Highlander for the Holidays by Janet Chapman

Author:Janet Chapman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

JESSIE SLOWLY OPENED HER EYES WITH A PAINED MOAN, trying to figure out why she was so cold, only to realize she was lying in the snow and Toby was—instead of being cuddled up to her as usual, she could feel the underside of his belly pressing into her side. Jessie very slowly turned her head to see him standing over her, and went perfectly still when she noticed his hackles were raised and his lips rolled back just enough to expose his teeth, his attention trained on a spot behind her.

“You can call off your dog, missy, ’cause I ain’t the one who attacked you.”

Jessie rolled over with a scream and scrambled backward at the sight of Roger sitting on a stump only a few yards away. Toby moved right along with her, his gaze remaining trained on the old hermit, until Jessie came up against a tree and Toby positioned himself over her legs.

“That’s one contrary pet you got there, missy. The big fella wouldn’t let me get anywhere near you, even though I tried to assure him I only wanted to help.” Roger looked around the woods, then back at her. “I didn’t see who or what done attacked you, but it was long gone when I got here. I’m figuring it was a man, though, ’cause of the things you were muttering. Except you didn’t even realize the bastard was gone, and just kept fighting him off someth’n fierce.” He nodded. “You’re safe now. You wanting me to go get my machine and take you to Chief Stone to report this crime?”

Oh God; he’d witnessed her having a flashback? Jessie pressed her hands to her chest in a vain attempt to slow her racing heart. “Th-there was no attacker—at least not today. I was having a . . . a flashback of when I was attacked before.”

“Then we still gotta go report it to Stone, in case the bastard comes back.”

Jessie placed an unsteady hand on Toby when he tensed at her slightly hysterical laugh. “He’s not coming back because I shot the bastard to death.”

The old hermit straightened in surprise and arched one bushy brow. “Well, if’n he’s dead, then why you still fighting him?”

Jessie gave a snort, wiggling through the snow to lean against the tree she’d run into. “Drop the act, Roger; we both know you’re not some lonely old hermit.”

“I most certainly am,” he said, his sharp green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, okay, I might not be all that lonely, but I am a hermit.”

“Exactly who are you, Roger AuClair de Keage? Or should I ask what are you?”

He nodded toward Toby. “Have your pet stand down, lass, and in return I promise to give you another hint as to who and what I really am.”

Jessie urged Toby over beside her, then wrapped her arm around him when he leaned into her side and nuzzled her cheek in concern. “Okay, let’s start with the who, and I want more than a hint.

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