cut his wrist and let three drops of blood fall past Aisley’s lips and into her mouth.
She would be healed by the time she woke. And he would be long gone.
It was his decision, but he couldn’t make his legs move. If only she would sit with him and just talk he could try to understand why she thought he wanted to kill her.
And why she didna want him.
That wouldn’t happen until he earned her trust. No matter what he wanted to do, Phelan knew he had to be out of the room by the time Aisley woke.
Which was damned inconvenient. Need filled him, making his rod twitch. He flexed his hands, imagining running them over her skin and cupping her breasts.
Phelan rose with a growl. He had to leave now.
Or not at all.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Aisley slowly opened her eyes expecting to feel the dull, residual headache that always followed one of her migraines. Instead, there was nothing.
She felt refreshed and revitalized. No longer did her eyes feel as if sand had been poured in them. A good night’s sleep was all she really needed.
The events of the previous night flashed in her mind as she slowly sat up. Phelan had been there. He had lifted her in his arms. Had he brought her to the hotel? It was the only explanation that made any sense.
“Well, hell,” she muttered.
She already found him occupying her thoughts too much. Now she was not only indebted to him, but he’d done a nice thing. She didn’t want to thank him.
“He’s just messing with my head,” she told herself as she threw off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
That’s when she saw her duffle and purse. Aisley dropped her head into her hands. How could she continue to try and hate a guy who had taken care of her?
“I’m screwed, that’s what.”
There was a soft knock on her door, which made her jerk her head up. Aisley gathered her magic and padded to the door. She looked through the peephole to see a young man holding a tray full of food.
He knocked again, and this time said, “Room service.”
Aisley opened the door to see a redheaded teenager with bad acne give her a bright smile. “He said to wait until eight and then see if you were awake.”
“Eight? As in eight in the morning?” she asked in disbelief. She should have been on the road hours ago.
“Aye, miss. Where should I put this?”
Aisley stepped aside for him to enter. “The man. Was he tall with long dark hair?”
The boy straightened from setting down the tray and smiled. “That’s him, miss. He’s a formidable one. Wanted me to make sure not to wake you no matter what.”
“Formidable. That describes him all right,” she said with a frown.
Aisley grabbed a few pound notes and gave them to the employee before he left. Then she looked at the tray of food.
“I’d weigh five hundred pounds if I let him feed me,” she said as she looked at all the food on the tray.
The smell and her growling stomach was too much. She grabbed a plate full of sausage, eggs, and toast before pouring a cup of coffee and orange juice.
It had been quite awhile since Aisley had eaten so much at one sitting. Her body demanded more, and before she knew it, she’d eaten almost everything Phelan ordered.
There were two pastries and a croissant left, all of which Aisley wrapped in a napkin and packed in her purse to eat during the drive.
A glance at the clock showed it was a quarter to nine. With a curse, she rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. When she stepped out and stood in front of the mirror she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.
Aisley ran her fingers through her wet hair, pulling the inky strands away from her face. Where was the young girl who laughed at everything and thought the world was hers for the taking?
It was amazing how life could go along at a good pace, and then so easily get off kilter in less than a heartbeat. She might not have been perfect, but she’d been a good person.
She still didn’t know why God had chosen to punish her. Then, she hadn’t cared whether she lived or died. She flaunted herself in front of Death every day after that, hoping her life would end and the torment would cease.
It hadn’t been Death that had found her but Jason.
Aisley ran a finger over the wrinkles fanning out from the corner of her eyes. They were slight, but a year ago they hadn’t been there at all.
At twenty-nine Aisley expected her life to be much different. It was all those wrong choices her mother had cautioned her about.
Aisley turned away from the mirror and dressed in a pair of slim cargo khakis, black shirt, and a pair of black wedges. She then threw her dirty clothes into her duffle. After running a comb through her hair, she grabbed her stuff and walked out of the hotel.
She glanced around the small town looking for Phelan. He was there, she knew it, she just couldn’t see him. Aisley tossed her bag into the back of her Fiat and got in.
She squeezed her eyes closed as her heart pounded in her chest. When seconds ticked by with no other evil voice in her head, Aisley started the car and turned up the radio as loud as she could.
The border into England was just a few hours away. She would make it and leave all of Scotland—and the bad memories—behind forever.
* * *
Phelan’s elation at seeing the pep in Aisley’s step again disappeared when he saw her grip the steering wheel as if her life depended on her hanging onto it.
Just as he was thinking about approaching her, she started the car and drove off.
“Damn woman. If she’d only let me help,” he murmured as he put on his helmet.
He started the Ducati, but he didn’t immediately follow her. During the night he’d made the decision to let her go and search for Wallace.
Yet, he remained just to get a glimpse of her. That was all he was going to do to make sure she was feeling better. That one look hadn’t been enough.
He liked helping her, and he wanted to do it again. If she let him. Which he knew she wouldn’t. That in itself had him pulling out behind her and following her once more.
It didn’t take long for Phelan to realize Aisley was on her way out of Scotland. And fast. She pulled over only once to get petrol.
As they neared Dumfries, Phelan was trying to think of a way to keep her in Scotland. He couldn’t follow her into England no matter how much he wanted to.
His duty was to help his brethren and the Druids in locating Wallace. He had a long time to contemplate his conversation with Malcolm.
There was a chance Wallace could have been tossed through time somewhere, but Phelan wasn’t so sure of it. Time travel didn’t happen by accident. It was done with powerful magic and the right spell.
The last battle had unfolded, leaving Wallace alone and being attacked by the selmyr. Phelan didn’t imagine the bastard had enough time to use the spell to traverse time.
By the time they reached Dumfries, Phelan knew he had to do something. He gunned the Ducati to bypass three cars when the sickening feel of
