The MacGregor (14 page)

‘So,' he said, ‘you've seen her at the racing yard, both at a distance and then more recently on the property?'

Callum shook his head. ‘I haven't seen her, but Cordelia has. She suspects that the lycan may have developed some sort of relationship with Sean Duncan.'

Calix stood up and crossed to the drinks cabinet. From a small fridge he pulled a plastic bag. He turned around to let his guest examine it.

Callum smiled. ‘AB+. A lovely choice.'

Calix snipped a corner and half filled two crystal glasses. The aroma washed over him and his mouth watered. AB+ was a rarity. Extremely expensive. Unless one owned the blood bank, of course.

He returned to the polished table, offered one glass to Callum and sat himself down again. The glasses glinted in the candlelight. He raised his glass. ‘Let's lift our glasses to the Campbells, present, past and future.'

The two men drank long and well. Both glasses were drained. They were silent for a long moment as they appreciated the full-bodied strength of their beverage.

But Calix sighed. ‘We must be careful. Whilst killing the lycan is a priority, we mustn't foul up with Duncan.' He paused to consider the options. ‘Can Cordelia return to the yard?'

Callum shrugged. ‘Not sure. While Duncan has no idea what's going on, the lycan isn't quite so dense. Unfortunately. We don't know how close they may be. Cordelia says she's happy to go back. But I'm not sure it's wise.'

‘Do you think the lycan would reveal herself to a mortal?'

‘It would be unusual if she did.'

Still, Calix reasoned to himself, she wasn't usual. That much he had perceived. Deep down he felt a tiny ripple of unease. He sensed he was missing something. Although, if he were honest, he'd not had peace of mind since his cousin Morven had turned traitor and escaped with the lycan from the castle dungeons.

And now — this. The two were connected. Who was this red-haired snippet? Where did she come from? Calix Campbell was going to find out. Of that much, he was sure.

‘Send Cordelia back. But tell her to be wary. She's still our best hope of getting into the house. After all, Duncan can hardly prefer that little freak to Cordelia.' A tiny shudder rippled through his spine at the mere idea. The lycans were feral. Their blood sullied by years of mongrel interbreeding. His kind, on the other hand, were still pure. ‘If all fails, we'll just have to smoke him out.' Calix smiled coldly. ‘Figuratively speaking.'

Callum stood up. ‘I've got a backup plan that we can implement if Cordelia fails.' He chuckled. ‘Not that it's likely.'

Calix stood and shook hands over the table. ‘I want her warm and wiggling, Callum.'

‘Naturally.'

As they crossed the floor, Callum stopped. ‘I'll send you a pass for the box. Should be a great race.'

‘I'll look forward to it,' said Calix.

Callum left the room. Calix felt a tingle of anticipation. When he had her in his grasp, the carrot-top would talk. She'd tell him where to find Morven Smith. Before she died.

Sean had to confess that dressed in a pair of his jeans and an outsized jumper, Megan looked adorable. He couldn't take his eyes off her. His eyes roamed to the slender hands that stroked the fluffy red fur of the cub that slept on her lap.

‘He's the exact same colour as your hair,' he said.

She smiled. ‘She.'

‘She,' he corrected himself. ‘So, where did you find her?' He waited with bated breath, aware that thus far she had cleverly evaded the question.

The amber eyes sparkled with mischief. She leant towards him in a confidential manner. ‘Well, I rescued her from the hunt.'

He laughed, willing to play along. ‘And which hunt would that be? The Headless Hunt?'

Her lips twitched suspiciously. ‘If I told you, then I'd have to kill you.'

Despite the small smile on the luscious lips, Sean sat back and observed her carefully. She was small. Petite was probably the right word. And she was perfectly proportioned. Her skin breathtakingly clear, with just a sprinkling of freckles over her nose. Dry and let loose, her rich auburn hair fell to her waist, curling and licking at her body like a flame. A living thing.

And that was the thing — that incredible aura of vitality that she exuded. It was a quality that'd he'd never encountered in a woman before. But in that moment Sean forced himself to admit something else. Something that up until now he'd kept pushed to the periphery of his mind. Megan MacGregor was just a touch dangerous.

He smiled at her. ‘How would you kill me, Megan?'

For an instant her expression froze, and Sean knew he'd scored a point. It had not been the response she'd expected.

But she sighed and settled back in her chair and tipped her head slightly to one side. ‘Mmm. Perhaps I'd contract a killer to take you out.'

‘I'm disappointed.'

Megan lifted her head and pushed back the tangle of curls from her face. ‘How so?'

‘Well,' he said, ‘I expected something more up-front and personal.'

She laughed. ‘I see. Well, how about poison?'

Sean stood up and moved around the corner of the table. She did not move but her eyes followed him. He stopped just centimetres away from her knees, and then hunkered down beside her. She had to turn her head to see him. Her throat was as slender and fragile as the stem of a snowdrop. It was only her nose that marred an otherwise perfect face. But he loved it. He felt it spoke more about her personality than all the perfection.

With a steady hand he reached out and gently rolled the pad of his forefinger down her nose.

‘It's a horrible nose,' she said.

He was horrified. ‘You kidding? It's what I love about you the most.'

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and then softened. She lifted a hand from the cub and reached down to his head. The fingers inserted themselves sinuously through his hair, the nails just grazing his scalp. ‘Do you love me then, Sean Duncan?'

Sean found his tongue had developed rigor mortis. What the hell was wrong with him? Dear God, he barely knew her. Of course he didn't love her. That was just ridiculous. And then something she'd said struck a chord. ‘Poison.' Well, in all honesty, poison was only half a step away from a potion, wasn't it?

‘Are you a witch?' The words spilled out before he could stop them.

The fingers in his hair stilled.

He groaned inwardly. Now she'd think he was a lunatic. Possibly he was.

But then fingers walked softly down the back of his neck. He melted.

She bent closer until her lips tickled his ear. ‘Would it matter, if I was?' she whispered.

Sean shook his head. What the hell? As her lips tentatively touched his, he decided that maybe he did love her after all.

The frantic scrabbling of the cub finally forced Megan to relinquish Sean's lips. She reluctantly sat back and caught the vixen before she slipped off her knee. She took in a deep and satisfied breath of air and assessed the situation.

For her part, Megan felt that things were progressing rather well. She'd already had a declaration of love, sooner than anticipated, which was most welcome. His question had shaken her a little. ‘Are you a witch?' Where in Hades had that come from? But, on consideration, it could have been worse. He could have guessed the truth.

Megan felt she had been wise to just go with it. His question remained unanswered in actual words, but his response to hers seemed to underline a distinct lack of concern. Well, that is, if she
were
a witch.

And logically this led her to the heady belief that if Sean was not fazed at the prospect of her being a witch, perhaps, in time, she could front up with the truth.

Seriously, things were just peachy. All she needed was the right moment to suggest a visit home. And — if that went well — she'd just have to mention that her grandad expected a request for her hand.

Megan's optimism wavered. Even to her own ears it sounded like a big ask. Sean didn't seem like a marrying kind of man. Then again, if she explained that Grandad was old-fashioned (anyone aged over 700 had a right to be) and it was a mere matter of form, he'd probably come round. Megan would explain that she didn't really expect a white wedding.

That could wait. For now.

‘What are you thinking about?'

Megan glanced up guiltily and smiled. ‘Nothing. Well, actually, I was thinking that this little girl must be hungry.'

Sean nodded. ‘What will she eat?'

Megan thought for a moment. She'd never raised a fox before. But she was familiar with them. ‘Milk,' she said confidently.

Sean nodded, got up and went to the fridge. Megan felt it was only fair she took the chance to check him out. My, but he had a great butt. Encased in denim, his derrière was quite edible. She grinned as she remembered him streaking up the driveway. It was pretty tempting without denim too.

Her eyes wandered up the still novel, naked length of his spine and to the taut, toned muscles. His skin was a soft tawny brown. Megan squashed down the temptation to get up and run her tongue over him for a taste.

When he turned sharply around he must have caught a glimpse of her lustful expression. He grinned, white teeth flashing. She noticed he wore a small gold ring in his ear. All he needed was a cutlass and a parrot on his shoulder. Better than Captain Jack.

‘Like what you see?' he asked.

To her chagrin Megan felt a hot flush of blood rush up her neck. She fumed, only too aware that it would make her skin look like it'd been rolled in nettles. She could have murdered him — but she wouldn't. Instead, she dropped her face and fussed with the cub who lifted her small muzzle and licked her nose.

‘That's pretty cute,' he said.

Megan forced herself to look up at him. The periwinkle eyes laughed down into hers. And she grinned. How could she not. It was impossible to be mad with him. He was utterly irresistible.

For a moment she was quiet, content to follow his movements around the kitchen as he poured, heated, and then put the saucer of milk on the floor. A lovely sense of wellbeing flowed over her like honey.

She gathered the cub up gently in her hands and placed her on the stone floor beside the saucer. They stood side by side and watched. Somehow Megan's hand found itself a willing prisoner in the strong grip of Sean's larger hand.

They both let out a small syllable of pleasure as the little fox stopped sniffing the milk suspiciously and lapped delicately around the edges.

Sean's hand slipped around her waist and she turned to him eagerly.

But then his body stiffened beneath her touch. She stepped back. ‘What's the matter?'

Sean looked at the door. ‘Someone's coming.'

Megan moved to the door and breathed in through her mouth. Her heart rate went berserk and she let out a low growl of warning. For several minutes they waited, still and silent, as time was measured in the rapid lapping of the cub and the buzz of a small engine.

Although she was expecting it, she jumped at the loud rap on the door.

Sean's feet trod softly over the floor behind her. Megan turned to him. ‘Don't let her in!'

Sean was suddenly amused. Lydia and Nancy had said the same thing to him just the other day when Callum had called in to fix up his account. Then he burst out laughing. ‘Why, is there a vampyre at the door?' he asked and moved to the door.

When he opened it he was not surprised to look into the large, dark eyes of Ginny Campbell. ‘Hello, Ginny.'

She managed a wan smile. ‘Hi, Sean.'

There was silence. Ginny seemed to be having problems concentrating. Her eyes kept sliding over his shoulder to peer into his home. Irritated, Sean took a step forward, effectively blocking the young woman's view.

That seemed to get her attention. She looked at him. ‘I'm really sorry I didn't turn up for work.'

She sounded and looked genuinely sorry. Still, she could have bloody well phoned. ‘And what's your excuse?'

She looked at her feet. ‘It's private…you know…women's stuff.'

Sean felt awkward. And then he wondered if that was Ginny's intent. On the occasion of their last encounter he had been naked. Still, that was his business. Ginny had no cause to get the hump and not turn up for work.

But the real issue was whether or not he was willing to take her back. He weighed up the pros and cons. True, she hadn't turned up for a few days and had been rude to Megan and himself. But, perhaps the circumstances had been provocative. And he should never have kissed her. Perhaps she had the right to be offended. After all, he was the boss. And Ginny was an excellent head girl. Hard to replace.

For a moment he paused and thought about Megan. She could ride like a dream. Should he ask her if she wanted a job?

But, rather reluctantly, he let the idea go. If he sent Ginny packing and Megan wasn't interested, he'd miss out. After all, there was no reason why they both couldn't work together. Was there?

He nodded at Ginny. ‘Apology accepted. Don't be late tomorrow.'

She smiled and something shimmered in her dark eyes. ‘I don't suppose I could use the bathroom, could I?'

Sean stepped back and opened his mouth to invite her in. But then he stopped. Megan and the cub weren't far away. The last time the two women met had been strained. To say the least. He didn't want Ginny going off in a huff again.

‘Sorry, Ginny, but the loo's blocked. You'll have to nip down to the yard.'

She was silent, and then she shrugged. ‘No problem. See you tomorrow then.'

‘See you tomorrow,' he echoed. He waited politely until she opened the garden gate and headed towards the yard. Pleased at the turn of events, Sean dismissed Ginny from his mind, shut the door and turned expectantly. But Megan wasn't there.