Highland Shifter (MacCoinnich Time Travel) (9 page)

Helen opened her mouth to respond, shut it, and froze.

Simon focused on her pert little nose and soft rosy lips. A firm set of breasts brushed against his chest with every quick breath Helen took. He wasn
’t sure who was breathing faster, him or her.

Her mouth opened again, and Simon moved in to make his claim.

In the next instant, a leg wound around his and a firm palm pushed him squarely against his sternum.

He hit the floor with a thunk, scrambling his brain and his aroused lower body parts.

“What the H. E. double L. do you think you’re doing?”

“It
’s called a kiss, love, or hasn’t anyone from this time introduced you to them?” With as much dignity as he could muster from the floor, Simon lifted his taut chin in her direction.

“I know what kissing is. Don
’t be absurd.” The blush rising up her neck spoke of innocence. An innocence Simon didn’t think Helen could possibly know. Then again, perhaps he was wrong about her.

Maybe the tough act was just that…an
A.C.T.

Simon shook his head. Thinking of
K.I.S.S.I.N.G
. her was making him
C.R.A.Z.Y
.

He froze. Why was he spelling things out in his mind? He didn
’t care for spelling tests when he was in school, he certainly didn’t think of how to spell words now.

Helen must have rattled more than his pride.

H.E.L.E.N.

Without ceremony, Simon shoved himself from the floor.

“What is it?” she asked, backing away like a frightened child.

Innocent. Her body language screamed it. And he
’d nearly destroyed the trust they were building with a simple seduction. He wanted to reach out to her now and offer comfort, but he didn’t think she’d welcome his touch.

“The books,” he said, backing away. Best to give her some space.

Confusion raced over her brow.

He scrambled to the front of the table and gathered the books they
’d already examined. He positioned them next to each other on the table.

“What are you doing?”

“The answer is here.”

She stood beside him now, farther away than she
’d been all day.

Looking over his shoulder, she asked, “Where?”

Focus, Simon.
“Each book has a different title. Each title starts with a different letter.” He found the book he’d passed several times without so much as a glance.
Hence Forth
. “This starts with an H.” Simon placed it at the top left of the table and removed the other books to make room for others. He shifted through several books before he found the one he sought.
Enlightening
.

“E.”

Both of their hands fell on the next novel,
Living.

Helen pulled her hand away.

“These book titles are an acronym?”

“Aye. All this time we
’ve looked for what’s inside, but what we see on the outside is what we wanted.”

They spelled out Helen
’s name and stopped. Several more books were stacked up on the table. They sat back and studied the books that spelled out her name.

“I think you
’re onto something,” she told him.

They managed Helen
’s name but then faltered. There were plenty of books left over with many different outcomes for an acronym.

“Let
’s write down the first word of the books and I’ll find a program that will calculate possible word combinations.” Helen scribbled the names of each of the books onto a piece of paper as they spoke.

“You mean a computer program?” It had been years since he
’d thought of a computer.

“Yeah.”

“I’d forgotten how useful they were.” They were easy to live without, in sixteenth century Scotland.

“You really have been living in the dark ages, haven
’t you?”

Simon shook his head. “Actually, the dark ages of Scotland were long before the turn of the century—the tenth century—or so I
’m told. I do believe the time in which I live in Scotland will be remembered as the Renaissance period.”

“The word Renaissance makes it sound romantic. The guys trying to take me out with a sword ruined a perfectly good image in my brain.”

“The strong survive. If one isn’t strong, they must be wise enough to avoid conflict and keep quiet to avoid detection.” Simon moved to the couch while they talked, giving her as much space as she needed.

Helen wrote the names of the books down and pushed the papers aside. “How do the women protect themselves?”

“Their men protect them.”

“What if they don
’t have a man to protect them?”

“Even the widows have the protection of Laird Ian. No one is abandoned when in need of our assistance.”

“Is that why you helped me out? Because you’ll help anyone on your grandfather’s land?”

“I
’d like to think I’m an honorable man. Leaving a lone maiden scared and out of place would have damned me to a thousand years in hell. I’d have not been able to live with myself had I turned my back on you.”

Did she really believe he
’d have left her alone if given the choice? Simon couldn’t help but wonder why she had such a low opinion of her worth. Or maybe she carried a low opinion of others.

“Maiden?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, cutting her off. “The men trespassing on our land wouldn’t have offered their protection.”

“They looked like they wanted to kill me.”

“Killing you would have been merciful.”

She shivered. “That
’s a pleasant thought.”

“Consider it a warning. If you managed to travel back to my time without me, you must stay in hiding until you can get word to my family. They will offer you protection.”

Helen’s hands were restless in her lap. The conversation might be uncomfortable, but it could save her life. “I’d have to trust someone to get a message to your family.”

“A wise person listens and studies who they approach before doing so.”

“Like you did with me?”

“You left me little choice. But had I stumbled upon you, I would have watched long before introducing myself.”

Helen hid a yawn behind her hand. “I don’t plan on returning to the sixteenth century, so your warnings really aren’t needed.”

“You chose to travel there before?”

“Well, no.”

“Then heed my words, Helen. I can
’t be with you every moment of your day. Unless you want me by your side day
and
night.”

Helen
’s head shot up, her eyes grew wide. “Ahh.”

“Calm yourself, lass. I
’m only kidding.”

She wiggled a finger in his direction. “Men.”

Simon laughed, knowing he’d given her a chance to regain some of her earlier composure.

“I
’m going to bed,” she announced. “Alone.”

“Sleep well.”

Simon watched her turn to leave the room. When she reached the door, he called out. “Helen?”

“Yeah?”

“It might be wise to leave your door open in the night. In case something were to happen.”

With a nod, Helen left the room.

Simon waited until he heard her footsteps travel up the stairway and into the room Mrs. Dawson encouraged her to use. His was one, not far down the hall, but he didn’t intend to use it.

He glanced at the books one last time before turning off the lights. By the time he passed Helen
’s room, her light was off but her door was open a few inches.

After pulling back the covers on his bed, Simon stepped to the bathroom adjoining his guest room and removed his clothes.

Helen might not want Simon McAllister in her bed, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone. They were no closer to finding out how she traveled in time, and there was no guarantee it wouldn’t happen again.

No, Simon, in one form or another, would be by her side to protect her.

Standing in front of the mirror, Simon closed his eyes and allowed the shift. He pictured himself shrinking, the hair on his back sprouting. Everything in his body turned to flexible, expanding in some places, contracting in others. He reached for the floor and held in the haunting cry of pain.

* * * *

Helen punched her pillow with a fist and attempted to find a comfortable position. After her day, she was having a hard time falling asleep.

Talk about a confusing night.

Talk about a confusing man.

Simon McAllister or MacCoinnich, whichever name he wanted to use for the day, riddled her mind with questions and unease. Every hour he seemed to deliver one more compelling puzzle for her brain to decipher.

First was the undeniable fact that he’d traveled through time. Was a veteran of the sport in fact. The first time he’d ripped away time and space and traveled to the sixteenth century Scotland was because his mother wanted to prove his aunt was healthy and happily married to a Highland warrior. The second time was to return home so he could finish his first year in junior high school.

Things were sketchy from there. Simon told Helen he and his mother were forced back to the sixteenth century because of an evil woman who threatened all of Scotland. He didn
’t elaborate about how or why. He simply said it took some time for the family to figure out how to destroy her.

Destroy had been his word. So Simon had killed, or at the very least been a party to another human
’s death. Then again, how could she think he was anything but a medieval killer? The way he’d gone after the men in the forest suggested bloodshed wasn’t new to him.

Now that she reconsidered the events she
’d witnessed, how had Simon escaped the men in the forest? There had been six of them. Only two caught up with her.

What was up with the Druid thing? The man literally shot flames from his fingers. A part of her, an adolescent part, was in awe of his ability. He
’d made a flippant comment about how all Druids were capable of the task, even her, with practice.

Yeah, right!

She’d had a hard time mastering the fine art of snapping her fingers. Flinging fire across the room was not on her list of talents.

The thought of warm flames brought heat to her cheeks and reminded her of their near kiss. The fullness of his lips close to hers.

Electricity to the tune of a zillion volts simply didn’t compare. She hadn’t really expected it. Really didn’t expect to have shoved him on his ass. Call it a twitch, instinct even. She’d been well practiced at keeping men away. Thanks to the foster homes and would-be father figures early in her life, Helen’s trust in men didn’t come quickly. She’d learned that men eager to catch her attention usually disappointed her. There had been very few she wanted close.

Simon sorely tempted her.

Helen wanted to believe he was honorable. But he was a man. A masculine, sexy chunk of the opposite sex who didn’t compare to any man she’d had the privilege of knowing.

I
’m never going to get to sleep with all this chatter in my head!

Helen battered her pillow again and attempted to clear her mind of all things Simon.

She’d just closed her eyes when a soft mewing noise forced them open. Small furry paws pounced up on the foot of her bed and reflective eyes regarded her with caution.

“I didn
’t know Mrs. Dawson had a cat.” Helen said to her feline companion. The large midnight black cat tilted its head to the side, taking cautious steps her way as if waiting for an invitation to curl up.

“Who are you?” Helen asked the cat while reaching over to pet the beautiful coat.

The cat rubbed its face into her palm and purred. “You’re certainly friendly.”

Helen scratched the cat behind the ears. “Are you a Tom or a Tammy?” She looked and smiled. “Hi, Tom. I
’m sure that’s not your name, but it will have to do. I don’t usually sleep with strangers….” Her words drifted while the cat took up residence at her side. He circled a couple of times before making himself comfortable.

“Well, okay then.”

The cat licked his paws and settled his head against her hip. He watched her intently, stared actually.

At least the cat had forced Helen
’s thoughts to something other than the man sleeping in the next room. Helen stroked the cat’s back until he purred and his eyes drifted close.

For what it was worth, the cat offered some comfort and within minutes, Helen was in a world of dreams. Dreams of Highland kilt-wearing men who seduced women like they
’d gone to school to learn the art.