“Neither do I, at the moment,” she shot back, stepping around him. She went to the picnic table, grabbed her kayak, and hefted it onto her shoulder. She swung around, and Morgan barely had time to catch the nose of the boat before it hit him in the chest.
“Dammit, Mercedes,” he said, lifting the kayak off her shoulder and setting it on his. “I’m trying to talk to you.”
“The only talk I want to hear is your reason for leaving that note on my porch this morning.”
He repositioned the kayak and grinned at her. “I can’t believe you stayed put.”
Sadie scowled at him. “Was it a test, or was there something in the woods that was dangerous?”
He sobered. “Poachers,” he told her succinctly. “Or so I thought. But, according to your boss, the two men are your competition. And that makes them even more dangerous.”
Sadie waved that away and headed for her truck again. “It’s the Dolan brothers,” she said. “Neither one of them is competent enough to tie his own shoes. They’re more a danger to themselves than to anyone else.”
She stopped at the truck and grabbed the end of her kayak, lifting it onto the roof rack. She left Morgan to slide it into place while she moved to stand on the running board to tether it down.
“And what do you know of this competition?” she asked as she tossed one of the straps to his waiting hands. “How long were you standing there, listening to Eric and me?”
“Long enough to know that this park you’re so determined to build might not happen.”
Sadie glared across the roof at him. “It will happen. Because I’m finding that gold and giving it to the consortium. The Frank Quill Wilderness Park will be built if I have to turn over every rock in this valley.”
He stopped working and rested his arms on the roof, staring at her. “But why? Why a park, of all things, and why here?”
Sadie tightened the last buckle on her side of the boat into place. She also rested her arms on the roof and looked at him. “Because this is the valley my father loved. This is where I spent every summer, every weekend, and every vacation with him. Frank Quill’s soul still roams these woods, searching for Jedediah’s gold.”
With a frown at her answer, Morgan finished fastening his side of the kayak down, then walked around and stood in front of her. Sadie got a good look at his face, and her toes instantly curled in reaction to what she realized was coming.
“I’m mighty impressed you stayed put this morning,” he said just as his arms came around her and his lips made contact with hers.
Sadie stiffened, kept her mouth firmly shut, and tried not to notice how nice he smelled or how his powerful body pressed so intimately against hers made her heart race. He couldn’t kiss her whenever he wanted.
But, more important, she couldn’t want him to. Responding to Morgan MacKeage’s kisses, she had learned on their date Saturday night, could very quickly lead to intimacy. And intimacy would mean getting naked.
And that could never happen.
Sadie felt herself spinning through space, and it wasn’t until her back touched the hood of her truck that she realized Morgan had just picked her up and was all but lying on top of her.
Damn. He was pure alpha male when it came to kissing.
Sadie felt the hem of her T-shirt being pulled from her pants. She tore her mouth away with a gasp, at the same time grabbing his hand to stop its advance. She gave his shoulder a mighty shove to push him away.
It was like trying to push a mountain. Sadie found herself staring into solid green eyes, as dark and as swirling as the forest during a storm.
“That’s far…I don’t…you can’t…” Sadie snapped her mouth shut and glared at him.
Morgan simply watched her for the longest time, then threw back his head and laughed out loud. He straightened and pulled her upright to stand against him, hugging her tightly.
“Someday, lass, your mouth will catch up with your brain,” he told her, still laughing, still hugging her. He pulled on her hair to tilt her head back and kissed her soundly but briefly on the lips. “But you have my permission to postpone that day for several more years yet.”
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t release her.
“Now, lass. Where is it we’re going in such a hurry this afternoon? Will I be needing my own boat?” He darted a look at her kayak, then back at her. “Because I’m telling you now, that’s a mighty odd craft you use, and I don’t have one like it.”
“I’m going to the Prospect and setting up camp. You’re going home and staying the hell out of my business.”
He shook his head and grinned at her. “Ah, Mercedes. Haven’t you figured it out yet? When you stayed put today, you gave me your trust.”
“I stayed put because I had things to do.”
Sadie wiggled free, went to the hammock, and picked up the stolen diary and her own journal. She turned to find Morgan sitting on her porch, watching her. Faol was sitting beside him. The wolf’s head was cocked at an inquisitive angle, his eyes following her every movement.
And if Sadie didn’t know better, she would think the two arrogant fools were grinning at her.
She strode to her truck, ignoring the male parade that silently fell into step behind her. She climbed in, but before she could shut the door, Morgan had one hand on the roof and one arm resting on the inside handle, effectively stopping her from leaving.
Sadie glared at him.
He grinned at her. “Until later, gràineag,” he said as he softly closed her truck door.
Sadie rolled down the window. “What does that mean?” she hollered to his retreating back.
He stopped, only turning his head, and shot her a wink. “It’s a term of endearment, lass. And one that fits you much better than that glove you wear on your right hand.”
He walked into the woods with that nonanswer, and Sadie watched as Faol ran to catch up. The wolf stopped, though, just before he entered the forest and looked back at her. He gave a single bark, then turned and also melted into the landscape.
Sadie heard the sound of pounding hooves traveling through the woods then, and she listened until only their fading echo remained. Morgan MacKeage and his odd band of animals were gone, disappearing as suddenly as they had arrived.
Sadie turned and stared out the windshield at the road ahead of her. “An endearment, huh?” she whispered to herself. “I’m thinking of a few of my own for you, MacKeage. And I doubt you’ll like them any better than I like mine.”
That said, she twisted the key in the ignition and put her truck into gear. She was heading into the great woods herself, with the hope that this valley was big enough for her to avoid the Dolan brothers, her boss, the wolf, and Morgan MacKeage while she searched for Jedediah’s gold.
Chapter Eleven
The problem with lust, as Sadie saw it, was that raging hormones knew no sense of discretion. They were just as happy to target the first handsome male—suitable or not—who had the unfortunate luck to step into their path. And it was exactly that sort of recklessness that was causing Sadie such worry now.
Because her hormones definitely liked Morgan MacKeage.
Sadie absently tossed another stick onto the dying fire and took a sip of chamomile tea as she watched the wood catch and flare into flame. The air was heavy with summer-tropical moisture, pregnant with the promise of thunderstorms. That was why she had positioned her campsite away from the threat of suddenly rising river water, towering trees that might attract lightning, and the path of falling rocks that might suddenly slip down from Fraser Mountain without warning.
The same way her heart might suddenly slip, also without warning, over the spell of Morgan’s unforgettably deep, mesmerizing, forest-green eyes.
And that was the problem. How could she casually let Morgan know that friendship was not what she wanted but that a lusty affair was more to her liking? And how could she orchestrate it all without taking her clothes off?
Her hormones didn’t seem to
understand that she simply couldn’t undress and hop into bed—not if she didn’t want Morgan hopping right out and running away in horror.
Sadie set her mug of tea on a rock near the fire and slowly worked the glove off her right hand. She flexed her fingers and turned her palm up, staring at the maze of scars that patterned the smooth skin like white lines of spider silk.
Whenever she tried to look at her scars with detachment, Sadie could almost make herself believe they weren’t that ugly, nothing more than damaged skin that had done a very efficient job of healing.
She still had use of her hand. The skin, although tight and somewhat more leathery than its original version, was still nicely functioning to protect the bone and muscle and cartilage beneath it.
Sadie splayed her fingers wide. It was the romantic view of herself that made her put her glove on every morning, made her wear a body sock and long sleeves, and made her sometimes wish that her father had never reached her in time.
“Do you wear your glove so much you forget what your own hand looks like?”
Sadie fell off the log she’d been sitting on, landing on the ground with a yelp of surprise. Her foot hit the mug of tea, sending it into the fire. The liquid hissed as it evaporated on the embers, and the plastic cup burst into colorful flames.
The laughter of a highly amused male wafted into the campsite, followed by the forms of two shadowed bodies—one impressively tall, the other short and fur-covered.
“Dammit, MacKeage. You travel these woods like a ghost.”
He laughed again and hunched down in front of her. Sadie caught her breath. He appeared more formidable than the old-growth pines that towered over these woods, more solid than the mountains, and far more wild than the river that ran in rapids just a hundred yards away.
His wavy blond hair was loose, with two thin braids holding it off his face. His shoulders were broad enough to make her heart race, his hands on his knees large enough to make her mouth dry. He wore a pack on his back, the straps pulling his shirt taut against his chest, nicely showing off every muscle a man would need to make a girl’s head spin.
“Come on, lass. Let me help you up.”
Sadie stared at the hand he held out to her. What was it with this man, that he always insisted on taking her right hand? Ignoring his offer, a bit peeved that she was having lustful thoughts and he seemed totally oblivious, Sadie rolled over and got to her feet without his help. She immediately put some distance between them, at the same time tucking her bare right hand into her pocket.
Morgan pivoted on his haunches and sat on the log she had been occupying. He reached down, picked up her glove from the ground, and held it up to examine it in the light of the setting sun.
“It’s made of fine soft leather,” he said as he rubbed the glove between his fingers. He looked up at her. “Do you need it to protect your skin, Mercedes?”
She balled her hand in her pocket and gritted her teeth to keep from growling in frustration. “No,” she told him succinctly, lifting her chin and holding out her left hand for the glove.
He tossed it to Faol. The wolf immediately snatched it up and looked at her, the glove dangling out of his mouth like a dead rat.
“Then why do you wear it?” Morgan asked, drawing her attention again.
Sadie glared at the man. “What is it with you people? Is it a Scottish thing, this need you have for being rude? First that nosy old priest, and now you. Why I wear a glove is my business.”
He shook his head, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “Ever the gràineag,” he said, shrugging out of his pack and letting it fall to the ground behind him.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you if you come sit with me,” he said, patting the log beside him.
Sadie immediately became suspicious. She held her position, crossing her arms under her chest and burying her right hand in the folds of her fleece.
“What are you doing here, MacKeage?”
He picked up his pack. “I’m thinking a hunt for gold might be a nice adventure,” he said, undoing the buckles and opening the top flap. He shot her a grin. “And I’m also thinking it might be the most fun with you.”
Sadie could only gape, speechless, as he then turned his attention back to the contents of his pack. He wanted to hunt for Plum’s gold? With her? As in their traveling together, sharing a boat and meals?
And a campsite?
He pulled a bottle of wine from his pack, set it on the ground, then picked up the pot of tea she had set by the fire to keep warm. He sniffed the pot, made a face, and dumped the tea onto the ground.
Still unable to find her voice—not sure if it was from the shock of his stated intentions or from curiosity about what he was doing now—Sadie could only hug herself and watch. He set the now empty pot on the grate over the fire, then rummaged around in his pack again, pulling out a corkscrew. He quickly opened the bottle of wine and poured nearly all of it into the pot.
Something bumped against her thigh, and Sadie flinched in surprise. She looked down to discover Faol standing beside her, her glove still in his mouth, his iridescent green eyes unblinking as he stared up at her. Sadie quickly moved away, putting several feet between them.
“He’ll not harm you, Mercedes,” Morgan said, drawing her attention again. He shot her another grin. “I’m thinking the beast has taken a liking to you.”
“And I’m thinking you think too much. You’re not hunting for Plum’s gold.” She waved to encompass her campsite. “You can’t just waltz in here and say you’re joining me. I’m not on an adventure. I’m building a park.”
“A park that will only happen if you find the gold, according to your boss. I can help.” His grin broadened, and his already impressive chest puffed out a good six inches more. “I’m a very good hunter.”
Sadie wanted to screech in frustration and maybe walk over and smack him on the side of the head. She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs instead. She was not sharing a campsite with him, not even for one night. She’d probably do something foolish, like throw herself on top of the man the moment he fell asleep.
“Hunting for gold is not like hunting for supper,” she explained patiently. “It’s tedious, frustrating work that depends on luck more often than skill.”
He wasn’t paying attention to her. His nose was buried in his pack again. This time, he pulled out a small silver tin, which he opened. He took a pinch of something out of it, which he tossed into the pot of now steaming wine.
“Morgan, you have to leave,” Sadie said, somewhat desperately. “You can’t come with me. And you sure as hell are not sharing my camp.”
It was Faol who answered, since Morgan was busy ignoring her, rummaging around in his pack again. The wolf, her glove still in his mouth, walked over to the back side of the fire, lay down as if settling in for the night, put his head on his paws, and closed his eyes.
Morgan pulled two tin cups from his pack.
Sadie spun on her heel and walked into the forest.
She stopped just beyond the light of the fire and let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the woods. Once she could see, she headed for the river.
They were both denser than dirt, bullying their way into her life, fraying her emotions, neither of them heeding her petition to leave her alone. Faol, apparently, had decided he liked the company of humans and was trying to worm his way into her affections. And Morgan was much too handsome and far too self-serving for her peace of mind.
That was probably why he had accepted the blind date with her in the first place. Knowing her mother, Charlotte likely had mentioned Plum’s gold to Callum, and Callum likely had mentioned it to Morgan. So the man had dated her, kissed her senseless in hopes of worming his way into her affections, and now he thought he could search beside her and claim his share of the gold so that she wouldn’t have enough left to fund the park he was so much against.
Sadie suddenly tripped and landed facedown in the moist di
rt of the river bank. She turned into a sitting position and stared back at the dark green canoe lying keel-up on the gravel.
The boat hadn’t been there an hour ago.
Sadie crawled on her knees to the canoe for a closer look. It was an old boat, strongly built of cedar and canvas, at least twenty feet long. It was also heavy. It took all of her strength to turn the boat upright, exposing the canvas pack that had been stashed beneath it.
She immediately reached for the long, leather-sheathed sword lying beside the bag. She settled down on the gravel and rested her back against the canoe, then pulled the heavy sword across her lap. She undid the leather stays at the top and awkwardly slid the great weapon out of its sheath.
Moonlight glinted off the blade.
“Have a care, lass, not to slice open your hands.”
Sadie looked up to find Morgan standing not ten feet away, holding two steaming mugs. He came over and sat down beside her, placing one of the mugs in her hand.
“You’re thinking a sword is a strange thing to be carrying around,” he said just before he took a sip from his own mug.
Sadie lifted her steaming cup to her nose, sniffed it, and involuntarily shuddered. “Whew. What is this?”
“Mulled wine. Or the closest I can get to mulled wine. Drink, lass. It tastes better than it smells.”
Not wanting to hurt his feelings by refusing his gift—although she couldn’t imagine why she should care about his feelings—Sadie took a small, tentative sip. And, again, every muscle in her body uncontrollably shuddered.
Morgan chuckled and took another, heartier drink of his wine. Sadie absently fingered the blade of his sword. “It is a rather odd thing to be lugging around the woods. It’s very heavy. Why do you carry it?”
He stilled her fingers by covering her naked right hand with his own. “Because it is a very efficient weapon,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the palm of it softly.
Sadie sucked in her breath and held it.
He had just kissed her scars.
She didn’t know what to do. What to say. How to act.
Loving the Highlander Page 13