by Cait London
He scratched Max’s ears, and the dog leaned into the luxury; he seemed to be grinning. “Good boy. Friendly kind of mutt, isn’t he?”
Leona remembered the way Max’s powerful body had tensed, poised to tear out Rolf’s throat. “Not always, but he seems to like you.”
“I’m a likable guy…. Funny thing about this weirdo. He was creepy-looking with all that black hair. Looks like he had just cut off one of two little braids beside his head. And he was packing a shoulder holster. The automatic traces back to a Utah owner, a Mrs. Ted Cheslav. She’s deceased, and her son, Alex, bought a place in Lexington. He hasn’t returned our calls.”
“Oh, Alex? I know Alex Cheslav,” Leona stated, to anticipate any questions that might be asked later.
Leona glanced at Owen, who looked relaxed as he sipped his tea. She knew he wasn’t; his tense, angry vibrations hadn’t stopped hitting her since last night. Owen hadn’t been able to take Rolf’s blood, and that violent need still ran deep.
“She dated him, before me,” Owen stated, as if he’d picked up her purpose. His dark tone suited the part.
“I did not date him. He was retired and a good many years older than I. He came into the shop one day and seemed lonesome so we had dinner a few times. He was very nice. I haven’t seen him for a while.” No one else would be seeing Alex either; Rolf had admitted killing him and taking his identity. But Leona was certain the police would uncover those facts soon enough without involving her or Owen.
The detective flipped through his notebook and stood up. “I’d better be going. We’ll question him later. This creep probably stole the gun from Cheslav. We’ve got Cheslav’s address, but no report of a stolen gun.”
He took another sip of his tea, and continued, “The problem is, Vernon O’Malley seems tied up in everything that has happened, and he’s had a real hard-luck streak—wife dying, bills unpaid. Maybe he was tied up with this Erling fellow. O’Malley got around town…he would have been a good connection for a criminal mind. We found some paperwork in his pocket that said Cheslav had him working on his house. O’Malley had plumbing supplies delivered at Cheslav’s house, same as the both of yours. Real expensive sound and camera equipment in that SUV. An odd thing was there, too—a fancy scabbard for a long sword. We’re tracking down the sales of those now. O’Malley was hard up. He could have been involved in a car-theft ring. Don’t go anywhere until I wrap this up. We may need you for more questions.”
When the detective left, Leona closed the door against the morning sunlight. She turned to Owen beside her. Max looked up at her, then at Owen, and apparently decided that he didn’t want to be involved in this particular discussion. Padding to his rug, he yawned and sank into a big, furry heap.
Owen yawned, too; he looked wary, as if he wanted to escape the same way. Leona wasn’t letting that happen. He had questions to answer. Last night, they had been badly shaken and had returned to her home. They’d spent a sleepless night, holding each other close, the embrace reaffirming to each other that they were alive.
“You are never, ever to play at duels again,” Leona stated quietly before she rounded on Owen. She didn’t waste time. Grabbing a fistful of Owen’s shirt, she tugged him closer. When he resisted, she took the eolh rune at his throat and eased him down to her eye level. She glanced at the silver rectangle in her hand; the good-luck piece had protected them well—rather Owen had. “Okay, Shaw. Let’s have it. I want more answers. Now. What else did my mother tell you, before she left?”
Owen reached both hands around to cup her bottom. Caressing her slowly, he eased her closer to him and bent to nuzzle her throat. “Things,” he murmured against her skin. “Just things.”
The sizzling need for Owen slid through Leona’s veins, her body already melting, preparing for his. “I’m going to find out everything, you know,” she said, as Owen lifted her into his arms. “You’re going to tell me.”
Owen smiled down at her. “Uh-uh.”
“You’re blocking me.”
“Uh-huh.” His kiss lingered and played and heated.
“I could distract you, then have my way with you.”
“Really looking forward to that, lady.”
The late-September morning remained bright and warm in Lexington. It had been a full week since Rolf Erling’s death.
Owen and Leona had met Janice, Greer, and Kenneth Ragnar at the airport. Claire and Neil’s flight would arrive later. Tempest and Marcus were driving and would arrive in the late afternoon. The Aislings badly needed the week to spend together and comfort each other.
Janice had changed dramatically. In jeans and a long-sleeve maroon sweater, and wearing a Celtic protection pendant at her throat, she was radiant. She ran to Owen and leaped into his arms, placing tiny eager kisses all over his face. Astounded, Owen held his sister close, and when he looked at Leona, his eyes filled with tears. She understood his deep emotions; his sister was finally free and safe.
“Big old softy,” Janice whispered as she playfully waggled his head, then hurried to hug Leona. “This is going to be great.”
She flung open her arms, and said, “Lexington, here I am. Watch out.”
Owen said little as they collected the baggage and drove to the farm, where Janice had to see her horses. Kenneth seemed uneasy, but Janice had evidently adopted him and insisted that he visit with them. Greer was pleasant to him, but edgy, especially when she caught Kenneth looking at her.
They watched as Janice played with Moon Shadow and Willow.
“Nice place,” Kenneth stated as he looked around the farm. “These old places have more character than the new. You said you’ve been making improvements, but you know, Owen, with Neil and Marcus here, we could tackle this place and have it shipshape in no time.”
Greer’s sigh was audible. “He’s always fixing everything. Please give him something to do while we’re here.”
Kenneth nodded and grinned. “Will work for food. Greer is a really good cook.”
Greer sighed again, but before she turned away, Leona caught her mother’s bright eyes and blush.
A man who had always worked alone, Owen hesitated. “I don’t know if we’re going to stay here. It might not be the best place for Leona or Janice. I thought I’d finish the current renovations, then put it up for sale.”
“I think it’s a perfect place. Now.” Leona nudged him. “It’s a family-thing, Owen, helping each other. Take it and shut up. Your turn to help them will come soon enough.”
“‘Family?’” His gray eyes narrowed down at her. “You mean, you and I, as in a ‘family?’ Wedding rings, all that?”
“You’re pushing, Shaw.” Leona understood Owen’s need for her to wear his mark—it was primitive and dated, and somehow oddly sweet. This time, it was her turn to look away, heat rushing through her body, the thought of Owen as her love, a man with whom she’d begin a new life.
“You need pushing sometimes, honey…now excuse me. I need to talk with Janice.”
“Okay if I look around the house, Owen?” Kenneth asked, clearly anxious to start work.
“Fine.”
Greer and Leona watched as Owen walked to Janice. He took her hand, and together, they walked toward the pond. There, he took something from his pocket and handed it to her.
Next Owen built a small fire and he and Janice crouched beside it. “It’s Rolf’s braid,” Leona explained. “Janice has chosen to burn it. The next time she comes back here, she’ll be clean of the past.”
Turning to Greer, she took her hands. “It is a time to clean up the past. Nothing could have changed Aisling’s gift to us, and I was a fool to try.”
With tears in her eyes, Greer gathered Leona close. A warm soft energy enfolded Leona, sparkling like a waterfall, with flashes of joy and relief. Leona held her mother very tightly, “Are we really done with that curse?”
“I believe so. If we’re not, we can handle anything—as a family.”
Leona breathed the warm September air. It
was fresh and clean, and in less than two weeks, the hillsides would be brushed crisp and bright in fiery fall colors. Nature’s cycles would begin anew, without the past’s shadows over the Aislings.
When Owen looked at Leona, the impact hit her low and soft and hungry. She forced herself to breathe as images of him moving over her, claiming her fiercely, pounded at her.
She threw an image back at him. In it, she wore nothing, her arms outstretched to him.
In her hallway mirror, Leona studied her reflection. That night, her family had settled into the living room, their conversations a low, pleasant hum. Owen came to stand behind her, his hands on her waist. “Everything okay?”
Leona leaned back against him. “I just see myself, not Aisling. What do you see?”
Owen’s gray eyes studied their reflection. “Us. Nothing more.”
Three days later, the picnic table had been set in front of the farmhouse. The Aisling women stood near the table and added the finishing touches to the evening meal.
They watched the men walk from the farmhouse toward them. Owen, Marcus, Neil, and Kenneth each wore a carpenter’s tool belt around their hips, plenty of dust on their shirts and jeans, and big grins on their dirty faces.
“Thorgood’s men,” Greer murmured, her tone filled with humor. “Coming back from battle, ready to feast. They’ve done well, and they know it.”
“Just look at all that swaggering, macho testosterone. They couldn’t be happier, swinging hammers, walking across the roof, tearing out walls, hiking up two-by-fours on their shoulders,” Tempest said. “Then at night, they’re all busy with their powwows on investment and thoroughbreds. Janice is checking on a two-year-old for them right now. They’re going to keep her busy, just running down leads.”
“We’re the ‘fetchers.’ ‘Drive into town for this and that,’ and ‘get me that.’ It’s a good thing they’re enjoying themselves,” Claire stated. “It’s almost a relief to take turns working in your shop, Leona. I think your new employee is going to work out just fine. With Owen in your life, you’ll need more time off—men need to be handled with care…or so Neil tells me…. They’d better do well on this one if they’re going to build the addition onto our house.”
Tempest sat down and began eating. “I’m hungry all the time now. Marcus still gets sick sometimes when he looks at food. Sorry, I’d wait, but—sorry, I can’t,” she stated cheerfully around a mouthful of potato salad. “They can help us move into that adjoining horse farm that Marcus just bought. Janice has agreed to run it for him. But he’s thinking we might move here. I wouldn’t mind if I had a studio. It would be like having a built-in babysitter with Leona nearby. And Mom could stay with us when she wants.”
“Neil says there is plenty of opportunity to expand his business here, too. We’ll see,” Claire said.
Leona couldn’t concentrate on what her family was saying. She was too busy staring at Owen as he walked toward her. There was no mistaking that look in his gray eyes.
“In another minute, she’ll be drooling,” Tempest murmured in an aside.
“Wait until she hears that they’re going to redo her office.”
Leona considered the four men walking toward them. Descendants of Thorgood’s men, they’d protected the Aislings, just as their ancestors had protected the Celtic seer with their lives. All these contemporary men needed was a sword and a shield.
“You know, I don’t understand a couple of things,” Leona said suddenly. “We’ve all been together pretty consistently for three days. Why aren’t we mixing each other’s emotions and thoughts? We seem to be functioning pretty normally…for us.”
Greer nodded to the hungry men approaching the filled picnic table. “Because of them. You’ve bonded with them, and that’s settled the restless part of you.”
Leona studied the men, each wearing a grin. Like Western gunfighters, they unstrapped their tool belts, tossed them into a heap, and set about cleaning up with the soap, towels, and water on the pickup’s tailgate.
After washing, Owen walked straight to her. “Hi, green-eyes. Miss me?”
“No,” Leona lied, as he took her in his arms.
“I’ll have to work on that,” he whispered against her ear.
Tempest looked up into the sky. “Look. The crows are flying away.”
“Always three crows,” Claire said softly. “I wonder why.”
Owen’s gray eyes caught the evening light. “There are all kinds of legends about crows. But I think they are the watchers. Three crows, three women. Their job is done now.”
Leona stared at him. With Native American shaman and Viking blood, Owen was capable of—“Owen, did you have any kind of a vision about them?”
“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
About the Author
CAIT LONDON is a national award-winning, bestselling author who fully enjoys the perks of her career, like traveling and meeting readers.
Cait’s contemporary, fast-moving style blends romance with suspense and humor, and brings characters to life by using their pasts and heritages. Her books are filled with elements of her own experiences as a scenic and wildlife artist, a photographer, a mountain hiker, a gardener, a seamstress, a professional woman, and a homemaker. She also enjoys computers, reading, aromatherapy, and herbs.
Of German-Russian heritage, Cait grew up in rural Washington State. She is now a resident of Missouri and the mother of three daughters, all taller than she.
The best events in her life have always been in threes, her good luck number. Cait London says, “I enjoy creating romantic collisions between dangerous, brooding heroes and contemporary, strong, active women who know how to manage their lives. I believe that each of my books is a gift to a reader, a part of me on those pages, and I’m thrilled when readers say, ‘That was a good book.’”
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Avon Contemporary Romances
by Cait London
FOR HER EYES ONLY
A STRANGER’S TOUCH
AT THE EDGE
SILENCE THE WHISPERS
FLASHBACK
HIDDEN SECRETS
WHAT MEMORIES REMAIN
WITH HER LAST BREATH
WHEN NIGHT FALLS
LEAVING LONELY TOWN
IT HAPPENED AT MIDNIGHT
SLEEPLESS IN MONTANA
THREE KISSES
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
FOR HER EYES ONLY. Copyright © 2008 by Lois Kleinsasser. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Microsoft Reader August 2008 ISBN 978-0-06-170805-3
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