Highlander for the Holidays (24 page)

Which brought Ian back to Jessie, and whether he could in good conscience make love to her without revealing his own little secret, considering his feelings for her were anything but casual. Hell, he really didn’t even know the full extent of his powers, as he’d learned quite young to suppress his ability to get animals to cooperate. And when the magic did rear its ugly head every so often . . . well, it only made him even more determined to ignore it. But now there was the pressing matter of why Roger de Keage had traveled over a dozen centuries through time to come here again, as well as the question of why he was messing with Jessie.

Ian idled down his winding driveway, stopped in front of his ramshackle camp, and shut off the engine. But instead of going inside, he sat staring at the large snowdrift sagging the tired old roof, and decided the only way to protect Jessie from whatever had brought her here—and no doubt brought Roger as well—was to keep as close to her as he could. He snorted and got out of the car. That is, keeping close without looking as if he were stalking her like her bastard of a dead husband had.

Ian cautiously opened the cabin door, not knowing which worried him more: that Toby might think he was an intruder or that he might find Jessie curled up in his bed looking warm and inviting. But when Toby only lifted his head and wagged his tail stub in greeting and Ian saw Jessie sound asleep in the chair, he quietly walked inside, his heart giving a powerful thump not to be walking into an empty house.

Ian put a finger to his lips to signal Toby to keep quiet as the dog got up from beside the woodstove and padded over to the door. He let Toby out, leaving the door ajar, and walked over to open a can of beef stew. He dumped it in a pot and carried it over to the woodstove, but when he turned to go check if he had any bread that was still edible, Jessie let out a soft sigh that made him stop and feast his eyes.

She really was quite beautiful, and he could see why both Dixon brothers had set their sights on her. But where Eric had become so obsessed that he’d only taken five weeks to marry Jessie, Brad Dixon had apparently been trying to slowly entrench himself in her life over the last four years.

Ian finally headed back to the kitchen, willing to bet his snowmobile that dear old Brad hadn’t been too keen on Jessie moving to Maine. Hell, she’d been gone from Atlanta only three weeks, and already the bastard was coming to visit—putting Jessie into such a panic that she’d outright asked Ian if he wanted to make love to her.

He stopped in midstride and turned to look back at her lying in his chair, the blanket having fallen to her waist and her fleece noticeably puckered over her left breast. This didn’t have anything to do with Dixon, he realized, but with Jessie’s reluctance to let him see her naked. She hadn’t given
him
the Thursday deadline; she’d given it to
herself
, wanting the worrisome deed done before she lost her nerve.

Ian staggered backward at the feel of taking another blow to his chest. For some unfathomable reason, Jessie had moved here—to his mountain—with the mindset of starting a brand-new life for herself, and she wanted
him
to be part of it.

He silently snorted. Or else she only wanted a man she didn’t know well enough to care too deeply for yet, whom she could test her courage on.

Ian looked at the equipment he used to fill up his time away from the resort, then moved his gaze to his few pieces of essential furniture, then on to the shelves sparsely filled with canned goods. And then he looked back at Jessie and smiled, wondering if he shouldn’t find out just how courageous she really was.

He quietly walked over and grabbed an empty satchel and the half-f backpack he used for hiking the mountain and carried them over to the bed. He brought the stew back to the kitchen, and after closing the door now that Toby had come inside to sidle up to the woodstove again, Ian leaned against the counter to eat right out of the pot, feeling the need to fortify himself for the upcoming battle. He then spent the next twenty minutes quietly filling the satchel and reconfiguring his supplies in the backpack, stopping every so often to give Toby a pat or smile down at his snoring houseguest.

He was just coming out of the bathroom carrying his ditty bag when he finally saw Jessie stretch her arms over her head with a loud yawn just as her stomach gave an unladylike growl. He silently ducked back into the bathroom and softly closed the door so he didn’t scare the daylights out of her, and loudly cleared his throat.

“Ian, is that you?” she asked on a gasp.

He opened the door but didn’t immediately step out when he noticed she’d pulled the blanket back up to her chin and could see her hands frantically moving beneath it. “Would Toby have let anyone else in?” he asked, walking around the back side of the woodstove carrying his ditty bag. He set it in his satchel on the bed and took his time zipping it closed, then stayed busy checking over his backpack.

“I can’t believe I slept that long. My pain meds don’t usually put me out like that.”

“I’ve only been gone two or three hours,” he said, continuing to check his backpack until he heard the footrest on the recliner close.

“Are you going on a trip?” she asked, planting her walking stick on the floor to lever herself out of the chair, only to just sit there eyeing the bed instead. “It looks like you’re packed to leave.” She frowned at him. “But what about Camp Come-As-You-Are? Don’t you have to hang around and help out? I thought you were taking the older kids backcountry skiing on Thursday.”

Ian leaned against the mattress and folded his arms. “I’m not going far.”

She got to her feet relatively easily, a look of surprise on her face. “Hey, my back feels perfectly normal,” she said, leaning one way and the other and then shrugging. “So if you’re not going anywhere, what are the backpack and bag for?”

Yes, her back was healed, all right, and Ian noticed the bottom burl on her staff was missing. “I only packed what I might need for the next few days, figuring I can come back and get more stuff later,” he said, using his head to gesture behind him. “But I wasn’t sure if I’d be sleeping in a bed or a tent, so I packed for either possibility.”

She stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought about your request that we make love before Dixon gets here, and I realized there was a major flaw in your plan.”

“And that would be?”

“Merely calling a man your boyfriend, even if you’ve slept with him, wouldn’t deter me if I’d just spent several years courting you.” He shook his head. “The only way you’re going to persuade Dixon that he’s not even in the running is if I
look
like your boyfriend. How long is he planning to stay?”

“Um . . . through Christmas.”

Ian reached behind him and pulled the satchel to the edge of the mattress. “Or maybe not, once he sees I’m spending every night in your bed.”

“Excuse me?” she whispered, taking a step back as her gaze darted to the bag then returned to him. “You . . . you want to move in with me?”

He straightened and slid the backpack beside the satchel. “If that’s a little more than you’re prepared to deal with, then I’m afraid I have to decline your generous invitation, Jessie.” Ian rubbed what still felt like a bruise on his chest and shook his head. “Because I’m not that kind of guy any more than you’re that kind of girl.”

“W-what’s the backpack for?”

“If I’m not sleeping in your bed while Dixon’s here, then I’m not sticking around to watch him pursue you. I’ll be spending my nights on the mountain until he’s gone back to Atlanta . . . and maybe taking you with him.”

Her cheeks got as red as the fleece she was wearing and she thumped her stick so hard on the floor that Toby scrambled behind the woodstove. “That’s not fair! You can’t just give me the ultimatum of either moving in with me or running away.”

“I told ye life isn’t fair or unfair, Jess; it simply is. And you can call it what you want, so long as ye understand there’s a good chance I won’t be moving out once Dixon leaves.”

“But I . . . you can’t . . . dammit, I’ve known you a sum total of a week!”

Ian grabbed the backpack off the bed and strode to the door.

Jessie caught his arm on his way past. “Please, can’t we just pretend I never asked? You’re right, it was a stupid idea. But running away isn’t the answer any more than hiding on your mountain this last year has helped you forget.”

Ian stiffened. “Forget what?”

“I don’t know what!” she snapped, using her stick to gesture wildly. “A long-lost love, the horrors of war, an old dog that died, not working with animals—I don’t know what’s haunting you. But I sure as hell know you can’t escape ghosts by running away from them.” She actually tried to crowd him backward. “Tell me what you’re trying to forget and I’ll wave my magic wand and fix it,” she growled, waving her—sweet Christ, she
knew
it was a staff?

“I’m not running away trying to forget anything,” he said, grabbing her hand before she could point it at him. “I merely prefer being outdoors.”

She snorted and pulled away, then walked to his bed and grabbed his satchel. “One, I’m not going to be responsible for you getting frostbite just because you’re afraid of a little male competition; and two, Roger is
your
ancestor, so that means you’re not leaving me alone to deal with him.” She walked back and shoved the satchel against his chest. “So I guess we’re going to be roommates.”

Holy hell, de Keage had told Jess he was his ancestor? “Bedmates,” he clarified, striding out the door before she decided to
hit
him with the stick.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to fight Toby for that privilege,” she called after him, just before she slammed the heavy cabin door—making Ian have to jump out of the way when almost a ton of snow cascaded off the roof and nearly flattened him.

The door opened and he saw Jessie holding a hand over her mouth as she looked down at the small mountain of snow in horror, realized she hadn’t buried him alive when she saw him glaring at her, and slammed the door shut again, only to have it bounce back and nearly knock her over.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” she shouted, rubbing her hip. “A woman asks you for one simple favor—that any
normal
man would love to grant, I might point out—and you turn it into a major production.”

“Are you through?” he asked, dropping his satchel and walking up to the mound of snow. “Toby, come,” he said, even as he captured Jessie’s wrist when she obviously turned to tell Toby to stay.

“He’s only supposed to take orders from me,” she snapped as Toby scaled the bank of snow and trotted over to sit down beside the satchel. “You must be feeding him treats behind my back.”

Ian pulled her just enough off balance that she had to grab his arm to steady herself, and then he lifted her over the mound of snow, not letting her go even when her stick clipped his jaw. “Ah, Jess, ye can snap and growl and even try to kill me in an avalanche, but ye really have to watch where you’re pointing this accursed staff,” he said, pulling it out of her hand and driving it into the snowbank out of her reach.

She went perfectly still. “S-staff?”

“Did Roger happen to mention
the magic
or use the word
magical
when he was referring to your walking stick?”

She wiggled one arm free and gestured toward the sky. “He said it was full of energy that had traveled all the way from the sun and moon and stars. And that it’s been waiting for me to come here and claim it.”

“What else did Roger say?” he asked, hiding his smile when she slid her arm back inside his embrace and relaxed against him with a sigh. “Did he happen to mention
why
you needed to come here and claim it?”

“He said I’m supposed to get a miracle and . . .” She suddenly seemed very interested in his ski bib. “And give one.”

“Give a miracle to whom?”

She rested her forehead on his chest. “I don’t know. Roger’s very cryptic about everything, only giving me hints and nudges.” She snorted. “Or hell about something.” She leaned back to look up at him, her large hazel eyes filled with worry. “Magic’s not real, Ian,” she whispered. “Is it?”

He kissed the tip of her nose then cupped her head to his chest. “Ye need only remember three things about the magic Roger is talking about, Jess. One is you don’t try to explain it, you just accept it. Two, if you refuse to believe it exists, it will keep knocking you on your butt until ye do. And three, anything is possible if you have the courage to believe.”

“Do you believe?”

“Aye, lass, I was born believing anything is possible.” He kissed the top of her head and reluctantly let her go, then pulled her staff from the snowbank and handed it to her, nudging her toward the car. “Go on. I’ll get your things from inside.” He shot her a smile. “It’s time we went home so I can unpack and settle in.”

He thought to get a rise out of her, but instead she clutched the stick to her bosom. “Um . . . just so you know, I talk to Toby like he’s a person.”

“Then ye won’t mind that I talk to myself the same way.”

“And I like to spend my mornings in my pajamas doing the crossword puzzle.”

Ian folded his arms, realizing she needed to set some ground rules. “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Just so long as ye know I don’t wear pajamas.”

She didn’t even bat an eyelash, but in fact seemed to relax slightly. “I take really long baths, I don’t watch any television shows that are violent, and I can be a little grouchy before I get my morning coffee.”

“I’ve been told I have the personality of a bear when I’m hungry.”

“Toby doesn’t like loud music, and I need—ohmigod! My
parents
are coming for Christmas! How am I supposed to explain that you’re living with me?”

“It’ll be okay, Jess,” Ian said with a chuckle, turning to scale the mound of snow. “I will be a good houseguest and I’ll move out when your parents come.” He stopped in the doorway and turned to her, rubbing his chest. “And when they leave and Dixon is gone, you can decide then if you want me to move back in.”