by Cindy Miles
Exactly ten minutes later, and supper, which consisted of meat pie and potatoes, was over. Amelia glanced at her watch, and then at Ethan. ‘‘Is it just an hour, or does the time vary?’’
He stood, grasping her by the elbow and pulling her up. ‘‘It varies, aye, but not by much. Come. Leave these dolts with your music box and what few crumbs remain on the table.’’ He looked at her. ‘‘I’ll take a turn with it later. For now, I’d rather walk. With you, if you’ve a mind to?’’ He lifted a brow. "Jell-O-Butt, remember? You said ’twas your way of staying fit after a hearty meal.’’
Amelia smiled. ‘‘Are you accusing me of eating a lot for supper?’’
‘‘Methinks you ate nearly as much as Rob did.’’
She laughed. ‘‘And you’re the gentleman who’ll offer to help me walk off those extra calories, huh? Well, then, it’s not every day a fourteenth-century warrior offers that up. I’m game.’’
They headed outside and started across the meadow, and Amelia immediately noticed they had a trailer. A follower. Several yards behind, but still a follower. She looked over her shoulder, then back to Ethan. ‘‘Why is Sorely behind us?’’
Ethan kept his gaze trained straight ahead. ‘‘Because, Amelia. I asked him to.’’
‘‘Why?’’
It was several seconds before he glanced down at her, and when he did, the fading twilight caught in his pewter gray eyes, the intensity turning them a shade darker. ‘‘I fear for your safety, that’s why. Any woman I’ve grown close to has found her death.’’
Amelia’s heart fluttered. The fact that the cause of such fluttering came in the form of a seven-hundred-year -old guy who had substance for about one hour a day was certainly a perplexing thing. She smiled. ‘‘Not only do you barely know me, Munro, but all those mysterious deaths happened centuries ago.’’
He stopped then, and looked out across the loch. ‘‘He’s also there to make sure I keep me hands off you.’’
Gulp.
Amelia stared at Ethan’s profile as he continued to look out over the water. A good, strong profile, to her notion, and sexier than any man she’d ever met or seen. The thought of kissing him made her knees turn mushy. But in the real world, she had rules.
She had a mind to put him at ease, so they could at least enjoy their first walk in the flesh, for crying out loud.
‘‘Listen, Ethan,’’ she said. ‘‘A., I have rules. Lots of them. One of them in particular involves no kissing or touching on the first date. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s me in a nutshell. And just so you know ahead of time, since you are about the sexiest thang I’ve ever laid eyes on, and there might eventually be some sort of a minor issue that arises, I don’t sleep around. Savvy? Yes, I see it in your eyes, the big question, and I’ll answer it. Of course I’ve had sex before, but it was a long time ago, when I thought I was about to be married, and since all of that was a big fat mistake, I’ve taken a solemn vow to withhold sex until the One, aka my husband, begs me for it on my wedding night. And B., even if I couldn’t control myself and my nearing-thirty abstinent self full of sexual urges and just . . . threw you down in the heather and had my way with you, I think ole Sorely back there’’—she jerked a thumb in that direction— ‘‘wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of getting here in time to stop me.’’ She gave him her most devilish grin. ‘‘I’m quick that way.’’
He turned to her then, eyes glinting. Body shaking. Mouth turned up at the corners. Then that wicked, wicked grin burst into a loud, echoing bellow of a laugh. Ethan laughed so hard, tears came to his eyes, and he scrubbed them with the heels of his hands. After a moment, when he could look at her and not laugh, he shook his head. ‘‘By the blood of Christ, woman,’’ he said, smiling. ‘‘By the sacred blood of Christ, you are unlike any lass I’ve ever known.’’
Amelia grinned, waved at Sorely, who’d stopped and had his hands up in a what’s going on? gesture, linked her arm through Ethan’s, gave him a tug, and inclined her head to the loch. ‘‘Come on, stud. Let’s get going before we run out of twilight. Besides,’’ she said, falling into stride beside him, ‘‘I haven’t told you about the brand-new ghost who showed up in my bathroom mirror.’’
Chapter 12
Ethan stopped and stared at Amelia. "You what?" "Saw another ghost." She scratched her chin. "Well, I suppose I didn’t see the other one, but I’m pretty sure this spirit was a different one.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I didn’t feel any malevolence at all. No threat.’’
Part of him, the sane part, wished a normal mortal had come upon the Munros to give them aid, one with just as much reception, mind you, yet . . . normal. One who would be afeared, mayhap, of a bluidy ghost in the mirror.
‘‘I think it was a woman’s face, but it was so translucent, I can’t be sure. But I got the feeling it was a woman. I stayed and stared into the mirror for a while, but I didn’t see it again.’’
Aye. One who mayhap didna insist on remaining in the verra room where ghosties did things to gain her attention.
Ethan shook his head. ‘‘Saint’s, woman, why didna you tell me sooner?’’
A naughty grin pulled at Amelia’s mouth, making her eyes tip upward, as well. ‘‘Because. I’d just gotten out of the shower. Standing there, with nothing on but my understuff.’’ She wiggled her brows. ‘‘I leaned down to grab something off the floor, and poof! Just like in the movies, when I rose, there she was, staring back at me in the mirror.’’ She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ‘‘Besides. Like I said, I felt no threat—none whatsoever.’’ She shivered. ‘‘Not like that other night, when the room turned freezing cold. Now, that was freaky.’’
‘‘Next time, lass,’’ he said, ‘‘call out. One of us, me in particular, will be there straightaway.’’ He looked at her hard, akin to the look he gave his kinsmen when their mirth distracted them from their duties.
‘‘Don’t give me that lairdly glare, mister.’’ She grinned and pulled him onward. ‘‘Besides, you were busy being nekkid in the loch.’’
Damn, he couldna help it. He grinned. ‘‘So I was.’’ They walked a bit more, and Ethan turned in the direction of the knoll.
‘‘Does it bother you?’’ Amelia asked. ‘‘Being here, seeing that’’—she pointed at the place where Devina had been found hanging—‘‘and not knowing, all this time, what really and truly happened?’’ She shook her head. ‘‘That would drive me nuts.’’
Staring at the very spot where that damned gibbet had stood erected, his wife’s dead body on the ground beside it, Ethan considered. Aye, it had nearly driven him mad, he’d pondered so hard and so long—for years he’d done the like. ‘‘Over seven hundred years, lass, will ease the insanity a wee bit. No’ much, but some.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘Didna matter how long I pored over what facts I could recall, ’twould always end with me no’ knowing what the bluidy hell happened that day.’’ He glanced at her.
And again his knees nearly gave out from beneath him.
The faded light of the midsummer’s gloam made her sun-touched skin appear darker, and her long, straight, fair hair a bit lighter. Those unusual eyes, which dipped down at the inner corners, toward her nose, and swept upward at the outer corners, toward her temples, were rimmed by long, feathery lashes. He noticed now how it was streaked with various shades of nearly white, to a deeper gold. And before he could stop himself, he pulled her to a stop and reached for it. As he rubbed the strands between his fingers, he stared, fascinated by its softness, the way it felt thick and healthy, yet soft as down feathers. It looked rather fetching, he thought, tucked neatly behind her ears.
He looked at her. ‘‘Why is it you broke your legendary rule with my kin?’’ he asked. ‘‘But not with me?’’
With the toe of her shoe, she kicked at a clump of heather and gave a half grin. ‘‘I thought we’d already settled the kissing issue, Munro.’’ With boldness, she stared right up at him. ‘‘Hmmm. Legendary rule, huh?’’ She shook her head. ‘‘Their
kisses were of the familial type. You know—like giving your sister a kiss.’’
‘‘I know what familial means, Amelia.’’
She reached up and patted him on the shoulder. ‘‘Well good, then. You now understand fully the reason they were allowed to kiss me and you’re not.’’ She grinned and began the ascent up the knoll, and then glanced over her shoulder. ‘‘Yet.’’ She waved him closer. ‘‘Come on, slowpoke, before you turn into smoke.’’
Well, Ethan thought as he scrambled up the incline behind her. What could he say to that?
At the crest, Amelia found a smooth rock, brushed it off with her hand, tucked the hem of her gown beneath her, and sat. ‘‘Wow. What a gorgeous view.’’
Ethan squatted down beside her, resting his forearm on his knee.
He’d rather it be crooked around the back of her neck, pulling her head close to his . . .
‘‘What is that? I saw tons of them on my drive here.’’
He looked and followed her pointing finger. ‘‘A rowan bush.’’
‘‘Are they all small like that?’’ she asked.
Ethan shook his head. ‘‘Most grow rather large, and can last for centuries.’’ He inclined his head toward the forest. ‘‘There are some there, in the ravine, hundreds of years old.’’
She nodded, and gazed out, where the sun had already dipped below the crags, leaving the sky various shades of purple and red and orange. ‘‘How is it you learned to speak English?’’
Ethan chuckled. ‘‘We picked up small bits here and there throughout the centuries, but no’ much at all. ’Twasn’t until Guthrie came along that we learned it in full.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘That man is no’ a patient teacher, and had he been able to clobber us, he’d have done so many a time.’’
She turned to him and smiled. ‘‘Well, you and the guys must be wonderful pupils. You jockey the English language pretty darn good. Even the American version.’’
He gave her a nod. ‘‘There are some things you say that baffle me, but I can usually figure it.’’
And then she surprised him. She reached over and lifted one of his braids, pulled it close, rubbed her fingers over it. ‘‘Your hair fascinates me. Most guys these days wear it really short. Why do you braid it?’’
That Amelia found anything about his person fascinating was a good thing. And, Ethan found, that while their banter edged around jests and plants and hair and language learning, the banter was passing comfortable. Easy. He felt he could sit upon the craggy knoll and have speech with the lass until the wee hours of the morn, and that she’d find interest in his speech, and he in hers.
‘‘Hello?’’ Amelia said, waving a hand before his eyes. ‘‘Earth to Ethan.’’ She grinned. ‘‘That’s what we say when the person you’re speaking to zones out.’’
‘‘Ah,’’ Ethan said. ‘‘ ’Twas thoughts of you that zoned me out, by the by.’’
‘‘Oh, really?’’ she said, jutting her chin a bit higher. ‘‘Like what?’’
He shrugged. ‘‘In my day, the only time men and women had a score of minutes in speech was in bed.’’ He grinned at her. ‘‘No’ your average speech, I’d warrant, and more noises, really, than actual words.’’ He winked. ‘‘You’re passing tolerable to talk to, Amelia.’’
One fair brow lifted. ‘‘Passing tolerable? That’s it?’’ She brushed off her skirt and feigned irritation. ‘‘And if you spent your time in bed with women talking instead of, well, you know, then, I wouldn’t tell the guys about it.’’ A smile pulled at her mouth. ‘‘Just some friendly advice.’’
Ethan chuckled. ‘‘Well-taken, then.’’ He looked at her. ‘‘In truth, I thought about the ease in which we have speech, and how much I find pleasure in it, by the by."
Her smile widened, her already-white teeth nigh unto glowing in the gloam’s light. ‘‘Somehow I bet that just isn’t the norm for a medieval guy, huh? Taking pleasure in talking with a woman?’’
‘‘Modern lads are different, then?’’
Stretching out her long legs, she tucked the material of her gown snuggly about them and crossed her feet at the ankles. ‘‘Hmmm. You got me there, laird. Some guys, I imagine, like to talk to their women. My dad likes to talk to my mom.’’
‘‘And what about the man you nearly wed?’’ He threw a stone and watched it bounce into a clump of heather. ‘‘Did he take pleasure in having speech with you?’’
‘‘He seemed to at first,’’ she answered. ‘‘But most people always act a certain way when they first meet. You know? Put their best face on? Polite, manners, act interested in all that you do?’’ She snorted. ‘‘Later, wooo-boy, you really find out what people are like.’’
A hawk screamed from the pines, and the sound echoed across the meadow. The sounds of the night grew louder, and Ethan knew he had but a handful of moments left of twilight.
Tomorrow, he’d plan his time with Amelia a bit wiser.
Amelia stood and peered out over the loch. ‘‘Did you hear that? How cool.’’ She smiled down at him. ‘‘It was a hawk, right?’’
‘‘Aye,’’ Ethan answered, and stood up beside her. ‘‘So what sort of person are you, Amelia Landry?’’ He looked at her. ‘‘What would I find after time passed?’’
She turned to face him full-on, and her features were cast in shadow. The glassiness in her eyes remained, though, shining and full of mischief. ‘‘You’d find the same me you see today.’’ She held her hands out. ‘‘This is what you get. All except this sundress, of course. ZuZu suggested I buy it, you know. To set a more professional example. I guess she thought my ratty robe, which she cut into shreds before I came here, and my bikini top weren’t cutting the mustard.’’ She grinned. ‘‘Seriously. I live at the beach, so you’ll usually find me in very casual clothes. I eat Cheez Whiz straight from the can. I love fast food, sugar, and I really like to talk. A lot of times to myself. Out loud. I love to read, especially Bram Stoker, H. P. Lovecraft, and Stephen King. He’s the master of horror, you know.’’
‘‘I see.’’
‘‘Anyway, I love scary stuff—books, movies, you name it. Could be, though, because I was born on Halloween.’’ She clapped her hands together once. ‘‘That’s about it. Now, your turn.’’
‘‘You were born on All Hallow’s Eve?’’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘‘October thirty-first, at eleven fifty-four p.m. How’s that for a woo-woo effect? Almost at the midnight hour.’’
‘‘We’ve a connection, then. Although I know not the hour, I was born on that same day. ’Tis why so many feared me, I suppose. By a superstitious means, you ken?’’
‘‘I sure do ken. Now, what else?’’
He held his hands up. ‘‘ ’Tis no’ that much to tell, lass. My day was vastly different than the times you live in now.’’
‘‘Bad answer, chief. Spill the beans. Let it all hang out.’’ She smiled. ‘‘Come on, no secrets. What sort of things do you like?’’
‘‘Swordplay. Fisticuffs. Fighting. Hunting was rather enjoyable. Eating.’’ He grinned. ‘‘I remember being rather fond of a good tumble.’’
‘‘What man isn’t?’’
He shrugged. ‘‘Medieval?’’
She laughed and stuck out her hand again, this time grasping his. She shook it. ‘‘Absolutely medieval. Ethan Munro, it has been a great pleasure sitting with you on this knoll and learning all sorts of fantastic stuff—oops!’’
Suddenly, Amelia was against him, had actually fallen against him. Ethan grabbed her by the waist, and for a moment, they did naught more than stare and breathe. Her very nearness, the feel of her hips beneath his hands, her hands flat against his chest, the scent of her hair, and, by the blood of Christ, those lush breasts verra close made Ethan all but growl. ‘‘I’m no’ carin’ overmuch for your rules about now, lass,’’ he said. He dropped his gaze to her lips, which looked powerfully soft and inviting, and frowned. ‘‘That blasted first date rule in particular.’’
‘‘Phew,’’ she said, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. She fanned herself. ‘‘It’s hot out here, don’t you think?’’ She licked her lips, her eyes wide, unblinking. ‘‘Don’t you?’’ Still, she remained pressed against him.
‘‘Beg pardon, lass,’’ Ethan said, lowering his head, bringing his mouth closer to hers. ‘‘But forgive me for ignorin’ your bluidy rule.’’
‘‘But—’’
All at once, Ethan’s substance faded with the remaining shards of twilight. Amelia stumbled straight through him as though he wasna even there.
’Twas the way of it, his enchantment. There, yet no’ there at all.
Behind him, he heard a very naughty word escape Amelia’s mouth, and he chuckled. When he turned around, she’d regained her posture and was smoothing out the front of her gown. In the faded twilight’s glow, her arms and legs and face took on a dark, mahogany glow against the white of material and fairness of her hair. She scowled at him.
‘‘I couldna help myself, lass,’’ he said. ‘‘You stumbled—’’
‘‘I didn’t stumble against you before, Ethan,’’ she said. Slowly, a grin replaced the frown. ‘‘I didn’t stumble at all.’’
Ethan blinked. ‘‘Then what happened?’’
With a slow glance, she looked around the knoll.
An eerie feeling settled in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. And with good reason.
Her grin widened. ‘‘I was pushed.’’
Chapter 13
Amelia stopped at her door and turned. After a huge debate with Sorely, who’d met them at the foot of the knoll, and then a continuation of that debate with the rest of the Munros as to the hows and whys she’d been pushed into the big laird she presently stood in front of, she was literally tired. Tuckered. Pooped out.
None of them wanted her to stay in her room, and all of them wanted to stay with her. The laird included.