hours ago. That’s the first I’ve seen of him since he got here. Haven’t seen his friend at all. They didn’t want to be disturbed,” Mrs. Edwards said, wiggling her eyebrows. She left, but Bree couldn’t shake her queasiness. Was the man in danger? Usually her premonitions were about family or friends, not strangers. Exhausted, she lay on the bed, her finger tracing circles on the chintz spread. She was too wound up to sleep. Sighing, she threw back the covers, wishing she had the nerve to go to Faelan’s room for company, but neither of them could afford the temptation. She couldn’t let her guard down again, for either of their sakes. After Russell was out of the way, then she and Faelan could see what this thing was between them. She dressed in her old clothes and stood in front of the portrait that looked like Alana, wondering what else Faelan had left behind. A woman? Friends? Sighing, she moved to the window and pulled back the lace curtains.

Across the street, an engine revved. A car pulled out of a driveway, headlights sweeping the small courtyard under Bree’s window to the edge of the woods. Two men stood near the trees, bodies locked in an embrace. The