Moonshadow Part 21

"It's a lovely prezzie," the girl said as she wrapped it carefully in tissue paper. "He'll look so cute in it."

"Yes, he will. Thank you." She tucked the shopping bag into the crook of her arm, picked up the cake box, and pushed outside again.

As she slipped out the door, the bunch of flowers tipped over and fell out of the grocery bag. Muttering a curse, she juggled packages while she squatted to reach for them.

Dark boots came into view, and a man's strong, tanned hand beat her to picking up the flowers. The man said in a pleasant Welsh accent, "Please, allow me."

"Thank you," she said.

She and the man straightened at the same time while Sophie took in details of his appearance. He was tall and broad shouldered, although not quite as tall as Gawain, and deeply tanned. He wore tailored gray slacks woven with a silver thread and a matching s.h.i.+rt that was open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms.

The understated elegance looked good on him. She took in other details. He had chestnut hair, a strong face with good bones, and wore an intelligent, even contemplative expression, and while he appeared to be a human man in his midthirties, when she looked into his brilliant hazel gaze, she felt such a roar of Power coming from him, she staggered back a step.

Frowning, he held a hand out to her but checked himself. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said tightly, staring.

She hadn't sensed his Power until she had looked into his eyes, which meant he must have a t.i.tanic amount of control over himself in order to keep it so tightly contained. How could one person hold that much Power and still remain sane?

Giving her a pleasant smile, the man said, "Would it be all right if I carried your flowers for you to your car?"

Her options ran through her mind at supersonic speed. The gun was buried deep in her purse, not her best, first choice should he try to attack. She would have to hit him with either the confusion spell or with the telekinesis, but with his kind of Power, he might shrug off the spells. So the gun might be the only effective weapon against him.

If it came to that.

Belatedly, she realized she hadn't answered his question. "No," she told him bluntly. If he was going to try to do anything to her, she would make him do it on the high street, in front of everybody, not tucked away in a side parking lot. "It's not all right with me. Who are you, and what do you want?"

His smile never dimmed, and his body language remained open, easy. There were slight lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. If he hadn't been setting off all the alarm bells in her head, she would have found him quite attractive.

"I want a few moments of your time, that's all," the man said. His quiet voice remained as nonthreatening as his body language. "Just a quick conversation, I promise. Are you by any chance Sophie Ross?"

"How did you learn that name?" she countered, taking another step back.

"The people in town speak highly of you," the man said. "They say you saved the lives of the pub owner and his wife during an attack from lycanthropes. That was very brave."

"You still haven't told me who you are," she said, eyeing him narrowly. She was going to have to drop the cake to get the gun, and she didn't like what that would signal.

His smile never wavered. "My name is Morgan."

Morgan.

The sound of his name was like a punch to the kidneys. The town wavered around her. Oh G.o.d, no wonder he held such Power. If he chose to do anything to her, she was toast.

She whispered, "Could there possibly be more than one Morgan in the UK who carries the amount of Power that you do?"

His smile dimmed. He said, "It was not my intention to frighten you. I apologize."

"Why are you here, talking to townspeople about me?" she asked through numb lips. "What do you really want?"

"I meant what I said, Sophie Ross," Morgan replied. "I just want to talk and to ask you a few questions, that's all. I mean you no harm. For the moment, you are safe."

"For the moment?" she echoed. Then because he had frightened her so badly, a wave of anger hit. She held the cake as if she might throw it at him. "What the f.u.c.k do you mean by that?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the shopgirl watching them worriedly. Morgan noticed her too, and as he waved the fingers of one hand in a subtle gesture, the shopgirl appeared to lose interest and wandered into the back of the store.

Morgan turned his attention back to Sophie. The smile in his eyes had disappeared. He said in a quiet, courteous voice, "Right now, my Queen knows nothing of your existence, and I am free to act as I choose. And I choose to wish you no harm, Sophie Ross. But if my Queen does learn about you, and she orders me to do a thing, you must understand-I will do it. I must."

As rea.s.surances went, this one basically sucked donkey b.a.l.l.s. Still angry, she asked, "Why would your Queen learn anything about me? What am I to her?"

"She has misplaced her pet, and she wants him back," Morgan said. "She wants him back badly enough, she sent me to search for him. At the pub, the owners told me that you had brought a stray dog into town when you arrived. If I might ask, what happened to him?"

The question fanned her anger into outright fury, and she jettisoned straight into Stupid and Crazy.

Advancing on one of the most dangerous men she had ever met, she said between her teeth, "That dog was a pathetic mess. He had been tortured and starved. What kind of man are you to serve someone who could treat a creature with such cruelty? Do you have any ethics or morality, or any sense of decency?"

His expression slammed tight as a vault, while a muscle flexed in his lean jaw. Morgan said, still with that terrible, even courtesy, "My Queen commands, and I must obey. Do you still have the dog?"

"No, I do not still have the dog," she snapped, throwing the weight of all her fury into a perfect blend of truth and misdirection, and she knew instinctively that she had hit the exact right note. "It disappeared at the time of the pub attack, and I haven't seen it since." Looking him up and down, she added contemptuously, "But if I did see that dog again, you can be sure as f.u.c.k I wouldn't tell you anything about it."

"No, I can see that you would not," Morgan said, holding his body still, his expression calm and stony. "At any rate, not by choice." He offered her the bunch of flowers. "I wish you well, Sophie Ross. Enjoy your day. Pray there's no need for us to meet again."

Breathing hard, she accepted the flowers gingerly, as if they might bite. In an archaic-seeming courtesy, Morgan inclined his head to her, then strode away.

She stood staring until he disappeared around a corner. Only then was she able to get her feet unglued from the pavement. She made it back to the car, tucked her purchases in the back, then sat in the driver's seat and shook. When she felt she was capable of driving safely, she started the Mini and pulled carefully onto the road.

Her mind was leaping around like a scalded cat. Maybe she shouldn't drive back to the property. But everybody in town knew she was staying there. Maybe it would look worse if she didn't go back.

Maybe Hounds had already been to the property to search the cottage. Maybe Nikolas and Gawain had already been attacked. By the time she parked at the cottage, she was in a clench of worry. Already familiar, the scene looked peaceful, untouched by violence, but as she knew from bitter experience, looks could be lethally deceiving.

As she turned off the engine, the cottage door opened and Nikolas strode out. "What took you so long?" he demanded. "I almost came looking for you."

She was so relieved and happy to see him whole and unharmed she forgot that normally she would be irritated with his brusque tone. She whispered, "Nik."

He took in her expression, and his manner changed. "What is it?" He took hold of her hands, and alarm flashed through his sharp gaze. "You're shaking like a leaf."

She walked forward until she b.u.mped into his body, then she put her arms around his waist. As his arms closed around her, she told him, "I met Morgan in town. He was looking for Robin."

Chapter Fourteen.

At her words, Nikolas's arms turned into iron bands. Bowing his head over her, he crushed her body against him.

I met Morgan in town.

The words were worse than his worst fears, and at the thought of her facing Morgan alone, a sense of wrongness, like nausea, clenched his stomach.

She coughed. "Too tight. Ease up."

"I shouldn't have let you go into town by yourself," he growled. "I did it anyway, and I knew better."

Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. She said, sounding tired, "You don't let me do anything. 'Let' and 'permit' are not words we modern folk allow in our vocabulary. Do we understand this concept yet?"

"Sophie, for G.o.d's sake," he snapped while he stroked her hair. He couldn't seem to help himself. His hands wanted to roam all over her body so that he could finally insert into his overheated brain that she had returned unmaimed.

At that, she seemed to get how genuinely upset he was. Lifting her head, she searched his face. "I'm okay. For the moment, everything is okay."

He took in her appearance for the first time, and his eyes narrowed. Her dark curls were glossy and defined, and they fell down her back in an extravagantly feminine mane. And she had done something to her eyes and mouth, making them dramatic and sensual. The smoky accents she had applied to her eyes had turned them even more electric than usual.

"You went into town looking like that?" he asked. He couldn't help himself and touched a forefinger to her red, ripe mouth. A soft smear of color stained his fingertip, and he licked at it. It tasted of her. His c.o.c.k went from zero to sixty in a single second, rock hard and straining against the seam of his jeans.

She gave him a leery glance. "Like... what, exactly?"

The truth tore out of his gut, raw and husky. "Like something I couldn't wait to eat up."

Her pupils dilated in quick, involuntary reaction. She recoiled, pulling out of his arms. "Too late," she said harshly. "You had your chance and decided to cut it short."

As she turned back to the Mini, he gritted, "Sophie, I still want you."

"No." She stuck her head into the back and pulled out packages. When she emerged again, her cheeks were flushed with pink color and her eyes snapped with some unnamed emotion. She met his gaze, the line of her jaw tight. "You walked away last night, and you got to do that. That was your choice, so okay. I can go with it. But you don't get to push me away, only to try to pull me back in again. I don't play that kind of game."

He snapped, "I don't play any games."

Instead of responding in the lively way he had come to expect, she merely looked bruised. "Oh, no? Well, I don't know what you're doing then."

"I don't either," he whispered.

That made her pause. She searched his expression uncertainly, but when he would have reached out for her again, to touch her in any way he could, the cottage door opened and Gawain strode out.

"h.e.l.lo, la.s.s," he said. His intelligent gaze traveled from her to Nikolas, who stood with his fists clenched. "How was your trip to town?"

"She ran into Morgan," Nikolas bit out. As Gawain's expression changed, he said telepathically to Sophie, We're not finished talking.

She not-quite-glanced at him. The flush of pink color had fled, leaving her looking pale and strained.

Oh no, we're finished, she said. Until you figure out what you're doing-whatever that might be-we don't have anything more to say to each other that's of a personal nature.

"Come inside, la.s.s," Gawain said gently while looking around sharply at their surroundings. He put a protective arm around her. "Tell us all about what happened."

As he touched Sophie, Nikolas nearly went for his throat.

His friend's throat. One of his closest, staunchest friends.

Rooted to the spot, he watched them step into the cottage together. Just before Gawain stepped inside, the other man speared him with a look that clearly said he thought Nikolas had lost his d.a.m.n mind.

Nikolas couldn't blame him-or Sophie. He had lost his d.a.m.n mind. Glancing around one last time, he clamped down on his self-control and strode into the cottage.

Inside, he found Sophie on her knees, offering a small blue jacket to Robin. Looking befuddled, the monkey blinked as he took it. She said gently, "It's okay if you don't like it. I just thought you might get cold sometimes."

From nowhere, her compa.s.sion struck Nikolas with an evil kind of accuracy, deep inside where he wore no armor. Pressing his knuckles against his mouth, he watched as the monkey ooh-oohed silently and turned the jacket over and over in his spidery hands. Sophie helped the puck slip into it, and he sat looking down at himself, fingering the gold b.u.t.tons.

"I brought you a cake too," she whispered to Robin. "It's three times your size, and you can have all of it."

Robin's eyes were s.h.i.+ning. Ooh-ooh, he mouthed and set his hand against her cheek. She covered his small hand with hers.

She brought the puck a jacket and a cake, Gawain said to Nikolas. And she bought flowers and hot chocolate and coffee. That's all she wanted from town. Flowers, for f.u.c.k sake. She s.h.i.+nes with spells, and she can make magic bullets. Every single f.u.c.king one of our men is going to fall in love with her, Nik. Every single f.u.c.king one. h.e.l.l, I might even fall in love with her a little myself.

You can't, Nikolas thought, as his hands clenched again. She's mine.

The naked aggression on his face caused Gawain to check, and comprehension dawned on the other man's face. "Oh, boyo," Gawain said softly while his gaze darkened. "Like that, is it?"

Her interaction with Robin over, Sophie stood and looked at them. She asked, "What's like what?"

"Nothing," Nikolas said harshly. He gave the other man a warning stare. "Tell us what happened with Morgan."

"Okay, but I get to have some of that brandy you bought yesterday while I do it." She pulled out a chair, sat, and put her head in her hands while Gawain broke open the bottle and poured some of the amber liquid into a gla.s.s for her. She took a deep, bracing swallow, then told them everything.

Just listening to how she confronted Morgan over Isabeau's cruelty had Nikolas heading for the brandy bottle himself. He poured a hefty amount into a gla.s.s and knocked it back. It burned all the way down. Then he pivoted to glare at her.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "Are you suicidal?"

Her beautiful, luscious mouth, that mouth he wanted to eat right up, dropped open. She glared back. Then a kind of hilarity entered her expression.

She muttered, "You really are an a.s.shole, aren't you? You almost tricked me into believing otherwise, but nope. Still an a.s.shole. Honestly, I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed by that fact. My head is turned upside down. Mostly I think I'm just disturbed."

"You knew he was a killer, and you confronted him anyway." Nikolas advanced on her, rage blinding him. A belated rage born of fear that came much too late to be of good to anybody. "While I've been congratulating myself on being modern and reasonable by letting you go to town by yourself, you could have been kidnapped, killed, or tortured every bit as badly as Robin had been or worse. Do you realize what he could have done to you?"

He was shaking from the force that raged through his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gawain s.h.i.+ft away from leaning against the counter, but Sophie beat the other man to it as she stood and advanced quickly to Nikolas.

Toward him, not away, just as she had done that first night in the pub. Just as she had done during the attack. Just as she had done to Morgan. This woman, this woman-she might be the death of him.

"Hey," Sophie said in a soft voice. She spread her fingers over his chest, and he clamped his hands around her wrists. "I know what a serious trigger Morgan is for you, and I'm sorry for that. He was a pretty serious trigger for me too when I found out who he was. But it's okay. For the moment, everything is okay."

Nothing was okay. His head, his thinking, his emotions, they were all in shambles. Looking into her luminous gaze, he said telepathically, I would not be okay if you put yourself at risk and you came to harm because of it. You must take better care of yourself, my Sophie.

Her eyes widened, and she looked as vulnerable as he had ever seen her look. She told him, I have a terrible temper, and when I lose it, all sense flies out the window. I know it's a flaw, and I will try to do better. I promise, Nik.

Her quiet words, along with her touch, soothed him, and the shaking fury eased. He gave her a curt nod.

She lingered, studying him, and said aloud, "Okay?"

"Okay." Touching her felt too good, and he didn't want to stop. Releasing her wrists, he stepped away, back to the counter to pour himself another brandy.