Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

by Claudy Conn

  Her eyes were often described by young men attempting to seduce her as exotic, but it was more than a line. It was the truth. Her eyes were almond-shaped, large and green like a deep, dark lake, also from her mother, but if you looked closely and deeply you would see the glitter of gold—and that she got from her mysterious Scottish father. At the moment her eyes held a wary expression and her body was tense with the anticipation of the unknown. She was about to do something she had never done before—seduce a man with a lie.

  Her dark gray rental car was parked in the gravel courtyard, and although she had been knocking for a few moments, it seemed as though no one was home. The separate garage was of the same lovely design of stone and logs, and she walked over to it, her heels twisting a bit in the gravel. Peering inside with her hand over her forehead she saw three cars inside the spacious building. One was a silver Jag, another a jeep, and the other a truck. She smiled because it was a Ford 250—American made, in the Highlands. Who would have thought?

  She sighed and wondered if Chase MacAdams was out walking his foothills. Where would he be? She grimaced—he only owned one thousand acres …

  She returned to the front oak door and peered through its long, wood-paned side window. She put her hands on her jean-covered hips and turned to look down the long, winding driveway.

  “Well,” she told the wind, “no one home … so I guess I’ll leave it for another day.” As she walked towards her rental, she fished in her pocket for her keys. Then she stopped as she heard a sound in the woods that flanked and stretched upwards along the driveway.

  *

  Chase licked his lips as he watched her. She stirred a sudden, strong desire in his loins. She was a beauty, and he liked the way her hips swayed as her provocative body moved gracefully, almost stealthily when she walked. He watched her as she went to his garage, and with the accuracy of his vampire vision he saw her delicate dark brows draw together. Who the hell was she?

  He hurried the remainder of the way and entered his home through the back door, threw on a pair of jeans and a black T, and slipped into his Gucci boots, smiling to himself at the look he presented in his mirror. Oh yeah, style it up for the lady.

  He opened his door wide. Her back was to him as she still stood by her rental and scanned the driveway. He said, “May I help ye?”

  She turned, and he sucked in air. She was breathtaking. At a distance he had seen she was beautiful, but now, close up, her good looks simply blew him away. The wind picked up and took a strand of her black, silky hair and sprayed it across her face. She brushed it away and smiled at him.

  His hard-on throbbed in his jeans, making him damned uncomfortable. Then she spoke, and the sound of her voice sent shivers through his body.

  “Oh, you are here …”

  “So I am,” he said in his Old World Scottish accent and had the satisfaction of watching her eyes look him over with what he thought was sure appreciation. Och aye, this was going to be a good day. “Aye, then …” he said and stood aside as he inclined his head and offered, “Would ye like to come in out of the cold, lass?”

  She laughed and said, “Yes, thank you. It is cold—I didn’t realize it would be quite this cold in your Highlands, and I don’t think this little jacket is doing the trick.”

  He looked at the little brown, waist-length soft leather jacket and noticed the fullness of her breasts as his eyelids half closed. He asked, “American, are ye … a long way from home?”

  “Yup, that’s me … American … Native American in fact, on my mother’s side.” She had spanned the distance between them and stepped into the central hall. A quick glance showed her a modern ‘log cabin—mansion-styled’ home. Everything was in rich wood and stone, and it was warm and inviting. She put out her hand and said, “Hi … I’m Roxie MacBran—your solicitor said you would be expecting me?” She tilted her head.

  “Tom said that?” He frowned and turned to the round table sitting in the middle of the hallway where a stack of mail he had picked up still reposed unread. He went to it and sorted through until he found what he was looking for and slapped it across his hand. “Ah …” He smiled at her. “Save us some time, Miss MacBran. Why are ye here?”

  “To fill the position of gatekeeper,” she answered with self-assurance.

  He stopped, looked at her for a long pause, and shook his head. “Noo … oh … I don’t think so.”

  “But you haven’t even looked at my references … they should be in that envelope.” She pointed to the letter he was still holding.

  “I was looking for a man,” he answered roundly.

  “I am fully qualified. I have a gun license, and I know how to use one. I am a black belt and—”

  “Just what do ye think being a gatekeeper involves? I don’t need protection or that kind of a guard. I just need someone to man—the key word being ‘man’—my gate at the beginning of my drive. People have a habit driving right up to the gate and parking along it on both sides, thinking I am away … or whatever. They’ve been using my woods for camping, especially during the spring and summer months. I need it to stop.”

  “If that is all you really need, an automatic gate would do you,” she suggested softly. “But I think you need more than that.”

  “As I said, they park outside the gate and find a way in along the border and then tramp on up …” He shook his head. “No … a woman couldn’t stop—”

  “Then I am the one for the job. No one will tramp on up while I am on duty,” she interjected. “As I said, I own a gun and I know how to use one … and I’m black belt trained.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what—no room there for a but. You need a gatekeeper … here I am.”

  “Why would ye want the job? It will be lonely here for ye, lass, in the Highlands.”

  “You have a village nearby where I’m sure I can find a pub and make some friends, and there is Inverness on my days off.”

  He frowned, circled around her, came right up to her, and leaned in close. As his six-foot-something towered over her, he said, “I doona think it is a good idea for a woman to live alone … up here away from … the world.”

  “As I said,” she answered softly.

  He was drawn to her and those luscious green-gold eyes of hers—so unique. He was on fire suddenly with desire, and his wolf was beating a drum in his head. His heart pounded in a hard, quick staccato, and he thought she might hear it beating between them. He shook his head at her, unable to speak.

  She said, “I know how to take care of myself, and I need this job.”

  “Why? Why do ye need this job?”

  “The pay is more than I could presently make in the States. Economy not so good just now, and I’m working on my first novel.”

  “I don’t have Internet set up in the gatehouse,” he said firmly.

  “Ah, but I looked into getting satellite for both TV and Internet—no problem. If you give me the job I can have that all set up tomorrow.”

  “I doona like this,” he answered, moving another step closer to her.

  She moved into him and looked long into his warm, gold eyes. “Why? It all fits. I came all the way here. Do you mean to turn me away?”

  “I doona think ye are right for the job.” He frowned darkly at her.

  “Give me a chance, and if it doesn’t work out for you, well, you can always fire me, boss,” she said and gave him a look that blew all his resolve out the door. She put out her hand. “Deal? I need to hurry and get someone out to the house to install the dish, and I need to go shopping …”

  He studied her for a long moment and admitted to himself that he’d decided to give her the job the moment he realized it was what she wanted. He gave her his hand; when their hands clasped he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through his arm and aim directly at his brain, scalding all logical thought as it continued and found a path straight to his dick. The problem was that his wolf had decided he had to have her. This one was trouble, he told himself—so muc
h trouble. The little American did something to him she wasn’t supposed to be able to do. Only ‘the one’, his intended imprinted mate, should have this effect on him. He was momentarily off balance and thrown off his usual self-assurance.

  She smiled warmly and said, “Key?”

  He went to a side table, retrieved it, and dropped it in her open palm. He didn’t want to touch her, was afraid to touch her, afraid he would not be able to control himself, because at that moment all he could think of doing was tearing off her clothes, laying her down on the wood planking, and ramming into her …

  What was wrong with him? He watched her sway as she walked to the door, and then she said over her shoulder, “If you need me … you know where I’ll be, but I don’t start till tomorrow. I have to get settled first.”

  He watched from the side window as she got into her car and drove off. He leaned back against the wall and blew out air … What the hell?

  One

  MEMORIES OF THE Adirondacks’ deep and darkest miles of forest flashed through Roxie’s mind. The delicious feeling of racing through the woods, fully scented with pine. The wind whipping through her fur …

  Her mother’s smile—her father’s laughter … For a moment, Roxie was homesick for the life she had left behind.

  On her mama’s side she was Patquah Indian, a little-known tribe that inhabited the mountain range known as the Adirondacks in upstate New York.

  Her mother had been the chief of the tribe, one that was—always had been—matriarchal, but it wasn’t the only thing that made her small tribe unique. She, like her mother and a few others in the tribe, were shapeshifters.

  Centuries ago, the tribe had found it was in mortal danger from a supernatural force, and the elders had enacted a long-forgotten enchantment that allowed them to protect and guard their tribe and land. It was the earth wolf spell embedded within the genes of the elders that allowed their dormant and immortal power to take hold. And thus, the elders became immortal shapeshifters—completing a process that had begun when they had been attacked by a black sorcerer nearly a thousand years past. Once the spell had been enacted and their latent trait developed, the tribe could no longer be damaged by black magic of any kind.

  These chosen few—Patquah shapeshifters—were endowed with immeasurable powers, and it was a secret strongly guarded.

  Roxie’s mother had never taken a mate in all her hundreds of years, and then she met Nimrod MacBran twenty-two years ago. What’s twenty-two years when compared to hundreds? Roxie smiled.

  Nimrod was not Patquah, and he had a secret of his own. He was an immortal who had been on a lonely road to find meaning to his long, black-and-white life when he met Roxie’s mother and suddenly everything took on vibrant color. Her parents’ love story was one Roxie never tired of hearing.

  Roxie did not, however, want to stay in the Adirondacks, not even to be with the family she adored and the tribe she loved. She was young; she wanted more—college for one thing. She went off to New York City.

  Four years later and with her degree in hand, she was ready to start her life in business, the fashion business. And then she had opened her apartment door, and there they stood …

  They had drawn her into this awful mess, but how could she have said no after she went with them to Dublin and saw for herself what was going on in that beautiful city?

  So, here she was, not liking the role she had to play. From the start she had known she would have to lie, but knowing it was different than doing it. When she looked into his wary golden eyes and lied, something inside twisted and pained her.

  He wasn’t the trusting sort—she could see that—and if he caught her in this lie before she came clean, he would never be approachable again. It was the kind of lie she despised. She had to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. She wasn’t a writer … well at least not a novelist. Maybe a fashion editor one day if she ever made it out of the situation she was in.

  Roxie had always taken life head on and believed in facing all truths, even the hardest to deal with, and this didn’t sit well with her. It didn’t feel right; who she really was wanted to just blurt out the real reason she was at MacAdams. She knew in her heart that if it weren’t for the bit about ‘saving the world’ they had laid on her, she would never have agreed to go through with it.

  However, now that she had met Chase, she knew there was no way he would easily be persuaded by a stranger. He probably would have just asked her to leave, and that would have been that. Nikki had said this was the only way to get to Chase MacAdams, and although Roxie saw that Nikki was right, a large part of who she was absolutely hated what she was doing.

  It wasn’t how she did things, and she’d almost spilled the beans today and just come right out and told him the truth, but then she’d seen that they were correct, that he would have turned her away had she told him why she really was there. He wasn’t ready to join any side, good or bad. He was a world unto himself, and that was the way he wanted it—because he had his own war to deal with.

  They needed him. He was a potent and invincible hybrid, and they needed him on their side. Things were about to get complicated and bloody, and Chase MacAdams had powers they could use!

  *

  Still troubled by all of this, some hours later Roxie sipped her ale and picked at her fish and chips as she looked around the dimly lit and lively pub. She had already turned down a few robust and well-meant flirtatious guys who had tried to keep her company. From the looks of it, she was going to have to turn down yet another.

  She sighed to herself as the tall, pleasant-looking, if somewhat lanky, Scotsman approached her table.

  She had purposely chosen a small square table at the far end of the pub and situated in the darkest corner in the hopes she might be left alone. No such luck.

  “Well now, darlin’ lass,” the lanky Scotsman with the broad smile said in what he undoubtedly thought was a sexy voice, “would ye be liking soom coompany?”

  “Not tonight,” she said politely but firmly with the hint of a smile. After all, she didn’t want to make enemies on her first night in town.

  He pulled up a chair and sat, and she raised her eyebrows at him. He laughed and settled in, although he took a quick look over his shoulder.

  Uncompromisingly, Roxie said, “In English that means no—not wanting any company.”

  “Oh, feisty, are we?”

  “I wouldn’t call it feisty, I would call it not wanting any company tonight, and you are beginning to annoy me.” She eyed him coldly. “I don’t think that is what you came over here to do.”

  “Oh-ho then, what—canna ye not give a man a break? Just wanting to keep ye entertained while ye enjoy your dinner …” He reached over to take one of her chips.

  She slapped his hand and rose to her feet. “Don’t want your entertainment. What I do want is for you to leave me in peace …”

  “Or what, little lady, or what?” He was chuckling, but there was no humor in it. His friends had told him he would be shot down, and they were watching. He got unsteadily to his feet and made a grab for her arm, “Now listen, ye could play nice…”

  A low but strong male voice at his back answered, “Or what is not a question ye want to ask of me.” A hand came down on the young man’s shoulder and squeezed. “What I think ye be wanting is to leave the lady in peace as she asked and return to yer friends, and ye want to do that right now, because the lady is with me, and ye wouldn’t want it said ye were trying to move in on another man’s woman, now would ye, lad?”

  The lanky Scotsman looked around and up. He was already terrorized by the incredibly strong grip on his shoulder—a grip he thought was about to crush bone at any moment. Then he saw the grip belonged to Chase MacAdams. No one in the village really knew Chase MacAdams personally, but everyone knew who he was.

  At six-foot-something and all muscle, Chase stood in a black silk shirt and black jeans—an imposing figure with his gold eyes grim and his black hair slicked back and tied at the
nape of his neck. Roxie felt a shiver of attraction as she watched him.

  The ‘lad’, as Chase had called him, pushed away with his hands outstretched comically in his rush to leave. He was himself six foot and was astonished to find the man towering above him was so much taller. “Didn’t know she was taken …” He shrugged nonchalantly and then tried a smile over his shoulder as he left. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

  Chase gave him a half smile and pulled up the discarded chair, setting it in place against the wall. He then motioned for Roxie to be seated again, which she thankfully did with a sigh. She was, in fact, very much impressed with the way he had conducted himself and handled the situation. She didn’t want to be impressed, though—she was quite used to taking care of herself.

  Once more a shiver raced through her blood and told her brain that this was a serious hunk. However, she didn’t want to get involved with Chase MacAdams … not on that level. She was here to do a job … get it done and step back from him. She wasn’t going to allow herself to get romantically entangled with a hybrid. Nooo, no way.

  He sat not opposite her but next to her so they both had the wall to their backs and a view of the entire pub ahead of them. He also reached for one of her chips, and this time she allowed it with a welcoming smile. She moved her chair slightly so she could look at him fully.

  “Thank you, but you know … I could have handled him,” she said. “He was really harmless … and I am not sure I like the fact that now the rumor will go around the village that the new gatekeeper at MacAdams Retreat is also his woman. Kinda cramps my style.” She eyed him mischievously.

  He laughed. “As to cramping yer style, m’lovely, I think ye were doing a good job of that on yer own.”