Chapter 3 #3
The one true oddity was Chieftain Darro McKeran, the living, breathing version of the painted warrior from the castle in her world.
How did a guy from an old painting she’d wanted to meet so much turn out to be a real living, breathing man?
He was what made her still wonder if she was hallucinating all of this.
What were the odds that he would be the one to find her?
Could this be some kind of strange dream she was having after being bitten by that spider and falling unconscious?
Was she even now in that passage dying, and this was a near-death experience?
Or would she wake up in an ambulance with someone sticking a tube down her throat so she could keep breathing?
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if a bunch of hyper bunnies were bouncing around in her lungs.
Calm down, mija, her grandfather whispered in her head. Wait until you know before you suppose.
Esme couldn’t deny that she had blundered into something extraordinary.
Running from the present into the past or whatever this place was, meeting people she’d assumed were dead, and them telling her what had happened to most of the people who had gone missing was every journalist’s biggest dream come true.
When she went back to her time she could write an article that would blow everyone’s mind.
She’d take proof with her, too, which would get her guest appearances on television talk shows for months.
She’d give a first-hand account of stumbling onto this place, and how in the process she had solved nearly a hundred missing persons cases.
It was like a cross between proving King Arthur had been real and that aliens really did visit the earth.
Only she couldn’t go back.
This is why no one knows what happens to those who go missing in McKeran’s Castle. Once they’re here, they’re trapped for good.
Esme had a strange sense that she had been lured here; this despite it being her idea to leave the tour group.
That golden spider suddenly appearing on her arm seemed now less like a random thing.
The whole experience nagged at her like a sore tooth.
Even more ominous was Ava’s warning about the recent attacks on them by enchanted bugs and the alterations in a time loop that hadn’t changed for nine centuries.
If she could accept the magical aspects of the situation, then she had to acknowledge that something was going wrong in this place.
Was Beaumont mixed up in that, too?
Frustration made Esme circle the room for a while, but she was unable to tire herself out or relax.
Finally she slipped her feet back into her shoes and walked out into the passage, where she nearly collided with Darro.
He looked even bigger than before, filling up almost half the space in the hall, or so it seemed.
She was glad to see him, however. He had an aura of calm about him that made the panicky rabbits jumping around in her chest immediately settle down.
“Oh, hello again.” She saw the way he tensed and looked past her, and how he put a hand on the hilt of the dagger on his belt. “Don’t worry, no bug on me this time.”
He nodded while looking over her head. “I’m glad to hear that, my lady.”
Just his presence made Esme’s palms go sweaty, and she rubbed them against her arms. If she didn’t calm down, he’d have to make soothing her his full-time job. The prospect of having Darro McKeran as her personal therapist appealed to her more than it should have, too.
“Is there anything I can do here?” she asked him. “I’m not tired enough to sleep yet.”
He looked at her with his beautiful dark eyes, looking as if he wasn’t sure what to say. When she took a step toward him his body grew rigid, as if he thought she might attack him and was bracing himself for it.
Is he afraid of me?
That didn’t line up with how he had acted before in that big room.
Perhaps he was shy and she was misreading him; that could explain why he was so tense being alone with her.
She had never been timid in her life, so shy people tended to puzzle her.
She caught that warm woody scent again, and as she breathed it in she realized it was coming from him.
He smelled so wonderful she wished she could hug him and hold onto him all night.
At the same time she suspected if she touched him he’d flinch.
What was going on with this man?
After he still didn’t say anything for a while Esme asked, “Maybe I can go for a walk so I can tire myself out?”
“Of course, my lady.” He shook his head a little, as if he were dazed, and then looked at her with wariness in his calm eyes. “If I may accompany you?”
“Sure.” Esme had already guessed she wouldn’t be allowed to wander around the castle. She nearly tucked her arm through his before she stopped herself; she needed to be more subtle and stop intimidating this man. “Lead the way.”
Keeping an obvious distance between them, Darro walked with her to some stairs at the end of the passage, which went both ways.
He led her down them and through another hall before he opened a door to the outside.
The whole time she walked beside him Esme wanted to ask if he had a girlfriend, which she knew was ridiculous.
Of course he had one; no guy as big and good-looking as the chieftain would be sleeping alone.
She was pretty sure no woman could resist him—she was all but drooling over the guy herself—but making him aware of that might only make him more nervous.
“Where are we going now?” she asked.
That seemed to startle him, but he tried to hide his reaction by gesturing toward some plants.
“Into our gardens. They’re more fetching in the day light.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head as if puzzled. “Only ’tis empty of vassals now.”
Did that mean he wanted to be alone with her?
Had he already picked up on how she looked at him?
He wouldn’t know that he had starred in all her girlish and teenage fantasies, of course, and she’d die before she admitted that.
Esme wanted to ask him to tell her his life story, but then he would know more about her than she wanted him to.
She needed to slow down and play it cool; letting him get to know her first seemed better than grilling him about what he thought of her.
Once she knew if he liked her and wanted to get to know her better, she could certainly move faster.
She also suspected that if she wasn’t careful she’d end up behaving like a silly, star-struck teenager.
No, she needed some time to get a better seat on the rollercoaster of her emotions before dragging him over the safety bar and making him go along for the ride.
“I love gardens,” she told him, turning to go over to some flowering plants, and then looked down as his arm bumped against hers.
A thrill bolted through her that she managed to conceal with great difficulty, and then she saw his expression.
“It’s okay, I won’t wander off. If I do, I have a great sense of direction.
I never got lost when I was a kid, even when I went into the woods. ”
Darro looked as if he wanted to say something, but then just nodded again, and pulled off the heavy wool plaid he had draped across his shoulders. Something gleamed at his temple.
“If I talk too much don’t mind me,” Esme told him. “I’m a chachalaca—a chatterbox.”
“I’m no’ much for words,” he admitted, brushing his temple with the edge of his palm, leaving a wet streak.
He’s sweating.
“You can let me do the talking. Also, I’m always hot, and not because I’m a Chicana. My body temperature runs a few degrees warmer than anyone else.” She grinned at him, hoping he would laugh at her joke and relax, and then stepped on a rock that made her foot slip.
As she fell backward, he caught and turned her so that he held her up against his chest. Esme slipped her arms around his waist to hold on.
The smell of him made her imagine she was hugging a great big oak tree.
Or were his muscles made out of some kind of metal?
Everywhere she touched him, he seemed as solid as iron.
“I beg you release me, lass,” Darro said, his tone strained.
She should do that, but being close to him was better than anything she’d imagined.
Looking up at him brought back in an almost painful rush all the girlish daydreams she’d had about this man.
As she’d grown older they’d become more sensual, which was probably why she had always been strongly attracted to big, dark-eyed men like him.
She had enjoyed sex in the past, but now suspected it would be a very different thing with Darro McKeran.
All that intensity, and the careful yet covetous way he touched her…
Why didn’t it scare her? If anything she wanted him even more now.
“Do you have a wife here, or a girlfriend?” she asked, allowing the tartan to drop so she could brace herself against his arms. When he shook his head she let out a silent shout of Yes! before she leaned a little closer. “Do you want a girlfriend?”
Darro’s eyelids lowered, and for a moment he looked almost dangerous. “’Tisnae seemly to speak of such matters, lass.”
She barely heard him, she’d fallen so deeply into his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. You can’t talk about having a girlfriend?”
“’Tisnae proper that you ask me such questions.” His voice grew tighter as he added, “We’ve only just met.”
Esme dimly remembered her vow to play it cool, but that didn’t matter anymore.
Couldn’t he tell how much she liked him?
The only way she could be more obvious would be to rub herself against him.
What was wrong with this man? It was almost like he wasn’t sure what to do with her, or maybe she made him nervous.
He liked her, or he would have handed her off to someone else. That much she was sure of.