Walking Through Fire

by C. J. Bahr

  He shrugged.

  “Let’s clear the slate. I’ll start. I’m actually glad to see you again. I wanted to thank you once more for saving my life, but I realized I don’t even know your name.”

  He stared down at her for a moment knowing he couldn’t give her his real name, but then again, that’s what middle names are for. “Cole, ah, Robert Cole.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not MacKay?”

  He tried for puzzlement, but wasn’t sure if he achieved his goal. “What makes you say that?”

  “I was in Inverness the other day, in a museum. They had an exhibit of portraits by Scottish artists.”

  Oh, shite. She was staring at him oddly. Of all the people to see his painting. He waited for the axe to fall.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Captain Simon MacKay? I have to say the resemblance is uncanny,” she trailed off, leaving her statement as an unasked question.

  “Aye, that it is,” he gave her a smile. “Distant relative, mother’s side.” He glanced over her shoulder and noticed the dance coming to an end. Perfect, a much needed distraction. “You haven’t introduced yourself.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m Laurel. Laurel Saville.”

  “Lovely, American?”

  “By way of Chicago.”

  Simon heard the first note of the waltz strike. “Will you settle an argument for me?”

  “Argument?”

  “Aye, ours. The one where I blame MacKenzie for your dancing.”

  “What?”

  Before she could anticipate his move, he grabbed her right hand, pulled her close, and eased his other hand to her waist, before whirling them out onto the dance floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What are you doing?” Horrified, Laurel tensed and backed away. She didn’t make it far. His grip remained strong and confident as he swept her in amongst the other twirling couples.

  “Proving a point.”

  “Let go of me! It’ll be a train wreck!”

  “Och, no,” he grinned down at her.

  Her hold on his shoulder tightened, turning her knuckles white. This was insane. Any moment now they’d collide with another dancing pair or she’d trip and crash them both to the ground. She was tired of making a spectacle of herself. She glared into his eyes. “You are the most arrogant...you need to stop before something awful happens.”

  “Perhaps, but I think I’ll take the chance. Besides, I’ve proven my point.”

  “I have no idea what you’re taking about.” Her mind reeled and she had trouble following what he was saying. She didn’t enjoy making a fool of herself, and he had the temerity to actually laugh at her, causing her to stiffen in his arms.

  He leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Relax. You’re dancing.”

  The realization hit her and she stumbled. Robert Cole was there, his hold tightened and steadied her. She took a deep breath, stunned. “Holy shit, I am!”

  “That you are,” he continued to smile at her. His hand at her waist moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Effortlessly spinning, Laurel felt his controlled power as he guided them around the dance floor, steering, reversing and turning her. She held tight, amazed.

  She was dancing and loved it. She couldn’t stop her laughter and knew she was grinning like an idiot, but it didn’t matter.

  Looking up, she was trapped in his gray gaze. His eyes glowed a luminous silver, and his smile disappeared. There was something primeval in his look, a seriousness. All thought vanished and her laughter died. He tugged her closer yet, embracing her, as the world spun in six-eight time.

  Her breasts brushed his storm colored jacket while his muscular thigh pressed between her legs. His hand burned at the small of her back. Her temperature rose as she became intimately aware of his masculine presence held there in his embrace.

  Her world narrowed and she couldn’t look away from his intent stare. Hips and thighs, brushed then parted as they revolved through a turn. The waltz’s rhythm held an explicit promise.

  Dear God. Laurel now understood why the waltz was once banned from the ballrooms of London. Holy cow. She could see why people thought this dance scandalous.

  She broke off eye contact, to stare at one broad shoulder, feeling the flush heating her cheeks.

  ****

  Simon fought the urge to smile when Laurel demurely dropped her gaze and blushed prettily. It was such a feminine response. He felt a surge of satisfaction and pure male possessiveness. The feelings fled as realization slammed into him. He wasn’t alive. He’d never have a woman of his own—never know love. Laurel could never be his. But regardless of his unholy situation, he wouldn’t leave her to MacKenzie. He had to warn the lass.

  The music came to a swirling end, and he realized the doors to the terrace were a few steps away. Before she could gleam what he was doing, he whisked her from the ballroom and escorted her into a dark corner of the patio.

  He watched as her awareness returned and she glanced sharply around. Taking a step back, her hips struck the railing, and her hand grasped the beam. She took a deep breath, causing him to admire the neckline of her dress. He reluctantly dragged his gaze away and back up to her face, where he met her questioning glance.

  “I thought we both could use some fresh air.”

  She looked away before meeting his eyes once more. She swallowed and a small smile curled up her mouth. “Yes, well...that was, um—”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She laughed. “Thank you. It was...amazing. I had no idea.” She shrugged. “I can see now why people love to dance.”

  “All you needed was the right partner.”

  Her smile grew larger. “If you say so.”

  “Indeed.” He studied her for a moment. “I need to speak with you.”

  She raised an eyebrow and waited patiently for him to continue.

  “It’s about, MacKenzie.”

  “What?”

  “He’s not the gentleman you think he is.”

  She pushed away from the balustrade, all relaxation gone from her demeanor. “Excuse me? I must not have heard you correctly.”

  “I’m just trying to warn you. MacKenzie’s trouble. Stay away from him.”

  “Kettle. Black.” Her lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed. “At least he isn’t constantly picking fights with me, or deciding I’m some accident-prone idiot. He credits me with intelligence.” In obvious disgust, she tried to leave.

  “Listen, Laurel,” he grabbed her arm. “He’s a dangerous man. He’s only using you.” Like Alastair MacKenzie used Fiona, history was trying to repeat itself.

  She shrugged out of his hold. “What are you talking about? He’s not using me. I volunteered to help find the gold.”

  Gold? What the blazes is she—

  “Lori?” Beth’s voice called across the terrace and Laurel broke off in the mid tirade to stare past his shoulder.

  Damn. Simon couldn’t reveal himself to too many people. Time to disappear. He stepped off to the side while she was distracted.

  ****

  “Lori? Are you out here?”

  She watched Beth exit the ballroom. “I’m over here.” Laurel waved and then shivered as a chilled breeze washed over her. She turned to face Cole, but he was gone. Vanished. She shivered again as icy fingers crept up her spine. Where had he gone? How had he disappeared so fast? It was just like on the plateau.

  “Hey, where’ve you been? I lost track of you and wondered if you chickened out and ditched without telling me,” Beth said. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Laurel stepped away from Beth and walked the few strides to the darkest corner of the terrace. Maybe I have? There was no way for Cole to just disappear into thin air. There had to be an explanation. And there it was, stairs leading into the garden. No ghosts, here. She looked for Cole, but if he was there the shadows hid him.

  She continued to stare at the garden as Beth reached her side once more. �
��What’s going on?”

  “Did you see the man I was dancing with?”

  “You were dancing?” Beth stared at her incredulously. “Nobody died or was injured?”

  “Beth, now is not the time,” she shook her head. Her friend could never pass up an opportunity to tease her about her two left feet. “Yes, I was dancing, and the waltz, no less.” She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

  “Wow. Who was this brave dancing instructor?”

  “That’s the point, you didn’t see us? What about just now on the terrace? He was standing right next to me.”

  Beth raised an eyebrow. “No. There wasn’t anyone with you.”

  “Really? How could you possibly have missed him?” Exacerbation laced Laurel’s question. “He’s huge, like six-four, tall.”

  “I’m telling you, you were quite alone lurking in the murkiest corner of the balcony,” she replied. “Though it was dark… Is he handsome? Was he hitting on you? What’s his name?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter,” she let a frustrated sigh escape. “The name he gave me was, Robert Cole. Do you know him?”

  “Nope, never heard of him. But there are a lot of strangers in town for the festival. Was he cute?”

  Laurel frowned. “Seriously?” She thought for a moment and smiled. “He was more than cute, he’s in the ruggedly handsome category, and I really wanted you to meet him.” She turned her back to Beth and stared into down into the gardens, searching for her mysterious dancer partner.

  “Bummer, sorry I missed him,” Beth replied. “No worries though, if he’s here for the festival I’m sure your paths will cross.”

  “I hope so, because you’ll never believe this. He’s the spitting image of Simon MacKay.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m not.” She spun to face Beth. “Remember the portrait I told you about while in Inverness? It was downright eerie seeing Robert Cole tonight. I was staring at the same man, even though I know it’s impossible.”

  “Did you ask him? I mean, it’s not like he wouldn’t know about MacKay since that clan originally started this festival. It could be the reason he’s here.”

  “I did.” Laurel sighed. “He kind of blew me off and changed the topic. All he’d admit to was some sort of distant relation on his mother’s side.”

  “Well, that makes sense. After all, his last name is Cole not MacKay, and the surviving line was Simon’s mother and sister.”

  Laurel gazed intently at her best friend. “And there’s something else… He warned me to stay away from Alex. Pretty much said Alex was dangerous.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous!” Beth denied. “Sounds more like jealousy to me. Maybe he isn’t here for the festival at all. Maybe he’s a competitor, a fellow treasure hunter.”

  “Really? Looking like Simon MacKay?”

  “Well, the gold was from their clan. Maybe he’s hoping to reclaim it? Warned you off so you couldn’t help Alex succeed before him.”

  “I don’t know…Damn, it,” Laurel brushed aside a tendril of hair off her face. “I wish you’d seen him.”

  “Since I didn’t see the painting, I have only your word to go by anyway.”

  “But I just don’t understand his disappearing act.” This is twice now. Something weird was going on. How come she was the only one to keep seeing him?

  “Maybe he’s afraid to meet me? Afraid I’d rat him out to Alex.”

  Laurel snorted. “Doubt it. It’s not like he told me he was hunting the gold, so there was no reason for him to tell you.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Beth replied.

  She shook her head. “Hey, you were looking for me. What did you want?”

  “Nothing much really. You disappeared and I saw Alex making time with Kyla, and I thought an intervention was necessary. What did you do? Piss him off?”

  “Hardly, just danced with him.” She walked to the doors with Beth pacing at her side. “Kyla? Is she a redhead?”

  “Yup and fake boobs. You’re losing your hot highlander,” Beth tossed out as she entered the ballroom before her.

  “He’s not mine,” Laurel muttered. She shot one last glance at the garden below before following Beth inside.

  ****

  Simon stared after the women from the shadows below the terrace. Too close by far. Not that Laurel’s friend would have recognized him, but he didn’t need more introductions just now. He also didn’t need to be on speaking terms with the wife of the current owner of his manor when he returned next year, or hell’s curses, the year after that.

  No, damn it. By all he held dear he vowed his final rest was at hand. There would not be a next time. He would find the key to the hidden chamber. And nothing, not even a fiery, accident-prone, American lass would distract him.

  But damn the girl. It had been so long since he talked, let alone teased another human being. Even longer since he had held a woman in his arms. He closed his eyes and was vividly transported back to their waltz. Her warm soft body pressed against him, the citrus scent that floated lightly from her hair, her smile…

  A spot deep in his chest began to ache. How had this woman touched him so deeply and in such a short time? Anger grew in Simon. He wouldn’t let feelings of desire or loneliness sway him. It was gobshite that his emotions decided to surface now at the end of his trial. No more, he promised himself. Much easier to be cynical and bitter than to let any other feelings enter. He had enough pain without opening his heart. His resolve grew. He would do everything in his power, use anyone, hurt anyone, and even abandon the girl to MacKenzie if he had to, in order to achieve success. End game. He would not fail this time.

  ****

  Laurel’s fingertips brushed her lips. They still tingled from Alex’s goodnight kiss. After he finished the dance with that redhead, Kyla, he’d kept his word and stayed at her side all night. A perfect gentleman. He had been attentive and funny, making her laugh at his insights about the people around them, and he had made her feel beautiful. Tonight really had turned out fabulous.

  It was hard to believe Cole’s warning. Alex was smart, charming, and incredibly sexy. Beth knew her all too well, Alex was everything she’d been looking for. He even treated her like an equal and he was interested in her. He couldn’t be more perfect—just what the doctor ordered to heal and distract her from her breakup.

  She pulled the tight black tank-top over her head and smoothed it down so it touched her yoga pants. Brushing her hair behind her ears, she wondered if she made a mistake in declining Alex tonight. She burned with a weird energy and chalked it up to sexual frustration. It was way too long since she last got laid, with all her moping around since Derek. Maybe that would explain her jumping hormones for two completely different men.

  Robert Cole, the mysterious Scotsman who was a dead ringer for MacKay. How could she be attracted to such an irritating jerk? Argumentative, arrogant, and now he was trying to break her away from Alex. How had she let Cole under her skin especially since she had the undivided attention of Alex? She lifted the gown draped on the platform bed and smoothed out the wrinkles. With a slight frown, she walked to the wardrobe and hung the dress up. She should have stayed with Alex. She could be having wild monkey sex right this minute.

  Instead, she’d gone back to the manor, and then consumed a pint of triple chocolate ice cream while she and Beth gossiped about people back home. Laurel told Alex she wanted to spend time with her best friend. It wasn’t even an afterthought, or a hesitation. After all, she had traveled all the way from Chicago because she hadn’t seen Beth in well over a year, and between the festival and everything else, Laurel felt like she still missed her friend. Tomorrow was an “off” day. She planned to spend the entire time with Beth. But if she had the whole day with Beth tomorrow, couldn’t she have had the night with Alex? Laurel blew out a frustrated sigh.

  Thank God, Alex had graciously understood but said he couldn’t help but be disa
ppointed. Now she couldn’t help being a bit disappointed herself. Oh well, it’s not like she could turn back time, and she didn’t regret time spent with Beth.

  She walked out of the bedroom and into the suite’s main room to curl up on the window seat, clutching an over-stuffed pillow to her chest. But why was she anxious and restless? She should have been exhausted with the long day, but she wasn’t. Leaning her head against the chilled windowpane, Laurel stared into the darkness. Finally the sun had drifted below the horizon. It was well after three in the morning. Hard to believe it would be making another appearance in just few hours. The nights were incredibly short this far north.

  Robert Cole. What was his story? And why was it when she closed her eyes, instead of the lovely blue of Alex’s eyes, she glimpsed silvery-gray? She tried repeatedly to banish Cole from her thoughts, but he stuck there like a moldy fungus in a damaged museum text. No matter how carefully you tried to cauterize it, the fungus just kept returning. It’s why she didn’t go to bed. She was worried what her dreams would hold. Damn, the man.

  With a disgusted sigh, she threw the pillow she clutched to the floor and stood. Striding across the room, she vowed she’d get some sleep. To hell with him and his warnings. To hell with his mesmerizing eyes. She flung herself down on the bed and closed her eyes. She’d banish him from her thoughts, count sheep, do algebra, or catalog the Field Museum’s artifacts—anything to get him gone.

  But as she slipped into her dreams, it was Cole’s face she spied intently staring down at her. His arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. His warm breath brushed her cheeks. She spun and twirled as the waltz’s refrain haunted her dreams, just as the man haunted her thoughts.

  Chapter Eighteen

  St. Brendan’s Church

  October 1795

  The church bells rang causing Simon to glance sharply up and stare out the stained glass window. His da would be coming soon. He swallowed and scuffed his muddy, booted foot on the stone floor. It was just a bit of joke, he and his friends, Dougal and Byron, decided to play. It was supposed to be grand fun. The Priest hadn’t agreed.