Anita Clenney - Heart Of A Highland Warrior

“It was walking with…purpose,” she said. “So I followed it.”

“Probably looking for a mouse,” Faelan said.

Bree looked at the coffin. “It led me to this grave. It was here a minute ago. I think it left when you showed up.”

“Smart cat,” Ronan muttered.

“This is the second grave opened near the house,” Bree said. “I think it must be a Civil…someone looking for treasure.”

Faelan shook his head. “In the same spot where my time vault was buried?”

“The same spot?” Ronan looked at the open field, bordered by trees. “You’re right. I didn’t notice before.”

Neither had Bree. Faelan had shown them roughly where he had encountered Druan and the other ancient demons—Malek, Voltar, and Tristol—before Druan trapped Faelan in the time vault.

“Aye.” Faelan crossed his arms over his chest and gathered his face into a spectacular frown. “Too much of a coincidence for me.”

“Bloody odd,” Ronan agreed.

“Maybe someone thought it was senseless to waste a perfectly good hole,” Bree said. The Civil War had started not long after Faelan’s time vault was buried. It was possible that a soldier had been buried there after the time vault was moved to the crypt.

Faelan squatted, kilt dangling between his knees. “The grave wasn’t open when we left for Virginia to help Cody. So who dug it up?”

“Maybe it was the cat,” Ronan said, rolling his eyes.

Bree shook her head. “No, the cat wasn’t here then. It was in Virginia.”

“Are you serious?” Ronan asked, and then said to Faelan, “I think your wife’s losing it.”

Of course he was joking. But still…“Cats can dig,” she said lamely. Especially big, mysterious cats with hypnotic green eyes.

Faelan scoffed. “If that cat’s digging up graves, it’s time to find him a new home.”

“Maybe Anna found the grave,” Bree said.

“How would she have known this grave was here?” Faelan asked.

“Maybe she discovered something in Angus’s notes,” Bree said. “He was sent here to look for Faelan’s time vault key. He could have made some note about this spot.”

“Anna hadn’t found his notes when I talked to her a couple of days ago,” Ronan said.

“She could have found them later. I’m surprised she hasn’t come back,” Bree said. “She left all her stuff.”

“At your house?” Ronan asked.

Bree nodded. “Her clothes and her boots. Even her purse.”

“She left her boots?” A frown started along his forehead. “She always wears boots.”

“Maybe she brought another pair,” Bree suggested. A demon hunter would need more than one pair of boots. Certainly one as good as Anna. “Although I don’t know why she’d leave her purse.”

“Can’t see any female doing that,” Faelan said.

“Her wallet’s still inside?” Ronan asked.

“I didn’t check.”

“We should.”

“You’re worried about her?” It suddenly occurred to Bree what a great couple Ronan and Anna would make. They were both gorgeous, and despite Ronan’s reputation, Bree had never seen him with anyone. The same went for Anna. She didn’t even flirt, unlike Sorcha, who tormented Duncan with her blatant come-ons to any hot guy who happened to be around, which was often, since all the warriors were hot for the most part. Beauty was part of a warrior’s armor. Demons were distracted by beauty like women were distracted by diamonds. In some way, Bree supposed it made sense. Distract the demon with your looks, and then catch him—or her—off guard and bam him with your warrior powers. Strength, speed, strong senses.

“Why would she leave her boots and her purse? You’re giving me that look,” Ronan said.

“What look?”

“The one that makes me feel like you’re inside my head.”

“Just wondering if you miss Anna.”

“Miss her?” Ronan asked.

“She’s beautiful,” Bree said. “Not married.”

“She is a beauty,” Ronan agreed, and Faelan nodded in agreement.

Bree frowned at him. She didn’t need Faelan noticing how beautiful Anna was.

“Are you playing matchmaker?” Ronan asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who feels it’s her duty to marry off everyone around her.”

“No. It’s just that Anna’s beautiful and you’re…handsome.” That drew a scowl from Faelan.

“I respect Anna. I don’t have a thing for her,” Ronan said, but he looked uncomfortable.

“Maybe she’s not your destined mate, but I don’t think that stops you from…playing,” Bree said.

Something suspiciously similar to guilt quickly crossed his face. Was she on to something? Or was he just thinking of his reputation as a player?

“Anna doesn’t play.”

Then why did he look guilty? “Why not?”

“Bad history. She won’t talk about it.”

“How do you know then?” Faelan asked, giving Ronan an interested stare.

Ronan’s cheeks darkened. Bree had never seen him blush. “She mentioned it…once.”

Bree would like to know the circumstances of the once , but from what she could tell, Ronan didn’t kiss and tell. The other warriors were happy to spread the gossip for him. “She doesn’t date or anything?”

“Not that I’ve seen. She says she’ll be a warrior forever.”

Faelan looked puzzled. “I can’t believe a woman would never want a husband and a family. I suppose looks like hers usually means an easy road or a hard one.”

“How do you mean?” Bree asked.

“Beauty can open doors, but it can also bring unwanted attention. Make things damned awkward,” he said.

Bree tilted her head and gave him a smile. “Are you speaking from experience, my beautiful man?”

Ronan laughed and punched Faelan on the arm. “You mean Agnes?”

“Angus?” Bree frowned. “What’s Angus got to do with it?”

“Not Angus,” Ronan said. “Agnes.”

“Who’s Agnes?” Bree asked.

Now Faelan was the one who looked uncomfortable.

Ronan smiled. “He didn’t tell you about sweet Agnes, one of his loves?”

“You told Ronan and didn’t tell me?” Bree knew they were close, but she was his wife.

“She wasn’t a love,” Faelan said, tossing Ronan a hateful look. “Just an irritating lass who thought she was in love with me.”

“Why tell Ronan and not me?”

“I was telling him about the first demon I killed, and Agnes was there. The stupid girl had gotten lost, and when Tavis and I went to find her, we were attacked by a demon.”

“You told me about the demon,” Bree said, “but you didn’t mention a girl.” Faelan had been just sixteen, he’d told her, much too young to kill a full demon. The whole clan had been stunned. Then Kieran, one of the best trainers, offered to train him early. That was the beginning of the legend that would become the Mighty Faelan.

Bree suspected the legend had started earlier, after his little brother Liam was killed by a demon in front of Faelan and another brother, Tavis. She knew Faelan well enough that she was almost certain he hadn’t been the same since the day Liam died because he was still haunted by the incident, still haunted by the demon. Bree also knew enough about human nature to know that the responsibility he felt for the clan, for her, for the world, was in some way an effort to make up for not saving Liam.

That was one reason she wasn’t harder on him when he became too protective. She would think about the seven-year-old boy who believed it was his fault that his baby brother died. That made her want to wrap her arms around him and take the weight from his shoulders for a while. Then there were times when she wasn’t so understanding. When she just wanted to scream at him to wake up and realize he couldn’t change the past, that he couldn’t protect her and the world every waking minute just because he believed he hadn’t saved Liam or stopped the Civil War. Her sweet, sweet, chauvinistic, chivalrous alpha man. How would she ever make him forget all the pain he’d suffered?