by L. L. Muir
The officer continued to glare over the top of her head.
Aiden crossed his arms, expression calm.
A glance down at Zoey had the officer’s eyes softening. “Ms. Barnes, would you like me to escort this man out of your house? For all you know he and his buddies set up the abduction so he could come out posing as the hero. And now, here he is, ensconced in your apartment. Perhaps that was the man’s goal all along?”
Aiden thought to be angered by the accusation, but instead was rather impressed. The man had a suspicious mind. Not a bad thing in a peacekeeper.
Zoey glanced at him, but was already shaking her head. “I was there. It wasn’t like that.”
Aiden reached out to touch her shoulder. “Nae, lass. It wasnae. But I appreciate yer faith, just the same.”
She smiled at him.
Officer Wendell snorted. “You’re young and beautiful, Miss Barnes. You’ve only just met this man for the first time tonight. I think a little caution might be in order, don’t you?”
Zoey’s gaze dropped and she blushed slightly. “I trust him.”
“Again, I thank ye lass, and promise to live up to that faith.”
The officer glared at him but spoke to Zoey softly. “I just want you to keep your guard up, okay?” He handed her a small square of paper. “Keep my number handy in case you need to call. For anything at all.”
Zoey nodded. “Thank you so much for coming by.” She walked him the short distance to the door, looking small, fragile, and lovely. Aiden understood the other man’s concern.
“Feel free to call even if you just want to talk. Or get a bite to eat. I’m here for you.”
“That’s very kind.”
Aiden grappled with unexpected anger as jealousy shot through his tightening body. The man wanted more than a bite to eat.
After one last suspicious and hostile glance, the man slowly opened the door, then hesitated again.
Aiden tried to rein in his emotions. At least he understood the officer’s resentment better. The man was interested in Zoey. He wanted her for himself.
Possessiveness swept through Aiden and left him wanting to cross the room to pull Zoey into his arms, and slam the door in the other man’s face.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t have that right, did he? He was there for but two days. The other man could offer a lifetime.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
~~~
After Officer Wendell left, Aiden watched Zoey pick up one of her cats and hug it to her chest. She seemed nervous, where she hadn’t been before.
He didn’t like that. “Zoey, we need to talk. Tell me true, do ye know this man who attacked ye or not?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think I did.”
He didn’t like her defenses against him, so he let it go for the moment and decided to check out her other fortifications.
He went to her door, opened it, and was unpleasantly surprised to find it was the flimsiest piece of wood he’d ever encountered. He knocked, only to realize ’twas hollow as well. Incredulous, he tested the lock and the bolt was mayhap two inches in length. Mayhap. He didn’t know whether the door or the lock would give first, but either way a good solid kick would be all it took to break the entire thing into pieces.
He glanced both ways down the hallway. It would be easy enough for anyone to come in from the street and kick in any of the doors. Or mayhap even one of her neighbors could learn her routine and attack when she was vulnerable.
She came to stand beside him. “What are you looking for?”
“I’m checkin’ yer safeguards.” He shut the door, locked it, and crossed to a window. ’Twas simple enough to figure out how it worked and it slid up easily. He noted the latch at the top, and also that it hadn’t been engaged. He stuck his head out into the darkness and realized that though high enough off the ground, stairs led directly past her window. “Why are there stairs outside yer home?”
“It’s a fire escape.”
Aiden straightened. “’Tis a good idea, but anyone could climb them, and yer window was unlocked.”
“I like to catch an open breeze when the weather’s good. Plus the cats like to sit out there, so sometimes I leave the window open.”
Aiden’s mouth tightened. “And when a ne’er-do-well comes into your home, what will your cats do? Watch while ye are murderrt? Eat ye afterwards? No. This window stays locked.”
“Sorry, kitties. You heard the man. No more fire escape for you.”
The cats wide blue eyes gazed up at him. Accusingly?
“Unless I am here. Then ye shall be permitted.”
“Softie.”
He sighed. “Would that I could deny it. I’m goin’ to ask ye again and this time I want an honest answer. Is there any possibility ye know the man who attacked ye? Ye mentioned a man who courted ye.”
She hesitated a long moment. “I didn’t want to accuse my ex in front of the officer, but I…I suppose it might have been Preston. But I just can’t believe he’d do anything like that. Last I heard he was married.” She shrugged. “These things happen in big cities, so I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. It was probably just a random event.”
“Tell me of Preston.”
She sank down onto an overstuffed chair, hugging the purring cat close. “Preston North the Third. I met him online and we dated for a while. But it never quite clicked, you know? There was something slightly off about his aura and, well…” she waved a hand. “Anyway, the attacker was about Preston’s size.” She lifted a shoulder. “But like I said, Preston is married, so I just can’t see him doing this.”
“What do ye mean ye met him online.”
“I met him on the Internet.”
“What is that?”
She stared at him for a long moment, set the cat down, walked over to a desk and opened what he quickly realized was a computer. He’d seen them used before, but never up close.
The punch of a few buttons, and she brought up a picture of a couple embracing and showed it to him. “I’m part of an online community called Make Me a Match. They’re supposed to help you find the perfect mate, but so far I’ve had no luck.”
His mouth parted as horror warred with disbelief. “Show me how it works.”
She clicked the buttons a few more times and a picture of Zoey appeared. “See? This is my profile, and men can look at it and decide if they want to introduce themselves to me. If they do, and if I want to date them, we agree to write to each other or talk and if that goes well, we eventually get together and meet. I have an app on my phone too, and that’s the way I view the men.”
“’Tis a cattle mart.” He breathed the words faintly.
She nodded. “Pretty much.”
“And this is how ye met Preston North the Third?”
“Yes. And others. Right before we met tonight, I was on another date, but it didn’t work out so I left.”
And she hadn’t told him of this? “Could that man have followed ye outside and attacked?”
She shrugged. Chewed her bottom lip.
He struggled to accept this went on and was actually a part of reality. He knew much had changed in the centuries since he’d been alive. Mayhap ’twas practical in this day and age? But considering how many people lived upon the earth now, how filled to capacity her city, he could see no reason an introduction by trusted friends and family wouldn’t work.
He blew out a breath. “All right. But where was yer chaperon this eve?”
She crossed her arms. “I didn’t take anyone with me, if that’s what you mean. But I did tell my neighbor down the hall where I was going.”
“Who is this man?”
“It’s a woman actually. She’s about my grandmother’s age and we get along really well and look out for each other.”
Aiden’s jaw clenched.
“And I texted my brother and gave him the name of my date. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
He tried to conta
in himself, but the words slipped out regardless. “Ye dash about and meet strange men with no protection! What does that say of yer sanity?” He turned and paced away a few feet and tried to regain control. “What of yer father and brothers? Why aren’t they protectin’ ye?”
“They would if I lived with them.”
“Why dinnae ye live with them?”
“I’m planning to move back home again after I find someone.”
“Find who? A husband?”
She shrugged.
He tried to calm. She was searching for a protector. It seemed a strange way to go about it, but he could certainly ken her reasoning. She needed a minder more than any lassie he’d ever met.
Turning away, he ran his hands through his hair. This was no doubt why Zoey had been given into his care.
He exhaled sharply. He’d protect her while he could. He’d help her find this man she so desperately needed. A decent male, with strength and kindness. It had to be fast.
He briefly considered Officer Wendell then decided against him. He didn’t like the man. Surely, even with limited time, they could find someone they’d both agree on?
~~~
“What is this?” Aiden picked up a framed illustration of a girl, a ring of dandelions in her hair, joyfully swaying on a tree swing. The colors were vibrant, alive and he could feel the happiness of the moment.
“I have a comic strip. Zanily Zoey. Have you heard of it? It’s sort of an ongoing story about a hippie girl and her adventures.”
He looked blank.
She felt a bit disappointed. “It’s quite popular in some circles. Especially online. But I guess not in Scotland.” She turned away.
He stopped her. “We’ve no computers where I’m from else I’m sure I’d have enjoyed yer work. Very much so. Tell me more.”
She knew he was being nice, but she appreciated the effort. No computers?
“I draw sketches. It’s what I do for a living actually. That has a place of honor because it was my first sale. It also remains one of my bestselling illustrations.”
He stared at the illustration for a long while, amazed at her talent. “Are there more, then? Will ye share them with me?”
“Are you sure you want to see them?”
“Show me.”
“Okay.” She smiled and pulled an ingenious holder with a handle from behind the couch. She opened it and carefully pulled out a stack of papers, some large, some small, all with drawings of a young girl of about ten in various stages of play.
She spread them on the floor and he slowly reached down to pick up one of a girl chasing butterflies with a determined expression on her face. He laughed, enchanted.
“Ye’ve an amazing talent.”
She smiled and ducked her head and color rose in her cheeks.
He picked up another sketch, this one in color. The girl wore a colorful shirt, rode a pig, and the animal appeared to enjoy the experience as much as the girl.
She sang, she danced, gardened, played a musical instrument. In one illustration, she had wings. In every one she was joyful and in love with life.
“Do you still have the wings?”
“How did you know it was me?”
He could say the red hair, the sky-blue eyes. The fact was, it simply couldn’t be anyone else. He’d never met anyone as alive as Zoey. To one such as him, she was like a treatment, a cure for the ache in his soul. These pictures and the love of life depicted on them, knowing it was how she viewed the world, the life it all represented, well, he wanted to scoop her up, hold her close, and never let her go.
He’d been so very dead, for so very long.
She was life. Living. And he wanted her like a starving man wanted a meal.
“The wings?”
She smiled. “Actually, I wore them out. I flew with them every day until they fell apart. My parents bought me another set, but nothing could replace those original wings. They were magic.”
She was magic.
“Was this you growing up? Did you have all these animals?”
“Yes, and I loved every one of them.”
He pointed to a picture of her making mud pies with pigs. “Did you eat those pigs?”
She gasped, staring at him in horror. “Those pigs are family. I’m now a great grandmother to some of those pigs.”
“Your da dinnae mind losing the meat?”
“I set them free to live in the woods, so what could he do?”
The cats wandered over to sit on the artwork. “Moonbeam, Moonshadow, get off.” She shoved them away and started putting her art back in the holder.
He had to turn away before he lifted her up and kissed her senseless. Reveled in the feel of her, absorbed her essence, and pressed her body to his own.
She wasn’t for him, but for another.
His chest ached. He’d have to choose carefully. It would need to be a man who would appreciate who she was. Who would see her talent at living, and could understand the girl she’d been, had informed the woman she’d become. He’d have to nurture her and make sure her fragile heart was protected. He would have to love her with his whole being.
He ran a hand through his hair.
Why couldn’t that man be him?
~~~
Remnants of rage boiled through Preston North the Third. His chest tightened, and so did his grip on the windowsill.
Who was the man who’d interfered? And more importantly, what did he want with Zoey?
The other man’s roar in the darkness scared Preston on a primal level and, rather than turning to fight, he’d run.
He wasn’t proud of that, and hoped Zoey didn’t hold it against him.
He shook off feelings of dissatisfaction. She wouldn’t, of course. Anyone would have reacted the same to such a sound, to such a man, a roaring barbarian in a kilt coming out of the darkness.
What had been supposed to be a romantic evening had turned sour in a heartbeat. The man interrupted a very important day in Preston and Zoey’s life. The day Preston finally accepted his fate.
Zoey once explained it all to him, and while he’d resisted for a while, he finally understood.
Breathing in and releasing a slow measured breath, he stood in the darkness of his new home and gazed out the large picture window, eyes continuously tracking the lush green lawn, the trees. If he’d been followed, surely that crazy interloper or the police would have arrived by now?
The sweat on his back still dampened his black shirt and he longed for a shower. Finally, he allowed himself to turn away.
He was safe from discovery.
No one knew what he’d done.
Not even the love of his life, his mate. Zoey might suspect, but she didn’t know. Not for sure. If she did, would she care? Would she accept? Would she see the romance in the situation? Knowing Zoey, she probably would. He’d appeared out of nowhere to grab her. Surely that met the criteria she’d spoken of the night he’d rejected her and chosen another woman.
Anger tightened his features as the familiar tirade welled within. This was Zoey’s fault. All of it. She’d confused him or he never would have agreed to let her go in the first place.
And tonight, he’d almost had her back.
He stripped off his black clothing and stood under the hot spray of the luxury shower-head..
He reached for the soap. Now that his wife was in hiding, the house was his. She probably thought he searched for her, but he didn’t care about that cow anymore. His epiphany, his realization about Zoey put paid to that.
He needed Zoey, with her talk of fate and destiny and true love. She was the one for him.
His marriage had been a mistake. He realized that now.
And maybe it had even been meant to be. He had this gorgeous house now, didn’t he? She’d sworn he could keep it if he just left her alone.
He didn’t usually like to lose his possessions, but if Zoey was his again, he could probably be persuaded to divorce his wife. For the right amount of money, anyway. He w
ouldn’t want to split his attention. Zoey deserved every bit of it.
When he’d ended their relationship, he’d thought it hadn’t mattered. She hadn’t been rich enough for him. Her little career illustrating paid well enough, but not for his tastes. His wife, though wrong for him, was an heiress.
And tonight, tonight he’d been close to having it all. The money and Zoey.
She been enclosed in his arms. Soft, and warm, and vibrant. It had felt right. For the first time in a long while everything felt right again.
Whoever her rescuer, however scary the man, Zoey belonged to Preston. When she was in his arms for good, she’d understand. He wouldn’t leave her again, wouldn’t need to. No matter how long it took, she’d belong to him.
He knew it, and he’d make her understand it too.
CHAPTER FOUR
Zoey woke the next morning, stretched, enjoyed the sense of contentment, then sat up quickly as it all came rushing back.
There was a Scottish Highlander, and future love of her life, sleeping on her couch!
She immediately threw herself back to her pillow and drew the covers over her head. He thought she was an idiot, she just knew he did. The attack, her woefully undefended apartment, and his belief she was protecting Preston. Not a good starting point when you wanted to tell a guy he was your fated one.
But still, he was in her house and she had all the time in the world to correct a bad first impression as they got to know each other. She threw back the covers, put on her pink bathrobe, and tiptoed out of her bedroom. She peered around the arched door in the hallway.
He was looking out the window, and darned if he wasn’t even more impressive in morning’s soft light. He still wore the white linen shirt, belted kilt, stockings and boots. Dark hair touched broad shoulders. He must have found her razor because he’d shaved and the bronze skin of his profile revealed lean, beautiful features, high cheekbones, and curved, sensual lips. He wore a dagger tucked in his belt.
Whew, the man was large, attractive, and she wanted the right to wrap her arms around him and, in turn, be tucked in close to his heart.
Fate loved her.
He glanced her way, probably hearing a soft, fangirl sigh.
“Good morning.” She resisted checking for drool on her chin.