Page 8 of Rory

The laird’s wife talked about the other animals that had been caught in the spell trap as she guided her to a short flight of stairs. Although the story about the pregnant otter that had given birth to tiny pups that never got bigger seemed enchanting, their surroundings distracted Harper. This version of the castle seemed far bigger and more complicated than what she remembered. When she looked back at Rory, he seemed to be sulking a little. When he caught her gaze his tension increased. What did he think was going to happen? Had they pumped her Blue Eyes full of mind-altering drugs, too?

He’s not mine. He just looks like my fantasy highlander. If she had ever told anyone about the big man in her dreams she would have suspected he was part of the snow job, but she hadn’t mentioned a word to anyone, even Athena. Maybe I really am having a psychotic break. If someone tries to tell me that when I emerge from it, at least I won’t hear them.

When they finally arrived at the passage in front of the door to the forge, all the collapsed stone had been removed. Not a speck of dust appeared to have fallen on the floor, either.

“Very nice clean-up job,” she said to Ava as she inspected the passage in front of them, and pointed at the distortion. “There’s the riffling thing that gal yanked me through before the hall fell apart.”

“Yes, I know it very well.” She gestured toward it with one slim hand. “I can’t summon the woman who pulled you inside, so you’ll have to go alone.”

“Summon, right.” She nodded.

Harper saw how Rory took a step toward her, his expression bleak. She didn’t want to leave him behind; at the same time she wanted to run away from him as fast as she could. She was a decisive person, so being torn between the two impulses puzzled her. To settle things with herself, she walked up to him and held out her hand. When he just stared at it she grabbed his and shook it, and then held on.

“You’re amazing to look at, and super nice.” She leaned in and murmured, “Whatever this is, you can walk away from it. Why don’t you come with me? I can help. You can stay with me until the drugs wear off and we can go to the cops.”

Rory lifted her hand as if he meant to put his mouth to it, and then pressed her palm against his cheek. That sent such a strong jolt of awareness through her she nearly pulled his head down for a kiss. Had they drugged her, too? She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, but it was possible they’d hit her with some kind of odorless, colorless gas.

Is that why I want him so much? Because I’m under the influence? Man, when I sober up all these people need to go to jail.

“I shall wait for you, my lady.” Rory lowered her hand, bowed and left them.

Harper watched him walk to the other end of the hall, where he stopped, turned around and just stood there as if he actually was waiting. For her to run to him, maybe? Did he think she’d throw herself at his feet after the cheek-press thing? Rory looked pretty stunning, and he happened to be just the right size for her, but that wasn’t enough to keep her here to play in the snow job with him.

Maybe in the next life, Blue Eyes. Or whenever you get paroled.

She regarded Ava. “Nice meeting you. Sorry about, ah, I don’t know.” She waved a hand at the stone ceiling. “All of the above?”

The laird’s wife nodded. “If you do manage to get back out, don’t try to come back. Stay far away from Beaumont and the castle.”

Those words should have made Harper spit. Was that the real reason for all this nonsense? As soon as she got home she’d have to make her first call to the very mean, high-priced attorney she had on retainer. The guy loved to sue everybody who gave her grief; he’d probably have Beaumont in court by tomorrow afternoon.

Maybe I’ll end up owning McKeran’s Castle.

Harper gave Rory one more wave before she walked into the distortion. Whatever was being used to generate the effect was leaking electricity or something; all the hair on her arms stood at attention, and her hair fanned out and waved around her face as if she were underwater. Then everything blurred and something hit her and sent her flying past Ava and all the way down to where Rory stood, now with his arms open.

He caught her as if she were a stray kitten that had fallen out of a tree, and held her as strange violet and orange sparks burst everywhere around them.

“No way. I don’t believe it. No.” She scrambled out of his hold, marching toward the distortion and not hesitating for a moment as she tried again to walk through it. This time it flung her away so hard she knocked Rory into the wall behind him, and they both went down.

He managed to get his arm under her head before she slammed it into the stone floor, and then pulled her to him, curling his other arm loosely around her waist.

“Be still, lass,” he whispered.

She could certainly do that for a couple of minutes, as long as she was able to stay right where she lay on top of him. “I’m not going anywhere.” She had never been more comfortable; he was like the best mattress of all time. The odd chilliness that happened whenever they touched slowly faded into a thrilling awareness. As he looked all over her face, and then lifted his head to inspect the rest of her, Ava came to stand over them. “We’re okay, Travars.”

“Should I hang around for attempt number three?” she asked Harper, who grimaced and shook her head. “Good, because it just gets worse each time, and you might end up being blasted through a wall. I’ll go and update my man. Rory, if you don’t mind, show the lady to our guest room. I’ll look in on you later, Harper.”

Once the laird’s wife left Rory sat up and helped her do the same. “You shallnae try again, surely?” he whispered.

He could read her like an oversized road sign, which almost made her want to make one more attempt. She hated being predictable. At the same time she knew the events of the past few minutes had brought out her most radical contrariness, so she squelched the urge. Wincing at bruises that the magic hadn’t yet healed, she hoisted herself up from the floor and offered him her hand. He took it as if she were made of eggshell thin porcelain as he used his powerful legs to stand.

Holy Moly he’s so gorgeous it hurts to look at him.

Being so close to Rory made Harper’s heart thump hard against her ribs and her body grow cool as if he’d doused her in ice water. It should have been the other way—all heat and sizzling nerves—but maybe people their size had different thermostats. She’d never been more aware of someone like this; most men didn’t attract her in the slightest. The same was true of women. She wasn’t asexual, however, and in the past had been tempted a few times to take a lover, but her size always made her imagine squashing them in bed. Not being able to hear most of what they said put sprinkles on top of that potential humiliation cake, too.

Although they were nearly the same height Rory was even broader than her. He had at least seventy-five, maybe a hundred pounds on her, which made her wonder if he’d suffered similar problems with the opposite sex. His constant silence made him seem boyishly shy, but the way he looked at her made it clear he was all grown up.

“You really are a big deal, Blue Eyes.” She only had to tilt her head back a little to look at his face, which she imagined she could do from now ’til the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be long enough. “You’re also possibly dangerous and really scaring me a lot, which is new for me.” She wanted to touch him again, and rubbed a hand over her face to stop herself. “Is there any other way out?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, that’s gotta change. I don’t want to go to a guest room,” Harper told him. “Take me on a tour of your magic prison.”