She knew it in her heart.
To the depths of her soul.
Taelyn didn’t want reality to spoil his sweet gesture or sentiment, though. So she remained grounded in the moment, telling him, “Sounds perfectly lovely.”
“I’m sorry I have to leave so soon,” he said. “The last vase I need is here in the States—apparently, it’s been right under my nose the whole time.”
“Happens like that sometimes.”
He gazed at her a few seconds, gave her a casual grin and said, “Indeed.”
He got to his feet and moved to the end of the bed where his garment bag was laid out on the bench. Slipped into navy-colored pants and a crisp white dress shirt. He folded back the sleeves to mid-forearm and then added his expensive Bulgari watch and Gucci loafers. Van was a curious contradiction of elegant refinement and streetwise fighter. He had razor-sharp instincts and a PhD from Oxford.
Taelyn had found the combination titillating from the day they’d met at the opening of a show at an art gallery in Manhattan. They’d both wanted to purchase the same painting. Van had played hardball, but in the end, he’d relinquished his claim on the work in lieu of a dinner date with her.
“I’ll call you when I’ve completed the acquisition.” He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Then you can contact our buyer.”
“I look forward to hearing from you.”
He swooped in for a quick kiss. Placed the ruby on her right ring finger and implored, “Don’t take this off while I’m gone. I want you to put serious thought into wearing it for the rest of your life.”
“I promise.”
His fingertips grazed her temple, whisking back a plump dark-brown curl and tucking it behind her ear. His thumb stroked her cheek as he said with conviction, “We’re going to have it all, darling. Just you wait.” His hand fell away and Vander Cari did precisely what he did best—walked out the door.
Taelyn’s spirits sank. She dropped back against the mound of pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Held her hand in the air and eyed the sensational—and downright expensive—gems.
What woman wouldn’t want to marry Vander Cari?
She sighed.
What woman would want to marry a phantom?
Lord only knew how much time she’d have to reconcile these feelings. As was always the case, Van hadn’t given any indication as to when he’d return. Hell, he hadn’t even told her where he was going.
She tossed off the covers and padded barefoot to her own bathroom. Showered and changed into jeans, gray suede ankle boots and a long, tight-fitting gray sweater. She styled her hair with loose, fat curls that fell over her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Added a smoky accent to her cerulean eyes and neutral gloss to her lips. Then headed downstairs to the portion of the house, set deep in the woods, that she’d converted into her store/warehouse.
The vast space was overrun by massive pieces of furniture, fascinating relics and jewelry cases.
She logged into the inventory a few new items that Van had left for consignment, snapped some photos with her digital camera and uploaded them to the web and various social media sites to showcase the antiques. Then went through receipts and paid the monthly invoices.
It wasn’t until late afternoon, when the rain was coming down hard, thunder rattled her windows and flashes of lightning illuminated the dimly lit shop that the small silver bell over the decorative double doors of the Tudor-style building chimed.
Taelyn set aside the iPad she’d been using to scour the Internet for future procurements. She pushed her chair back from the early 1900s secretary desk and rounded it to greet her visitor as he stepped into the room from the foyer.
“Good afternoon,” he said in a low, rich tone that was deep and intimate. And oozed down her spine like warm molasses.
He was the direct opposite of Van in appearance. Not quite as tall, though still over six feet. Leaner muscled, yet powerfully built. He wore all black—leather jacket that hung open, untucked button-down shirt, jeans and boots—and had roguishly tousled onyx hair, damp from the rain. Bronze skin and the most penetrating, piercing green eyes she’d ever seen. Light, like the peridots abundantly mined in Kashmir. Nearly translucent, in fact. Glowing seductively.
Her pulse kicked up several notches.
His dark brow crooked as she simply stared, not a single word forming on her tongue.
Jesus. He was… Dangerous-looking in a really exciting way that caused a spark against her clit. Edgy, wary. Regarding her closely, taking her in from head to toe the way she’d done him. His strong jaw clenched briefly. A wickedly evocative flash of heat in his eyes made her pussy throb and her nipples tighten.
Taelyn sucked in a breath. She couldn’t recall ever reacting so vehemently—instantly—to a man. Not even Vander.
The name flitting through her suddenly hazy mind brought her around. She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. “Good afternoon,” she returned the greeting while her heart suddenly hammered in her chest. “Is there something special you’re in the market for?”
“A sword.” His British accent was just plain overkill on the sex appeal, igniting her insides.
For God’s sake, get a grip. He’s just a man!
One who had such a devilish look about him it had her skin tingling and her blood turning molten as it flowed through her veins.
Damn Van for not making love to her last night or this morning. For three months, to be exact. Or perhaps a little more than that, since he’d been so preoccupied while preparing for his trip to Russia.
Her hormones wouldn’t be raging like this if the man whose ring she wore had spent some time between her legs before he’d left her this morning.
But then again…even when Van had entered her room after his shower, her body hadn’t responded this fervently.
She mentally shook that errant and traitorous thought from her head and gestured toward the back of the store to a cluttered corner where the lesser sought-after items were kept. “I have several swords,” she told her potential buyer as she escorted him to the wall where they hung. “All with their own stories to accompany them. Katana for the samurai, rapier for fencing and, of course, the small sword for dueling—usually over a woman.”
There was a lilt to her voice that was not the least bit familiar to her. She was…flirting?
Oh, Taelyn!
She would have slammed her palm to her forehead at her own idiocy—and for being so damn obvious—but he chuckled congenially, putting her at ease.
“Yes, that was typically the grievance that led to many a death,” he contended with a twinkle in his eye. As though he knew this from personal experience. She suspected he would have bedded more than his fair share of noblemen’s wives had he been alive centuries ago—and would’ve been called out for it, given the sexual potency he exuded, which likely would have threatened many a husband’s masculinity and prowess.
He added, “It wasn’t uncommon when establishing a town back in the day to put the dueling field adjacent to the cemetery. That way they could just toss the body over the fence.”
“How convenient.”
The devilishly handsome stranger let out another short laugh, though now there was a serious undercurrent to the sound that reverberated within her.
He said, “I’m looking for something more medieval. Well-crafted, wrapped handle, gilded and bejeweled hilt, a blade made of the finest steel. More…Excalibur…than mere dueling sword.”
He gave her a pointed look she couldn’t quite decipher, though now an ominous shiver ran through her. He raised his hands to waist height, and with the index finger and thumb of his right hand, he absently rotated the silver band with black etchings he wore on his left ring finger.
His sculpted facial features were stony, his gaze a bit more shrewd as he asked, “Do you have anything like that in your possession?”
Disconcertion skittered through her. She opened her mouth to tell him no, but he stopped toying w
ith his ring and held up his hand to silence her. Listened intently, then scowled.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Voices. Outside.”
“You mean customers.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I mean…trouble.”
Her eyes widened.
“Is there a way out of here?” he quietly demanded.
Taelynn gaped.
He sighed.
“Trust me,” he assured her. “You don’t want to tangle with what’s about to come through your front door.”
“Trust you?” she inquired with raised brows.
“Yes.”
“I don’t even know who the hell you are!”
“A much better alternative to them.”
The bell in the foyer jingled again. Taelyn jumped. The hair on her arms stood on end.
She had no idea what compelled her to do so—other than gut instinct—but she whispered, “Storage room. There’s a window.” She inclined her head to the door just a few feet away.
His hand cupped her elbow and he directed her there, moving her into the tight space and pressing her back against the wall. He left the door ajar and peered through the narrow slit.
Meanwhile, his hard body melded to hers as he caged her with his arms. Male heat and the hint of sandalwood wafted under her nose. She inhaled deeply, enthralled by the sensuous aroma.
“Don’t breathe so heavily,” he insisted.
“You’re scaring the shit out of me,” she hissed. Though that wasn’t the only reason her chest was rising and falling so quickly against his. Everything about the sexy, mysterious man lit her up.
His teeth ground. From the impending threat or the way her body was rubbing against his with each choppy pull of air into her lungs, she didn’t know.
He muttered, “They’re shifters. They can smell you—your scent and your fear. Hear you breathe.”
He tore his gaze from the opening and glanced over his shoulder. Taelyn’s eyes followed to the venting window at the top of the opposite wall where it met the ceiling.
“They’re here for the sword,” he warned, his attention returning to her. “And you do not want to know what they’ll do to you in order to get to it.”
Jerking her away from their hiding spot, he dragged her across the room, laced his fingers together and bent at the waist so she could place her foot in his upturned palms. He lifted Taelyn and—heart in her throat and pulse pounding in her ears—she released the latch on the window, pushed the pane outward and then used her hands on the sill to hoist herself up. She wriggled through the opening with his commanding, “Hurry!” rushing her movements so that she took a tumble to the sodden earth below.
He apparently jumped up and caught the sill with both hands, because he was next to her a second later, landing much more gracefully with a tuck and a roll, as if he dove out of windows every fucking day. He reached for her arm again and yanked her to her feet. Took several wide strides with her in tow and shoved her up against a tree, the leaves only providing a partial barrier from the onslaught of rain.
Her back was to the trunk as his body pressed to hers once more, pinioning her.
Again, Taelyn was hyper-aware of him as practically every inch of his strong, rigid body conformed to her soft curves. Intimately. As though being entwined like this was a natural state for them.
Fat raindrops streamed down his sculpted cheeks and curled under his slightly squared chin. They trickled along his throat to either pool in the indentation at the base or ripple over his smooth skin at the opening of his shirt, filled by the inner swells of his pecs.
The insane urge to lick the water from him rose within her. Thank God he covered her mouth with his hand.
“Not a word,” he quietly instructed. “They travel in packs.”
Taelyn didn’t know if this was some sick joke…or a terrifying reality. The grave expression on the face of her supposed rescuer made her believe the latter.
Confirmed when, from behind him, she heard a low growl. Then another.
“Shit.” His jaw tightened briefly. He said in her ear, “When I move away from you, find a thick branch on the ground. A solid blow to the head or shoulder will buy me a few extra seconds to help you. Do you understand?”
She gave a sharp nod. His hand fell away and she tentatively asked, “What’s behind you?”
“Wolves. And make no mistake, Taelyn. They will rip you to shreds.”
She let out a small, strangled noise. Recovered quickly, fixating on another shocking revelation as she demanded, “How do you know my name?”
“Because I know you.” He stared deep into her eyes. “You can’t outrun them. Don’t even try. Just give me the opportunity to slay one of them first before I go after the other.” He pulled in a breath. Then asked, “Ready?”
“No,” she asserted in a petrified tone.
“Trust your instincts. I promise, you know what you’re doing.”
Taelyn’s mind whirled as her insides thrummed at his closeness and her adrenaline pumped over the deadly situation she’d unwittingly found herself in.
“Now,” he whispered. Then relinquished his hold on her.
He spun around on his boot heels and lunged for one of the enormous animals snarling at them. Taelyn was instantly paralyzed by fear.
But then the other beast closed in on her and something clicked in her brain. She dropped to one knee, grabbed the first fallen limb she could reach, straightened and swung with all her might as the wolf advanced on her. Taelyn’s aim was miraculously true. Viciously steady and sound. The branch connected with the side of the wolf’s head with a resounding crack—and such velocity and force, the animal cried out.
His large paw simultaneously swiped at her, his claws slicing the back of her heavy sweater, sending searing pain through her, but also adding inertia to her blow so that his body flew a few feet away and slammed into a tree that shook from the solid impact.
Taelyn stared at the wolf, aghast. Then her gaze fell on the weapon in her hands.
She’d really just done that?
She had no time to let it register. A heartbeat later, she heard another shrill cry and glanced up just as the darkly handsome stranger cupped his hand, clasped the throat of the wolf he’d gone after and tore away fur and flesh. Blood splattered everywhere. The beast collapsed to the ground.
Taelyn’s savior didn’t waste a second swooping in and doing the same to the wolf she’d maimed.
Then he said, “There will be more of them.”
He gripped her arm and briskly led her along the side yard to the front drive. They were mere feet from a black Rubicon, and he had his keys in his other hand, when two more wolves rounded the opposite portion of the house.
“Oh, Jesus!” Taelyn wailed. She was this close to vomiting over all the blood and gore, and the pain stealing her breath—all of which she didn’t have a moment to fully process—and yet here were more of these shifters stalking them, closing in on them.
The stranger jerked open the passenger door and all but tossed her inside. Shut the door behind her. Then he stealthily leapt onto the hood of the vehicle before sliding off it on his hip on the driver’s side. He fell into the seat next to her and cranked the key in the ignition just as the two men from her shop came racing through the entrance of her house.
Taelyn stared in shocked disbelief and utter horror as the men launched themselves into the air, clothing exploded in all directions and two more of the furry beasts emerged, lethal teeth bared.
Her rescuer hit the gas and the Rubicon lurched forward just as the mammoth bodies rammed her side of the Jeep, rocking it, bashing in the passenger door with the screeching sound of crumpling metal and lifting the vehicle off two wheels.
She screamed.
The Jeep crashed back to the driveway, sending gravel sputtering from the tires in its wake. She tried to right herself as well. As Taelyn was sitting up and reaching for her safety belt, the two wolves that had rounded the ben
d of the house took a stand in front of the Rubicon.
“Oh, my God!” Taelyn willed herself to close her eyes. She did not want to see this! They remained opened, though, bulging.
The Rubicon barreled down on both wolves. They didn’t cave to this game of chicken. The man behind the steering wheel didn’t back down, either.
“You’re going to get us killed!” she shrieked.
“No, they won’t risk me killing them.”
Yet the beasts charged, anyway. Taelyn screamed again.
They were all about to die in a massively destructive head-on collision when one animal jumped onto the hood and then sailed over the roof. Her head whipped around and she saw him land behind the vehicle, skidding to a halt. The second wolf followed suit. Both ungodly creatures watched as the Jeep sped away.
“Holy shit,” she muttered as she propped her elbows on her muddied and soaked jean-clad thighs and buried her face in her hands. Tried to catch her breath because she was on the verge of hyperventilating. And her body was trembling from the physical strain, the fear and pain seizing her, the chill cutting to the bone.
She heard the cocky Brit next to her work his way out of his leather jacket and then he draped it over her shoulders. He switched on the heater, but that didn’t warm her or calm her.
“This can’t be real,” she said in a muffled voice.
“Fraid so, love. Just try to breathe. We’re not far from the house I’m renting.”
She attempted to focus on the sound of the rain hitting the windshield and roof, instead of the thundering of her pulse in her head. The blood covering her back. The churning of her stomach.
A good ten minutes or so passed and she was no more composed than when they’d first bailed out of the storage room window.
Her rescuer pulled up to a log cabin with a hunter-green roof and a stunning front deck. There were numerous others dotting the dense thicket along the lake, identical in appearance and not too close together so that they offered plenty of privacy. Likely no one would be able to see that the two of them were both a hellacious mess, from head to toe.
He shoved the gear shaft into park and shut off the engine.
“You’re going to have to climb over here to get out,” he told her. “No way is that door opening.”
BodyGuard (Butterscotch Martini Shots Book 2) Page 17