Walking Through Fire

by C. J. Bahr

  “Well then, her saddle and bridle are marked, and there’s a grooming kit in the crossties. I really should go,” Beth hesitated. “As long as you’re sure you’ll be all right...”

  “Yes, get out of here. We’ll be fine.” Laurel gave Beth a smile then reached up to remove Gale’s halter from a nearby hook.

  “Okay then, have fun, and I’ll see you for lunch.” Beth turned and left the barn.

  Laurel opened the mare’s stall and slipped the halter over her head. “Let’s get to know each other and then go out and raise some hell.”

  She led the horse out of the stall, smiling to herself. Laurel decided this vacation was off to a fantastic start.

  Chapter Six

  Near Cleitmuir Manor

  July, Present Day

  The wind rushed past Laurel’s face and she let out a wild whoop of joy as the mare muscled into a gallop up the steep grade of the ravine. She hadn’t felt so alive in months. With the lush rolling green hills, the brilliant Scottish sun sparkling off the distant ocean, and a horse who didn’t know the meaning of stop, all of Laurel’s problems disappeared as she galloped on.

  She leaned forward, lightening her seat as she urged the mare forward. They crested the top, reaching a plateau, and ran straight into a bank of fog.

  “Holy hell!” Laurel cried out as both she and her mount were enveloped in a thick misty cloud. Visibility shrunk to just herself and the mare, the entire world disappearing. Sinking deep into the saddle, she pulled on the reins. “Easy, girl. We can’t see a thing.”

  The horse slowed to a trot and then to a walk. As they meandered slowly forward, she looked around.

  The fog was thick with eerie bright white wisps threaded throughout. They twisted and turned, giving it a sense of motion. Laurel shivered as the damp cold penetrated her borrowed jacket. The fog hadn’t been there when they had dropped down into the ravine. The day had been brilliantly clear. How had the plateau been engulfed so quickly? This must be the changing weather Beth warned her about. Dropping one hand from the reins, she reached for the partially closed jacket zipper, pulling it up so the collar closed around her neck.

  The mare continued to pick her way carefully along the path. “This is ridiculous. I guess we should head back, Gale.” The horse snorted as if in agreement, while Laurel began to turn them around.

  Suddenly, the mare froze. Laurel squeezed her legs, and then jabbed her heels into Gale’s side when the horse didn’t respond. “Come on, git up.” She thumped the mare again.

  The horse started to prance and hop around in place, before shooting backwards.

  “What the...”

  Laurel over-handed the reins, smacking the mare’s neck, causing the horse to lurch forward. She grabbed a fist full of mane as Gale slid to a stop and reared. The horse slammed her front legs back to the ground, only to reload and launch herself upward again, completely vertical.

  Laurel felt herself lose her grip, beginning to slide off, she desperately squeezed her thighs trying to clamp on. The mare spun on her hind legs, sending Laurel spiraling off her back. As she fell, the fog closed around her, and she looked for the ground but couldn’t see any.

  Oh my, God! An involuntary scream burst from her throat when something grabbed her upper arm, abruptly halting her plunge. Her shoulder wrenched painfully, then again when she was yanked upwards. Her legs scraped against stone as her body was dragged. But then she was released as fast as she was seized, to land sprawled on her side, panting, eyes closed. Holy hell, what just happened? She rolled onto her back as she tried to get her breathing under control.

  “Well, lass. That was about the stupidest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

  Laurel jerked upwards at the low angry brogue. Stupid? She’d fallen off a horse, for crying out loud. It happens.

  She peered into the dense fog trying to get a glimpse of the disembodied Scot. The thick mist swirled, thinned, and parted to reveal a pair of well-worn, brown riding boots with red cuffs at the top. Her eyes climbed higher, following the boots to a pair of large muscular thighs encased in dark-colored breeches. Her eyes continued upward, past the flat stomach, which led to a broad chest and shoulders covered in a mostly unbuttoned white shirt.

  She craned her neck and finally saw his face. Roughly chiseled, he had a square jaw with high cheekbones, a slightly off-centered nose, and full lips pursed into a frown. She forced herself to meet his eyes, and her jaw dropped. The light gray eyes were almost opalescent against his dark lashes and black shoulder-length hair—eyes that pierced right thorough her.

  “Every bloody year the tourists just get dumber,” he declared.

  She clamped her mouth shut on a sharp retort and shook her head. “Gee, thanks for your concern. It’s not like I planned to fall off.” She started to push off the ground, but her right arm collapsed under her. Before she could fall back, the man reached her side and grabbed her good arm, pulling her to her feet.

  Laurel shivered as cold lanced through her. She looked up to meet his disconcerting pale eyes. She shivered again and suddenly realized just how much larger he was than her. At five-foot-eleven, she rarely ever felt short, but next to this man, who was easily five to six inches taller, she felt practically petite. She never felt that way. She rubbed her right arm to ease the sting still pounding in her bicep, until Laurel realized it might make her appear vulnerable. She quickly dropped her left hand back to her side.

  Squaring her shoulders, she met his icy gaze. “Thanks for your help, I’m fine. You can stop lurking now.” She watched as something flashed through his strange eyes, but she noticed he hadn’t taken a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my horse.”

  She tried to shoulder past him, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. A tinge of unease coursed through her, but she defiantly met his eyes. “Is there something else?”

  “Aye, there is. A warning. If you’re not a competent rider, you shouldna be out on the plateau.”

  “What the...of all the crass, stupid...” Laurel fumed. Smug jerk. “Get out of my way!”

  “The horse has more brains than you.”

  “How dare you? You don’t even know me. I’ve been riding since I was twelve.”

  “Then you should know by now if you can’t see where you’re going, and a horse balks, you lean to caution and figure out why.”

  Laurel took a deep breath, she didn’t want to argue with him, all she wanted to do was get the hell away from him. “Look, I thanked you, but you’re stepping way out of bounds. I fell off a horse. It wasn’t like I was going to die.”

  “Are you so sure, lass?” He nodded past her shoulder. “I think it would take more than a helmet, which I might add you’re not wearing, to save that pretty head of yours.”

  Laurel turned and gasped. The dissipated fog left a clear view of the Atlantic Ocean. She was a scant few steps from a sheer drop-off. She looked down over the ledge at the thin strip of beach far, far below and barely heard the crashing breakers from the waves as they reached the shore.

  “Oh, God!” The whispered exclamation escaped her. She had fallen off a cliff.

  Laurel took two steps back and slammed into the solid wall of her rescuer. His hands grabbed either side of her waist to steady her. She started shaking at the sudden release of adrenaline, realizing how close she came to dying.

  “You’re not going to faint, are you?”

  “I... not...I don’t faint.” She shook her head. “Can we move away from this ledge?”

  His laughter, low in his chest, vibrated through her. “Aye, lass. If you promise me you won’t faint.”

  She spun in his arms and glared up at him. “I already told you, I don’t faint.” She placed both palms flat on his chest and pushed. He didn’t budge, not an inch. She felt his hands tighten on her waist.

  He chuckled. “A feisty wee thing.”

  She tried another shove with the same results and earned herself a raised eyebrow. He was a handsome man, however, Derek�
��s life lesson taught her packaging couldn’t always be trusted. Laurel frowned. “Cute. Let go of me. Now!”

  He released her immediately and stepped to the side giving her a sweeping courtly bow. Her rescuer straightened and stared at her as she rubbed her right shoulder. He frowned and took a step toward her.

  She dropped her hand. “I’m fine.” He stopped and retreated, as if sensing her discomfort. Great. She hated showing weakness of any kind, especially in front of strangers. Could this day get any better? She needed to get out of here.

  “Where’s Gale?” She scanned the plateau and then spotted the mare, standing a few yards away, cropping grass. “Oh thank, God. Beth would have killed me.”

  Laurel completely missed the irony of her words, and ignored the slow smile of the man beside her. She started to walk to the horse but stopped, realizing how rude she was being. Just because she thought he was an ass wasn’t an excuse to lose all manners, after all he did save her life. It was a miracle he had been there and seen her drop over the side, let alone reach down and grabbed her in time. How had he lifted her over the ledge, one handed, as if she had weighed nothing? Laurel turned and faced him.

  “I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems really lame.”

  He wore an easy smile while his silver eyes stared straight through her. “It’s no worry. You’re welcome.”

  He walked alongside her as they approached the horse. Reaching Gale, Laurel took hold of the reins and gave her a pat. It would have been a long walk back if she’d run off, and her shoulder and arm were really beginning to throb.

  She turned toward the man to thank him again when she saw his hands cupped for a leg up. Laurel placed her left leg into the cradle and pushed off with her right. His timing was good as he flung her up into the saddle, but he had to quickly grab her thigh to steady her as she almost slipped off the opposite side from the force of his throw.

  His hand burned warm on her thigh as she looked down at him. “Ah...thank you, again.”

  “My pleasure. Just promise not to throw yourself off any more cliffs.” He removed his hand and swatted the mare on her hip, startling Gale into a walk. The horse turned back to the path and broke into a trot.

  In a few seconds, Laurel reached the descent off the plateau and realized she hadn’t gotten his name. Even if he was sort of condescending, she owed him. She should at least know his name.

  She halted Gale and turned in the saddle to call out, but the words froze in her throat. The man was gone. Disappeared. There was no one on the plateau.

  Laurel stared at the empty expanse then shook her head and faced forward. She nudged the mare into a walk. She’d ask Beth if she recognized him. The whole thing was so surreal, all starting with the fog appearing and disappearing out of nowhere. Just like the man. He had been wearing riding clothes, but where was his horse? How had he gotten off the plateau so quickly? Who was he? The researcher in her stirred, as she sensed a puzzle to be solved.

  She urged Gale to a trot as she reached the bottom of the ravine, trying to shake off the odd feeling still with her. Laurel already knew she wouldn’t tell Beth about her close call. There was no need to worry her, after all. She was safe and sound except for a sore shoulder.

  She lifted a hand from the reins to rub her shoulder again. Her hand slid down to her bicep. It felt warm and tight. Like the man’s hand still gripped her. She’d probably get one hell of a bruise, but if all she got out of this experience was a sore arm, she’d count herself lucky.

  Chapter Seven

  Laurel stared back at her reflection in the freestanding mahogany framed mirror and frowned. She couldn’t believe she was nervous. This wasn’t a date, just an informal dinner party, no matter how much Beth wanted her to think otherwise.

  She smoothed her hands down the pleated jewel-toned skirt that swished around her knees and glared at the non-descript black flats she wore. Laurel never wore heels, they caused her to tower over most men, which was never a good thing. She stared back at the too tall and intense woman in the mirror. Feminine, she wasn’t, no matter the wrapping. Derek had been right about one thing, she just wasn’t built correctly to wear dresses and skirts. Give her a good pair of jeans and a T-shirt and her confidence soared. Girl trappings made her mind spin self-consciously.

  Tilting her head, she studied her hair. She’d twisted the long straight strands and fastened it with an alligator clip high on her head. Slippery tendrils had escaped to frame her sharp-featured face, softening it just a bit. At least Laurel hoped it did. She glanced at her plain white blouse and popped an extra button open. What the hell? Maybe her cleavage, her one God given asset, would distract him from her appearance. If judging by the other men who thought her eyes were located chest level, she had a good chance in succeeding.

  Laurel turned her back resolutely on the mirror, and with a swish of her gauzy skirt, left the bedroom and didn’t look back. She told herself not to worry. Tonight held no pressure. She didn’t have to like the guy, and who cared if he liked her? She could do this. “Screw you, Derek.” Rebound guy look out!

  Striding down the hallway, she rubbed her right shoulder and thought of the mystery man from this afternoon. Beth hadn’t recognized him from her description, but mentioned with the festival starting there were many new people in the area. Well, he’d have to settle for just her thanks, unless she crossed paths with him again. And she was completely divided by that idea. He was handsome in a rough and rugged kind of way, but she could definitely do without the attitude.

  Reaching the top of the wide stairs, she paused and took a deep breath, putting all thoughts from her head. She would have a good time tonight. Who knows? Maybe Alex MacKenzie was just the man she needed. Beth was always good at reading her, and if she thought Laurel would like him, then she probably would.

  Laurel descended the stairs and paused outside the sitting room, not quite ready to enter. The rumble of deep Scottish voices reached her, and she smiled. She loved the Scottish brogue. But the smile disappeared from her face when she caught sight of a man leaning casually against the mantel of the lit fireplace. Tall and lithe, he looked athletic even when relaxed, a dancer’s physique. Dark trousers hugged his slender hips and covered long legs. His tie-less white dress shirt was open at the throat giving the smallest glimpse of his broad chest and shoulders. With his sleeves casually rolled up to reveal well-defined forearms, it took little imagination to envision sculpted biceps.

  But it was his face that garnered most of her attention. Clean-shaven, his face was GQ perfect with short tousled blond hair framing a strong jaw, a straight aquiline nose, high cheeks bones, and full lips. Lips presently curled up into a contagious smile. She felt herself drawn to him.

  He turned his head, then stared directly at her from across the room. Clear blue eyes, the color of a cloudless Chicago winter sky, captured hers, pinning her in place. His smile widened, and he inclined his head.

  “Lori! It’s about time.”

  Beth’s voice broke the spell and she dragged her attention away from the man, to watch Beth walk to her side.

  “It took you long enough. Come on in,” Beth grabbed her hand and dragged her into the room. Most of the conversation stopped as Laurel entered, all eyes drawn to her. It was like that dream everyone has of walking into school as the new kid only to discover you’re naked. Talk about awkward.

  “Everyone, this is my best friend Laurel from the States.” The guests smiled at her, a few called out greetings before they went back to their conversations.

  “Beth,” she hissed under her breath. “I thought you said a small dinner.” She gazed around the room in dismay. There were probably a good twenty people whereas Laurel assumed it might be five or so.

  “Oh, hush,” Beth smiled up at her. “They’re all neighbors, community members involved with the Primrose Festival. And it’s not like you’re not used to crowds with all of the museum’s highfalutin shindigs.” Beth tugged on her hand to get her walking. “We’re using
tonight as a last meeting before the show gets rolling. Now relax, there’s someone I’m dying to introduce you to.”

  Beth was right. The Chicago Field Museum held parties on a regular basis. She dealt with crowds at those required functions. That didn’t mean she liked it. One of the many perks of becoming a historical researcher allowed her to hole up with her computer and dusty moldy tomes and lose herself. Nary a person in sight. However, Laurel thought as she saw where Beth was taking her, there were drawbacks in being secluded. She didn’t get to meet a lot of new people. And after Derek, she didn’t think she could trust her own opinion, especially when it came to good looking strangers—like the man Beth was leading her toward. Was he another wolf in sheep’s clothing?

  Laurel didn’t realize she held her breath as Beth stopped them in front of the man at the fireplace. He straightened and his smile grew larger as his blue eyes stayed focused on her face. Relax she mentally admonished herself.

  “Alex, I’d like you to meet Laurel.”

  “Hello, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” his soft burr rolled over her, and she managed a breath.

  “Laurel, this is Alex MacKenzie. He leases Sinclair House, a neighboring property a few acres away.”

  Beth turned to Laurel and grinned. “I’ll leave you in his capable hands. Alex,” Beth nodded at him and walked away, making Laurel a bit speechless as she watched her go.

  His low chuckle drew her attention back to him. “Not very subtle, is she?”

  She could do this. After all, Laurel hadn’t picked Alex out all on her own as she had Derek. He came pre-vetted by Beth. Alex was exactly what he looked like—a gorgeous guy any woman would dream of and want. So she forced a smile as she shook her head. “Beth isn’t well known for that attribute. Hi.” She held out her hand. “I’m happy to meet you.”

  Expecting a handshake, she was startled when his hand lightly gripped her fingers and raised them up. His lips were warm and soft as he pressed a kiss to her skin. She could have sworn she felt his thumb lightly brush the inside of her palm at the same time. Warmth flushed through her, all the way down to her toes. It was definitely getting warm in here, or maybe she was standing too close to the fire. But which fire, the hearth’s or Alex’s?