Highland Protector (MacCoinnich Time Travels Book Five) (8 page)

“He speaks the truth, lass,” Simon
assured her.

Amber stared into the dark brown eyes
of the stranger in her bed. She forced her breaths to slow down and took him
in. He wore a small amount of hair on his face in a way that flattered his
strong jaw without hiding it. His broad shoulders and thick arms reminded her
of the men of her time. Even though he was draped over her like a thick
blanket, he wasn’t hurting her. It was as if he was holding himself above her
without placing all his weight. It was strangely comforting…like the dream of
being folded in a cloud. A strong, heavily muscled cloud that smelled of spice
and man.

No smile reached his lips, but she noticed
his eyes spark with mischief. Then, without any warning she knew on a deep
level he felt every curve of her body and was keenly aware of the minimal
clothing she wore.

When her cheeks warmed, the man
holding her smiled. The effect devastated her. She’d never felt desire for a
man before and was mortified the man holding her was aware of her thoughts.

“I’m going to move off of you now,
Amber. Don’t run away.”

“Why?”

He lifted their clasped hands again.
“Because I don’t know if I can keep everything out if you let go.”

“Truly?” Her palm in his warmed.

He lifted an eyebrow. “One thing at a
time.”

He shifted his weight, rolled to the
side, but kept one hand in hers at all times.

She used her free hand to pull down
her nightgown that had inched up in her struggles, and pushed the majority of
her body as far away from the man in her bed as possible.

“How are you feeling?” Helen asked.

“Confused.”

“That’s to be expected. Waking up
next to a strange man in your bed has to be a first for you.”

“Waking up next to
any
man is
a first.” She lifted her chin and stared at the man holding her hand. “Who are
you?”

“The name’s Kincaid.”

Her eyes narrowed as another name
popped in her head. “Your name is Gavin.”

From the door, Giles chuckled.
“You’re quite right, m’lady. It is Gavin but no one dares call him that. Gavin
Kincaid prefers the use of his last name only.”

“Is that so?”

She tried to read the man’s mind but
found it difficult.

“I go by Kincaid.” The smirk on his
face unsettled her and made her want to challenge him. After all, he’d slept
next to her, yelled at her, and forcefully restrained her before she even knew
his name.

“Well,
Gavin
…” The smirk on
his face grew when she used his given name. “How is it you came to be in my
bed?”

Before he could explain himself,
Simon and Helen told the story as to how Gavin Kincaid had searched for Giles
and ended up traveling to their time. Helen launched into finding Amber near
death on the bathroom floor, how they needed to do something, and quickly, if
Amber was going to survive.

While the tale was told, the hand
holding hers grew warm. A shiver ran up her arm as if Gavin ran a hand along
her skin. Was that a result of his thoughts about her, or her own wishes? How
much of her thoughts could he read? And why was it so difficult to read his
clearly?

“You have questions.” He told her,
interrupting Helen’s story.

“Can you read my thoughts?”

“Not word for word.”

That’s a relief.

“But I sense your feelings stronger
than you’d like.” There his smirk was again.

She tugged at her hand but he didn’t
let her go.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” He
gripped her fingers.

“I don’t want you in my head.”

“Do you want the thousands who were
in there before, instead of me? Am I that distasteful to you,
Lady
MacCoinnich?”

“I feel your advantage over me,
Gavin
Kincaid.”
And I don’t like it!

His eyes fell down her lithe frame.
“The mouse holds an advantage over you.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Show some
respect, Kincaid. She is a MacCoinnich.”

“Respect runs both ways, Giles. This
MacCoinnich would be
dead
if I hadn’t intervened. Seems all she wants to
do is run away and break every effort I’ve made to keep her alive.”

Amber huffed an exasperated breath.
“Sleeping next to a woman is a hardship for you,
Gavin
?”

He leaned forward, much too close for
her comfort and lowered his voice. “The women I sleep next to don’t try and run
away when they wake,
m’lady
…quite the opposite.”

Beside them, Simon heard the exchange
and lunged toward Kincaid.

Amber felt, more than saw, the blue
shield around them expand and Simon bounced off the force field and hit the
floor. His contact with the shield brought a wave of pain over her, an instant
reminder of the crushing agony she’d been in only yesterday.

The hand in hers squeezed.

Simon took to his feet and approached
again.

“Stop!” Gavin ordered.

“Please, Simon…don’t.”

“Apologize to the lady!” Simon
demanded.

The words didn’t come quickly, but
Amber knew Gavin wasn’t happy with his actions. She had baited him, and needed
to carry some of the blame for Simon’s need to protect her. “My apologies,
Amber.”

Chapter Nine

Anyone else using his first name as
freely as Amber did would normally be the recipient of a clear cut down. But
every time his name tumbled from her soft, pink lips, one of the links to his
soul opened and let her in a little deeper. Not even his lovers knew his name,
nor would they have cared to ask.

Names aside, the two of them needed
to find some peace until it could be determined if the strength of his shield
could surround them both without them touching. The woman holding his hand was
stronger than anyone in the room could possibly know. The pain inside of her had
the power of an F-5 tornado and was just as destructive. No wonder it had nearly
killed her. All that strength would fall like dust in the wind when she
realized touching him constantly meant a lack of privacy while bathing…and any
number of other activities.

The thought left him smiling, but he
knew her reaction wouldn’t be favorable.

“How long are we stuck like this?”
Amber lifted her hand.

“I can attempt to break away, keep
the shield around us both.”

“Can you do that?”

“Shielding us from the physical, yes.
From the mental anguish inside of you? That I don’t know. It’s taken half the
night to remove the chatter in there.” He glanced at the top of her head. “I
never let you go.”

“You don’t think it’s going to
work…letting go and keeping my gift restricted?”

“More curse than gift.”

Her gaze fell to the floor. “My curse
to bear, not yours.”

Where had the spunk gone from her
voice?

“So you want to give up? Have me let
go so you can die in agony?” His words were meant to be harsh and they met his mark.

“I don’t want to give up. I haven’t
even had a chance to live.”

“Stop it! Both of you. Don’t talk
about dying!” Helen yelled at both of them. “No one is going to die. Not today.
This,” she waved a finger between the both of them. “This is temporary. Giles
will find a way to save you, Amber. A way for you to move on with your life
without holding someone’s hand and without your gift strangling you.” Helen had
her hands on her hips now as she glared at him. “And you. You’ll behave, hold
her hand, and remember she’s not some floozy you can talk to like you may have
other women in the past.”

“I’m not a child,” Amber told Helen.

“No. But we both know you’re as
innocent as they come. Ian would never let a man near you let alone sleep in
the same bed.” She pointed a finger at Kincaid now. “You need to think about
that…and not in a sleazy guy way either. Amber is someone’s daughter, someone’s
sister and those someones will have no problem hunting you down, shield or not,
and take you out if you so much as harm a hair on her head.”

Simon laid a hand on his hysterical
wife’s shoulder. “I don’t think you need to threaten the man, lass. He
understands.”

Helen shrugged his hand away and
placed it on her abdomen.

“Helen?” Amber’s soothing voice, deep
with her Scottish accent, washed over him. “I appreciate your passionate plea.
I’m sorry I’ve caused you stress. Rest assured I’m not ready to give up. Gavin
and I will figure out a way to cohabit the same space until something more
permanent can be figured out.”

“No more talk of dying!”

Amber smiled and tilted her head to
the side. “No more talk of dying.”

The room grew silent for a few
minutes and then Amber spoke again. “Giles…have you slept?”

Kincaid noticed the fatigue behind
his friend’s eyes.

“I can sleep later.”

“You can sleep now,” Amber told him. “We
need you sharp. It wouldn’t bode well to have you skim over something important
in one of your books because you’re exhausted. Helen…when was the last time you
and the baby ate?”

Kincaid glanced at the other woman’s
hand resting over her stomach and grinned. Now he understood the emotional
outburst. Pregnant woman were the most hormonal and pregnant Druids were even
more so.

“We could eat,” Helen said.

“Simon, why don’t you take your wife
down to the kitchen and feed her. I know I’m hungry and am looking forward to
leaving this room.”

Simon glanced between Kincaid and
Amber.

“We’ll be down shortly,” Kincaid
assured him.

Once they were alone, he turned
toward her. “You did that really well.”

“Did what?”

“Deescalated the situation, put
everyone to a task, and took the focus off of you.”

“My mother had five children, and a
husband with a temper that matched his ability to strike anyone with lightning.
When the grandchildren started coming, the Keep was a volatile brewing pot of
emotions and hormones. My mother faced each argument with a calm strength that
made all of us try to please her.”

“She never lost control?”

“Of course. But never when it really
counted. Not that I saw in any account.”

“It’s a rare quality to have people
bend to your will without brute strength or manipulation.”

“I don’t have much in the way of
physical strength, I’m afraid.”

It dawned on him then, that her life
of seclusion probably limited her ability to do much of anything. “How old are
you?” The age in the depths of her eyes exceeded her years, but her innocence
said she wasn’t old enough to buy a bottle of wine in this century.

“Nearly thirty.”

Not as young as he thought. “How long
have you been isolated?”

“I’ve avoided others for nearly ten
years. The last few have kept me apart from my family more times than not.”

“No wonder Helen’s worried about
you.”

“I’ve been a burden to them for too
long, Gavin. Simon and Helen deserve a good life, not one plagued with me
pulling them down. Helen doesn’t often leave the house so she can be here for
me. Simon is crazed trying to find a cure. The only person in the house that
doesn’t worry about me continually is Mrs. Dawson.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been able
to read her completely and didn’t think on it for long with so many other
emotions in my head.” She closed her eyes, drew in a big breath. “Now my head
is blissfully silent. I feel you there, but nothing is weighing on me.”

Her confession pleased him.

“But it’s temporary. Sooner or later
we will have to let go.” She opened her eyes. “When we do, the others can’t
know about it. Their worry will make the attempt worse.”

How could she think of others, their
emotions, when her own were so fragile one lift of his little finger and her
world would crash in. The cauldron of pain, voices, and distress inside her the
moment he’d touched her the first time made him physically ill. The thought of
that touching her again…no. “I don’t think you’re ready for me to let go.” He
knew if he released her now, the walls around her would crumble, and the pain
would slam into her.

“I don’t believe I am either. Which
places us in a very precarious situation.”

“Is that so?”

She lifted her chin, a move he noted
on her more than once when it seemed she was trying to show courage she didn’t
have. “Aye. You see I have need of the bathroom and I refuse to walk around in
a nightgown any longer. While you may have intimate knowledge of a woman’s
body, I’m painfully naive about a man’s.” The color in Amber’s cheeks blossomed
as she spoke.

A grin played on his lips but he
didn’t let it show. “I’ve fought among men in your time. Some throw off their
kilts in battle to save the plaid.”

“Some do. But I’ve only seen such
things from afar. Or my nephews, but…well…”

“Amber?” He said her name softly,
repeated it until she looked directly at him.

Embarrassment filled her eyes.

“I’ll close my eyes.”

She smiled then, and the effect hit
him in the gut and spread heat lower. This was the look he wanted to see from
her the moment he’d noticed her portrait on the wall of MacCoinnich Keep. The
haunting expression in that painting dissipated with a smile…one that reached
her eyes.

“I’ll close my eyes, too.” The relief
in her voice was comical.

“I’m not shy, m’lady. Look all you
want. Consider me a live human anatomy lesson.”

Her eyes grew wider. When he laughed,
she grinned.

“You’re teasing me.”

He winked. “Maybe a little.”

They scooted off the bed together and
walked around the room while she gathered a change of clothing. She passed over
her multitude of dresses and skirts and chose a pair of jeans and a pull over
shirt to change into. Using the bathroom proved a little difficult as they both
held a foot or ankle while the other used the facilities.

As he promised, Kincaid kept his eyes
shut while she dressed and, although he’d given her permission to look, she
turned her face away and squeezed her eyes closed when his own needs called.

“I have never shared a bathroom with
a man.”

“They don’t have bathrooms in your
time,” he reminded her.

“Don’t be so sure. Lizzy, Simon’s
mother, was determined to have water piped in. There’s a hidden closet in each
wing with a primitive toilet.”

She picked up a brush and attempted
to pull it through her hair. “This is difficult with one hand,” she told him.

He came up behind her and lifted her
shirt until the skin of her waist was exposed. He placed his palm against her
and freed her hand. Amber smiled at him in the mirror and quickly brushed her
hair before pulling the bulk of it back in a tie.

He tucked her hand in the crook of
his arm when they left the bedroom for the first time. All the while Kincaid
felt a smile, a grin…or full-on happiness swimming inside of him. He couldn’t
help but wonder if those were Amber’s emotions or his. Because he couldn’t
remember a time in his life when he felt this at ease.

****

Selma shoved her hand into the bag of
chips, flipped the channel on the TV, and plopped her feet up on Jake’s coffee
table. She checked the time on the clock ticking on the mantel of his fireplace
and knew he’d be home soon. He’d probably grumble about her letting herself in,
but he’d get over it. She took great pleasure in pushing Jake’s buttons. The
man was too uptight for his own good. He’d have an early heart attack at this
rate. Selma made it a personal goal to get the man to lighten up and take
himself less seriously.

Besides, she didn’t have any friends
in LA and she didn’t want to eat dinner alone again. She could have made her
way to Mrs. Dawson’s home, but with Amber’s health in such a dire state, she
didn’t think that option was the best.

The sound of Jake’s car pulling into
the driveway prompted her to turn up the mindless show she was watching, and
dig into the bag again.

As expected, Jake stepped around the
corner with his service side arm pointed toward her, saw her and dropped the
muzzle of the gun to the floor. “What the…”

Unaffected, she placed both hands in
the air and pulled a breathy voice from deep within her and said, “Please don’t
shoot, officer.”

He growled and holstered his gun.
“Breaking into a cop’s house isn’t smart, Matilda.”

His pet name was growing on her.

“I didn’t break in.”

“Oh, I don’t remember giving you a
key.” He stepped around the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and switched the
set off.

She waved a chip in his direction as
she spoke. “I have my witchy ways. No need to break anything to get in here.” She
popped the chip in her mouth and made more noise than necessary before
swallowing it.

He tugged off his belt that held all
his cop toys and laid it on the table. “You know, I think I liked it better
when you lived a thousand miles away.” There was no heat in his words.

“Your life was boring before you met
me.”

“I’m a cop. My life is never boring.”

“Predictable then.”

She knew his friendship pool was
shallow and that Todd, his partner who now lived several hundred years back in
time, was his best friend, almost like a brother.

He spread his legs in a typical
officer pose and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here,
Selma?”

She swept her feet from the coffee
table, tossed the bag of chips in their place, and started toward the kitchen.
“I thought I’d disturb your boring, predictable evening and convince you to
join me for dinner.”

He followed her into his kitchen.
“Why would we do that? We don’t like each other, remember?”

“Call it an exercise in patience…or
better yet, we can attempt to remove the stick you have up your ass. Compromise
is good for you.”

“Compromise is important when two
people give a rat-shit about each other. We don’t fall into that category. And
I don’t have a stick up my ass.”