Highland Guardian

by Melissa Mayhue

  “How the bloody hell should I know?” Danny asked pointedly.

  “Sorry.” Ian’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve no call to yell at you. I’m frustrated.”

  “From what I saw when you called me down to the cottage last night, I don’t doubt that you are.” Danny watched him expectantly.

  “That’s a subject no open to discussion. What excuse did he give for leaving so soon?”

  “None, really. His note merely relayed his regrets at being called away.”

  “If he was the one at the window last night—”

  “From Sarah’s description of the man,” Daniel interrupted, “I’m certain it was Flynn O’Dannan who stood outside the cottage.”

  “I checked carefully at first light this morning. There was nothing. No prints in the dirt, no smudges on the glass, not a leaf disturbed. Nothing.”

  “You think he’s our man? The one we’ve been looking for?” Danny sat down hard in his chair.

  “No.” Ian sat down across from him. “I think he’s the Fae we’ve been looking for. Or at least one of them. I felt him on everything he’d touched. He might cover his tracks, but he canna cover his essence.”

  “And now he’s gone, and we have no idea where.” Danny leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “This whole time wasted.”

  “No necessarily. There are still others coming. I’d suspect O’Dannan was naught more than the advance scout.”

  Daniel sat quietly, obviously thinking over the possibilities. “A scout?”

  “If it were me, I’d want to send someone in advance of my arrival. Someone to verify who is here. Someone to verify the lay of the land.”

  “Makes sense. So tell me. What exactly did their ‘scout’ see in that cottage last night that frightened him away?”

  “There was nothin’ he could have seen that had anything to do with this operation. Last night was purely personal.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Daniel murmured, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

  “I’m warning you, Danny, we’ll no be talking about my private life.”

  “Well, perhaps we’d better, because something certainly frightened that man away.”

  “I dinna think so.” Ian stood and pulled an object from his pocket. “I’m thinking fear has nothing to do with it. I’m thinking the scout simply did his job. I’ve a bad feeling it’s all about Sarah.”

  “You’ve lost me, Ian. I’m not following you here.”

  “Think about it. What if this O’Dannan was at the window as a test, simply to verify whether or not Sarah could see him? She said it was the same man who’d watched us at lunch. The same one she saw outside Thistle Down when she first arrived. What if O’Dannan was the one who followed us down from Scotland?”

  Danny nodded slowly. “He did arrive in a car similar to the one you described.” He stood up and faced his friend. “If, as you suspect, he’s Fae, Sarah’s scream last night would prove without a doubt that she’d seen him. And that would be a dead giveaway of her lineage.”

  “It’s how we found out, her seeing Dallyn in his own form. And I’ve no doubt but that O’Dannan is Fae.”

  “Then Dallyn was correct. They’re going to try to use her.”

  “That and more. I suspect Henry was right as well—that she has abilities she’s no even aware of.” Ian extended his hand with the paper he’d fished from his pocket. “Have yerself a look at this.”

  Daniel took the paper his friend offered and glanced up questioningly.

  “It’s a note I left for her yesterday. When I came back to the cottage, she was sitting outside, surrounded by a red glow, her hand upon this paper.”

  Daniel hesitated, fingering the note. “I don’t understand. You saw an aura around her?”

  “No, it was no an aura. The verra air around her glowed red, charged in some manner. Yet she seemed to be totally unaware of it.”

  “Ian, this is incredible. Here in the middle, this looks like…” He stopped and looked up, amazement clear on his face.

  “Aye.” Ian took the note back and lightly ran his finger across it.

  There in the center of the paper was a handprint. Sarah’s handprint. Burned into the paper.

  Fifteen

  There. Right there on his knee. A smudge of dirt next to the perfect crease in his beige Armani pants.

  Reynard pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the offending spot with short, irritated strokes. It must have come from the door when he’d climbed into the vehicle. The Mortal Plain was such a dirty place. He hated that about being here.

  Not much longer now.

  “I still can’t believe the fool didn’t realize he’d have to leave after what he did.”

  He looked up at the young man who spoke. Ramos lounged comfortably in the seat across from him, looking as if he’d been born in a limousine. Reynard smiled at the thought even as he amended it. The young man had not been born in a limo—only conceived in one.

  “It’s because, as you say, Ramos, he’s a fool.” He dabbed again at the smudge before stuffing the handkerchief into the ashtray. It was ruined now. Dirty. “Flynn could think of no other way to accomplish his task.” He shrugged. “It’s of no consequence to us now. He’d be useless in the next phase anyway. That’s why you’re here.”

  “As always, Father, it is my honor to serve you.” Ramos bowed his head, shining black hair sweeping across his shoulders at the movement. When he looked up, laughter danced in his pale green eyes. “And my pleasure.”

  “So eager to face a Guardian, my son?”

  Excitement lit those eyes for only an instant before Ramos’s mask was back in place, hiding whatever emotion the man might feel. Reynard thought, not for the first time, how very like him his son was. Pity he was half Mortal.

  “I look forward to releasing a Guardian’s soul, Father.”

  “You want me to think you enjoy only the end result? I find that hard to believe.”

  This time Ramos made no effort to hide his smile. “I relish the whole of it—the joy of the chase, the thrill of the challenge. And if along the way I can bring misfortune to a Guardian, well, it’s like dessert after an excellent dinner.”

  Reynard regarded his finely manicured nails before looking up at his son. “The woman is the key. We mustn’t forget that. If Flynn was correct and the Guardian has claimed her, you do realize that taking her from him would cause him great distress.”

  “Not only do I realize it, Father, I’m counting on it.”

  Yes, so very like himself.

  “Don’t forget you’re my brother during this visit, not my son.”

  Ramos laughed. “Yes, the fact that we look the same age might be a little disturbing to the locals. Don’t worry, Father. I won’t let you down. Have I ever?”

  “No, you haven’t. Of course, I’ve never asked anything this important of you before.”

  Unflinching pale green eyes fixed upon his. “I’m quite aware of that. It’s because of what I am. Because I’m not a…”

  The annoying chirp of Ramos’s cell phone interrupted their conversation.

  “Yes?” His eyes met Reynard’s. “One moment.” He placed the small telephone to his chest. “It’s Qasim. His man in London wants to know when you’ll deliver the…item they’re expecting.”

  Insignificant Mortal. Although he had served his purpose, Qasim was no longer necessary. Once he had the woman…

  “Tell him there will be no delivery. I’ve no more time to waste on his petty problems.”

  Reynard settled back against the soft leather seat and sighed deeply, his son’s conversation with the Mortal merely background noise to his thoughts. No longer would he need to deal with the annoying Mortals and their fanatic causes. No longer would he have to depend on the release of souls from their pitiful Mortal hosts to extend his life and keep him young. A female descendant of his people was within his reach. The real thing this time.

  He glanced at his son from
beneath lowered lashes. Ramos didn’t know about Qasim’s cause, nor the true nature of the items they provided the man. While Reynard trusted his son to deal with the vague details and the Mortals involved, he could never forget that Ramos was half Mortal himself. And Mortals had an irritating habit of getting emotionally involved in causes, forming attachments to other Mortals, to annoying ideals of right and wrong. Most inconvenient.

  Still, his son had proved his worth on many occasions. His gift of inner sight had worked to ferret out traitors Reynard might never have found on his own. More important now, Reynard’s people were unable to battle on the Mortal Plain. But his son was not fettered with such a restriction because he was partly a child of the Mortal Plain—a half-breed. He was the Nuadian version of a Guardian. Reynard’s secret weapon. A weapon he had chosen at last to unleash.

  If only he could have sired a girl child. While all descendants of the Fae had the ability to see their people in their true form, only female descendants could also see the gates to the Realm of Faerie. Males could see them only after they had been escorted through a gate once.

  A daughter would have solved the problem long ago, but female children, rare for all Fae, were completely denied the outcasts. His people. The Nuadians. Yet another injustice he’d repay the High Council for when he made his way back.

  Once he had control of this woman, this descendant of his race, it would be just a matter of time until he was back in his beloved Faerie Realm, standing at the Fountain of Souls. Just a matter of time until he dipped his hand into the fountain, drank his fill and immersed his body in the life-rich waters, insuring his immortality and continued youthfulness.

  Just a matter of time until time itself wouldn’t matter at all.

  Sixteen

  “There’s something very bad here.”

  The child’s whispered warning had caught Sarah off guard as she’d hugged Will good night. The whole day had been so uneventful, it was as if last night had never happened. As if she’d not seen that man standing at the door, watching. But Will’s words brought it all back.

  “What do you mean? What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I only know something very, very bad is close to us. Can’t you feel it? Something bad is going to happen.” Big blue eyes had regarded her seriously. “You should stay close to Uncle Ian. He’s strong like my daddy, you know? He’ll protect you.”

  Even here, standing at the edge of the ballroom, watching the people gathered for this evening’s party, Sarah couldn’t get the words out of her mind. Obviously Will had more than his share of imagination, but the little boy had seemed genuinely frightened when he spoke to her.

  Though she felt embarrassed now, sitting at Will’s bedside she’d been grateful for the long evening gloves Ian had insisted on buying for her to wear with this dress. The flow of feelings from the child were always so much stronger than those she had ever experienced from any other person. Even through the gloves she had felt tendrils of Will’s discomfort. She couldn’t imagine how strong it might have been had he touched her bare skin.

  She nervously scanned the crowd, searching for Ian, feeling silly at the relief flooding through her when at last she spotted him at the bar waiting for their drinks. He was deep in conversation with Daniel and completely oblivious to the speculative looks and outright stares of the women standing in line around him.

  Not that she could blame them. Dressed in the form-fitting tuxedo he’d pulled from his closet tonight, with the lights of the chandeliers glinting off his dark hair, he looked like her idea of every woman’s fantasy. And when those black eyes glanced up and met hers across a crowded room as they did now…

  A shiver traveled through her body, leaving chill bumps in its wake. One side of Ian’s mouth curved up in a smile before he looked away, as if he knew the effect he had on her.

  “And this beautiful lady must be the famous author I’ve heard about?”

  Sarah started at the deep male voice so close behind her. Absorbed as she’d been in observing Ian, she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Turning, she found her face only inches from a broad, tuxedo-clad chest. She stepped backward, giving herself some space from this stranger, and looked up into a pair of pale, turquoise green eyes framed by a wealth of shiny black hair falling over the wide shoulders of a very handsome young man.

  The image of Dallyn instantly flashed through her mind. How odd the two men could strike her as so similar. Ian’s unusual neighbor was blond and light like a sun-drenched day, while this man was dark, like a clouded, moonless night. If anything, this man should make her think of Ian, whose coloring was so similar. But he seemed nothing like Ian.

  “Well, I certainly don’t know that I’d say ‘beautiful’ or ‘famous,’ but she is an author.” Brad, wearing his usual contemptuous sneer, accompanied the man, with Nicole following closely behind.

  “Have a care, Tanner. I don’t respond well to men who thoughtlessly insult innocent women. Sometimes those men even get…hurt.”

  The snarl in the stranger’s voice elicited yet another shiver in Sarah, this one altogether different from the one she’d experienced while watching Ian. She backed up another step, and flinched as he reached for her hand, once again grateful for the gloves.

  Color drained from Brad’s face and he mumbled what she thought might be an apology before excusing himself to go to the bar.

  Capturing her gaze with his own, the stranger brought her hand briefly to his lips, his warm breath curling over her skin, even through the cloth. She couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes.

  “I don’t think your brother would appreciate the tone you took with my husband any more than I do. I expect you to apologize at once.”

  Nicole’s demand broke the hold this stranger had on Sarah’s attention. She looked at the woman, surprised by the unexpected authority in her voice. The helpless young girl persona had completely disappeared, replaced by a woman who was entirely accustomed to getting her own way in all situations.

  Sarah only briefly wondered which was the real Nicole before the dark stranger spoke again.

  “I am Ramos Servans,” he said, still holding her hand, completely ignoring Nicole as if she’d never spoken. His voice, deep and cultured, slid over her like silk across smooth skin.

  “Did you hear what I said to you? Are you going to go apologize to him now?” Nicole crossed her arms in irritation as he kept his back turned to her. “Or do I need to go find Rey?”

  “Don’t think to make him choose between us, Nicole. You will lose. You’re merely a pretty distraction to Reynard—I am blood.” He turned now, his teeth gleaming white as he flashed a hard smile her direction. “And believe me when I say blood runs thick in our family.”

  Nicole flinched back as if struck. “We’ll just see about that,” she said, turning sharply and striding away.

  Ramos focused his attention back on Sarah, his face once again relaxed and friendly, as if the disturbing little exchange had never taken place. “I am enchanted to make your acquaintance, Sarah Douglas.”

  “How do you know my name?” Sarah attempted, without success, to reclaim the hand Ramos held.

  “You will find I’m a very thorough man. I make it my business to discover every detail about anything that captures my attention.” He brought her hand to his lips once more before releasing her. “And you, my dear Sarah, have most certainly captured my attention.”

  Her face colored hotly as he watched her with an amused expression.

  “Really? And how did I manage to do that?”

  “Why, simply by being your own unique self, my sweet.” He glanced over her shoulder and a look of irritation flitted quickly across his face, an expression she might have missed had she blinked in that instant. “The orchestra begins, I believe. Of course you’ll favor me with a dance?”

  Music had begun and couples were drifting toward that end of the room.

  “I don’t really dance, I’m afraid.”

  He dismissed her state
ment with a flick of his wrist. “For now, I’ve business to attend to with my…brother.” Yet again he claimed her hand, brushing his lips lightly against it. “But be assured, before the night is over, I will return to claim my dance with you, Sarah Douglas.”

  She watched in confusion as he moved through the crowd before disappearing through the terrace doors. The whole episode, though lasting only a short time, was quite unsettling.

  “And what was that all about?” Ian stood at her side, holding two glasses. Offering one to her, he turned to look in the direction where Ramos had disappeared. One inquisitive eyebrow was arched when he turned back to her, waiting for her answer.

  “I’m not sure.” The most honest answer she could give.

  Ian’s breath huffed lightly and he took a drink from his glass. “Then perhaps you could at least tell me who he is.”

  “I’m not sure of that, either.” At his dark look of irritation, she laughed. “Seriously, Ian, I know nothing about the man except his name.”

  “Aye? From all the hand kissing I saw, I would have assumed you knew the man well.”

  “No.” Was Ian jealous? He sounded jealous. “He came over with Brad and Nicole, but he and Brad had a disagreement. They left and he stayed.”

  “Well, if he disna get along with Tanner, he canna be all bad.” He smiled for the first time since joining her. “What’s his name?”

  “Ramos Servans.”

  His eyes narrowed and his body stiffened. She’d never seen Ian rattled before, but he certainly was now.

  “Servans?” He recovered quickly, pausing to take a deep breath. “Stay away from him, Sarah.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me on this one, luv. You dinna want to be around that man. Neither him nor his brother.” He drained his glass and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter.

  “I didn’t think you knew him.” Ian’s attitude was so unexpected, she was unsure of how to respond to it.

  He shook his head. “I’ve no met either man yet. Though I’ve heard of them.”