Awaken the Highland Warrior (25 page)

Bree stopped chewing, but Faelan had already ruined her sleep; she wouldn’t let him ruin her appetite too.

Ronan pointed to a cabinet. “Grab a couple of glasses, and I’ll get the milk.”

“You must spend a lot of time here.”

He patted his flat stomach. “Does it show?”

Bree laughed. “I meant here at the house.”

“This is a second home, like base camp, for all of us. Warriors from the clan travel all over the world, wherever we’re sent, but we’re always welcome here.”

“I guess it’s all the traveling that makes the accents so hard to place. I can hear a hint of brogue, but no two are alike. Faelan sounds more like a Scot since he’s gotten here. He’d started to sound modern.”

“We pick up languages and dialects fast. It’s part of our disguise, but the tongue knows when it’s home.” Ronan poured two glasses of milk and took a long drink of his.

“I suppose not having a definite accent makes it harder for a demon to find out where you live.”

“Aye. We’ve gone to great lengths to protect our clan’s location. It wouldn’t be good if we were found out.”

“Druan’s castle is a duplicate of this one. Someone must know.”

“Let’s hope whoever it is, is dead.”

They chewed for a few moments in silence. Bree reached for another cookie. “Ronan and Declan sound like Irish names, not Scottish.”

“Celtic,” Ronan said, wiping his mouth. “Mostly used in Ireland. My mother was Irish, like Faelan’s. Many Scottish warriors find their mates in Ireland. My father named the first son…” His eyes shadowed. “My mother got to name the second. She didn’t know she’d get two.”

“You have an older brother? Is he a warrior?”

Ronan stared into his glass. “He died.”

“I’m sorry.” Bree dropped the subject, since he seemed uncomfortable discussing it. “Cody said he’s from the Connor clan, but he lives in America.”

“His family’s been there a long time. Some secret mission. There are other warriors in America besides the Connor clan, but they all originated from Scotland. Warriors were sent to guard the new country. I’ve lived there the last few years myself, when I’m not hunting.”

“In America?”

“Montana. I was in Alaska for a while. We had a warrior who went rogue. I needed some time to clear my head, so I volunteered. I chased him to Montana. Liked it there, so I stayed, as much as any warrior stays put. Last month I was given a demon in Ireland, so here I am.”

“A warrior went rogue? They can do that?”

“Just like angels can fall. It’s a choice.”

“Like being a traitor?” she asked, and they both grew silent. Was he thinking of Angus’s pronouncement?

“Like being a traitor,” Ronan agreed.

“So what did you do with this rogue warrior?”

He studied a cookie then met Bree’s gaze. “That’s nothing for a bonny lass to worry about.”

Bree traced the circle on her glass. “Then tell me something else. What’s with Sorcha and Duncan?”

“Don’t tell me you can feel the tension.” He rested his elbows on the counter. A look of pain crossed his face. Did he have a thing for Sorcha too? “Duncan’s always been protective of her, but protecting Sorcha’s like protecting a porcupine. She makes it hard for him. Hmmm, I think that was a pun.”

Bree’s face warmed. “Are they together?” she asked. “I mean this whole mate thing?”

“Duncan’s never said anything, but for his sake, I hope not. I’d shoot myself first.” Ronan handed Bree another cookie.

“Do you think Faelan and Sorcha could be…” Bree’s voice hitched.

“Mates?” Ronan finished, watching her closely. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. She seems attracted to him.”

“Sorcha acts like that with all men. She does it to piss Duncan off.”

“Why?”

“Who knows why Sorcha does anything. I don’t know how he puts up with her. I’d throw her in Loch Ness and be done with her. As for Sorcha and Faelan being mates, there’s been some speculation since she was to come and wake him, but that’s about it. Speculation.” He popped another cookie. “So life threw you for a loop, waking a warrior from another century. Not just any warrior, but the Mighty Faelan.”

“It’s been interesting.”

“You two get along? I mean, he’s living in your house, sleeping there…” His tone was deceptively casual. She suspected everything about Ronan was deceptively casual.

“I guess so. He didn’t have much choice but stay, waking after a century with only the clothes on his back. Well, that and his dagger and talisman.”

“That’ll change soon enough. His money’s been invested all this time.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what Sean said. A century and a half. Not bad, huh?”

“Does Faelan know?”

“Don’t know if Sean or Duncan mentioned it yet, with all the excitement.”

“He’ll be relieved. He hates depending on someone else. After this is over, he was going to get a job working with horses.”

“He could buy a hundred horse farms. Half the stock here came from Nandor’s line. Do you ride?”

“Me, on a horse? I have balance issues.” Bree smiled. “The cutest little boy offered to teach me to ride earlier. I’ve never seen so many happy kids.”

“We breed like rabbits. When a warrior finds his mate, he can’t think of anything else.” Ronan grinned. “Keeps the clan supplied with plenty of warriors.”

They munched in silence as Bree puzzled over Ronan’s words. Was that what Faelan’s appetite was about? Not a side effect from the time vault, but he’d met his mate? He was almost finished with his duty. Had he left behind a mate? He seemed guarded when she asked him about it earlier.

“Faelan speaks highly of you.”

“He does?”

“That surprises you?”

“He’s different lately.”

“Stands to reason. He’s got the world to save, demons to chase. And now we have mysterious time vaults popping up in cellars and castles vanishing into thin air.” He rubbed his chest and winced. A dark spot on his shirt seemed to be growing.

“Are you bleeding?”

He glanced down. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Scratches don’t bleed like that.” She put her cookie down, moved closer, and reached for his shirt collar to peek at the wound. It was about two inches long, above his battle marks. “This is way more than a scratch.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll throw a Band-Aid on it.”

“Warriors heal fast, but it’ll take more than a Band-Aid to cover that. I saw Coira put a first aid kit under the sink.”

“Aye, nurse, but don’t get too close. I haven’t showered yet. I’d hate to overpower you with my manly scent.”

Bree gathered the first aid kit and turned to find Ronan easing his T-shirt over his head. Jiminy Christmas! His chest was a work of art. His battle marks looked similar to Faelan’s, but they ran in two rows down the center of his chest.

Bree examined the wound. “Don’t tell me one of your girlfriends did this.”

He lifted a dark brow. “Somebody’s been telling tales. Just taking care of some unfinished business. It got a little messy.”

“Angus?”

He nodded. “I tracked down the demons that attacked him. Three of them. They wouldn’t say who ordered the attack. I’d say someone thought Angus knew something important.”

“You went after them alone?”

“I fight solo.” Ronan’s jaw was hard. Guilt flashed in his eyes. He watched her clean his wound, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, as if the words came from a sacred place. “My older brother was killed by a demon. I was there but I couldn’t save him.”

Like Faelan and Liam. Did all warriors feel responsible for everyone around them? “I’m sorry.” Bree wiped a drop of blood that ran down one of his marks, and her head started to buzz. “But you shouldn’t go out alone.” She covered the wound with antibacterial cream. “Getting yourself killed won’t bring Cam back.”

Ronan’s whole body tensed. “How did you know about Cam?”

“Who?”

“Cam. My brother.”

“You just told me.”

“Not his name.”

“I said his name? Are you sure?”

“Maybe I imagined it.” He rubbed his eyes. “Old ghosts.”

“Do you think those demons followed Angus here? He said something about a traitor. If they know where the house is—”

“I don’t think they got that far. If they did, they won’t be talking now. I have a hard time believing there was a traitor in the clan.” But like Sean, Ronan looked more worried about the matter than he sounded.

“There you go,” Bree said, smoothing the last piece of tape. “Next time, take someone with you.”

“Thank you. Faelan’s a lucky man. I am too, to have such a bonny nurse,” he said, inspecting his new bandage, almost touching his talisman.

“Are all talismans different?”

“Aye. Some look similar, but no two are alike.”

“I can’t imagine wearing something so powerful around your neck. I mean one flash of Faelan’s and those halflings were gone, right before my eyes.”

Ronan’s mouth dropped. “You saw the light from his talisman?”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You watched an engaged talisman? Bloody…” He stared at her, frowned, and shook his head. “The time vault must have messed it up. If you’d looked at the Mighty Faelan’s talisman full strength, we wouldn’t be sitting here swiping cookies. You, my bonny lass, would be dead.”

“That’s what Faelan said.”

“His talisman has probably killed more demons than any warrior who’s lived. He was the first warrior in two hundred years to be assigned one of the ancient demons, the only one to be assigned two of them.”

“Why aren’t they usually assigned?”

“They’re too powerful. Cody MacBain’s the only one who’s been assigned one since Faelan.”

“Who does the assigning?”

“Michael.”

“This warrior? Where is he?”

“Oh, here and there.” Ronan rubbed his stomach. “I think that last cookie was one too many.”

“I should have stopped after the third.” Bree replaced the first aid kit while Ronan put the cookie jar back. They rinsed the glasses and loaded them in the dishwasher.

“I know nothing about this.” Holding his shirt in one hand, Ronan took her arm and led her from the kitchen. “Fairies,” he whispered.

Bree giggled. “Or bogles.”

“We’ll blame it on Brodie.”

“I think I’ll try to sleep for a couple of hours,” Bree said. “It’s only six o’clock.”

“I’ll walk you up. I need some rest, myself.” Ronan put an arm around her back as they walked up the stairs past Sorcha’s door. Had Faelan gone back for another round after he’d found Bree’s bed empty? “You speak Gaelic?”

“A bit.”

“What does
Tha thu as do chiall
mean?”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“What?”

“That’s what it means…
You’re out of your mind
. Can’t imagine where you heard that,” he said, grinning.

She was out of her mind. For feeding Faelan, giving him a bed, sleeping with him, when all he did was hide the truth. Before she and Ronan could say good night, her door flew open. Faelan stood in his underwear, glaring at them, mouth so tight she was afraid he’d grind his teeth to powder. His eyes blazed from Ronan’s bare chest to his arm at Bree’s back.

“You good here?” Ronan asked Bree.

“Fine,” she grated. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve told Faelan what he could do with his glare.

“Good night then. Faelan,” Ronan kept a straight face until he turned away. Bree saw him grin.

“Where’ve you been all night?” Faelan demanded before Ronan was out of hearing. “And why’s he half naked?”

“Go ask him.” She shoved past Faelan. If this was how things were in his day, treating a girl like he owned her one minute, like a leper the next, and bouncing from bed to bed, then he could go back.

Faelan shut the door, his arms stiff, hair mussed like he’d been sleeping. “What were you doing with him?”

Bree whirled on him. “Faelan, there were plenty of times in my own home when I would’ve been justified in saying this, but I didn’t.” She walked around him and opened the door. “I’m saying it now. Get out!” She put a hand on his chest and pushed him into the hall. He scowled and blinked as if she were the one being rude. He started to say something, but she shut the door in his face and locked it.

He was like the rest, a toad in a Prince Charming shell.

She stepped over his discarded jeans and T-shirt, changed her mind, picked them up, jerked open the door, and dumped his clothes at his feet. He was still standing there when she relocked the door. She crawled into bed without undressing. It was warm, and it smelled like him. He’d slept here. She buried her face in the dent his head had made, and soaked the pillow with tears, swelling her eyes, making her temples throb. When she finished crying, she got out of bed and rummaged in the side pocket of her suitcase for one of the sleeping pills she’d brought, since Faelan seemed nervous about flying. The sketchbook was there. She’d brought it on a whim, thinking she’d face her ghosts while Faelan faced his.

Bree’s hands trembled as she opened the first page. An abyss of shadows and gloom rushed at her, and blocked memories loosed with each turn of the page. There were sketches of the graveyard and the crypt beneath the overhang of trees that looked more human than wood. Of a castle. This castle, or was it Druan’s? A face looked out of a window, a monster with thick skin and sharp teeth, like that thing in the chapel, but worse. Bree as a little girl, reaching for the burial vault with bloody hands as a light glowed behind her.

Memories flashed in her head, like an old movie reel, becoming clear for the first time since that night. She remembered screaming for help, clawing at the blocked door until blood dripped from her nails. Then she’d heard the whispers, soothing her. Her sobs quieted, and she’d fallen asleep. She’d dreamed of the shiny man like she had so many times before. He was tall and beautiful and kind. He’d always told her she was special, that she had something great to find. This time he told her that her father was gone, but he’d sent someone else to protect her. He showed her a man’s eyes. Beautiful, dark eyes. She’d awoken to yells and lights and a dozen searchers. After the commotion died down, her grandmother took her inside and explained that her father was dead. She never told her grandmother that she already knew. Bree turned the page and gasped.