The kitchens never seemed to cool. It wasn’t yet dinnertime and a large group of people were outside in the courtyard. Helen ignored their stares the best she could as she searched the room for a familiar face. Seeing none, she pivoted in the direction of Ian’s study.
Shadows played on the wall of the dimly lit hall en route to Ian’s study. Helen knew instantly that someone followed her.
“What a bonny lass ye are. Where’ve the MacCoinnichs been hiding ye I wonder?”
Helen turned and nearly ran into the huge chest of the man behind her. He must have been six four on a bad day, his body sheer steel. A body that hadn’t seen fresh water in a very long time. She took a step back to let the man know he was way too far into her personal space. The warrior’s hard features were covered by a short beard and a scar that ran down the left side of his face.
“I’m looking for Laird Ian,” she told him. Best to name-drop the biggest one of the house to avoid any unwanted attention. The way this man’s eyes rounded over the curves of her body made her skin itch.
“Are ye a MacCoinnich?”
“No,” she answered without thought.
“Ye’re dressed too fine to be a servant.” Scarface stepped forward and touched the edges of her hair.
Helen stepped back and felt the wall on her back.
“I’m not a servant, and I’m not interested.” Even with a castle full of warriors, Helen felt more vulnerable than she did walking in Hollywood after midnight without a friend.
“Yet ye speak like a woman.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He reached for her hair again and she batted his hand away. “What part of not interested did you misunderstand?”
“Feisty. I like that in a woman.” As the man reached for her again, Helen lifted her hands to push him away. Her hands never made contact.
Scarface flew across the hall in a blur of movement.
Simon stood between Helen and her unwanted admirer with a set jaw and a hand resting on his sword. “Is this man bothering you, Helen lass?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Tension in the hall filled every crack as both men squared off on each other. Simon looked like he wanted to kill the guy. Fighting when a war simmered outside their doors seemed ridiculous.
“I didn’t know she was yours, Lord Simon.”
Lord Simon? What is that all about?
“Now ye know.”
Scarface relaxed his stance and tilted his head toward Helen. “My apologies, my lady.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Scarface turned and left.
“So, I’m yours, am I?”
Simon removed his hand from his weapon and pivoted her way. “’Tis best they all believe you’re under my protection.”
“And I don’t have a say in this?”
Simon’s brow pitched together. “Do you want the attention of Geer, or any of the others?”
“That’s not the point.” Her voice hitched higher as the energy from the confrontation with Geer started to seep from her pores.
“It is while you’re here.” And apparently that was the end of the discussion. At least according to Simon. “What are you doing down here anyway?”
“I was looking for you. Amber is….” Helen glanced beyond Simon to the empty hall. “It worked. She’s doing better.”
He nodded. “I’ll tell the others.”
“Fine.”
Neither of them moved.
“You should return above stairs. ’Tis safer. Next time bring another woman with you.”
“I need an escort?”
“For now.”
“This is crazy,” she said as she brushed passed him, pissed at the inequality of the times. She wasn’t a women’s libber, but an escort? Please!
She made it to the opening of the main hall when Simon’s voice stopped her.
“Helen,” he all but barked.
“What?” She turned, ran into his big, yummy chest. She tried to push him away but his arm snuck around her waist and captured her close. He kissed her firmly and all too quickly, and then set her aside. “Tell Amber to be well. I’ll tell the others.”
Someone nearby chuckled, and Helen realized they had a large and attentive audience. Good God, Simon had marked his territory right there in front of an army.
“Of all the stupid, crazy—”
He kissed her again and shut her up.
This time when he released her, his hands spun her around and he patted her ass. “Go, lass. You’re distracting me.”
She spun on him and gave him a hard shove. “You’ll pay for that.” Then she marched up the stairs, leaving behind the laughter and boasting of men.
Chapter Sixteen
Simon watched the sway of her ass as she stormed up the stairs. She was pissed, but she’d get over it. He knew his testosterone-charged display would push her twenty-first century buttons, but it couldn’t be helped. There would be many more Geers before they could safely return to her time, her world. Best they all know now she was not available.
And she wasn’t.
He didn’t dwell on the thought longer than thirty seconds before he found Todd and Ian huddled over a map in the study.
They offered him only a glance before returning to the map. “If I were hiding out I’d want shelter, water, and food. Only two places we’ve not looked meet those needs. Here and here.”
“Sounds like you have my night planned,” Simon said as he walked into the room.
“Only if you’re ready. You’ve had a long day.”
He’d flown over fifty miles in three days. He was exhausted.
Still, his family needed him, and he wasn’t about to let them down. “I’ll eat and rest. I’ll be ready.”
Ian nodded and patted his back. “Don’t overextend. You’re of no use to anyone ill…or worse.”
“I’ll be fine.” Simon ignored the look between Ian and Todd and added, “Speaking of ill, the women’s plan worked. Amber is feeling better apparently.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“No. Helen came down to tell me.”
Ian sunk into his chair and lowered his head. “Thank, God.”
Just watching Ian melt into his seat brought to light how grave Amber’s health had been. Simon kicked himself for not paying more attention. He knew when the Keep filled with people her gift plagued her unless she kept above stairs where she could put some barrier between her and all the emotions swimming below.