Haunted Warrior (29 page)

And when he did…

All kinds of other questions would arise.

Kendra felt Graeme’s return even before she heard him striding through the high, wind-­tossed grass. The air around her felt charged, turning electric on his approach. The sensation intensified as he neared, strengthening until ripples of awareness raced along her nerves and her pulse quickened, her mouth going dry.

If he’d glanced her way, noticed anything odd when she’d turned her back to him to speak with Jock MacAllister, he’d surely want to grill her.

Knowing she had to deliver Jock’s message was hard enough.

She wasn’t ready for a barrage of questions, especially when she had enough of her own. She hadn’t forgotten that Graeme’s footsteps hadn’t left tracks in the sand when he’d left her at Balmedie Beach.

Nor had she missed Jock MacAllister’s implied comment that he’d known Graeme during his earthly existence, impossible as that was.

He certainly was like no other man she’d ever met.

Everything about him was compelling, from his dark good looks and rich Scottish accent to the pride and devotion he had for Pennard. Now, as he closed the space between them, regardless of what she’d been doing and where he’d been, a delicious swirl of shivers washed over her and her heart beat faster.

She could tell he was almost upon her.

Unable to wait, she turned to face him as he came up to her. His gaze was fixed on her, his stride purposeful. The morning sun did wicked things to his glossy black hair. It fell loosely around his shoulders, gleaming in a way that wasn’t good for her or any female with blood in her veins. As she watched, he pulled a leather band from his pocket and reached to retie his hair in a ponytail. The quivering in the air increased, the entire atmosphere seeming to shift as he neared. Kendra took a deep breath to steady herself, meeting his gaze as calmly as she could.

The village youth, Ritchie Watt, wasn’t with him.

“What happened to the boy?” She was glad for something to say.

“He’s a greater fool than I’d thought, that’s what.” Graeme stopped before her. “You won’t believe what he said he was doing here.”

“He got away?” Kendra looked past him, scanning the wall the youth had been creeping along. Nothing moved there except the grass, still bent by the wind, and
a few wisps of curling mist, all that remained from the sea haar that had swept the bluff.

“I let him go.” Graeme stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “He didn’t push the boulder. No one did. That’s why I sent him away.” He took a long breath, his gaze on a tall Celtic cross in a pocket of deep shadow near the wall with the pillared arches. “I have a good friend who runs a castle hotel near Oban, down in the southwest. Ritchie can work there. Alex will get him turned around—­I’m sure of it. If the boy takes my advice and goes there, and I’m no’ certain he will.”

He looked back at her. “Ramsay has him in his thrall, feeding him all kinds of dangerous rot.”

Kendra hardly heard a word.

Her powerful physical attraction to him made it difficult to focus on anything else. Wishing she could, she tucked her hair behind an ear and then adjusted her jacket, pretending to tighten it against the wind. Anything to keep him from guessing how strongly he affected her.

How badly she wanted to forget everything except him and how tempting it was to be alone with him in such an old, atmospheric place.

“So how did he explain the falling rock?” It was all she could think to say. She looked at him, waiting uncomfortably as the air between them thickened even more, warming with his proximity. “I have a feeling he must’ve said something outrageous.”

She was sure of it because of Graeme’s hesitation.

Her question put an almost pained expression on his face, and it was clear he didn’t want to answer. Glancing away from her, he looked out at the sea, glittering now in the sun. She could tell he was searching for words.

After a moment, he turned back to her, tightened his
grip on her shoulders. “He said Ramsay used magic to make the boulder fly off the cliff. That’s what Ritchie believes, anyway. I’ve no doubt Ramsay told him such bunk, knowing the lad would buy it. He sent Ritchie here under the guise of keeping watch. The lad was told to report back to Ramsay at the Spindrift, supposedly with word that I’d been crushed to death by a spell-­driven rock.”

Kendra frowned, something niggling at her. “Ramsay sent him here on a fool’s errand?” And then it came to her. “He must’ve had a reason. The rock did fall. That means Ramsay knew it would, so how—­”

“Easy.” Graeme bent a long, assessing look on the nearby ruins. “Anyone familiar with this site, and Ramsay is, knows that a lot of the fallen masonry from the tower lies along the other side of those broken walls, near the cliff edge. Sending Ritchie here and telling him to hide among that rubble would’ve almost guaranteed one of the rocks would break away and crash to the beach below.”

“I thought you said rocks don’t often fall off the cliffs.”

“I did, and they don’t. Unless”—­he stepped back, releasing her shoulders—­“something disturbs them. With the exception of where Grath’s sea gate once stood, where we climbed up the cliff, the edge of this bluff has been worn away over time. Rabbit holes and puffin burrows have done the rest, and now there are quite a few places where large chunks of sod and grass thrust out over the edge, with nothing but a four-­hundred-­foot drop to the sea beneath.”

“Good Lord.” Kendra felt herself blanch. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me that before we came up here.”

“There was no need. The old sea-­gate stair is solid enough, just slippery. And”—­he shot a glance at her—­“I wasn’t about to let you fall.”

Kendra believed him, her heart warming to know he’d protect her. Again, the word
guardian
flickered across her mind, reminding her of her first impression of him on the dunes at Balmedie. She’d sensed then that he was the kind of man who’d walk through fire for someone or something he cared about. His expression now, as he stood looking at her, told her she’d been right.

“But why would Ramsay want to put a young boy in such danger?” She still didn’t understand the man’s motive.

“I can only guess, but I’m betting he banked on Ritchie disturbing the rocks and causing one to fall down onto the beach, perhaps striking one of us. At the least, he will have hoped such an event would send me straight for the cliff path, which it did.

“Chances are Ramsay figured I’d spot Ritchie and my temper would break.” He turned toward the sea again, took a deep breath. “He would’ve counted on me pouncing on the lad. Slight as Watt is, I could seriously hurt him, or worse, if I struck him in a rage.”

“And then the authorities would’ve arrested you.” Kendra understood at last.

Graeme nodded, his gaze still on the water. “It’d be a tidy way for Ramsay to get rid of me. And I promise you, he wouldn’t bat an eye if I had killed Ritchie. He views the lad as disposable, knowing one night of bragging and giving out rounds of ale in the harbor bars of Aberdeen would pull in enough new lackeys to serve him.

“He can charm when he wants to.” His tone hardened. “You saw that on your first night at the Laughing Gull.”

“His moves left me cold. He struck me as a snake-­oil salesman.” Kendra shuddered, remembering how he’d come on to her. “I’ve never cared for such men.”

For one thing, she was crazy about Graeme.

And now was surely a good moment to tell him about Jock MacAllister. Unfortunately, her mind blanked each time she tried to think of a way to start. If he’d said he believed Ramsay had the skill to move a boulder from afar, she would’ve felt better about admitting to seeing and talking to ghosts. She could’ve run with his acceptance of supernatural powers and slid smoothly into such a subject.

But he’d called the notion bunk.

Through her work, she was aware how crazy that kind of power sounded to nonbelievers. There was a big difference between talking whimsically about selkie folklore and accepting that a modern-­day man could sit in his home and will a boulder to hurtle off a cliff top. So she bit her tongue, letting the chance slip by.

“I’d like to see where the rock went over the edge.” Graeme stepped beside her again. “If you’re game, we should be able to see the spot from the tower.” His glance went to the ruined shell with its three deep-­cut windows. “It’s solid and we can easily climb to the second embrasure. I’ve been up there before and know there’s a fine view of the beach. The stone benches framing the alcove are intact. We can rest there before we head back down.”

Kendra followed his gaze, deciding the window arch in question looked like a much more precarious perch than he’d described.

“I don’t know….” She didn’t finish, considering.

Even if they went up there and the window seats proved as comfortable as her secondhand, overstuffed sofa back home, she’d be treading dangerous ground by putting herself in such a potentially romantic spot with him. She’d fantasized about sitting in just such a ruined tower window with Mr. Right beside her, nuzzling her neck and whispering sweet nothings in her ear as they
gazed out at the sea. In her dreams, such moments didn’t stop at neck nuzzles. They grew increasingly heated, indulging her deepest, darkest desires.

Graeme lifted her chin, his expression earnest. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Kendra almost laughed, nervously. What would he think if he knew she
wanted
something to happen?

“I know that.” She did. He’d plainly stated why he wanted to go up there. And it hadn’t been because he meant to jump her bones.

Sadly.

But she still hesitated. The wind was tugging at his hair, threatening to undo the knotted band that held his ponytail, and watching his long, black hair tossing reminded her of the crisp dusting of chest hair she’d felt when she’d slid her hand beneath his shirt down on the beach. She also recalled the hard strength of his muscles, the seductive warmth of his skin. She’d love to see his chest, run her hands freely over him, touching him every­where.

He’d be beautiful naked.

The thought made her sex clench.

Whirls of tingly sensation swept her most intimate places, warming and melting her. And because it’d been so long since she’d experienced such intense yearning, she also felt heat shoot up her neck to stain her cheeks.

The truth was, she could almost climax just standing here
thinking
about having Graeme unclothed before her, hers to touch and enjoy.

Only problem was, after the pleasure, she’d spend a lifetime aching for him.

She frowned, wishing they’d never met.

He smiled, dazzling her in a way that made her ever so glad they had.

No matter what happened, she wouldn’t have wanted
to miss a moment with him. So she straightened her shoulders and tossed back her hair, forcing a smile as she braced herself to do something she knew she shouldn’t.

“Okay.” She hooked her arm through his, anticipation beating inside her. “Let’s go visit your ancestors’ tower window. I’d love to see the view and”—­she patted her jacket pocket—­“maybe take a few photos, as well.”

She didn’t say what she really wanted.

But as Graeme led her across the grass and past the broken walls and scattered mounds of rubble, she could sense that something had shifted between them. She didn’t know if it was this place or the promise of being alone together in a secluded medieval window embrasure or just the impact of having shared a moment of danger.

Whatever it was quickened her breath and made her heart pound.

And when they reached the base of the tower, stopping before a set of admittedly sturdy-­looking steps, her entire body thrummed with desire, a reckless craving such as she’d never before known.

“See?” He smiled down at her, taking her hand. “It’s exactly as I said. We just need to skirt these nettles”—­he guided her around them—­“and then we’ve only a short climb up this stair to the alcove. There’s nothing to worry about.” He leaned in, kissed her brow.

“I know,” Kendra fibbed, a thousand worries weighing on her, the main one being how she’d ever live without him once she departed Scotland. Because she knew something monumental was going to happen when they reached the ruined embrasure.

“Then come.” Their gazes locked for a moment, the look in his eyes underscoring her impression.

Almost light-­headed, she broke eye contact first,
looking down at the broad, age-­worn stones that wound up the tower’s curving wall. Unfortunately, her gaze fell across his groin, and she couldn’t miss the telltale ridge that indicated he’d gone hard.

She pretended she hadn’t seen.

But she had, and her whole body, all her emotions, went into overdrive. Tremors spilled through her, a torrent of need that only worsened as he tightened his grip on her hand and led her up the ancient steps.

Oh yes, they’d reached a turning point.

And there would be no going back.

Not if she wanted to cast all caution to the wind and seize what pleasure she could, even if the memories haunted her forever.

“There it is, right below us. A chunk of cantilevered earth broke away where the rock fell.” Graeme stood looking down from the window arch, his dark hair streaming in the wind. His voice gave no indication he knew the world changed the instant they’d entered the tower’s good-­sized embrasure.

The spacious alcove did appear sturdy, just as he’d promised. Bathed in sunlight and shadow, the deep recess proved as romantically medieval as Kendra had imagined. Two opposite-­facing stone benches framed the arched opening, their seats smooth and weather-­worn. The glint of the sea winked from beyond the window gap, and she could hear the crashing of the waves echoing up from the shore. Like the wind, the sea’s roar filled the alcove, adding to its magic.

And although the enclosing walls smelled of age and damp, she’d never complain. She loved the scent of old
stone and ancient places. Especially at sites like Castle Grath, where, even though the ruin wore centuries of wind and rain, enough remained for the stronghold’s essence to still pulse deep inside its proud, aged heart.