“This is Fiona Gregor. She’s new in town.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “You related to Kenzie Gregor?”
“He’s my brother,” Fiona told her.
Instead of handing Johnnie his change, the woman used the money to fan her face as she sighed. “They sure as hell don’t make men like that anymore,” she said. Her eyes took on a sparkle. “But if they did, I guarantee I’d be the first one in line.”
Johnnie plucked the money out of her hand. “I believe your husband might have something to say to that,” he muttered. He shoved the money into his pocket, handed Fiona the leash and collar, hefted the dog food over his shoulder again, and, after a nod at the woman, headed for the door. “It’s a good thing I’m driving my mother’s car,” he said, stepping through the automatic door. “We’d have been a bit crowded in my pickup. There’s Jason and your friend. Come on.”
Again like an obedient child—or even worse, an adoring puppy—Fiona rushed after him, silently vowing that if she and Gabriella somehow managed to get home in one piece, she would never again put her friend in such danger.
Chapter Four
Trace pulled into the Shop ’n Save parking lot and realized his horrible day was about to get even worse when he spotted Fiona Gregor and Gabriella Killkenny—two obviously very lost souls—standing next to Johnnie and Jason Dempster. Jason was holding a large bag of dog food and talking to Gabriella, who was looking up at him with what could only be described as rapt attention. Johnnie was down on one knee, fitting a collar around a puppy’s neck, and Fiona, holding the leash attached to the collar, was looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but where she was.
Trace shut off his truck with a muttered curse.
And so it had begun. Little miss scared of her own shadow had finally worked up the nerve to come into town, and judging by the paleness of her complexion, hell would have to freeze over before she ever left the house again. As for Gabriella … well, from what his fishing partner, Rick—who also happened to be Trace’s cousin and William Killkenny’s new brother-in-law—had told him, the medieval teenager was too excited to be living in this century to be frightened of anything.
Trace got out of his truck and headed toward them, already having figured out what was taking place. Word down at the docks was that Dempster had unsuccessfully been trying to sell the runt of his litter for the last three weeks, and it was obvious the logger had decided that marketing the perfect companion to a single woman had proven easier than trying to convince anyone the dog would ever make a decent hunter. And although he couldn’t exactly say why, Trace felt himself walking a little taller when he noticed that Fiona actually looked relieved to see him.
Or at least she did until the puppy made a lunge for him. Her face turning quite pale again, Fiona immediately pulled the puppy back and then actually attempted to hide it behind her long coat. “Misneach, no!” she softly hissed when it continued all the way around her, nearly toppling her when the leash wrapped around her legs.
Trace dropped to one knee to catch the pup when it leapt at him again. “Hey there, squirt,” he said, taking hold of its head to keep its slobbering tongue away from his face. “Aren’t you a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed monster.”
Fiona tried pulling it off him again, and Trace realized that the pup might be a runt, but it was a damn strong little beast, when, instead of being dragged away, it pulled Fiona off balance again.
She would have fallen if Johnnie hadn’t caught hold of her shoulders. “Let go of the leash!” Johnnie growled, pulling her upright.
Fiona let the leash go as if it had burned her.
Trace grabbed hold of it and slowly stood up, then just as slowly handed it back to her. “Here, why don’t you start heading home with him?”
But it was Gabriella who finally got her to move. The young girl looped her arm through Fiona’s with a laugh. “Come on, it’s probably going to take us forever, as Misneach will to have to stop and smell every tree on the way.” She shot Trace a smile as they walked past him. “Could you bring his dog food home with you?”
Trace nodded.
“And I’ll bring his papers over this evening,” Johnnie called after them.
Trace stepped to block Johnnie’s view of the women and folded his arms over his chest. “The lady is off limits, Dempster.”
“Funny, I didn’t see your name on her.”
“Then I suggest you get glasses—though if you do come sniffing around her, you might have to trade them in for a white cane.”
Though it was subtle, Trace saw his old school buddy tense. “What are you gonna do, beat me up like you did that guy in Afghanistan? You think I can’t hold my own against a soldier who got sent home with his tail tucked between his legs?”
“I think you wouldn’t even hear me coming.” Trace took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Look, I’ve got no quarrel with you, Johnnie; I’m just trying to give you a friendly warning. The lady is Kenzie Gregor’s sister. And trust me, he’s not somebody you want to piss off.” He looked over at Jason. “And I suggest that if you’re interested in Gabriella, you speak to William Killkenny first.” He gave the boy a tight grin. “Though when you do, you might want to bring a change of underwear.”
He took the bag of dog food from Jason and headed toward his truck, but then he stopped and looked back. “And for the record, my discharge was honorable,” Trace told them. “It’s the other bastard who’ll be missing Christmas with his family for the next five years. And Johnnie, you bring those papers to me at the docks tomorrow, along with whatever money Fiona gave you over a hundred bucks.”
“Five hundred dollars was a bargain.”
Trace tried not to show his shock. She’d given him all her money?
Because she had wanted the dog that badly?
Or because she hadn’t dared say no to Dempster?
Taking an educated guess, he gave a negligent shrug. “It’s your funeral when Gregor finds out you bullied his sister into buying that dog.”
“Bullied?” Johnnie glared at him for several seconds, then suddenly snorted and reached into his pocket. “What in hell is up with that woman, anyway?” he muttered as he walked over and handed Trace a wad of fifty-dollar bills. “Just tell her I changed my mind and she can have the dog. All the money she gave me is there, minus what I spent on the collar and dog food.” He shook his head. “I swear she thought I was going to drown the little runt if she didn’t buy it, and a couple of times she acted as if she thought I might drown her. Was she married to some bastard who abused her over there in Scotland?”
Trace shoved the money into his pocket. “Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that she likes to keep to herself.”
Johnnie arched a brow. “Maybe she prefers women.”
Even though he was tempted to solve his future problems by letting Dempster spread that particular rumor around town, Trace shook his head. “Naw, she’s just leery of men. That, and she’s trying to get used to living in a new … country.”
Johnnie extended his hand. “No hard feelings, okay?” he said, his beard curving into a smile. “I’m sorry for that crack about Afghanistan.” His smile broadened. “Although I still say I could take you. I’ve packed on some muscle since that time you punched me in the first grade.”
Trace shifted the dog food to his other shoulder and shook Johnnie’s hand. “Yeah, I suppose it takes plenty of muscle to run the toggles on your skidder and tree harvester. You come out fishing with me some day, Dempster, and I’ll show you what real work is.”
Johnnie gave a laugh and headed to a small blue car. “I’ll bring my skidder down to the dock, and we’ll hitch it to the stern of your boat and go chain-to-chain.”
“Last I knew, skidders can’t swim, and neither can you.”
Johnnie climbed into the car and rolled down his window. “I appreciate the heads-up on Fiona.” He snorted again. “I really need to stop being a sucker for a pretty face. I just spent all last month pu
lling one woman’s claws out of my flesh; I should probably let the wounds heal before I let another one maim me again.”
“Been there and done that myself,” Trace drawled, “and personally, I don’t ever intend to let another woman get that close again.” He gestured toward Jason. “And if your brother’s half as smart as he is pretty, maybe he’ll learn from your mistakes.”
Johnnie started the car and put it in gear but looked at Trace. “I’ll call you, and we’ll go over to that new bar in Oak Harbor and toast our bachelorhood,” he said, pulling onto Main Street and heading toward Ellsworth.
Trace set the dog food in the back of his truck, then leaned his arms on the fender to watch Fiona and Gabriella walking down the sidewalk toward home. The puppy apparently had never worn a collar before, much less had to deal with a leash restricting its movements. One minute it was lunging ahead to go after something, and the next it was fighting Fiona’s efforts to pull it along.
Trace glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a powerful small engine and saw William Killkenny veer his motorcycle into the parking lot, missing a car by inches before coming to an abrupt stop beside him.
“It’s a little cold to be riding a bike, isn’t it?” Trace asked when William shut off the engine.
“Real men don’t get cold, Huntsman,” the Irishman said with a chuckle. But then he turned serious. “Ye haven’t seen Gabby, have you? She and Sarah were supposed to be tidying up the woods around my building site, but when I went to check on them not twenty minutes later, my sister had disappeared.”
“You mean that sister?” Trace asked, pointing down the sidewalk.
“Goddamn it,” William growled. “I should have known something was up when the girls volunteered to go pile brush along the driveway.” He shook his head even as he grinned. “Sarah made up some outrageous story that Gabby had gone to my cabin to make them both some hot chocolate.” He sighed. “My sister’s been here less than a month, and she’s already corrupted that sweet child.”
Trace gave a laugh. “You want to blame anyone for corrupting Sarah, blame your wife. When Maddy was Sarah’s age, she could have given snipers lessons on sneaking around.”
William sighed again. “Gabriella’s not supposed to associate with Fiona.”
“Why in hell not?”
“Because Kenzie believes Fiona will never find her backbone again if any of us help her.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Gabriella understands Fiona’s fears better than anyone. They both were brutalized by men, and they both got thrust into this century by your crazy drùidh buddy, Mac the Menace. Have you or Kenzie considered that maybe the two women can help each other?” He shook his head. “Because dumping Fiona on my doorstep and telling her to figure it out on her own sure as hell isn’t working.” He pointed at the bag of dog food in the back of his truck. “She bought a puppy today because she was afraid to say no to the man selling it.”
William gazed down the sidewalk, watching the two women and the puppy disappear around a curve. “Maybe you’re right about them helping each other. For the most part, Gabby acts like any normal teenager, but some nights she wakes up screaming bloody murder. Maddy has tried talking with her, but the girl refuses to discuss anything about that day, saying she’s decided to pretend it never happened.” He looked back at Trace, his eyes filled with pain. “I don’t know how to help her,” he said thickly. “Maybe I should ask Fiona to befriend her.”
“Or maybe you should just leave them both alone,” Trace suggested. He nodded down the sidewalk. “Neither of them needed any prompting to get together today, and they both managed to survive their little adventure.”
William looked appalled. “Ye expect me to ignore the fact that Gabriella snuck off? The brat left her cell phone with Sarah, along with instructions to say she was indisposed if I happened to call. I’ve spent the last four hours going out of my mind looking for her.”
“Now you know to try Fiona’s cell phone the next time Gabriella goes missing,” Trace countered, chuckling at William’s thunderous scowl. “Or simply tell the girl she doesn’t have to sneak off in the first place, because you happened to notice she’s all grown up now and quite capable of making her own decisions.”
“Do you have a sister?” William growled.
“Quite happily, no. But I did spend many nights riding every back road in the county with my uncle Marvin, which taught me that it’s a lot easier if they tell you where they’re going than it is to find them if they don’t want to be found. Marvin finally gave up and suggested that if I ever have daughters just to hand them the car keys. He said they’ll live up to my expectations if they know I trust them, instead of putting all their energy into outfoxing me.”
William visibly shuddered. “I don’t know if Mac thought he was doing me a favor or trying to kill me when he brought Gabby here. If I do survive her antics long enough to get her safely wed, I’m just going to have to suffer through it again with Sarah.” He suddenly grinned. “But Maddy is giving me a son, according to Mac, and at least I won’t have to worry about him.”
Trace gave a bark of laughter and started backing toward the store. “You hold on to that fantasy, Killkenny. Raising boys today is a damn lot harder than it was in the ninth century, and by the time your son reaches manhood, you’re going to think Gabriella and Sarah were saints.”
Trace turned away from the Irishman’s scowl with another laugh and headed into the Shop ’n Save to the sound of the powerful motorcycle roaring out of the parking lot. But he quickly sobered, remembering Fiona’s relief to see him and how good it had made him feel. Dammit to hell, she’d better not think he was going to come to her rescue every time she got into trouble, because he wasn’t. He’d left his hero uniform in Afghanistan, and he sure as hell wasn’t ever putting it on again.
Not even for a pair of vulnerable golden eyes.
And that clueless puppy had better not come scratching at his door with its nose full of porcupine quills, either, because he was just as immune to soulful canine eyes.
Goddamn it, didn’t the woman know she was supposed to ask her landlord if she could have a pet before she brought one home?
Chapter Five
Watching Gabriella disappear up the road on the back of William’s motorcycle, Fiona stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to her apartment, torn between wanting to run inside and staying to face her landlord like a confident, modern woman. She started walking Misneach around the yard, trying to persuade herself that she wasn’t afraid of Mr. Huntsman and that there wasn’t any reason they couldn’t have a calm, civilized discussion about her owning a pet. But half an hour later, worried he might not be in the mood to hear how having a dog would benefit the both of them, Fiona found herself waiting for him halfway up the stairs.
Just as soon as she’d sat down, Misneach had flopped down with a doggy sigh and immediately fallen asleep on the step above her, apparently exhausted from all that had happened to him today. The poor little bugger; he must be so confused and frightened and feeling so powerless that falling asleep was his only defense. For didn’t she herself know the horrors of waking up one morning belonging to one master, only to be bartered off before nightfall to another one for a few measly coins?
“Don’t worry, my little friend,” she whispered, stroking his wavy coat of dust-colored fur. “If Mr. Huntsman says you can’t stay, you have my word of honor that I will not hand you off to another master. I learned all about surviving the elements when I was a hawk, and we’ll just go live in the woods if he won’t let me keep you. You’ll give me courage, and I will give you my loyalty, and together we will make a formidable team.” She kissed the top of his head. “And if by some miracle Mr. Huntsman does agree to let you stay, then you must also become a perfect tenant and do your business in the tall grass and not jump on him with muddy paws. Oh, and no barking when he’s home, as he works very long hours and needs his sleep,” she added in a stern whisper.
Fio
na sat upright when she heard the distinct rumble of her landlord’s pickup turning into the driveway, and that persistent knot in her gut rose into her chest, squeezing her suddenly pounding heart. She stood up, hoping it would help her breathe normally, only to realize that she might appear to be looking down her nose at him. So she sat back down and folded her hands on her lap, again wishing she’d never gone to town.
But when Misneach gave a soft little puppy snore, Fiona realized that if she hadn’t, there was a good chance he would be in that terrible shelter right now, praying that he could go to sleep and never wake up.
The old green pickup came to a halt just out of her line of vision, and she heard the engine shut off and the vehicle’s door open and close.
And then nothing.
She leaned forward and frowned down at the porch. He had to have seen her sitting on the stairs when he’d driven in. Why wasn’t he coming to discuss her new pet?
Gathering her courage, because she knew that postponing the confrontation would only add to her angst, Fiona started down the steps. But she plopped back down with a gasp when her landlord silently rounded the corner of the house carrying her bag of dog food. He set it on the bottom step, then pulled some money out of his pocket and held it up for her to see.
“Johnnie Dempster asked me to give this to you. He told me once he thought about it, he decided he wanted you to have the dog when he realized it was going to a good home,” he said, tucking the money under the bag of food.
Fiona stood up in alarm. “Oh no, you must give it back to him! I do not wish to feel beholden to Mr. Dempster.”
“Hey, I tried to get him to keep at least a hundred, but he insisted on giving it all back minus what he spent on the food and leash. Don’t worry; Johnnie’s not looking for a new girlfriend. He just got rid of the last one with his skin barely intact.” He stared up at her for several seconds and then suddenly blew out a sigh. “Dempster’s a good man, Fiona, and he has a passion for dogs. But your new little friend there,” he said, gesturing toward Misneach, “was the runt of the litter, and Johnnie knows he’ll make a better companion than a hunter, so he’s beholden to you for taking it off his hands.”
Mystical Warrior Page 4