Winter Warriors

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Where do you teach, Yildiz?”

  “The Dursan Academy in Istanbul.”

  His chuckle was very sexy. “A lot more impressive than a Comprehensive in Middlesborough.”

  “You teach?”

  His copper-colored curls shook as he nodded. “Right first time! Physics and chemistry, or fizz and stinks as we used to call them when I was at school. What about you?”

  “English.”

  This was all very nice and marginally interesting, but she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Why the concern about Hollrigg?” Couldn’t just be over a footpath could it?

  “Because Hollrigg is in danger of desecration.”

  Chapter Three

  Mike Proudfoot was earnest as well as sexy. “Religious desecration?” Nur asked. Was there another meaning?

  “That too.” He took a long, slow swig of beer. Nur watched his throat muscles undulate as he swallowed. A very nice neck. He thumped the mug on the polished tabletop. “Yildiz, it must seem odd to you as an outsider, but the stones are part of the town, and have been for forever. Heck, in my grandparents’ day young men used to take their intended’s there to propose, and bring newborn babies, and sick children. The Major Stone was believed to have healing properties, and if my Gran is to believed, more than a couple of babies were conceived in the woods nearby. Even nowadays, you’ll see a crowd out there at the solstices and equinoxes, and I don’t mean the new age, wiccany sorts. I’m talking about people who’ve gone there for years.” He took another long drink.

  Yildiz forced herself not to stare. He was decorative, yes, eminently bedworthy, no doubt about it, but this was work—or supposed to be. “And that has changed? How?”

  He shook his head. “Should never have happened.” He frowned at the foam clinging to the side of his glass. “Everyone was too darn complacent.” She waited for him to go on. “Not anymore. Sleepy Havering is on the rise.”

  He did have a lovely smile, but duty called. “Seems I picked an…er…interesting time to arrive.”

  “You could say that!”

  “What caused the trouble?”

  “Locals were too tight-fisted, until too late.” She waited, watching his full lips. “The old owner died. Miss Fournier was a local eccentric, reputed to be a witch. Certainly a member of the local group who called themselves Druids. She lived up near the stones in an old farm laborer’s cottage. Kept Hollrigg open to anyone. A bunch of volunteers used to take up 50p a person from the tourists in summer, and took turns to cut the grass. Old Miss Fournier died—she was over ninety after all—and her estate was sold off. The town got first refusal on the stones—for a really good price as it happened. But try as I and a few others did, we couldn’t raise the money. No one wanted to buy what they felt was theirs already. So what happens? A couple of months ago, this big conglomerate comes in and buys it up, and a few weeks later, a bloody, great ten-foot-high fence appears all round it. And signs go up saying, ‘Private property and trespassers will be prosecuted.’“

  “But rights of way and so forth… Don’t you have the law on your side?” She didn’t quite see how but had listened to the discussion.

  “Maybe, but you know how slowly the law works.”

  “Need more help? I’d be glad to do anything.”

  She had to be a journalist. But a darn sexy one, and after all, a bit of news coverage couldn’t hurt. “We can use all the help we can get.” Lord! She was beautiful, and could be a major distraction. What was she really doing here? “You don’t mind traveling on your own. In a foreign country and all. Aren’t you worried?” Weren’t her parents? He thought Muslim girls were kept locked up until marriage.

  She chuckled. “Not at all. I can take care of myself. I have been for years. “

  “Independent, eh? Never thought of getting married?”

  “Not again.” She intended that to put off this line of conversation.

  It didn’t work. “Again? You’ve been married once?”

  He’d asked. She’d tell him. “‘Twice.” Foolish of her, now she’d have to explain. “My first husband and I, we were parted by death.” His face softened into sympathy, she went on…fast. My second husband, and I were married three years,” she paused. “We divorced as he was critical of my family.”

  “You divorced over that?”

  She nodded, the hurt still smarting, even after all these years. “I could not endure his condemnation.” Mike was silent, watching her with an amazed look on his face. Why in the name of sanity had she told him this? Nur’s past had nothing to do with Yildiz Geçtan. “I’ve shocked you?”

  “Surprised,” he said after a pause, his lovely, wide mouth curling just a tad at the corners. “Your family means a lot to you.”

  “Their bloodline made me what I am.” She met his eyes. “Why look surprised? You came out tonight because your mother was concerned about your stepbrother.” He nodded. “Would you stay with someone who wanted you to break off all contact with your family?”

  “Hell, no! It was that bad?”

  She sighed, remembering the recriminations, and the insults, and Ahmet’s fear when he understood her nature. The whole experience had put her off mortal men—apart from sex and feeding. “Yes.”

  Mike’s hand came across the table and rested over hers. It was a gesture of kindness, sympathy, understanding, nothing more, but it sent her senses whirling. And then he smiled. “I’m sorry.”

  Her throat went dry—she was way overdue for feeding—and the urge to grab the front of his sweater , yank him across the table and sink her teeth into his warm, smooth neck was close to overpowering.

  Nur took a very deep breath. Later, and with finesse. Never had she felt this overpowering lust, and right now, on the verge of getting deep into an assignment, was not the time to start.

  “Are you alright?” Mike asked, squeezing her hand tighter, and making the situation worse—not better.

  “Fine. It’s just a bit close and crowded in here.”

  “We could soon take care of that.” Yes, they could! Was it wise given her present state? Maybe! But was he what she needed? Flying did tend to sap her strength, and she hadn’t taken blood for several days. “Want to get a bite to eat?” Oh yes! Warm smooth blood and… “They do pretty good pub food here. A homemade pork pie that’s not half bad, or perhaps a sandwich, ham, bacon…” he broke off. “Sorry—you wouldn’t eat those, would you?”

  She couldn’t help smiling at his earnest confusion. “No.”

  “How about a ploughman’s?”

  How about a change of venue? “What about fish and chips? Is there a place in the town?” They were usually in side streets, with poor lighting.

  “There’s a pretty good Chinese takeaway and chippie down on River Street.”

  “A Chinese chippie?”

  He did have the sexiest grin. “Why not? The pizza place is run by a Lebanese family.”

  “Sounds almost as polyglot as Istanbul!”

  He stood and reached for his jacket on the back of his chair. “Let’s go explore Instanbul-in-Yorkshire.”

  She left him downstairs in the lobby while she fetched her jacket—didn’t really need it, but might as well blend in.

  He waited in the hallway. As she turned the bend in the staircase on her way down, he looked up at her, and something deep inside her skipped, as his eyes lit up, and he smiled up at her. This was downright silly. He was a mere, mortal human, and a handy tool for her purpose. But she was getting as loose and warm inside as a teenager. Okay, the man was sex on legs, but her only interest in him was information, and possible sustenance. Right!

  She almost skipped down the rest of the stairs before she made herself walk decorously. But she was only too content to take the hand he offered and lace her fingers between his as they walked out into the street.

  Chapter Four

  It was a beautiful, clean winter night—with just a nip of frost in the air—and the clear, star-strewn sky that often comes after rain.
Mike turned left outside the Four in Hand, towards a small square and a large, obviously old, covered market, complete with an ancient cross.

  With the noise and light of the hotel and bar behind them, it was as peaceful as a small market town could be, an hour or so before closing time. Nur let him lead her past the market square and down a side street. Just ahead of them, the lights of the chippie shone on the still damp street, and the welcoming smell of frying grew stronger as they walked towards the steamed-up windows of the little shop.

  Armed with cod and chips, and Mike with a couple of pickled onions—a dubious delicacy Nur declined—they walked out of the over-heated shop into the fresh winter air.

  It was getting colder, and she was half-tempted to suggest her room, where she could definitely dine in private, but hesitated. Hardly logic that, but she’d learned long ago to follow her instincts, and when he suggested a sheltered, and discreetly shadowed corner in the covered market, she took him up on the offer.

  It was oddly companionable, sitting side by side on a market table, enveloped by the scents of fish, chips, and young male blood. Nur bit into a chip, savoring the still crispy outside and the soft floury potato. The crisp batter that encased the cod wasn’t half-bad either.

  “Sure you don’t want a pickled onion?” Mike asked offering her a bite.

  She shook her head. “You enjoy it.”

  He grinned, a big advantage of her night vision, was it let her enjoy every flicker of emotion on his face. She could stare and ogle as much as she wanted and he’d never notice. He was tempting, no two ways about it. His jacket hung open, and above the collar of his shirt, the smooth expanse of his neck rose up to his chin. She glanced down at his hands, to get her mind off his neck, and saw the firm skin of his wrists, and his strong fingers, as he broke off a portion of fish and raised it to his lips.

  Her own mouth went dry as she watched his lips close, and his chin and neck muscles undulate as he chewed and swallowed.

  To hell with fish and chips! Nur grabbed his hand as he reached in the bag for more. She lifted his hand to her mouth. He didn’t look the least displeased. She kissed his fingertips, savoring the scent of warm blood under the taste of chips and vinegar. He had no idea how appetizing he was.

  “Yildiz!” he whispered.

  She smiled up at him. He leaned forward, cupping the back of her head, and lifting her face to his as he bent down.

  His lips tasted of warm male, battered cod, and just a hit of vinegar, but what lips! Strong, soft and intent on staying right where they were. He pressed gently, and she gladly opened to him, sighing as he drew her closer. His tongue found hers, gently at first, as if testing her willingness, then stronger, and with a rising passion that caught her by surprise as her body responded with an ardor she’d seldom felt. Her breathing quickened as she met his kiss, and gave into her need. Her hand eased under his sweater, resting against the soft cotton of his shirt, as her fingertips caught the beating of his heart. She broke the kiss, smiled up at him, and resting her head on his shoulder, listened to his blood coursing up his neck.

  Oh, sweet temptation!

  His lips brushed her hair. “You’re lovely,” he whispered, brushing his hand down the side of her face, so she turned and looked back up at him. Holding her chin in his fingers, he tilted her face up and kissed her again.

  Wild sensations flooded her mind and body. She clung to him, grasping sweater, shirt, jacket, arm in her need for closeness, completeness, as his tongue took possession of her mouth. This was not the way she did it. She kissed. She seduced. She set the tempo, but oh! This was heavenly! He’d talked about Druids and witchcraft earlier. He had to have her enchanted! Never had she been kissed like this. Never had a man’s touch roused her so. Never had she so completely forgotten her purpose.

  Paul be damned! He’d sent her here, into the arms of a most spectacular man!

  Nur leaned so close, she was all but plastered to Mike. “Hang on a jiffy,” he said, and put a little space between them—just enough to unzip his jacket, and wrap her inside.

  She inhaled the scents of blood, and desire, as his hand eased under her sweatshirt to cup her breast. In a wild rush of need, she kissed him again, sliding her hand under his sweater, fumbling with buttons until she reached inside his shirt and rested her fingertips against his skin. Under her touch, his mortal heart raced with arousal, and as she leaned closer, she felt his erection against her thigh.

  He wanted her, and she was ready to oblige!

  “Mike,” she murmured, hearing her own need in her raspy voice.

  He heard it too.

  While his lips and tongue drove her half-crazy with wanting, his free hand slid around to unsnap her bra. As her breasts spilled out under the sweater, his hand whisked back to cup them and his fingers played with her nipples until she groaned with need. “More!” she muttered. “I need more!” as she lifted his sweater to run her lips over his heated skin.

  His hands were busy too. In a back recess of her mind, she dreaded him running his hands down and finding her knife, but he was more interested in unsnapping her jeans and easing his hand across her belly than stroking her ankles.

  Good! He was just where she wanted to be touched, fingertips caressing the top of her vulva as she half-lay, half-sat on his lap and ran her hands over the hard flesh under his zip. She could smell her own arousal in the night air, and as he eased her jeans down lower, she reached for his belt buckle.

  Need burned beyond reason. She was halfway lost in her longing, and his maleness, when a voice called, “Hey! Mike! Is that you?”

  Mike straightened. “Crap!” he muttered, pulling his mouth off hers. He kissed her on the cheek, “Sorry, love. Sounds like my cousin.” He shifted slightly, giving her space to yank down her sweater, and snap her jeans closed. “Yes it’s me, Sam. What the hell do you want?”

  “Sorry, Mike! But I’ve been looking everywhere for you. “There’s trouble up at the stones, and Todd’s in the middle of it!”

  Chapter Five

  Without being asked, Nur tagged along. Not that Mike objected when she squeezed in beside him in the back seat of Sam’s car. He seemed to need the closeness as much as she did. She was torn between cursing cousin Sam to perdition for interrupting, and blessing her good fortune in jumping right into the action. It seemed Paul’s claim it would be a doddle was way off the mark.

  That was confirmed when they approached the crowd surrounding the tall razor-wire topped fence. Mike hadn’t exaggerated. The ring of stones was visible from the glare of flashlights, and the headlights of a couple of parked cars. A couple of dozen people were chanting, “Hollrigg! Hollrigg!” and pushing at the fence, with little success.

  As Nur and the others piled out of the car, someone, threw a blanket over the top of the fence and a couple of dark shapes began climbing.

  “Bloody fools!” Mike muttered. “When I get my hands on Todd, I’ll strangle him!”

  She was inclined to do the same, but pushing frustration and arousal aside, she scanned the cluster of people, the fence, the surrounding woods, and the fields that led down and away from the stones. Interestingly, the stones looked down on the valley below, and what had to be the distant coastline.

  The idiots were moving out of cover of the trees and towards the open. Just as Nur identified Todd by his green anorak, floodlights illuminated the entire landscape. She stepped back into the shadows, as Mike ran forward, calling, “Todd! You damn fool will you…!” The baying of dogs cut off his last words, as the entire demonstration turned into mayhem.

  Nur darted forward, her eyes on Mike and his troublesome brother. She pushed her way past panicking bodies all running away from the stones and the snarling dogs. Weren’t there laws about vicious animals? She didn’t have time to ponder that one, just pushed forward until she reached Mike, trying to pull Todd away from a dog that had him grasped firmly by the sleeve.

  Nur leapt in, forced the animal’s jaws open, and pushed it aside. As it
came back, snarling, she faced it eye to eye, the creature backed away whimpering, as did a second one that bounded up. “Get him away!” she snapped at Mike.

  “What the hell…” Mike muttered, and then, as if processing her words, grabbed his brother by the arm. “You’re coming too,” he added, reaching out for her.

  Nur hesitated a second, and in that moment heard an approaching siren—had to be a police car—and when the mortals heard it in a few moments…

  Better get away while they could. “Okay.” Grabbing Todd’s other arm, she added her persuasion to Mike’s. The lad didn’t have a chance.

  She gave the eye to another snarling dog as it prepared to leap. Then, they were running towards the car, and shoving the still-protesting Todd into the back seat.

  “Is there another road back?” she asked.

  Mike stared. “Yeah! But it takes longer.”

  “Take it!”

  She thanked her stars he didn’t argue just said to Sam, “Let’s take the Ambleby road back.”

  “It’s twice as far!” Sam protested.

  “It’s going to be a hell of a lot quicker!” Nur said, forgetting her resolve to let Mike do the talking. “We’ll be able to lose the rest of the crowd.”

  “Okie dokie!” Sam said. Gunning the engine, he did a sharp U-turn and sped off into the night, leaving the sirens behind.

  No one said anything as the noise faded in the distance and the headlights pierced the dark ahead. As the collective panic calmed, Todd started mumbling about interfering brothers, but a suggestion from Sam, to shut up as they’d saved his skin, stopped his protests.

  They rode on in silence, Nur wishing she could read minds like vamps in novels, but contenting herself that she had discovered that something was going on.

  After a drive across open country, they skirted the edges of the town, and stopped in front of a bungalow in a new development. Mike got out, pulling Todd with him, and they stood arguing on the sidewalk for several minutes. They’d closed the door, but Nur heard every word. Sounded much like the arguments she used to have with her elder brother. As she would have, Todd lost, and with a shrug went up the path and let himself in. Mike got back in the car.