Love of Her Lives (6 page)

Okay, that was weird.

“First, do you know this ass?” He nudged Bruce with the toe of his boot.

“He’s an acquaintance, a friend of Matthew’s — my boyfriend who should be here any minute.” Best to let this testosterone–filled warrior think she was happily attached and not alone.

A look of distaste crossed his face. “Beth, I saw the black satchel on your table.”

“Cripes! I knew it. You buried the backpack in my yard?” She picked up the broom stick and wielded it tight.

One sand–coloured eyebrow rose as did his mouth, in amusement — what nerve! “Come a little closer,” she said, “so I can smack that condescending smile off your face.”

The warrior laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “I know you would, as I know the sun will rise tomorrow. No, the satchel doesn’t belong to me. I’m not wanting the goods from it, nor to harm you, nor to get hit with that broom.”

Beth kept it raised. “Well, what do you want?”

“I only saw it, Beth, I have nothing to do with it, but to know it will be the root of trouble for you. Allow me to have a look at the contents, and then we’ll determine if it’s best to trust the constable. Don’t think you’re out of harm’s way. Others may know about the satchel. I don’t believe you are safe here.”

“Not safe from you,” she pointed out. If she phoned the police how would she explain where the money had gone? Could she deny its existence? “Listen, you stand still. I need a moment to think about this.”

“What was in the satchel, lass?”

“I don’t see how that’s your business. Listen, Calum.” Finally, she remembered his name. “If you heard Popeye here mention money, I have none. The money has been delivered to the police.”

A look of alarm crossed his features. “Was there anything else in it? How is Popeye connected to that paltry boyfriend of yours, and how could you be connected to that satchel?”

Paltry boyfriend? “I’m not connected to it other than finding it in the woods. Why all the questions?” The professor felt familiar to her, but oddly enough not as a professor. The bizarre feeling he’d just returned from an ancient battlefield was difficult to shake, but shake it she would. More likely she’d seen him around the university. “Listen up, I don’t have the money anymore, so if that’s what you’re after, you are shit out o’ luck, Bucko.”

“I don’t care about that money any more than you did. Look into my eyes, Beth, and see for yourself.”

“What?”

She did. He’d taken her by surprise, and she couldn’t seem to help herself. The guy had remarkable eyes. They reflected controlled strength he seemed to wield like second skin, strength that could be trusted to keep her safe. And one thing worth noting — he was not hard to look at. In a pinch, she could do it all day. Okay, that addendum wasn’t necessary.
Get a grip, Beth.
Did he really think he could bring her down with nice eyes? She looked away.

“I want you to listen to me,” He glanced at Bruce. “Just allow for a moment the possibility that this ass means to avert the law by implicating you in a crime. I have reasons to believe it’s not only possible, but likely. You need to leave Ashbury straight away. Go as far from here as you can. Visit a friend. Stay at an inn. Don’t involve the constable yet as it could mean trouble for you. Just give me a couple of days to sort this out.”

“Calum,
you
listen to
me.
I want
you
to leave right now and visit a friend or find an inn. I don’t care. There’s a nice little bed and breakfast on Highway 24. I hear the orange juice is freshly squeezed.”

The man in her kitchen looked down on her with eyes that marched her off to ancient Scotland where men were masters and women did not refuse them. “There’ll be no chance of that. Free will be damned. You’re coming with me.”

There were advantages in wearing the body of a Highland warrior. Knowing he would carry no weapons in the twenty–first century, Calum was glad to have this hardened body in peak physical form, especially after Beth cracked his forearm with that broomstick. He outweighed her by at least seven stone and easily carried her out of the house over his shoulder. She fought him with true spirit.

He loved every minute. And, most important, he didn’t lose corporealness and get hauled back a dimension. Good. Technically, he had followed the rules and not
put the thought in Beth’s head that she should accept his word as gospel like he’d wanted. He’d only tried to rekindle some of the trust she must surely carry in her memory for him. She’d obviously not looked deep enough into his eyes.

Calum had a problem. He didn’t know the crime for which Beth would be accused. He knew she would be arrested, so his immediate intent was to keep her from the police. ‘Twas a two–fold plan that would also keep them together.

It wasn’t difficult to pick up on her emotions now. He sensed fear, mixed with excitement though, not terror, and the fear wasn’t entirely directed at him. Their struggle in the kitchen had only served to arouse him —
that
he felt sharply with no hope of a satisfying release — but he had not been the only one. The tousle had aroused her as well, so like the Bethia he knew.

“So, Tarzan.” Her chest rose and fell in quick successions. “Are you going to pound your chest now, affirm your dominance?”

He had her pinned against the wee car in the garage, her back against the front door, his hands pressed to the window on either side of her.

He left the humour out of his smile. She knew him better than she thought. “I’m giving you a choice now. You can either drive the car to a nice inn, when I say it’s far enough away, or you can ride in the trunk.”

The storm clouds in her eyes darkened. She attempted to back away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Leaning in closer, he drew a breath of her, fully intending to intimidate her with his size. She needed to relinquish her irrational need to resist him.

“I am definitely enrolling in karate classes.” His Bethia craned her neck as far from him as she could manage. “Stop breathing on me. Why do you think I’ll be in trouble if I go to the police?”

“It’s complicated. You’ll have to trust me.” He drew back slightly and felt her sigh.

“I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

“You’ll have to use your intuition then, lass. I’ll tell you how I know you’re in danger when the time is right. This isn’t the time.”

She exhaled a perturbed breath that breezed over his neck. “
I
choose which hotel.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t think it’s going to be isolated … or cheap.”

“Nothing but the best, lass.” Calum felt for the pocket full of paper money. Still there. He scanned the car under his hands in a quick glance. “Whatever possessed you to purchase such a wee car?”

“Hey, I’m going along with you, okay? Not because you threw your weight around, Mister–I’m–So–Much–Bigger–Than–You–I–Can–Have–My–Own–Way because I truly hate that. So don’t think yourself superior. I’ll go to a hotel because
I want to go.”

“Good enough. My concern is only for your safety.”

He’d grabbed the black satchel off the floor and her purse from the counter. When Beth slipped in behind the wheel, he ran around to the passenger side then tossed her the little bag. Inside were the keys like she’d promised. She didn’t resist, but drove the car out of the garage. Good sign.

She hadn’t called his bluff. Restraining her would have been a problem because driving a car wasn’t one of his strengths. Calum’s knowledge of the last century or so on Earth was adequate — he’d kept up with progress for the most part — but he couldn’t possibly catch every detail. Besides, watching and doing were not quite the same. No doubt he would master the car eventually.

“There wasn’t enough money in that backpack to warrant Bruce’s crazed behaviour.” She turned on to the main road. “Either he’s psycho, or there was something else in the backpack that I missed. Is this somehow connected to the university?”

He pulled on the zipper tab, amazed by the way the wee metal latches came apart. While keeping his wonder to himself, he couldn’t resist pulling the tab closed and open another time. Brilliant invention. “Are you certain the satchel contained not a thing but the money?”

“A small bag of marijuana too.”

Drugs. He pressed his fingers along the seams inside the bag and examined each pocket. “Nothing else?”

“No, nothing else.”

He turned to face her and knocked his head against the door frame. “Damn, we might as well be riding in a soapbox.”

She glanced at him, but he enjoyed no more than a hint of sensuality in her gaze before she focused back on the road. She masked her attraction to him by looking pleased at his discomfort.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she reminded.

“I don’t know if the satchel is connected to anyone at the university, but it’s a thought.”

“It strikes me odd that you don’t want to involve the police? Why do you think that could lead to trouble?”

“I am a soothsayer.” It was the best explanation he could give at the moment.

“You’re psychic? Yeah, right.” A little puff blew from her lips of pink, lips that glistened like the inside of a seashell.

He began to count the moments until he’d have the taste of her on his own lips. “I am right. You’ll realize it soon enough. I’ve told you the truth whether you believe it or not. I’m not your enemy, lass. You’re mixed up in something malicious and I’m here to help.”

A baffled glance came his way. “Okay, let’s assume for one minute you do have insight into all this. Why do you care? You don’t know me.”

“Why did you not keep the money?”

“Ill–gotten gains? No thanks. I’m not afraid to get involved and do the right thing. If you think about yourself all the time, then people get neglected or hurt.”

“People like you? Who hurt you, Beth?” He knew exactly who — her mother. The woman had the maternal instincts of a fish.

She pulled the car to a stop at a red light and flashed him the kind of look a wolf gives a rabbit. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changed the subject again. So, you’re delivering me from a future crisis you’ve psychically foreseen because you’re one of those good guys who believes in doing the right thing, just like me.” Each word was carefully coated in sarcasm.

“Ah, well said. You’re a fine judge of character, Bethia.”

“Stop saying my name like that.”

He laced his smile with the promise of bedtime. “Like what?”

“My name’s not Bethia, and you sound like your mind is on pure sin when you draw my name out like that. It’s no way to gain my trust.”

He laughed a deep rolling sound gilded in jasmine and starry nights. “A fine judge of character, indeed,” he said under his breath.

“I heard that.”

Good. He turned and looked out the window. She’d caught his intent. He had no desire to mask it, but planned a slow seduction culminating in Beth begging for pure sin. They were man and woman — bonded souls. Their love already existed.

When he thought back to their past lives together, he saw how passion held them together even through tumultuous times. Passion he must rekindle, so she would open up to him and he could determine if there was truth in what Finn proclaimed.

Would he be waylaid by a mere performance problem? Her pleasure would be his. And not to be underestimated, his spirit was strong. Surely, when the time came, mind and spirit would fortify body and so tightly queued, woven in love and passion, there would be no stopping his rise to the occasion. No breaking of eternal bonds.

Somewhere deep in her subconsciousness, the love of his lives knew what was at stake. She’d best prepare herself. Her safety was but one of his priorities. Bethia had merely glimpsed the obsession prowling his mind for her.

Beth glanced at the warrior crumpled on her passenger seat. A message had been drilled into her head and became so firmly rooted she couldn’t remember not knowing it: never get into a car with a stranger — never mind that — never talk to strangers, never take candy from them, and certainly never entertain fantasies about them in your bed. It was unheard of.

Yet, here she was. And though she hadn’t taken his candy, something told her it would be the richest, smoothest chocolate, a sumptuous indulgence to be licked from his finely sculpted …
Stop that!
What was wrong with her? This guy had abducted her from her kitchen, fully acknowledged a sinful disposition, and she had him covered in chocolate? It was time to get real — the controlling brute.

So what was it about him? He’d had her fully piqued back in the kitchen. Attacking him with the broom stick had felt like a game she wanted to play. He’d deflected her blows without hurting her, using force only to carry her to the car. She’d even heard him chuckle when he’d picked her up like he was having a grand time.

Why instead of fearing Calum did she feel safe with him? Way down in her bones, the warrior evoked security. And why did her stomach clench at the thought of walking into a police station? Beth trusted those gut feelings — her dad’s influence —
if it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.
In her upside down world, it felt right to stick to Calum.

When they reached the bottom of Main Street, he peered out the window with dismay. “Are there no hills or mountains in this land?”

She shot him a bemused look. “In this land? No, Calum. The closest mountains are the Laurentians in the east. We do have the Niagara Escarpment though — a good view to keep a watch out for bad guys.”

“I prefer the mountains. Head east then, somewhere safe. Far from Ashbury is all the better.”

She scoffed and continued south. Did he really believe she’d drive to Quebec at his command?

Quebec.

A gasp rose in her throat. The business card from the backpack had been from a real estate office in Quebec City. The name came clear in her memory — Chantal Desjardins, RE/MAX Alliance. Could Chantal Desjardins shed light on the backpack mystery?

She turned east. Not because it was his idea. She would not be controlled by any man. Her gut feeling was one that impelled her to escape Ashbury. The driving force behind the feeling was undetermined and could just as easily be excitement as much as it could be fear for her safety. Adventure slipped in the window like a long–lost friend and curled down her leg to the gas pedal.