Haunted Warrior (23 page)

It was him.

There was something maddeningly irresistible about a man who wasn’t just drop-­dead gorgeous and had a voice like a verbal orgasm, but also clearly cared deeply about the land and sea that was his heritage. So much so that he was fighting to hold on to tradition. His views and attitude spoke straight from her own heart, resonating with her on levels that went far deeper than mere physical attraction.

He loved dogs.

She couldn’t get away from that—­a love of animals, especially dogs, was right up there with old-­fashioned honor and a good sense of humor. He met all those qualifications and then some.

And that made him an ideal candidate to break her heart.

Especially since—­unlike her UK-­based colleagues with Ghostcatchers International—­she couldn’t just up and relocate to the wilds of northeastern Scotland.

Life didn’t work that way.

At least it didn’t for Americans keen to transplant themselves across an ocean.

Like it or not, when her work was done, she’d be winging it back to Newark.

Kendra frowned, not wanting to think of her return.

She had today, this outing….

“The seals are greeting you.” Graeme shot a look at her. He smiled and then nodded at the curving strand. “Do you hear their singing? They save such a chorus for special guests.”

Kendra followed his gaze, feeling better already.

The strip of rocky beach teemed with seals of all shades and sizes. They did seem to serenade her, the sound a cross between a dog’s bark and the haunting cry of geese. Many were dark gray, some almost slate blue. A few small ones sported rich, chocolate brown coats, while others appeared mottled. All seemed playful and friendly, watching the boat’s approach with round, curious eyes.

Kendra blinked, dashing salt spray from her own eyes. Though deep inside, with the backs of her lids stinging hotly, she knew that flying spume wasn’t the reason her vision suddenly blurred.

She did love animals.

And she never thought to see such an incredible sight.

The seals were everywhere now, their domelike heads popping up in the water. Unafraid, they swam near, diving beneath the waves only to bob up again, their welcoming gazes never leaving her and Graeme.

“I knew you’d enjoy seeing them.” Graeme smiled over at her again, his voice betraying his affection for the seals. “The wee ones are harbour or common seals. They’ve been diminishing in number in recent years. No one knows why.” He turned back to the wheel, letting the boat glide gently onto the pebbly strand. “I have my own ideas, but no one wants to hear them, and any who did would deny it.”

“What do you mean?” Kendra didn’t like his tone, or the crease that had marred his brow for just a second.

“Ach, it’s just a notion.” He didn’t look at her as they came to a smooth, scrunching halt. “People along this coast are of the sea. Even today, many of them depend on these waters for their livelihood. A fisherman needs a good haul to pay for his boat and his house, feed a wife and children. Seals eat fish. They’re a natural competitor.”

Kendra felt her eyes rounding. “Surely you’re not saying—­”

“Visit any isle in the Hebrides and folk aren’t so secretive about it.” Graeme grabbed a line and slung it around a huge iron anchor protruding upward from a mound of broken rocks. “Hereabouts, such things aren’t admitted. If it happens, and I cannae say it does, any mate who talked would lose his work, ne’er to be hired again.

“And”—­he knotted the line—­“if he bought his own boat, he’d soon find himself run off the best fishing grounds. If he tried his luck elsewhere, he’d only discover his buoys cut. If that didn’t send him on his way, he’d start losing gear or suffer an accident that would
leave his boat in flames. Worst case, he’d end up as crab bait.

“So no one speaks of such things.” He gripped the anchor stem, looking at her.

“You just did.”

“And I’ll keep on.” A thread of steel entered his voice. “My family fished, too. Such cruelty isn’t necessary. Hard work and long hours fill a day’s quota just as well as eliminating fish eaters.”

“Aren’t you afraid of—­”

“Ending up as a crab’s dinner?” He tossed back his hair, smiling again. “Nae, I’m no’ worried. I irritate a lot of people around here, but there aren’t many who’d dare do anything about it.”

Kendra bit her lip to keep from mentioning Gavin Ramsay.

Instead, she looked at the anchor, not wanting Graeme to see that his smile affected her. Or that the way his long black hair shone in the sunlight made her forget everything except her wish to touch the gleaming strands.

Besides, the anchor was interesting.

Badly rusted, a thick growth of wet, slippery weed covered its length, making it almost indistinguishable. It was the largest anchor she’d ever seen, and only half of it raged out of rocks.

Graeme caught her staring. “The anchor’s from an old whaling ship that went aground here centuries ago. It holds the
Sea Wyfe
secure in all weathers.” He patted the anchor’s seaweed-­draped stem. “I like to think it’s glad to still be of use to someone.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” Kendra’s heart squeezed, listening to him.

In this special place, she could believe such whimsy.

And she doubted she’d find a single man back home in Bucks County who’d harbor such a sentiment.

She’d probably have difficulty locating such a man in all Pennsylvania. Americans weren’t raised on legend and lore. They didn’t hear lonesome pipers playing on eerie, mist-­draped medieval battlefields. Or give names of meaning to stones and believe that a red-­berried rowan tree holds special powers. They didn’t know the heady elixir of peat smoke on a chill autumn wind.

Even Zack, who definitely believed in ghosts and other things that went bump in the night, would draw the line at giving feelings to a rusty old anchor. That Graeme did, allowing the anchor its dignity and pride, only made him more attractive to her.

“Are you coming, then?” He already stood on the shore, his hands extended to help her from the boat. The seals were all around him, clamoring for attention. Many perched on rocks, others surged forward, their round dark eyes inquisitive. The air rang with their doglike barks and soft gurgling. “They won’t hurt you.” He glanced at one seal that was rolling in the surf just a few feet from the beached
Sea Wyfe
. “They’re only curious.”

“I know. They don’t frighten me.” They didn’t. But she did try hard not to notice the jolt of sensation that whipped through her when Graeme caught her by her waist and lifted her out of the boat. He set her gently onto the smooth-­pebbled beach, forgetting her again as soon as he’d seen her safely on solid ground.

At least, that’s the impression he gave her.

Yet she would’ve sworn he’d felt the physical charge between them. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her body, the warmth spilling through her, tingling and delicious. Powerful sensations that caught at her heart and made her ache inside.

His smile deepened, wholly oblivious. “So what do you think of my seals?”

She looked around and did not need to feign interest. She understood his fascination with them. “They’re wonderful, truly. I’ve never seen any this close.”

They were coming nearer now, craning their necks to peer at her, their welcome giving her an excellent excuse to focus on something other than Graeme. How easily she could fall in love with him. How apparent it was that despite his kisses, he wasn’t interested in her.

He lived for his seals.

Even Gavin Ramsay had called him
seal man.

Apparently, he didn’t do two-­legged relationships. And that should be a warning not to get any further involved with him. The more she opened her heart, the greater pain he’d inflict on her, however unknowingly.

But for now they were here, and although she knew it’d been a mistake to accept his invitation, she had little choice but to get through the day.

Hopefully, she’d be able to do so with her feelings intact, her emotions buffered by her usual reserve.

Unfortunately, his proximity made that unlikely.

And he was looking at her in a way that set her heart to racing. His smile was warm, intimate, and so sexy that she almost forgot to breathe. He was good-­looking in Pennard and he’d really knocked her socks off on the beach at Balmedie. But here, in this wild place that was so clearly his element, he made her think of a god.

She swallowed, sure her knees were trembling. “We don’t have to stay here long,” she offered, grasping the only excuse she could think of to speed them on their way. “I doubt your breakfast was as filling as the one I had at Iain’s. You must be starving by now.”

“I’ve brought a packed lunch.” He vaulted into the boat, returning a moment later with a backpack and
folded length of plaid. “Not a bad one, either. There’s smoked salmon sandwiches, some aged Stilton, and mackerel pate with oatcakes. For a sweet, chocolate biscuits, which are”—­he paused, winking at her—­“
cookies
to you. And to wash it all down, a thermos of strong tea.”

Kendra just looked at him. “That’s a feast.”

She was still bursting from breakfast at the Laughing Gull.

“Aye, so it is.” He shrugged into the backpack all the same.

Kendra smiled, her mouth watering despite how her waistband bit into her. “Didn’t you say something at the Laughing Gull about a good Scottish breakfast lasting the whole day?” She couldn’t keep a teasing note out of her voice. “I do believe you did.”

He held up his hands. “I would’ve insulted Iain and Janet if I’d not brought along the food. They prepared it for us, thinking this was a romantic outing.”

Kendra wished it was.

“Why were they so surprised to hear you have a girlfriend?” She had no business asking, but the words just popped out. He fascinated her. “I mean”—­she could feel herself coloring—­“I know we’re not really a couple. But surely they’ve seen you with your real girlfriends?”

“Folk in small Scottish communities see everything.” He glanced aside, looking at a seal tumbling in the surf. “There are no secrets. If someone sneezes on one side of Pennard, you can be sure someone on the other end of the village will say, ‘Bless you.’ ”

Kendra couldn’t argue.

She did pretend to follow his gaze. But rather than watching the frolicking seal, she noted the emotions playing across his face.

Her question didn’t sit well with him. And he’d avoided answering her.

That left one conclusion.

“Did you recently break up with someone?” The thought pinched her heart. It was an unmerited reaction, but one she felt strongly. “Is that why Iain and Janet were so stunned when you said I was here to see you?”

“Nae to both.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the clouds. “I haven’t split with anyone, leastways not in a very long while. The truth is”—­he turned to face her—­“I’ve been too busy in recent years to think of getting involved with a woman.

“Everyone here knows that.” He took her arm and led her past the seals, guiding her with long, sure strides toward the far side of the cove. “They’ve also heard me declare myself a die-­hard bachelor. I’ve been to more weddings than I can count and never leave one without someone cornering me and getting the same answer: that I’ve no time for a woman in my life, settling down, and all that.

“Now…” He glanced at her as they skirted a large, well-­muscled seal. “They’re wondering what happened to make me change my mind. They’ll be curious about you, watching everything we do together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they spread a rumor that you’re a selkie. It wouldn’t be a stretch for some to believe such a tale. They’ll think you turned my head and are keeping me under an enchantment after I found you with my seals, like as not here.”

Kendra smiled. “That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugged one shoulder, not turning a hair. “This is Scotland.”

“I know, but—­”

“We’re weaned on all sorts of stories told around the fire on dark winter nights.” He stopped, flicking out the plaid he’d been carrying, and spreading it on a broad rock ledge too high for seal intrusion. “There isn’t a Scot
born, especially a Highland Scot, who’d deny the existence of second sight or the evil eye.

“Go to the Western Isles and you’ll find countless families who’ll swear they have a selkie ancestor or ancestress.” He smoothed the plaid and then turned to face her. “You’d be wise not to doubt them. Scots know there’s more to the world than meets the eye.

“An underworld of dark just as real as thon rolling sea.” He glanced at the horizon, the long, white-­crested breakers flashing in the sun. “The seal people and the tales about them are only one small part of that realm.”

Kendra rubbed her arms against the wind, a sudden shiver skating down her spine.

He’d spoken as if he really believed in such things.

“Did you know seals shed tears?” He was still watching the sea. “When they’re sad, their moans are often mistaken for human crying. They can pine for years, never forgetting a lost mate or pup.”

“I think you’re trying to change the subject.” Kendra had seen his face close when she’d asked about girlfriends.

“Not at all.” He angled his head, studying her. “What about you? You’re a bonnie lass.” He stepped closer and reached to trail his knuckles down the curve of her cheek. His touch warmed her skin and sent ripples of sensation along her nerves. “Is there a special someone waiting for you back in the States? I’m thinking”—­he looked her up and down, appraising—­“there must be.”

“There isn’t.” She blurted the truth before she could catch herself.

Pretending she had a significant other would’ve made it easier to resist him.

Now…

She lifted her chin, hoping to appear strong, modern, and confident. “Like you, my work keeps me too occupied
to get involved with anyone. I’m always on the road and pretty tired when I’m home.”

That was true.

Equally so was that Graeme made her want to forget every excuse she’d given him. With his dark gaze locked on hers and a freshening wind riffling his glossy black hair, all she could do was take a deep breath and hope he couldn’t read her mind. She’d never been the sort of woman to hop in bed with men she barely knew.