Romancing the Guardians Series: Part One (Romancing the Guardians Box Set Book 1)

by Lyn Horner

  Lara’s jaw dropped. Was he serious? “Sir, I am in fear for my life, and you came here to, to flirt with me?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or are you joking at my expense?”

  Grin fading, he sat up straight “No, ma’am, I’m not. I really wanted to meet you, and I agree you need a bodyguard, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to take the job for such a short time. You need someone who’ll stick around. You must have had plenty of replies to that ad of yours. I’m sure the right man will turn up soon if he hasn’t already.”

  “You’re wrong! I’ve only had two other calls. One man offered to demonstrate his strength ‘up close and personal’. The other one slurred his words so badly, I knew he was drunk. I wouldn’t trust either of them to protect me. Now, since you refuse the job, I don’t know what I’ll do.” She stared at her hands, clenched together in her lap.

  “I live in constant fear and I … I’ve been having terrible nightmares,” she admitted, hoarse with emotion. Her eyes burned and her lips trembled, but she refused to cry in front of the infernal man.

  “Ah, hell!” O’Shea muttered. Unfolding himself from the too small chair, he strode over to her, crouched and patted her shoulder. “Easy now, there’s no need to get upset.”

  “No need? Don’t you tell me there’s no need!” she glared at him, blood suddenly boiling. “You have no idea what it’s like to be terrified day and night.”

  “Calm down and stop yelling.”

  “I’m not yelling!” she protested, unwillingly aware of his masculine scent and the heat of his body.

  “Yeah, you are. And if you don’t quit it, that old woman who showed me in here will storm back in with her rolling pin raised.”

  Lara pictured Una beating him over the head with her trusty rolling pin, and a bubble of laughter burst from her throat. It was so ridiculous, she couldn’t stop laughing, and O’Shea joined in, his craggy features taking on a youthful, almost boyish appearance. She hadn’t laughed in such a long time. It felt wonderful, bringing tears of mirth to her eyes.

  O’Shea controlled himself first. Digging in his back pocket, he brought out a man’s handkerchief and thrust it into her hand. “Here, you need this.”

  Accepting the rag, which appeared clean if wrinkled, she swallowed another laugh, hiccupped and mopped her eyes. “Pl-please, Mr. O’Shea, help me, even if it’s only for a few weeks.” She gave him a pleading smile.

  Frowning, he pushed to his feet. “You haven’t even asked for references. How do you know you can trust me?”

  She held his probing gaze and shook her head. “I’m a good judge of people. You won’t do anything to hurt me.” She didn’t mention her special ability to sense approaching danger or the fact that he hadn’t set off her built-in warning signal. “What do you say? Will you be my bodyguard and rescue me from my fears?”

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair again. “Okay, I’ll take the job temporarily. I’m not due back home for another seven weeks. That oughta give you time enough to find somebody else.”

  Clutching his wadded up handkerchief to her breast, she drew a shaky breath. “Thank you, Mr. O’Shea. I’ll be forever grateful to you.”

  He waved aside her gratitude. “One thing. Drop the Mr. O’Shea. Call me Connor, or just plain Conn.”

  *

  “Glad I am that man is gone,” Una declared a short while later as she helped Lara shift from her wheelchair onto the lounge chair where Connor O’Shea had so recently sat.

  Lara relaxed against the cushioned back as the older woman adjusted the ottoman under her legs. “He’ll be back in the morning,” she replied.

  Una straightened abruptly. “Sure now, ye don’t mean to say ye hired the man, do ye?”

  Lara smiled. “Sure now, I mean exactly that.”

  “Are ye daft? He’s a bad un, I tell ye. Could ye not see that?”

  “I saw a tall, strong man who can easily manage both me and the chair when I wish to go into town, a man who can protect me from … any unpleasantness that might arise.”

  “Unpleasantness, is it? I’m thinkin’ ye’ll know nothin’ but trouble with him around.”

  Tired of the woman’s dire warnings, Lara leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’d like to nap for a while before supper.”

  “Humph!” With that, Una marched out, closing the door none too gently.

  Left alone with her thoughts, Lara realized she hadn’t asked O’Shea – Connor – why he’d chosen County Kerry for his vacation. With his Irish name, perhaps he had family hereabout. Was she taking him away from loved ones by begging him to be her protector? Uncomfortable with the possibility, she told herself he was probably just another American tourist wanting to visit the old country and see the sights.

  He’d called Texas home, as she’d already guessed, but he must have seen a lot of the world with his job. What was it like, working in an inhospitable place like the North Sea, fighting a ferocious oil or gas fire? It was obviously a dangerous occupation, requiring tough, courageous men, and Connor was a foreman, a leader of such men. That said a lot about him. He ought to be capable of standing up to her enemies, she assured herself.

  It dawned on her that she hadn’t warned him he could be putting his life on the line by accepting the job, but surely he must have gathered that from what she’d told him about the devils who were after her. Hadn’t he?

  *

  Connor lay awake in his rented room, hands crossed under his head, staring into the darkness above and thinking of Lara Spenser. Her shimmering, golden-brown eyes and delicate features kept appearing in his mind’s eye. What had happened to put her in a wheelchair and leave that scar on her cheek, he wondered.

  Her voice also haunted him. He hadn’t lied about wanting to meet her because of that voice. Soft and sweet, except when she got mad, it was like a siren’s song calling to him. He’d found it impossible to refuse her plea for help, even though it meant abandoning the plans he’d made for his stay in Ireland.

  Damn, he hated to break his promise to his mother. What was he to tell her? That he hadn’t had time to hunt for their distant relatives here in County Kerry because he let a woman distract him? He sighed. To be fair, the lady’s fear was very real. His mother would understand when he explained Miss Spenser’s situation – he assumed she was a Miss – with no one to guard her from danger except a cranky old lady with a rolling pin.

  He grinned at the memory of the Irishwoman scowling at him, letting him know she’d like to kick him out the front door. Nope, she sure didn’t cotton to him. Maybe if he packed away his leathers tomorrow, she wouldn’t act so bitchy. But he didn’t like riding his bike without his jacket, gloves and boots. If it were colder he’d add his leather pants. Boy, what’s her name would really take after him with her rolling pin then.

  Chuckling, he flipped onto his belly, punched his pillow a couple times and settled down. Lara Spenser’s laughing image beckoned him toward sleep.

  *

  Lara rubbed her tired eyes. She ought to quit for the night, but she was so close to finishing the most important part of the translation, the Oracle’s final prophesy. She couldn’t stop now. Shifting in her chair to ease her aching back, she focused on the scroll once more and re-read the last few sentences she’d deciphered.

  Each scroll shall be carried into hiding by one of my faithful Drui to be passed on to their children and their children’s children through ages to come. For this I have foreseen – Beyond a long darkness, from the west shall arise a mighty chieftain … .

  Studying the next few symbols, Lara painstakingly put together their meaning, continually double-checking to make sure she got it right. The wall clock chimed midnight before she completed the task. Satisfied at last, she read the conclusion of the prophesy.

  Beyond a long darkness, from the west shall arise a mighty chieftain who will bring forth the Great Joining and open a path unto the future.

  Lara whispered the baffling words to herself once, twice, three times. Was the
mighty chieftain from the west a political figure, an American president perhaps, or a religious leader, a teacher? And what had the Oracle meant by “the Great Joining?” Did it refer to a merging of nations, a meeting of world leaders or brilliant scholars? Would she live long enough to learn the answers? Not likely. None of the other Guardians had.

  Disappointment swept over her. She’d expected the ancient prophesy to be a great revelation, not a vague vision of some far off future event. Selfishly, she’d also hoped it might somehow give her the power to locate her sister. Now that hope faded, leaving her desolate.

  Fighting off tears, she returned the scroll to its container, laid it in her lap and turned the desk lamp down, leaving just enough light to wheel herself into the bedroom. She rolled to the room’s only window, eased aside a loose framing board, and placed the metal tube in a niche behind the board. She’d found the opening shortly after moving into the cottage, while gazing out the window one misty morning. Spying the loose board, she’d nudged it aside to reveal an empty pocket for an old-fashioned window weight, like the ones in her uncle’s house. This weight had no doubt been removed when the modern double-hung window was installed. Recognizing the space as a perfect hiding place, she’d stored the scroll there ever since.

  With the relic safely concealed, she prepared for bed, but once snug under a warm comforter, she found sleep slow to come despite her exhaustion. She couldn’t stop rehashing the nebulous prophesy and wondering why the Hellhounds were so determined to get their hands on the scroll. Did they expect it to bring them wealth and power? If so, they were wasting their time.

  Another worry plagued her. Did the Hounds know about the other six scrolls? Had they already captured her fellow Guardians? She would never know unless she learned how to contact the others, information her uncle hadn’t shared before his life was cut short.

  By the Goddess, she would locate the six. If she lived long enough.

  Connor O’Shea came to mind. He would keep her safe, she felt certain. In his profession, he had to be tough and incredibly brave. And those steely eyes of his … they could bore holes in a person if he grew angry. Lara shivered, never wanting to see them aimed at her in anger.

  Then she pictured him sitting in her flowery lounger and giggled. A man like him needed a big, sturdy leather chair. There was such a chair in the parlor, she recalled, making a face. The room was stuffed with furniture and bric-a-brac, so much that she didn’t dare go in there with her wheelchair for fear of breaking something. But perhaps Connor could move that leather chair into the study and keep her company now and then.

  The second that foolish thought entered her head, she dashed it to bits. Why would he or any man want to keep company with her? She was ugly!

  Turning her ruined cheek to the pillow, Lara reached out with her mind, seeking solace from her sister, but like so many times before, she felt nothing. The bond they’d shared since birth was broken. Giving in to heartbreak, she wept until sleep finally claimed her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Around nine the next morning, Conn pulled off the narrow dirt lane leading to Lara Spenser’s place and parked his rented Harley Electra beside a low stone wall bordering her small patch of land. Glancing at her house as he swung off the bike, he wished his mother could see it. She’d love the thatched roof, white stucco, red shutters and flower boxes.

  He removed his helmet and gloves, shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over one shoulder. For now, he left the rest of his few belongings stowed in the Harley’s saddlebags and trunk behind the seat. Pushing open the creaky wooden gate in the wall, he sauntered to Ms. Spenser’s front door, knocked and waited. When the cook/housekeeper finally opened up, she screwed up her mouth and gave him a condemning glare.

  “Morning,” he said, receiving a stiff nod in reply.

  “Herself’s just now risen. Ye’ll wait out here until she’s ready to receive ye.” With that, the woman shut the door in his face.

  Irritated, he raised his hand to push his way in but thought better of it. Getting into a fracas with her was no way to start his temporary job. Rather than cool his heels while he waited, he deposited his gear on a bench next to the doorway and set out to familiarize himself with the property, aiming to spot any places where intruders might conceal themselves. He’d never worked as a bodyguard but his days in the Army had taught him to recognize a security risk when he saw one.

  Conn completed his tour fifteen minutes later. He’d noted a thick row of gorse bushes along the back lot line but doubted anyone would be fool enough to hide among those prickly plants. However, a weather-beaten garage behind the cottage, housing Ms. Spenser’s small hatchback and an assortment of gardening tools, was worrisome. So were the low stone walls dividing her land from neighboring plots. The enemies she feared could easily crouch behind those walls or hide in the garage. He’d have to check them often, chiefly after dark to make sure no one lay in wait, ready to invade the house.

  It was a warm morning and he’d worked up a thirst. He downed a healthy swallow of water from the canteen he’d filled back at the hotel and was clipping it in place between the Harley’s handlebars when he heard the cottage door creak open. Prepared to face his surly nemesis again, he was pleasantly surprised when the lady of the house rolled her chair to the threshold. Dressed in another long skirt, a green and yellow flowered one this time, and a pale yellow top, she looked as bright as the Irish morning. A black and white cat squeezed between the chair and the door jam, halting to stare at Conn warily.

  “Good morning, Mr. O’ … I mean Connor,” Miss Spenser called out.

  “Morning, ma’am.” Hurrying toward her so she wouldn’t need to shout, he admired her welcoming smile and the silky black braid draped over one shoulder. As he drew near, the cat shot outside and ran lickety-split around a corner of the cottage.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare off your friend,” Conn said with a wry crook of his lips.

  His golden-eyed employer gave a little laugh. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in time for supper. He loves to eat. His name is Penguin, by the way.”

  “Good name for him.” From what he’d seen as the animal streaked past, his black and white coat did kind of resemble a penguin’s markings.

  “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

  “No problem. I used the time to look over your property.”

  Fine dark brows dipped over a small, straight nose. “Did you find anything suspicious?”

  “Not a thing, but there are some areas I’ll want to keep an eye on. You might also want to have some motion detectors installed.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll look into it.” Her worried frown lifted. “Will you come inside? There’s coffee if you want a cup, or tea if you prefer.”

  “Ma’am, I’m a Texas boy.” He bent to retrieve his jacket and helmet. “The only tea I drink comes in a tall glass with lots of ice.”

  She laughed and swung her chair around, letting him follow her into the house. “I used to feel the same way, but Una has converted me, except for first thing in the morning. I have to have a cuppa joe to wake up.”

  He grinned. “Do I hear a hint of the south in your voice, Ms. Spenser?”

  Stopping abruptly, she almost caused him to bump into the back of her chair. She pivoted a quarter turn and peered up at him, her expression guarded. “You must have heard wrong. I’ve never lived south of New York City.”

  That was a lie if he’d ever heard one. He wondered why she didn’t want him to know she hailed from below the Mason-Dixon Line, but he let it pass. “My mistake, Ms… . Lara.” He gave her his most disarming smile. “Do you mind if I call you Lara?”

  “No, that’s fine,” she said after a brief hesitation. “Now, I’m sure you’d like to see the room you’ll be using.” Turning away, she pointed to a flight of narrow stairs dividing the hallway from a parlor crammed with furniture and whatnots. “There’s a bedroom in the loft. I had Una clean it and make up the bed for you.�
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  “Thanks.” I just bet the old bat loved doing that, Conn thought, laying his gear on a low step. “I’ll bring in my stuff later. First, I’d like to know your plans for the next few days and what you’ll need me to do.”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to go into town one day and do some shopping. You’ll need to drive me there. Outside of that, I mainly want you to keep watch around here.” Bending her head, she twisted her hands together. They appeared white against the folds of her bright colored skirt. “I … I have a feeling trouble is coming.”

  Conn narrowed his eyes, studying her for a moment. “I could use that coffee you mentioned. How ’bout you join me and tell me more about this feeling of yours?”

  Raising her head, she nodded and led the way to the kitchen, where Una poured two coffees for them, lips pursed like she was sucking a lemon the whole time.

  “Why, thank yuh, Ms. Una. That’s right kind of yuh,” he said in his best southern boy drawl, relieving her of the steaming mugs. He winked and had the satisfaction of hearing her gasp. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

  A strangled sound came from Lara, drawing his gaze. She hastily spun her chair and disappeared into the hall. Deciding he’d better get out of range from Una’s rolling pin, Conn strode after the boss lady. He followed her into her office, shutting the door just as a clatter of pots and pans broke out in the kitchen.

  “You mustn’t tease Una like that. She doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Lara said, facing him. She met his grin and couldn’t quite hide her amusement.

  “Has she been with you long?” He handed her a hot mug, handle first, then eased into the flowery chair he’d occupied the day before, hoping it wouldn’t collapse under his weight.

  “No, only a few weeks. I hired her shortly after moving in here. She’s a widow with one son. He runs the family farm not too far from here, and she augments their income by hiring out.” Sending him a pointed look, Lara added, “She was between jobs when I arrived here, much to my good fortune.”