“Holy crapoly,” Leah whispered.
Dougal leaned forward. “Then there’s nothing a mortal or a Vamp can do against a demon?”
Marielle winced. “The best you can hope for is to survive.”
Leah shuddered.
Underneath the table, where no one could see, Dougal took hold of her hand. “Is there a way we can get these God Warriors to help us?”
Marielle tilted her head, considering. “There is a way, but only if the demon in question has broken the rule of free will. You see, the Heavenly Father has decreed that all his children must have free will. From the viewpoint of mortals, it’s a wonderful thing, but for the angels, it’s a frustrating rule that severely limits their power. If a mortal decides to follow a demon, they cannot interfere. The mortal has the right to his decision.”
Leah groaned. “The soldier we had was a willing participant.”
Marielle nodded sadly. “If Master Han’s soldiers are willing to let Darafer transform them, then there is nothing the God Warriors can do.”
“Even if Master Han’s army takes over the world?” Leah asked. “They would just sit by and let it happen?”
Marielle sighed. “As long as mortals choose to do evil, then evil will triumph. And Lucifer will laugh when people blame it on the Heavenly Father. But even with all the suffering in the world, the Heavenly Father will not take away your free will. He wants you to choose good or evil. He will not force us to choose good.”
“Because forcing us would be . . . evil?” Leah asked.
Marielle nodded. “Exactly. Of course, demons like Darafer are evil incarnate, so occasionally, they will force someone, destroying that person’s free will. When that happens, the demon has broken the decree, and the God Warriors have the right to step in.”
“How would they know if that happened?” Dougal asked. “Maybe it already has happened, and they doona know.”
“They would know.” Marielle’s gaze drifted to the corner of the room. “That person’s Guardian would let them know.”
“Guardian?” Dougal glanced at the corner, but there was nothing there. “Ye mean guardian angel?”
“Yes.” Marielle smiled at the corner. “All mortals have at least one Guardian, and they are in constant communication with the Heavenly Host.”
Leah glanced over her shoulder. “I have a Guardian?”
“Yes. Josephine.” Marielle turned to her husband with a sad smile. “I’m afraid you lost yours when you died.”
“That’s all right.” Connor wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I have you.”
Leah peered around the room. “Are you serious? I have an angel named Josephine?”
“Yes, and she loves you dearly.” Marielle gave Dougal a sympathetic look. “None of the Vamps have any.”
He shrugged. That was hardly surprising.
Leah glanced at him, then blushed. “Does my Guardian see everything that I do?”
Marielle smiled. “Angels don’t have bodies, unless they need to take one for a specific purpose, so they don’t normally relate to the physical aspects of human life. They simply turn away and rejoin the Host whenever you . . . I mean, if you do . . . anything.” Her gaze shifted to Dougal and back to Leah.
Dougal smiled at the heated blush on Leah’s face and squeezed her hand underneath the table.
She cleared her throat. “If people have Guardians, then why do they get hurt?”
“The Guardians protect you as best as they are able,” Marielle replied. “But when free will comes into play, and a person decides to drink and drive, or chooses to take a drug, then there is very little they can do. It is painful to watch a soul we love destroy itself. And even more tragic when other innocent souls are destroyed in its wake.”
Dougal took a long drink of his Bleer while Leah and Marielle continued to philosophize. As long as Darafer was finding humans who were willing, there would be no help from the God Warriors.
He figured the Vamps and shifters could handle Master Han and the two vampire lords. The army would be difficult because the Vamps were so outnumbered. Difficult, but possible. However, when it came to Darafer, as far as he could tell, they were screwed.
Chapter Nineteen
“Ow!” Leah stumbled on the uneven pavement.
“Are you all right?” Marielle stopped pushing the stroller.
Leah put some weight on her left foot and winced. “I twisted my ankle.”
“Let me see.” Marielle leaned down to touch her ankle, and Leah felt an instant surge of relief.
“I think it’s better.” She tried walking, then winced. “But not much.”
Marielle sighed. “I’m afraid my healing powers are not as strong as they used to be, at least not for physical ailments. We need Bunny.”
“A rabbit?”
Marielle smiled. “Buniel. He’s a Healer. Let’s stop in that pub for a while so you can rest.”
Leah limped toward the street corner where the pub was located. Her arms were so full of purchases that she hadn’t seen the small pothole. But how could she have resisted buying herself a kilt? And then she’d needed the matching plaid shawl, a red beret, knee socks, and white Jabot blouse. She’d even splurged and bought herself a small sporran made of faux fur.
Marielle had bought plenty, too, and every storage space on the baby stroller was stuffed. She wheeled it into the pub and up to a table.
Leah set her purchases down on the nearby bench, then took a seat.
“I tell you what.” Marielle leaned over to rummage through the large diaper bag. “After we’ve rested a bit, I’ll run back to get the car. Then I can just pick you up, and you won’t have to walk.”
“Sounds good.” Leah propped her foot up on the bench. Already the ankle was starting to swell. She glanced around. The place was mostly empty, except for a few older men close to the fireplace, drinking pints and playing chess.
“Here you go.” Marielle handed Gabriel a stuffed tiger. He smiled, flailing the tiger about as she hunted for more toys in the diaper bag.
“May I be of service?” a deep voice asked, and Leah glanced up and blinked.
The waiter was tall, blond, and stunningly handsome.
“I’ll have a lemonade,” Leah said.
His mouth curled in amusement. “As you wish. And perhaps some warm milk for Gabriel?”
Marielle straightened. “Bunny! You came.”
Leah’s mouth fell open. He was rather heavenly to look at, even though she didn’t think anyone, even an angel, could be as gorgeous as a certain dark-haired vampire in a kilt.
He gave Marielle a hug, then placed a hand on Gabriel’s head. “God bless you, dear soul.”
Gabriel gazed up at him and blew bubbles of spittle.
The angel laughed, then turned to Leah. “I hear you twisted your ankle.”
“You did? How?”
He motioned to a space behind her. “Josephine told me, and Marielle wished for me.” He turned back to Marielle. “Did you want something to drink?”
She chuckled. “Are you taking orders? I’ll have a lemonade, too.”
“Very well.” He inclined his head. “Bless you all.” With a last smile aimed at Leah, he turned and walked toward the kitchen.
“He forgot to—” Leah paused when she realized she was no longer in pain. “Oh my gosh.” She leaned over to examine her ankle. The swelling was gone.
“Is it better?” Marielle sat down across from her.
“It’s completely better.” Leah set her foot on the floor. “How did he do that? He didn’t even touch it.”
“A twisted ankle isn’t much of a challenge for Bunny.”
A dark-haired waiter came toward them with a tray. He set two glasses of lemonade on the table, plus a glass of warm milk. Marielle poured the milk into a plastic glass and snapped a spouted lid on top.
“Where’s Buniel?” Leah asked. When the waiter gave her a blank look, she continued, “The other waiter? The blond one?”
&n
bsp; The waiter frowned, shaking his head. “I’m the only one here right now. Let me know if ye need anything else.” He turned and strode back to the kitchen.
Leah’s skin prickled with goose bumps. “That was weird. Where did Bunny go?”
Marielle shrugged. “His work was done.”
“But I didn’t get to thank him.”
Marielle smiled as she handed the cup of milk to her son. “You just did. He’ll know.”
Leah glanced over her shoulder. Was Josephine there? It was strange to think that all those years when she’d thought she’d been alone, she’d had a guardian angel. Heck, a week ago she hadn’t even believed in angels or demons. And she’d thought vampires were nonsense.
Now she was falling for a vampire in a kilt. She smiled to herself. She couldn’t wait to see his face this evening when he saw what she’d bought.
“The sun has set in New York.” Dougal slipped his cell phone back into his sporran after calling Freemont. “I need to go back to work tonight.”
“Marielle said they’d be down soon. Apparently they have a surprise for us.” Connor strode to the sideboard in his library and poured two glasses of Blissky. “Thank you for coming. Marielle had a great time today with Leah.”
Dougal nodded. “Thank you for loaning me a clean shirt and some socks.”
“Ye’re welcome.” Connor handed him a glass. “Come back any time ye like.”
Dougal sipped some Blissky. “Is it hard being married to a mortal? I mean, we can only be a husband or father at night.”
Connor frowned at his glass. “Sometimes I feel guilty for no’ being able to do more, but she claims I shouldna, that she’s verra happy.” He shrugged. “What is the alternative? To no’ be with her at all? Then we would both be miserable.”
Dougal winced. He would certainly be miserable if he had to give up Leah.
“I’ll take fifty percent of her life rather than have none of it.” Connor took a sip. “I have only the nighttime with her and Gabriel, but those nights are filled with joy.”
“We’re ready!” Marielle’s voice called out.
Dougal and Connor strode into the foyer and looked at the top of the stairs.
Dougal’s heart stilled.
Connor chuckled. “What a bonny lass ye are.”
Marielle started down the stairs. She was wearing a formal ankle-length kilt in the Buchanan plaid, although Dougal hardly noticed. His gaze remained focused on Leah as she descended the stairs, smiling.
If imitation was the greatest form of flattery, then she was flattering him something fierce. The style of her kilt, shirt, knee socks, and sporran all closely resembled his own. But whereas he considered his clothes to be merely functional, on her they looked adorable. Sexy. He wondered if she was mimicking him to the point that she was bare beneath the kilt. Just the thought made his groin tighten.
She reached the bottom step, and he moved close so their eyes were level.
She smiled, her cheeks blushing. “What do you think?”
“I think ye’re lovely. The most lovely lass I’ve ever seen.” He took hold of her shoulders and gazed down at her kilt. “So ye’re part of the Stewart clan now?”
“They didn’t have any Kincaid kilts on the rack. Those have to be ordered, and it would take a few weeks.” She glanced down. “But it’s the same basic colors.”
After dying for Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Stewart plaid was not one of his favorites, but he wasn’t about to ruin Leah’s fun. He made a mental note to order her a kilt in the Kincaid tartan as soon as possible. “I like yer red bonnet.”
“The beret?” She grinned. “I bought one for you, too, so we could match.”
“Och.” He moved closer and whispered, “Do ye think we’re a good match now?”
She nodded, her blush deepening.
He kissed her brow. She lifted her chin, so their lips were a fraction apart.
“And we have matching sporrans,” Marielle announced. “See? Oh, excuse me.”
Dougal glanced their way and discovered Marielle and Connor watching him and Leah with big smiles on their faces. He stepped back and pretended to admire Leah’s sporran. It was too small for his taste, but perfect for her. Thankfully, his own sporran was large enough to hide the growing problem under his kilt.
“What kind of skin is it?” Connor stroked his wife’s sporran.
“It’s supposed to look like beaver,” Marielle explained, “but they’re faux fur. Leah and I couldn’t bear the thought of any animals being harmed.”
Connor chuckled. “Ye have kind hearts.”
“I’m afraid we need to be going,” Dougal announced.
While he said his good-byes to Connor and Marielle, Leah ran back upstairs to her room to collect the tote bag she’d brought the night before.
“I bought more stuff than I could fit in my bag,” she said as she came downstairs with her bulging tote bag and more belongings bundled in a plaid shawl that matched her kilt. After saying good-bye to Connor and hugging Marielle and promising to return, she stepped outside with Dougal.
“This way.” He took her bag and led her up a hill. “Watch yer step.” The moon was shining brightly, but her night vision wasn’t nearly as good as his.
She gave him a wry look. “Are we walking all the way back?”
“I want to show you something.”
“You found a new underground lair?”
He chuckled. “Nay.” At the top of the hill, he stopped.
“Holy crapoly,” she breathed.
At the base of the hill, on a flat stretch of land, a stone circle gleamed in the moonlight.
“It’s beautiful.” Leah scampered down the hill, her bundled shawl clutched against her chest. “I love it!” She ran into the center of the stone henge.
As Dougal came down the hillside, he gathered up a small bundle of heather. “Here.” He handed it to her. “To remember yer first trip to Scotland.”
“Thank you.” She fumbled with her sporran to drop the heather inside. “I’ll always remember this.”
Still holding her tote bag, he pulled her into his arms. “Perhaps the next time we come to Scotland, ye’d like to see my house on the Isle of Skye?”
“I’d like that.”
“ ’Tis a date then.”
She grinned. “I guess we are dating.”
“Aye.” He kissed her brow. “Are ye ready to go back now?”
“Yes.” She went up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck, leaving her bundle of clothes squashed between them. “Don’t drop me.”
“Never.” He kissed her, then teleported them to the back porch of the townhouse.
She heaved a sigh of relief. “We made it.” Grabbing her bundle, she stepped back and stumbled.
He steadied her. “ ’Tis common to feel a bit dizzy.” When he turned to unlock the door, she fell forward. “Och, I think we’re attached.”
“We’re fused together?” she squealed. “Oh my God! I was afraid—”
“Relax! ’Tis only our sporrans.”
“Huh?” She stepped back and his sporran lifted, hooked onto hers. “How did this happen?”
“The chain on yers is caught on one of my tassels.” He tugged at the chain, but it was stuck. “Apparently, my muskrat is verra attracted to yer beaver.”
She snorted.
“Stay close to me.” He unlocked the door, and they sidestepped into the kitchen, waddling like penguins.
“It’s so dark in here.” She fumbled along the wall, hunting in vain for the light switch while he shut the door.
“I can see.” He dropped her tote bag on the floor, then tried to unhook her chain from his tassel. “Och, my right hand is too clumsy. I doona want to damage yer beaver.”
She scoffed. “Don’t worry. It’s fake beaver.”
“Then when can I see the real one?”
“Ha!” She shoved at his shoulder, and he pulled her tight against him.
Her bundle of clothes fell to the fl
oor, and she splayed her hands against his chest. “This isn’t going to get us untangled.”
“I like it this way.” He nuzzled her neck as his hands slipped around her hips to her rump, then moved about.
“Are you looking for something?”
“I was wondering how authentic ye were. A real Scotsman would never wear drawers. Ah.” He traced the line of her underwear. “What a shame.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint.” She smoothed a hand up his neck to his face. “I can always take them off.”
His heart lurched. “Ye want to . . . ?” His eyes turned red, and she gasped.
“Are ye afraid?” he whispered, aware that his glowing red eyes might be all that she could see in the dark.
She skimmed her fingers over his cheek to his lips. “I’m falling for you.”
His heart swelled. “Leah.” Pulling her close, he kissed her thoroughly, hungrily. Her beret tumbled to the floor when he dug his hands into her hair. Her scent of jasmine filled his senses as he deepened the kiss.
He explored her mouth while his hands roamed her body. Her rounded hips, her narrow waist, her sweet breasts. She moaned, arching her back as he caressed a breast. It was plump enough to fill his left hand and sexy enough to make him hard. He tweaked the nipple, and she responded with a small gasp.
“Lass.” He unhooked her sporran at the small of her back, then unhooked his own and tossed the two onto the floor. This time when he pulled her close he was rewarded with a bigger gasp. His erection pressed against her.
She tugged at his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss. Her tongue danced with his, her moans mixed with his. He gathered up her kilt till he could slide his hands underneath. Her soft, silky skin was heaven, the curve of her rump paradise.
He slipped his hands beneath her tiny silk panties, grasping her bare bottom and pulling her hard against him. His erection strained. All he had to do was lift his kilt and—the light came on beneath the swinging door.
Footsteps sounded in the foyer as they came toward the kitchen.
“We’re no’ alone,” he whispered, hitting the light switch.
Leah blinked at the sudden light. “What?”
She looked beautifully disheveled, her lips plump and red from kissing.
The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo (Love at Stake) Page 16