Chapter 4 #2
“Get the papers if ye dinna believe me.” He folded his arms across his chest and tried not to appear too triumphant.
He was too tired to argue and needed to win her trust. But he had to admit, provoking her was a temptation.
He relished a good battle. He also loved the way her green eyes snapped when she thought she was right.
This rare woman’s fire warmed his blood more than he dared admit.
“Fine.” She rose and gave him a curt nod. “Wait right here.”
He allowed himself the pleasure of a victorious grin while admiring how well her jeans fit the curve of her hips as she stormed away. “Dinna worry, lass. There is nay a power in either of our worlds that could tear me away from ye.”
Hannah unlocked her office and tossed the keys onto the countertop that divided the waiting area from the first set of exam rooms. “Sophie, I know you’re not in your kennel. I heard you scurrying around when I unlocked the door. Come on out. You’re not in trouble.”
A long-nosed dog of questionable breed wiggled around the corner with its skinny tail tucked between its legs and its pointy ears sagging.
“Come on, sweet girl. You’re not in trouble.
” She squatted and opened her arms wide, welcoming Sophie’s wet kisses.
“I love you too even if you are an escape artist.” She stood and settled the bouncing canine with a hand signal.
“Help me find the mail I never open. I don’t remember what I did with it. Do you remember where I put that box?”
The dog barked and spun away, her toenails clicking on the gleaming tiles as she trotted down the hallway.
“I really need to trim your toenails.” Hannah followed the tick, tick, ticking.
Sophie gave an excited yip and halted in front of a storage closet with her long, narrow nose pointing at the black steel door.
“I’m glad you remembered. You’re the best office help I’ve ever had.” She hugged the dog then opened the door. The box of ignored mail waited on the highest shelf.
Hannah carried it to the exam room and plopped it on a table.
A mustiness wafted up from the box when she opened the lid.
After a series of sneezes, she focused on the contents.
She really needed to hire more office help.
Millie’s once-a-month overhaul wasn’t enough anymore.
Holding her nose until the urge to sneeze again passed, she dug through the mail crammed in the box.
Over half should have been tossed instead of squirreled away.
Her mind wandered as she pawed through the odd-sized envelopes.
Taggart de Gaelson worried her. Well, not worry.
But his demand for her attention was more than a little irritating.
But that wasn’t all. The strangest sensation hit her when she walked into the diner and spotted him.
Like needing to remember something very important.
And the air had crackled with static electricity.
Or some sort of energy. Whatever it was, it refused to be ignored.
But it was his eyes that bothered her most. They mesmerized her.
Icy blue with a dark rim, they bored into her soul and pried open all her secrets.
A shiver stole across her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he knew every thought that crossed her mind.
And those hands. She stopped sorting through the mail, remembering how her hand had disappeared in his large, calloused grasp.
He had subtly tugged her closer while greeting her.
His touch had increased the strange, almost electrical crackling around them.
She almost choked, realizing she had forgotten to breathe.
“Whew. What’s wrong with me, Soph? You’d think I had never seen a man before.”
The dog barked an understanding yip, wagged her tail, then curled around Hannah’s feet.
“At least I have you.” She focused on the musty carton. Deeper in the box, she spotted one of the certified packets. After much pulling and wiggling, she worked it loose from its wedged position in the bottom of the cardboard box.
Hands shaking, she tore it open and removed the sheaf of heavy vellum paper.
She scanned the documents, then swallowed hard against the increased pounding of her heart.
A name jumped out at her: Sullivan. She remembered the name from her mother’s side.
In fact, if she remembered the stories Granny always told, Gracie Sullivan was the first of her line who claimed to be a talented witch.
Poor Gracie had paid dearly for that claim.
For her consorting with the dead, an oak plank piled high with stones had supposedly squeezed the demons out of Gracie Sullivan’s soul. Unfortunately, it also crushed her.
She double-checked the heavy manila envelope.
Taggart had enclosed pictures. Aerial shots of a castle and grounds.
Centuries of enduring the harsh elements of the Highlands had weathered the keep to a charred, somber gray.
The skirting wall and corner guardhouse appeared less battered; their huge rough blocks looking a lighter shade in the photo's lighting.
The fortress itself perched atop a remote cliff overlooking an angry sea.
From what she could see, a few more centuries of erosion and the fearsome structure would topple off into the waves below.
Expansive woodlands covered the surrounding area, including a deep ravine that formed a jagged boundary around the castle.
One gated bridge crossed the ravine and led to the skirting wall guarding the keep.
Even in the twenty-first century, Taroc Na Mor still appeared to be an impenetrable stronghold.
She shivered as icy fingers of recognition tickled the back of her neck.
Recognition? But why? With the lightest touch, she traced the outline of the slate roof of the keep, almost feeling the jagged coldness beneath her fingers.
Gulls cried overhead. A briny wind blew in from the sea.
She licked her lips as she studied the glossy photo closer.
Shocked, she licked them again, tasting the salty tang of the ocean.
“I have lost my mind.” She picked up the letter and read it again. It clearly stated Taroc Na Mor was hers. She was the only living heir. “This has to be wrong.” She shoved everything back in the envelope and tucked it under her arm. “Watch the place, Sophie. I’ll be back in a little while.”
The dog agreed by thumping her tail against the floor.