Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Even though she ached to dive into his arms and take him up on his offer, Calia remained locked in place.
All the pain, all the suffering of her past refused to let her move.
The touch of his warm, calloused hand unnerved her.
She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the exquisite feel of connecting with another.
But she couldn’t. If she yielded to physical wants and needs, it would only bring disaster.
“I don’t know what I do when my wants are at odds with my convictions. ”
He smiled, which didn’t help because that lopsided smirk of his made him more endearing. “Trust me, lass. I’ll not hurt ye.”
“The last time I trusted a man, I got pregnant, and then he left my daughter and me when she got sick.” The marriage hadn’t been all that great to begin with, but when he had abandoned little Gillian, too, Calia had found that unforgivable and impossible to overcome.
“He hurt my baby. I don’t know that I’m capable of trusting anyone anymore. ”
“Tell me his name, and I will hunt him down and make him pay.”
Something in Mathison’s eyes warned that her ex would not survive that encounter. She had looked into the eyes of many a predator before and recognized that same icy resolution. “He’s not worth the effort. Trust me, I made him pay in the divorce settlement.”
“I will always protect ye, lass, even though ye can protect yerself. I swear it.”
As impossibly chivalrous as that sounded, it still shot a thrill through her and warmed her heart. No one had ever sworn to protect her before. “What century are you from, Mathison Shadowmist?”
Both his brows shot higher. “What?”
If she didn’t know better, she detected the distinct smell of panic. She gently took his hand, removed it from her cheek, and held it a moment before awkwardly releasing it. “You are a rare man. They don’t make men like you anymore.”
He visibly relaxed, making her wonder why. “That is a good thing, aye?” His sexy grin returned.
She nodded, then eyed the rain-soaked windows once again. “Don’t leave in this rainstorm. Please? I wouldn’t feel right about it.” And for some reason, the thought of him leaving her alone bothered her even though she’d never minded being alone before.
A gust of wind rattled the doors, soaking them with another onslaught of water.
Lightning lit up the sky, and a deafening thunderclap followed.
The storm seemed powered by a phenomenal force determined to dig in and hold on for as long as possible.
It had to be an unexpected front coming in that she hadn’t heard about on the morning news.
Otto whined and leaned against her leg. She rubbed his ears. “Shh…it’s going to be all right.” She hoped the dog believed her because things hadn’t been all right for her in a very long time.
“Please stay,” she repeated to Mathison. “I know the couch is a little short for a man of your height, but surely it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”
“I have slept in worse places.” He reached out and touched the streak of her hair that had gone white with worry when Gillian had been diagnosed with cancer. “Power.”
“What?”
“This strip of white hair symbolizes power. Power and purity. Ye are more powerful than ye know.”
She combed her fingers through the strand, slipping the silvery-white section out of his grasp and tucking it behind her ear.
If he kept touching her, and they remained this close, she’d need all the power she could find to remain strong against the yearning to kiss him until they fell into a writhing pile of bad decisions in the middle of the living room floor.
“Let’s have a seat, and you can tell me more about yourself. ”
He jutted his chin higher as if challenged by the suggestion.
“What would ye care to know?” he asked as he meandered back to the overstuffed chair next to the couch.
The way Mathison sat in that chair reminded her of some medieval warrior king sitting on his throne.
She blinked away the thought and tried to ignore the aching loneliness within her.
Plopping down on the end of the couch, she tucked her feet up under her.
Otto once again took refuge against her.
Poor puppy hated storms so very much. She hugged him close and reassured him until he finally relaxed and rested his head in her lap.
Idly rubbing the pup’s ears, she smiled at Mathison. “What do you do?”
“Do?”
“For a living.”
“Ah.” He frowned as if still confused by the question. “I fix things. Such as the tasks Mairwen asked me to do here.”
“But you said you’re not from around here.”
“I am not.” He shifted in the chair as though uncomfortable, making her wonder if he was lying. “My home is not in this…part of Scotland. Life requires that I roam to survive.”
Then every light went out, plunging them into dreary shadows broken only by the glow of the fire in the small woodstove.
“Speaking of surviving,” she said, “I hope Keeva bought the stuff on my emergency supplies list.” She eased out from under Otto, went into the kitchen, then felt her way into the windowless pantry. “Holy crap, it’s darker than the inside of a cow in here.”
“Ye’ve been inside a cow?” Mathison asked from not very far behind her.
“No, it’s just a figure of speech. I’m from the south.
” She patted the back pocket of her jeans, searching for her phone, then remembered she had left it in the kitchen.
“Could you feel around on the counter for my phone? I think I left it on the charger. Try over there in the corner by the coffeemaker.”
“Yer phone?”
Why did he sound like he was about to panic? Rather than try to explain, she felt her way back out of the dark pantry. “That’s okay. I’ll find it. I know it feels weird searching around someone else’s house for their stuff.”
“Aye, weird.”
She banged her knee on the corner of the cabinet and clenched her teeth to keep from cursing out loud. Even though Gillian was gone, she still tried to keep her language clean enough for a child’s ears.
“Are ye all right, lass?”
“Fine. Just hit my knee.” She limped deeper into the kitchen, found her phone, then turned on its flashlight. “Let there be light.” She waved Mathison forward. “Come on, you can help carry the candles.”
“Gladly.”
She noted that he sounded a great deal more relaxed than he had earlier.
Not only was he a rare man, but he was also a bit odd.
She went to hand him her phone, and he backed up a step as if she were trying to hand him a rattlesnake.
In the shadows, she couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his body language shouted extreme leeriness.
“What’s wrong? I just need you to hold the light while I get the box with my emergency supplies. ”
He squared his shoulders as if she’d insulted him. “Nothing is wrong, lass. ’Tis merely difficult to see.” He snatched the phone out of her hand and aimed the beam of light into the pantry.
On the bottom shelf in the farthest corner, she found several boxes of the just-in-case supplies she’d requested, along with regular pantry staples. “I found them.”
Back in the kitchen, she placed a couple of the tall, fat pillar candles on plates, struck a match, and lit them. “There. Much better.” She looked all around.
“What are ye searching for now?”
She laughed. “I figured once we went to the trouble of digging out the candles and getting them lit, that the power would come back on. That’s how it usually works.” She picked up the pair of glowing pillars, carried them into the living room, and set them on the coffee table.
Mathison went to the woodstove and stoked the fire. “’Tis not cold in here yet, but the damp will creep in afore ye know it.”
“I wonder if this happens often. I might have to look into getting one of those house generators.”
“Indeed.” He went to the double garden doors and stared out at the wet darkness, his reflection in the glass troubled.
She sensed something was very wrong, but had no idea what. She started to tell him she’d been nicer to him than most males she’d come across over the past two years, but decided that might not sound right. “Are you all right?”
He resettled his stance. His dark kilt, hanging low on his hips, swayed back and forth like a pendulum ticking off a death knell. “I am fine, lass. Dinna fash yerself about me.”
“I’m sorry you’re trapped here, but I’m glad you didn’t start for Seven Cairns in this storm.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest but didn’t turn and face her. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Why would ye be glad that I didn’t test the power of the storm?”
She stared at his back and let her gaze trail lower to his narrow waist and the outline of his muscular legs where the drape of the black cloth molded around them.
Pure lust raged through her with such a vengeance that it shocked her.
She raked both hands through her hair and redid the ponytail holder to get the heat of her tresses up off her neck.
What was wrong with her? This was ridiculous and just… wrong.
His reflection in the glass stared back at her, his eyes glowing with an unholy light.
While struggling to tamp down her entirely inappropriate physical response to him, she blinked hard and fast to dispel the silly illusion that he now possessed some strange sort of supernatural wolf eyes, but that didn’t work either.
She cleared her throat and gave herself a hard mental shake.
“Who are you, Mathison Shadowmist? Really.”
He turned and faced her. “A man who has been searching…”
“Searching for what?” She swallowed hard, bracing herself for whatever he might say. The candlelit room had taken on a strange eeriness that made the air seem to crackle.
Returning to his chair, he settled into it, then leaned forward and propped his forearms on his knees, eyeing her with a pensive yet smoldering look. “Answers. Peace. Healing. The completion of my soul.”