The Heart of a Hero

by Janet Chapman

  “Are you serious?” Merriam whispered.

  “A hundred and fifty?” Ariel squeaked, touching her singed hair.

  Julia’s smile faltered, however, when she noticed her unflappable mentor also looking a little . . . flapped. “Hey, everyone,” she continued brightly. “Other than making the sticks and hunting up another forty cases of beer, most everything is already in place, so it’s going to be really easy.”

  Assuming she could find wedding bands—although they’d probably cost more than Adeline’s big fat diamond now safely tucked in the resort safe, because she was going to have to bribe a local artisan into making them in less than . . . sixteen hours.

  “But what about the hot dogs and rolls and the s’mores stuff?” Paul asked, shaking his head. “I completely wiped out the Trading Post’s stock of chocolate and marshmallows Friday afternoon, and Ezra said the next time we don’t give him at least a week’s notice he’s going to charge us triple.”

  Julia closed her eyes and dropped her head with a silent groan.

  “We’ll figure everything out in the morning,” Rana piped in, sounding surprisingly bright, and Julia looked up to see her mentor herding their staff toward the outside door as the woman pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Meanwhile, we’re going to give you people a couple of rooms for the night, so you can spend the next eight hours sleeping instead of traveling all the way home and back.” Rana stopped and looked at Julia, her smile once again calm and confident and unflappable. “And after a big hearty breakfast at Aeolus’s, we will be here at nine sharp, ready to work our magic all over again.”

  Julia slid her tote off her shoulder, stepped around Nicholas, and headed back to her desk—only to stop with her jacket half off when she saw him still standing there with his arms folded over his chest, frowning at her.

  “Go away, Nicholas. I’m very busy,” she said as she finished taking off her jacket before sitting in her big leather chair and rolling up to her desk. “You’re welcome to use the cart to take Rana home.”

  “And then I’ll come back and get you.”

  Deciding to ignore the threat in his voice, Julia pulled her calendar book out of her tote. “That’s very ki— Thank you, but just leave it at registration,” she said, leafing through the pages to find tomorrow—no, today’s—date. “I’ll grab it on my way home.”

  Two big broad hands pressed down on her desk on either side of her book. “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

  Julia leaned back in her chair and said nothing, simply looking at him with all the serenity she could muster, considering she was so tired she wanted to cry.

  “Ten minutes,” he said quietly as he straightened and walked away.

  The moment she heard the outside door close, Julia dropped her head onto her calendar book with a groan. Oh yeah, she couldn’t ever have sex with Nicholas again, because she really didn’t want to get used to having a big strong kind hero constantly swooping in and saving her.

  * * *

  Nicholas reached down to turn the key on the cart, only to have Rana stop him. “You’re not going to win any points by trying to intimidate her, Nicholas.”

  He looked over in surprise and then at where she was nodding, and saw that Rana had had a clear view of Julia’s lighted office through the windows. He turned the key. “She can barely stand without swaying, yet intends to keep working,” he said, pressing down on the accelerator and heading for the Oceanuses’ private cottage. “I was merely explaining that I’d be back in ten minutes to take her home.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with throwing herself into her work. Or are all you men so needy that you feel threatened by a woman who gets passionate about anything other than yourselves?”

  Nicholas frowned at her tone, wondering if they were still discussing Julia.

  “If Titus should ask, which I’m sure he will, you brought me home at ten.”

  No; definitely no longer about Julia.

  “And if Maximilian suggests you accompany Olivia and me and Sophie to Bangor this Friday, I want you to tell him you’re busy.” She nudged him with her elbow. “As it’s always been, Nicholas, you don’t answer to the Oceanus men.”

  Just the women, he silently added, stifling a smile. “Are you trying to get me banished to the underworld for lying to Titus and Mac?”

  She gave a soft laugh, as was her ritual every time he voiced that worry when she asked him to lie for her. “You wouldn’t be there a day before Hades sent you back to us.” She sobered when he stopped the cart in front of her cottage. “I mean it, Nicholas; the Oceanus women are climbing in the RV early Friday morning for a ladies only adventure.” She just as suddenly smiled again. “Minus Ella, because Olivia said the shopping malls on Black Friday are no place for a cherub.”

  Nicholas stopped partway out of the cart. “Why on earth would you go shopping on Black Friday?” he asked, although he had to raise his voice because she was halfway to the cottage steps, making him scramble after her. “I’ve been led to believe it’s complete chaos.”

  “Which is precisely why I asked Olivia to take me with her and Sophie this year. I want to feel that amazing energy for myself instead of watching it on the news,” she explained, the porch light revealing her excitement. But then she sighed. “Although Olivia said even she isn’t quite brave enough to be at the stores when they first open their doors, which means we’re going to miss all the best sales.”

  “Rana,” Nicholas growled. “Titus is not about to let you go anywhere near that chaos without protection.” He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you will not,” she growled right back at him. “It’s ladies only. So make sure you’re busy Friday. And Nicholas,” she said more softly, touching his arm to get him to look at her. “If you become overprotective of Julia, you’re going to send her running in the opposite direction. Like Olivia, Julia Campbell is a twenty-first-century woman and quite capable of taking care of herself.” She arched a regal brow. “Which, I assume, you consider one of her more attractive qualities, just as I suspect that’s what attracted Maximilian to Olivia.”

  Nicholas felt a grin tug free. “A quality that has given him nothing but fits for the last three and a half years.”

  That got him a laugh. “Yes, I do believe that’s what I most admire about my daughter-in-law.” Rana walked up the steps and opened the door, but then turned back to him, the porch light revealing her scowl. “And when you do catch Julia, I suggest you encourage her to follow her passions without trying to direct them.”

  She disappeared inside, and Nicholas stared at the closed door for several heartbeats before finally getting back in the cart, wondering if he shouldn’t warn Titus that the queen of his castle was preparing a rebellion—one that Nicholas suspected had the potential to make the wars of the gods seem like minor skirmishes.

  He drove toward the conference pavilion, undecided how to handle Julia if she wasn’t ready to go home, since he agreed that her abrasive independence was what had first attracted him to her. Well, along with her seemingly endless energy. Only that energy was obviously flagging tonight, and Julia’s stubbornness—as well as her apparent need to prove to herself that she had what it takes to be a good event planner—could very well end up being her downfall.

  For every warrior knew that more battles were lost from sheer exhaustion than lack of planning, which meant he wasn’t being overprotective by insisting she go home and get some sleep, but merely giving her the benefit of his experience. Nicholas stopped in front of Julia’s darkened office windows and strode to the door, only to find it locked. He pulled down the note taped to the glass and stepped out into the moonlight to read it. Thank you, but I took myself home.

  He slowly folded the note, undecided whether he was impressed by Julia’s own little rebellion or disappointed, as he had planned to kiss the lovely lady without their both ending up naked in under ten seconds.

  He stilled when he suddenly caught the
scent of what felt like desperation coming from the general direction of the event planner’s cottage, then shoved the note in his pocket and tore off at a run. He cut across the common green and ducked into the trees without breaking stride, trying to discern if it was coming from Julia or aimed at her, only to pull up short when he reached her cottage and saw the porch and interior lights on, everything looking peaceful. His attention was drawn to the edge of the clearing when he heard muttering and saw Julia half-buried in a thick stand of bushes—his pounding heart skipping a beat when he realized she was cutting long thin branches and tossing them out into the driveway.

  Tomorrow, he decided with a silent growl, he would encourage Julia’s passion for her job after she got some sleep. He silently walked up and caught the next branch she tossed out and tossed it past her deeper into the woods.

  “Oh!” she gasped as she whirled toward him. “Darn it, Nicholas; whistle when you approach someone.” She turned back and cut another branch, but tucked it under her arm instead of tossing it out. “Please go away. I’m busy.”

  “You have five healthy young assistants to do that.”

  “No, I have four healthy assistants,” she said, tucking another branch under her arm. “Anna ran out of the office to—yesterday with a bad case of morning sickness,” she growled, continuing to hack off more of the bushes. “And the four I have left will be busy hunting down food and beer and wedding rings and flowers and a marriage license and a bunch of hiking gear, all while trying to figure out how to invite a resort full of the wealthiest people in the world to attend a bonfire on top of a mountain in November to cook friggin’ hot dogs on a goddamn stick.”

  Nicholas stopped her by clasping her arms from behind, then gently turned her around and silently folded her into his embrace.

  “I . . . I can’t do it,” she whispered hoarsely, burying her face in his shirt. “I can’t make everyone’s dreams come true.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “It’s supposed to s-snow.”

  “It will hold off until after midnight.”

  “Reverend Peter said he won’t marry anyone who won’t sit through his classes.”

  “One of my men, Rowan, is also a . . . man of the cloth.”

  He felt her wipe her eyes on his shirt just before she tilted her head back. “You can’t just swoop in and fix everything. You’re the director of security; it’s not your job to do mine.”

  “I am aware of that.” He brushed back her hair—that had been elegantly styled with two seashell combs he recognized as belonging to Rana—and kissed her forehead before clasping her to him again. “I’m merely pointing out that for every problem you encounter there’s a good chance someone working here might have or be a solution. Like your rings; did you know Sally does all the horseshoeing, and that she also forges the iron and silver jewelry sold in the gift shop?”

  Julia tilted her head back again. “She does? For real?”

  Nicholas bent and scooped her off her feet and started for the cottage. “And did you know Aeolus’s pastry chef makes marshmallow hearts every Valentine’s Day?”

  “From scratch?”

  “From scratch.” He walked up the porch steps and set her down. “Giselle makes them by the hundreds every year. Now, are you going to bed and not setting foot outside again until at least nine A.M.?”

  She immediately beamed him a huge smile and nodded—making Nicholas reach in his pocket and pull out his phone. He slid a finger across the screen, tapped an icon, and lifted it to his ear—all without taking his eyes off the lovely lying lady. “Micah, dress warm and come to the event planner’s cottage,” he said into the phone, twisting slightly when Julia gasped and made a grab for his hand. “And bring Dante. You’re both on guard duty until nine A.M.”

  “You can’t do that!” she cried when he shoved the phone in his pocket.

  “Ah, but I can,” he said softly, crowding her up against the door and palming her flaming cheeks in his hands. “Because I’m the director of security.”

  “I . . . I’ll stay inside. All night. Until nine A.M.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “You can’t really expect me to get any sleep knowing those men are sitting out here in the cold. They’re predicting snow.”

  “Would you feel less guilty if I told you that Micah is the one who actually shot you—twice?” he murmured just before he kissed her, sweeping his tongue inside her lips the instant she went from resistance to acceptance, only to lift his head the moment he felt her eager participation. He reached behind her and opened the door, gently backed her inside, and kissed her again. But apparently having caught her second wind, not only did she go straight to eager participation, she popped the top button on his shirt.

  Nicholas broke the kiss, wondering if he wasn’t the idiot, and leaned his forehead against hers. “Remember the feel of me moving inside you when you pleasure yourself tonight before you go to sleep,” he softly growled, stepping back and grinning at her slackened jaw, then closing the door on her gasp.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Julia’s nose woke up first, her eyes blinking open two seconds later to see a tall cardboard cup waving just inches above her. She reached for it with a thankful moan.

  Peg straightened away, not relinquishing her prize. “You’re not getting this perfectly brewed black tar I cajoled Vanetta into making until you tell me why the guard at the upper booth wouldn’t let me in your driveway. Which, I might point out, forced me to park at the barn and sneak down through the friggin’ woods, only to be stopped at your porch by another guard, who told me he’s under strict orders to, and I quote, ‘not let Julia step so much as a toe outside until nine A.M.’”

  Julia sat up and brushed her hair off her face, positioned the pillow behind her, and reached out again. “So how did you get in here—drop-kicked him, I hope?”

  Peg still refused to hand over the coffee. “No, I gave him and his buddy out back the four cinnamon buns I’d brought and asked if their orders included me not going inside.” Her big blue eyes lit with laughter. “So what’s up? Why is the director of special events under house arrest? Did you finally lose it and bludgeon your bubbly little bride to death with your tote?” She gasped, her eyes widening as she clutched her jacket. “Nicholas! He tried to nail you again and you really did smack him.”

  Julia grabbed the second pillow from beside her and pressed it to her face. “No, I nailed him first,” she muttered. “Friday night, outside on his deck hanging over a cliff, right in front of God and probably some poor scandalized eagle sitting in a nearby tree.”

  Julia tightened her grip on the pillow when she felt it being tugged, only to have Peg finally just give it a yank and pull it away. Then she wisely replaced the pillow with the coffee. “Wow, you’re not on a stupid roll anymore, Jules; you’re actually smartening up.”

  Julia took a long guzzle of the tepid coffee, glaring over the cup at her too-happy friend, then wiped her mouth with her pajama sleeve. “Yeah, I’m so smart now that I’ve decided to go with you to Pine Creek.” She took another sip, then shook her head. “But I’ll follow you in my truck so I can come back Friday morning. Some executives from an Italian technology firm are here for their annual meeting, and my predecessor promised them a small, elegant cocktail party in the conference pavilion.” Julia halted her coffee halfway to her mouth when she saw Peg clutching her jacket again, looking horrified. “What? Why aren’t you jumping up and down and shrieking with excitement? I thought you wanted me to go to Pine Creek.”

  “Are you crazy?” Peg whispered. “You can’t have drinks with Seamus now; you had sex with Nicholas. Twice.”

  “But that’s exactly why I have to go. I need to stop having sex with Nicholas, and that’s not going to happen unless I start seeing other men.”

  Peg sat on the bed with a sigh. “Damn, Jules, did you hear anything I said on the boat Friday morning? These big strong scary men—Seamus MacKeage included—are atavists.” She shook her he
ad. “I know you know the definition, but do you know what it really means?” She held up her hand when Julia tried to say something. “It means you could strip naked in front of Seamus and dance a jig, and all he would do is throw a blanket over you, toss you over his shoulder, lug you back here, and drop you at Nicholas’s feet—along with the suggestion that Nicholas keep better tabs on you.”

  “Are you serious? Wait. How would Seamus know to lug me back to . . .” Julia reared back, pointing at Peg. “You told! You told Duncan I had sex with Nicholas.”

  “No!” Peg said, jumping to her feet. “I wouldn’t do that to you. But Nicholas and Duncan are friends. And that means if you go with us to Pine Creek, Nicholas will ask his friend to keep an eye on you for him, and that will tell Duncan you two had sex.”

  “Are you serious?” Julia repeated.

  Peg waved at nothing. “One of the first things I learned when I married Duncan is that there’s an unwritten code of honor between all these big strong scary men. They band together if there’s trouble, and they look out for one another’s women.” She nodded when Julia went back to gaping at her. “It’s true. Even though Mac initially wasn’t real . . . happy when he found out Alec was courting Carolina last year, and even though Nicholas and Duncan both sided with Alec, those four men still would have laid down their lives for one another—and for one another’s women.”