Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  She stomped the heel of her shoe down on his instep, then did it once more for good measure. He grunted again, and his grip on her loosened just long enough for her to break free. She knew better than to run toward Flora’s. She needed civilization around her and quickly. She started back the way she’d come.

  She had always been fast, but Jeremy was faster. His arm closed over her throat and jerked her off her feet. She couldn’t breathe, but she knew how futile it was to struggle in that position. She managed to turn in his arms, and air rushed back into her lungs. With a great deal of satisfaction she kneed him sharply in the groin.

  This time he howled in pain and dropped his arms. She spun and started to run again. She expected to make it this time, but Jeremy was tougher than she’d thought. She could hear him gaining on her as she veered left and covered the distance to the last house, which was now completely dark. She was just opening her mouth to scream when she saw the lights of a car approaching.

  Hope filled her and doubled her speed. The lights drew closer. She was almost in their range.

  The name he hurled after her could have come straight from a Hollywood action flick. She needed only seconds before she would be clearly visible, but Jeremy’s newest injury hadn’t slowed him enough to give them to her. He tackled her and threw her to the ground. There was a hedge running beside the road, and she knew they were no longer visible. With her face buried in the soft ground, she couldn’t scream. She kicked with all her strength to break Jeremy’s hold, but, facedown, she had no sure target.

  Brakes squealed, and a car door slammed. “Get your hands off her, you bastard!”

  Billie recognized Iain’s voice. She twisted and squirmed, and suddenly she was freed. She rose to her hands and knees and turned to see Iain and Jeremy struggling on the ground behind her. Impressions collided one with another. Jeremy was the larger, but Iain was angrier. He had his hands around Jeremy’s throat and was trying to choke the life out of him. Then Jeremy was on top, although Iain still had him by the throat. Jeremy raised his hand. Something glinted in the moonlight, silver flecks against a smooth, solid surface.

  “No!” Billie threw herself forward and knocked him off balance. The rock in Jeremy’s hand glanced off the side of Iain’s head. Jeremy cursed and grabbed for her.

  She saw two openings and one chance. She slammed the side of her head against his vulnerable throat and grabbed for something far more vulnerable between his legs. He howled in outraged agony and rolled off Iain.

  Iain jerked upright. In a moment he had Jeremy pinned to the ground. “You’ve gone too far this time, Fletcher.”

  Jeremy groaned in response. Iain lifted Jeremy’s shoulders and thumped his head against the ground. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “You do anything…anything! You tell anybody…I’ll tell what I know!” Jeremy gasped. “I’ll tell her first!”

  Iain slammed him against the ground again. “I don’t care what you bloody well tell anybody, you bastard!”

  “Iain, let him go.” Billie grabbed Iain’s arm.

  Iain didn’t move. “Did you hear me?”

  Jeremy lay still. “You’d better bloody well…care, Ross.”

  “There are things I can tell, too.”

  “Iain!” Billie tightened her grip on him. “Get off him now. Let him go. We can go to the police and tell them, and they can find him.”

  “Go to the police…and you’ll wish you’d never been born,” Jeremy said.

  Iain slammed him against the ground one more time.

  “Iain!” Billie tugged at him.

  “Move away, Billie.”

  She knew better than to argue. She stepped back warily. Indecision was apparent in every line of Iain’s body, but finally he dropped his hands and stumbled away from Jeremy. “Get up and get going,” he said.

  Jeremy rolled to his side and rose. He limped away without looking back at either of them. They stood in silence and listened to his footsteps dying away.

  Billie didn’t know what to say. Everything she tried in her head sounded absurd.

  “Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?” Iain asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You fight like a bloody sailor! My God, I’m glad it wasn’t my…private parts you were after!”

  “I was a cook on a tramp steamer. I was!” she added, at his disbelieving grunt. “For a year and a half between college and graduate school. I went all over the world, and a couple of old men on board made sure I could handle myself when I had to.”

  “You are certifiably mad.”

  “I’m a terrific cook, too.”

  He grunted again.

  Billie put her hand on his arm. “Iain, what did he mean? What did he mean about telling what he knows?”

  “It’s the kind of thing a man says in a fight.”

  “Bull…loney,” she finished lamely. “He was talking about something between the two of you.”

  “Which is where I plan for it to remain.”

  “Look, I got just a little bit involved myself, don’t you think?”

  He faced her. “What happened before I got here?”

  “More dirty fighting. I was doing pretty well until he tackled me.”

  “How did it start?”

  “I was walking home, and he followed me. When I asked him to leave me alone, he wouldn’t. You were mentioned, a kiss was mentioned, next thing I know, I’ve got my knee in his groin. But obviously not hard enough. I haven’t had enough practice lately.”

  “What did he say about me?”

  “That you’re incredibly wealthy and you have the sex life of a rabbit.” She shrugged. “I guess that about sums it up.”

  He coughed. “Bloody hell, woman.”

  “Should I tell the police?” She paused. “Are there police to tell?”

  “Of a sort. One bobby for the surrounding area. He’s out of town at the moment.”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  She tried to imagine reporting this to the police. She knew what the ensuing ruckus would do for her reputation in a village like Druidheachd. Any hopes she had of getting people to trust her with their stories would be dashed. “Do you think he’ll come after me again?”

  “I’ve never heard of him manhandling a woman before, but he’s unpredictable.”

  “He must have been carried away by my beauty and charm.”

  “I haven’t even asked if you’re all right.” He wiped her cheek with his fingertips. “You’re covered with dirt.”

  His touch was so gentle that she wanted to close her eyes and savor it. “Rolling around on the ground does that to a person.”

  He dropped his hand. “Are you hurt anywhere? Scraped? Bruised?”

  “All the above, but nothing serious. How’s your head?”

  “Still on my shoulders, thanks to you.”

  “To me?”

  “Aye. He’d have knocked me unconscious with that rock if you hadn’t grabbed his…hadn’t intervened.”

  “Just returning the favor of the morning.”

  “Let’s get you home.”

  “No.” She put her hand on his arm. “I don’t want to scare Flora to death. I’m going to have to go somewhere and clean up first.”

  He studied her. “Maybe that’s a good idea. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

  “I’m really not in the mood for another beer and verbal joust.”

  “Upstairs to Duncan’s suite. Maybe Mara will still be there. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

  “Mara?”

  “Duncan’s lady.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’ll just be pleased as punch to meet me.”

  “She will be.”

  She smiled at what she thought was a compliment. “I haven’t said thank you, have I?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why were you driving this way?”

  “I was looking for you.”

  Somethi
ng warm and liquid spiraled through her. “Were you?”

  “I saw Fletcher leave just after you did. I just wanted to be sure you were all right.”

  “Then you do think he’s dangerous.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Jeremy Fletcher would like nothing better than to take everything that belongs to me,” he said at last.

  “I don’t belong to you, Iain.”

  “Be glad you don’t, Billie.” His eyes were bleak. “Be tremendously glad that you don’t.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Mara was a woman to hate on sight. She had hair like moonbeams and eyes the pale green of new spring leaves. Her features were delicate, and she moved with ethereal, feminine grace. Billie really did want to hate her.

  But it was impossible.

  “I dinna think you should go after the dirt so hard,” Mara said, squinting into the mirror from behind Billie. “You’ve scraped your cheek, as well, and from the looks of it, it’ll be bruised. Would you like me to do that for you?”

  Billie turned obediently and handed the facecloth to Mara.

  “Sit there in the light,” Mara said. “I’ll be gentle.”

  Duncan’s apartment was spacious and comfortable, and nothing at all like the rest of the hotel in decor. There were no Victorian furbelows here, just straight, clean lines and the occasional piece of modern art, its subject matter more appropriate to California than Scotland.

  A child’s toys dotted the floor. A stuffed seal lay against the leg of the sofa, and open books with colorful illustrations nestled in stacks under the television table.

  Duncan had a daughter. Billie had learned that much already. Her name was April; she was seven, and not Mara’s child by birth, but obviously loved as much by Mara as if she were. She was asleep in the farthest bedroom, so Billie hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet. But she had met Primrose, a brother, it seemed, of Hollyhock’s and almost as ungainly.

  Billie took the offered spot and closed her eyes. Her fingers dangled by her side, and a long, wet tongue slurped at them. She looked down to see Primrose alongside her. “What do you suppose Duncan and Iain are doing?”

  “They said they were going for more ice. I’m thinking they stopped in the pub for a wee dram to take away Iain’s headache.”

  “I’m Iain’s headache. Make me disappear, and he’ll be as good as new.”

  “There are certainly some in the village who believe I could do it.”

  “What? Make me disappear?”

  “I’ve a reputation of sorts.”

  “What sorts?”

  “A bit of this and that.” Mara smiled. “Are you ready?”

  Billie knew it was not her day to have questions answered. She closed her eyes and waited for Mara to begin. When nothing happened, she opened them again. Mara was frowning.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Nowt.”

  Billie could smell a lie a mile away. “You look pale. Are you all right?”

  Mara took a deep breath. “A bit unsteady. That’s all.”

  “Maybe you should sit down.”

  “No. I’ll take care of you, no’ you of me.” Mara began to gently wipe Billie’s forehead.

  “The last time somebody did that I was five or younger.”

  “Did you never get into scrapes after that?”

  “I was in them all the time. My mother gave up and taught me what to do for myself so I wouldn’t even have to trudge back home in between.”

  Mara laughed. “So, you were an adventurous bairn.”

  “That’s what my mother called it, too. The spin doctor of northern Florida. Nearly everyone else said I was a troublemaker, but I was too busy having adventures to know it.”

  “But you were the least troublesome, Billie. Next to your brothers, you were an easy child.”

  Billie opened her eyes. “How did you know I had brothers?”

  Mara paused, her hand in midair. “I thought you said so. Did you no’?”

  “No.”

  “I must have misunderstood.”

  “I did—do have them. Three. Older than me, and a hundred times more trouble. So, you were right.”

  “A lucky guess, then.”

  “Tell me about yourself, Mara.”

  Mara’s hand paused again. She had progressed to Billie’s cheek. “What would you like to know?”

  “Well, what brought you here? Iain said you’re not from Druidheachd originally.”

  “I’ve land up on Bein Domhain that I bought from Iain. It’s a wee croft, with sheep and a garden. I built the cottage by myself. It’s exactly as it might have been if my ancestors had built it on that spot.”

  “It sounds wonderful. I hope you’ll let me see it one day.”

  “Aye. You’ve a standing invitation.”

  “Why did you choose Druidheachd? Is your family from here originally?”

  “No’ too far. I feel at home here.”

  “I do, too. As a matter of fact, Iain claims that hundreds of years ago my family put a curse on his.”

  Mara stepped back. Her hand dropped to her side. She seemed to grow paler. Billie took her arm. “Mara, are you all right? Please. I insist you sit down for a minute.”

  Mara sank into the chair beside Billie’s and handed her the facecloth. “I’m sorry.”

  The door opened, and Iain and Duncan walked in. Iain was holding an ice pack to the side of his head where Jeremy’s rock had grazed it.

  “Mara’s not feeling well,” Billie said.

  Duncan crossed the room and knelt in front of her. Mara leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Billie got up to give them more privacy and joined Iain.

  “Your face is still dirty,” he said.

  “I guess I’ll have to give up hope of impressing you with my ravishing beauty.”

  He set down the ice pack and took the cloth from her hand. “Hold still. I’ll be impressed by ravishing cleanliness, instead.”

  Billie told herself there was nothing sensuous about having her face washed. She was exhausted and shaken from the encounter with Jeremy and worried about Mara. But as Iain swirled the cloth over her face, she was suffused with warmth. She watched his expression. It didn’t change, but some new emotion was reflected in his eyes.

  When he had finished, he lightly traced her cheek with his fingertip. “You may have a bruise.”

  He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body mingling with her own. His fingertip was rough against her cheek, and the intensity of his gaze made it impossible to look away. “It won’t be the first.” Her voice emerged low and husky, and she didn’t smile.

  “You have the most wonderful eyes.”

  She had just been thinking the same about his. They were so profound a blue that there was nothing to compare them to. “I should go home now, and you should vow never to be caught within miles of me again. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”

  He smoothed a wisp of hair over her ear. “This had very little to do with you, Billie. If Fletcher hadn’t seen you with me, he wouldn’t have gone after you.”

  His fingers lingered against her earlobe. The warmth inside her was pooling in very specific and intimate places. “You’re not going to tell me why he hates you, are you?”

  “There are many things I’m not going to tell you.” His fingers trailed slowly down her neck to the collar of her sweater.

  “Like what?”

  “Good try.”

  “Iain.”

  Iain turned at Duncan’s summons, but he didn’t move his hand. “Is there anything we can do, Dunc?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  Billie’s curiosity was piqued. “Would you like me to leave?”

  “No,” Mara said. “Unless you choose to.”

  Billie frowned and looked up at Iain. “Iain?”

  “I don’t know,” he said in answer.

  “I think you have a pretty good idea, Iain,” Duncan said. “Although it’s never been directed
at you before.”

  “At me?”

  “Yes. And Billie, too, apparently.”

  “I’m in the dark here,” Billie said. “Which is beginning to feel as familiar as my favorite sneakers, by the way.”

  Iain didn’t look at her. “Mara has some unusual…talents. I think this concerns one of them.”

  “Mara has second sight,” Duncan said bluntly. “She often sees the future, less often the past. I was skeptical once myself, but I’d be an idiot to be skeptical now.”

  “That’s how you knew I had brothers,” Billie told Mara. “It never occurred to me.”

  “Then you believe in the sight?”

  Billie hesitated. Did she believe? She wasn’t sure, but unlike many of her academic colleagues, she was reluctant to throw out any source of information just because it couldn’t be proved in a laboratory. “Well, I’ve seen it demonstrated before.”

  “Then you’ve an open mind?”

  “Some people would say my mind’s so open it doesn’t contain a thing.”

  “They’d be fools,” Iain said.

  She looked at him, surprised. His gaze was warm and something else. Protective? Alarm threaded through her. Iain was taking Mara’s claims absolutely seriously. And he didn’t expect to find out anything good.

  Mara closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

  Iain moved away from Billie, as if to attempt to distance himself from his feelings. She watched him and swore he was torn between staying to see what Mara would say and leaving. She went to Mara and knelt beside her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Your future is dark to me. I can no’ see a bit of it.”

  “What then? My past?”

  “No. No’ yours. The past of your family.”

  Billie heard Iain draw a breath. Mara opened her eyes and pointed at him. “And yours, Iain, though I’ve no’ seen a thing about you or your family before now.”

  “You don’t look well, Mara. Are you certain you want to go on with this?” Iain asked.

  “I’ve wee choice.” She motioned for him to join them.

  Billie watched indecision continue to play across Iain’s features. Finally he stepped forward. Mara held out a hand. He hesitated, then took it.