Awaken the Highland Warrior by Anita Clenney

Author:Anita Clenney
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2011-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

That’s where she’d seen the two men. Maybe they weren’t embracing.

“How did he die?” Faelan asked.

Mrs. Edwards’s voice took on a conspiratorial hush. “Well, I called Mrs. Rutherford, down at the post office. She knows everything anybody’s ever thought about doing. Her son works for the coroner. He said there wasn’t any trauma to the body, no bleeding, like the man just dropped dead. And he was white as a ghost.”

Definitely different from the man behind her house, Bree thought.

“Who found him?” Faelan asked.

“Another homeless man, before daylight. I didn’t hear a thing. No sirens, nothing. I guess on account of the police knew he was already dead. I thought they’d want to talk to me, and my guests of course, but nobody called. Come, now, let’s not ruin your appetite.”

Nothing could ruin Faelan’s appetite.

“Hurry down before the food gets cold. I have French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon. And lots of it.”

Faelan rubbed his stomach. “We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Five? She couldn’t get the knots out of her hair and the smell of Faelan off her skin in five minutes. Bree finger-combed her head, wondering if he’d even wait for her.

Mrs. Edwards left, and Bree stepped out of the bathroom.

“You heard?” Faelan asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

“If he was asking about us, he must have seen us leave the castle.”

“I don’t know how else he would have known we were here.”

“I saw two men in the woods last night. I thought it was a tryst, but I probably witnessed a murder. Maybe we should skip breakfast and get out of here in case they decide to question us.”

His face fell. “Skip breakfast?”

“Never mind.”

“We’ll leave as soon as we eat. Then, if we can’t locate my clan, we’ve got to find someplace else to go.”

***

Faelan slid the board back into place. The book and the key were safe. Now, if he could find his kilt and sporran. Bree was still on the phone trying to get a hotel. He’d spent a good part of the day in the chapel, searching for another entrance a warrior might have used to gain access to the cellar, then a couple of hours driving her car up and down the driveway, anything to stay away from her. He didn’t trust himself within smelling distance. He’d even spilled a bottle of perfume, trying to block her scent.

He made sure she was still on the phone and slipped inside her room. Maybe she’d put his kilt in here. He checked her closet, under her bed, and then opened a drawer in the table. He stared at the painting in disbelief. “How in tarnation?” Was it more proof of what he didn’t have the courage to admit? There were too many coincidences already. Now this? Faelan heard Bree enter the room, and he swung around to confront her.

“What are you doing?” Bree’s gaze darted to the bed, as if he’d come to seduce her.

“Oh,” she said, noticing the painting he held. “I meant to show you that.

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