With Everything I Am (10 page)

Even though this made sense, Callum didn’t like it.

Not only that they missed it, and in missing it could have killed her, but also the fact that it made him feel a strange sense of unease that the information was hidden, protected, secret. Medical records were confidential but why would this life-threatening condition be guarded so thoroughly? In case of an emergency, wouldn’t that information need to be readily available?

His eyes moved to Sonia and at what he saw, he let go of the disquiet he felt. Right then, he had more important things to deal with.

“Is it snowing down there?” Callum asked.

“Flurries,” Ryon answered.

“It’s not flurries up here. The man you sent may need a snow mobile or an ATV, but, whatever it takes, he gets that medication here by tonight. Is that understood?”

“
I
talked to the doctor, Cal. I know how important this is,” Ryon returned calmly. “I sent Waring. He knows this is priority and it’s for the queen. He’s a good man. He’ll be there with the meds.”

Callum felt his body go stiff. “Does he know –?”

“Cal, don’t ask that question,” Ryon broke in softly. “He doesn’t know what’s in the parcel just that the queen requested it.”

Ryon, Callum knew, would never expose Sonia’s weakness. Only the inner circle (that would be Callum, Ryon and Callum’s blood brothers, Caleb and Calder) would know of this latest development.

Callum changed the subject. “Any more on the plot?”

“We’re widening the net.”

“I want regular reports.”

“You’ll get them.”

“Later,” Callum muttered.

“Good luck,” Ryon replied, his voice filled with humor, his overhearing the conversation between Callum and Sonia telling the tale.

Callum didn’t reply. He snapped the phone shut.

Sonia was preparing lunch which looked as if it consisted of an enormous salad and nothing else.

No, actually, Sonia looked like she was punishing the vegetables that would soon be their lunch if her frenzied use of the knife was anything to go by.

Callum shoved the phone in his back pocket, slid off the stool and rounded the counter making his way toward her.

He got within feet when she whirled and lifted the knife, not to brandish it at him, to point it at him.

“Don’t you get near me,” she snapped, jerking the knife at him on the word “you”. Then she turned back to the carrot she was annihilating and kept chopping. “You could have killed me.”

“I’m aware of that, little one,” he replied, forcing his voice to be soft.

Her shoulders tensed but she kept chopping. “I pray to
God
whoever has my meds gets here in time.”

“They’ll get here,” he said firmly.

“I would say I’d never forgive you for this but if this hadn’t ended the way I
hope
,” she whirled on the word “hope” and narrowed her gaze at him, “it will, I wouldn’t be around long enough
to
forgive.”

Her declaration rattled him even further but he didn’t let it show.

“Stop chopping and put down the knife,” Callum ordered gently and she instantly adhered to his command. Slamming the knife down on the counter and picking up the cutting board, she dumped the carrot on top of the salad leaves already in a bowl.

She did this clumsy in her anger and carrots went everywhere.

She ignored the raining carrots, slammed the cutting board back down and reached for a cucumber.

He advanced, positioning himself behind her and caught her wrists, both of them, and wrapped her arms around her belly along with his own as he leaned down so his mouth was at her ear.

Her entire frame, from head-to-toe, tensed at his touch.

He ignored it and murmured, “I’m sorry I worried you, baby doll.”

As a child she was, in his sharp recollection, a living doll. He’d never forgotten her, not a single feature, not a moment.

He had been pleased that morning to hear she hadn’t forgotten him either and more pleased that their meeting had clearly had as profound an effect on her as it had on him. It gave him another sliver of hope that she understood their connection on some level and she might, soon, embrace it (heartily).

On that thought, he pulled her deeper into his body.

She was silent through this.

“Sonia,” he called.

“I’ll accept your apology the minute your
man
walks through that door.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

“Now, take your hands off me,” she demanded.

“No,” he replied.

She went even stiffer.

Callum ignored it again.

“My people are affectionate, Sonia. We touch. We hug. We cuddle.” Amongst other, more pleasurable things he decided it sensible not to share at that moment. “You’re going to need to get used to this.”

“Well, I don’t
have
any people therefore I’m not
used
to cuddling, touching and hugging.
Especially
guys I’ve known for a few
hours
. Now, take your hands off me!” she snapped.

His response was to pull her closer.

Her response was to go even stiffer.

He decided to change the subject and said, “If you think I’m eating salad for lunch –”

“
I’m
making
you
grilled cheese sandwiches.
You
can have cheese for every meal for all I care.
I’m
having salad…” His arms got tight at this defiance but she talked right through it. “I had food enough for two meals at breakfast but I’ll need something light before dinner and
you
are just going to have to force feed me if you want it any different.”

Callum grinned into her hair.

Finally, he was beginning to enjoy this.

Therefore, he agreed, “All right, Sonia.”

“Now, please, would you take your hands off me?”

He rubbed his temple against her hair then slid his lips around the curve of her ear.

He liked her smell. It was human but it was far from unpleasant.

As his lips rounded the curve of her ear, he felt a short tremor shudder through her rigid body before she jerked solid.

Yes, definitely beginning to enjoy this.

He moved his lips to the skin behind her ear and repeated, “All right, Sonia.”

Then he let her go and watched her start to decimate the cucumber while he walked back to his laptop.

He found, twenty minutes later, she made excellent grilled cheese sandwiches.

And, he had to admit, the salad wasn’t bad either.

Chapter Six

King

Sonia was standing in the kitchen boiling the kettle for a cup of her favorite herbal tea, telling herself she wasn’t grateful to Callum for making certain it was stocked. But she
was
grateful. She drank that tea all the time. She didn’t know what she’d do without it.

This was after an afternoon spent gazing in the fire and plotting her escape.

She did this while listening to him talk on the phone seventeen times. She’d counted. There was nothing better to do, except plot her escape, of course.

Either he was a really good actor, this was a more elaborate pretence than she imagined or he did, indeed, have “men”. At least three of them that she could count. One named Ryon, one named Caleb and one named Calder and all of them reported in frequently on a variety of what sounded like war-like subjects that included Callum giving a variety of leader-of-the-gang-like orders.

He also spent a good deal of time on his computer.

Luckily, the rest of the time he left her alone so she could plot her escape.

And plot she did.

She
didn’t have any shoes but she
did
have a bunch of socks and
he
had several pairs of boots.

Okay, so his feet were large like his hands.

But if she put enough socks on, maybe she could keep his boots on her feet long enough for her to get away.

And get away she was going to do. It had been thirty-one years since she wandered this forest with her father but when she was a kid she wandered with him all the time and she had a good memory. Her father loved being out of doors, especially at night, and he took Sonia with him.

The animals weren’t only unafraid of her. Her father, too, had that particular gift. They saw wildlife in the moonlight with their night vision (her father had that too) and she remembered, quite keenly, that those times were magical.

She also remembered a cave not too far away that her father had shown her.

Not only shelter but she would imagine that Callum would guess she’d seek assistance, not shelter herself in a cave until the coast was clear.

She could take a blanket, wrap up some food and she would go, hang out there until the weather cleared and then move out, find someone and report her kidnapping.

If it kept snowing, her footprints would be covered in minutes.

Further, she had better hearing, eyesight and smell than Callum. She’d be able to sense him if he came after her.

He was, it came to her too late after all that had happened that morning, that presence she’d sensed last night, the alluring one as, obviously, the cosmos could play a pretty mean joke. She’d noticed it (and it broke her heart) the instant he walked in from finishing with the logs and it had invaded the house when she opened his bag and put away his clothes.

If he came after her, got anywhere near her, she’d know it.

Once she got her medication, she hoped it didn’t quit snowing. Then she could get away from that scary, bossy (but handsome)
jerk
.

They’d had dinner and she’d made a big one. Steak, baked potatoes (with butter
and
sour cream, her hips were never going to forgive her), veggies and rolls. She didn’t want to give him reason to pin her against the counter or do anything else that set her teeth on edge and made her want to scratch his eyes out. And she told herself the meal wasn’t absolutely delicious (when it was).

Now she was going to have tea, examine the cupboards to plan what to take with her, pray that his “man” could get through the thick blanket of snow that was
still
falling and then she was going to call it a night.

Through the whistle of the kettle, she sensed it.

Someone was coming.

She didn’t make a move or give any indication that she felt anything.

But she knew they were coming.

Oh my God! I hope it’s park rangers,
she thought.

“Wait here,” Callum ordered and her head snapped up.

He slid off the stool and went swiftly to the walk-in closet. He exited carrying some of his clothes and a pair of his boots.

He walked directly to the door, turned to her and stated, “I’ll be back in five minutes. Make coffee.”

Then he was gone.

She stared at the door.

What was he doing now?

Then she thought,
Five minutes.

Did she have enough time to gather what she needed, bulk up on clothes and get out of there? Maybe even waylay who was out there and ask for their assistance?

No.

It was too much of a risk.

She’d have to do it when he was sleeping. Five minutes wouldn’t give her a good enough head start and if she didn’t manage to find whoever was out there, even with her keen senses in this storm she might get lost.

She didn’t need to go from the frying pan (kidnapped by a madman) to the fire (lost in a snowstorm).

She needed to stick to her plan.

She moved to the coffeepot and it was dripping away when the door opened.

Sonia turned to the door and stared.

Through its frame came Callum followed by another man, dark-haired too, also tall (not as tall as Callum, two, three inches shorter), muscular but without the same bulk. He looked younger as well.

But she stared because he was wearing Callum’s clothes.

What on earth?

They entered, Callum closed the door, the man’s eyes came to her face and then he dropped immediately to a knee.

Sonia braced for action (though she had no idea what she would do) as she thought for a second he might be overcome by hypothermia or something. But she watched as his hand came out to the floor beside his knee and his head dropped down.

Then, in a strong, deep voice that carried across the room but, no matter, she’d have heard it if he said it one hundred feet away and outside in this raging blizzard, he muttered reverentially, “My queen.”

Sonia gawped.

He stayed bowed with head low.

“Rise,” Callum murmured quietly but unmistakably regally.

What on
earth?

The man stood and grinned at her.

Then he turned to Callum and remarked, “She’s pretty.”

Sonia’s startled eyes went from the man to Callum who was watching her.

“That she is,” he mumbled and then lifted his chin to Sonia. “Waring needs a cup of coffee, little one, something to eat. See to it.”

Sonia blinked as Callum slapped the man on the back and escorted him into the room.

What was going on?

She hadn’t heard a vehicle. She’d heard and smelled a person approaching the cabin.

Apparently, Callum had sensed him too!

And why was he in Callum’s clothes? How did he get there on foot through a blowing blizzard
in no clothes?
And what did he mean,
“My queen”
? And what did
Callum
mean, “See to it”?

And,
what
, she felt it pertinent to repeat,
was
going
on?

“Sonia.” Callum’s firm voice came at her and her body jolted her out of her reverie. “Coffee. Waring’s been running the last ten miles.”

Running?

“Yes, of course,” she murmured, attempting to mask her alarm and, she had to admit, curiosity, and called to the other man, “How do you take it?”

“With two fingers of whisky,” he replied, still grinning at her. He waited for Callum to set down a small satchel on the coffee table and sit before he took his seat, looked at Callum and repeated, “Really, your grace, she’s seriously pretty.”

Your grace?

“I noticed,” Callum replied, humor in his tone.