Highlander for the Holidays (35 page)

Ian scowled over at her. “Exactly what are you going to tell him? That he needs to arrest Dixon because you had a vision?”

“I was there four years ago. I’m an eyewitness who just suddenly remembered everything. That’s enough. Wait—Jack’s family. Does he know about the magic?”

“Stone? Hell, the man’s a
shaman
. Although he still refuses to admit it,” Ian muttered. The dash lights allowed Jessie to see him shake his head. “It’s better to catch Dixon breaking into your home with the intention of murdering you.” He snorted. “I mean
us
. Don’t worry, Jess,” he said, patting her leg as he guided the surprisingly nimble machine down a path apparently only he could see. “I won’t be alone. This afternoon I quietly told Jack and Duncan and Alec and Robbie what I suspected, and the four of them had your home surrounded before we even left there this evening. I’ll drop you off at my place and go tell them what we’ve learned, and the five of us will be waiting for Dixon to show up.”

“What if he doesn’t come tonight?”

“Then we’ll be there around the clock until he does.” His hand resting on her leg gently tightened. “But it’ll be tonight. There’s been just enough time for him to establish an alibi somewhere else, and for the poison to work on Toby.”

“Do you really think Brad tried to poison Toby?” Jessie asked, reaching up and tickling Toby’s chin, which was still resting on her shoulder as the dog leaned against the back of her seat to steady himself.

“Dixon knows he wouldn’t even make it onto the property without Toby knowing,” Ian said, also reaching up and ruffling Toby’s head with a chuckle. “And I’m certain the big man would love to sink his teeth into Dixon. There’s a good chance Toby felt your unconscious fear of Brad and that’s why he’s never liked him.” He looked over at her. “That’s probably also why you don’t like being carried.” He smiled. “Except by me.”

Jessie suddenly gasped. “Oh, my stick! I forgot it up on the summit.”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t cure what ailed it, Jess,” Ian said sadly. He patted her leg again. “Ye might not need it anymore, but if you do, I’ll cut you a new stick.”

“But I want that one, because it . . . it did stuff.”

“Did you nap today?” he asked when she suddenly yawned, apparently not wanting to discuss her getting a new magic wand.

“I tried to nap,” she said, blowing out a tired sigh that she didn’t think had anything to do with the fact that it was nearly two in the morning. Honest to God, maelstroms were draining. “But I was too busy planning a nice September wedding.”

Oh God, she hadn’t really just said that, had she?

But she must have, because Ian nearly ran the snowcat into a tree.

“Yes, well, I think I’ll take a nap
now
,” she muttered, wrapping her MacKeage scarf around her cheeks just in case the dash lights were bright enough for him to see her blush. “Wake me up when we get to your place.” She opened one eye to look at him. “How come you aren’t falling-down tired? You were in the maelstrom, too.”

He smiled over at her. “Sorry; it only makes me stronger.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered, closing her eyes again. She suddenly snapped them open and sat up. “Wait a minute. If Roger is some badass . . . what, wizard? If he’s some powerful wizard,” she continued when Ian merely shrugged, “then why didn’t he just take his own fancy staff and zap Brad to smithereens or something? Why make us go through all this maelstrom malarkey?” she said, waving at nothing. “I mean, really, he kept taking that dumb TarStone brochure out of the trash can every time I threw it away, he seems to know what we’re doing and saying even when he’s not around, and he’s using a cell phone that doesn’t even have
service
. Why can’t he just turn Brad into a slug or a cockroach or a . . . a . . .”

“A toad?” Ian offered with a chuckle. “Because he can’t actually
do
anything to anyone, Jess. Roger can only make suggestions and give people nudges in the right direction. Now go to sleep. I’ll wake you when the time comes.”

Jessie slumped against Ian’s shoulder with a sigh, feeling more drugged than tired, like she’d taken two pain meds at once or was coming down off an adrenaline high or something. When she finally did open her eyes again, it was to find herself being swallowed up by Ian’s large leather recliner in his cabin, all alone except for Toby, who was lying beside her in the chair, sound asleep.

Jessie became frantic when she realized there was bright light shining through the windows, and judging by its strength, she figured it was late morning. She woke Toby and pushed at him to get down, then closed the footrest and rushed to the door with Toby sleepily padding behind her. But when she threw it open, they were confronted by a wall of snow. She reached out and touched it, only to find it was solid white ice, thick enough that she couldn’t see through it but apparently thin enough to transfer sunlight. She ran to each of the windows and found the same thing, then slowly backed to the center of the cabin, undecided if she was angry at Ian for trapping her like a disobedient child, or disconcerted by the fact that he
could
.

She walked over and started rummaging through his pile of sporting equipment looking for something to hack away at the ice with, and found what looked like an actual ice axe that climbers use. “Okay, Tobes,” she said, giving it a few test swings. “I’ll have us out of here in no time.” She walked over and stood in the open door and looked for any cracks or weaknesses in the ice. “And you have my permission to lift your leg on Ian’s snowmobile anytime you feel the urge,” she said, drawing her arm back and swinging at a spot over her head, putting all her weight into the blow.

Only just as the sharp pick was about to connect, the wall of ice disappeared and Jessie drove the axe into the pack basket Ian was holding as she stumbled forward.

“Sweet Christ!” he shouted, dropping the basket to catch her when she fell to her knees. “What in hell are you doing?” he growled, standing her back on her feet.

Jessie ran shaky fingers through her hair. “I was trying to break off a chunk of ice to put in a glass of water,” she growled right back at him, spinning on her heel and walking back into the cabin.

He picked up the axe-skewered basket and walked in behind her just as Toby trotted outside and lifted his leg on the groomer parked in the driveway. “Did you sleep well?” Ian asked, setting the basket on the counter.

“Wonderful. Just peachy. I’m so rested, I feel like hiking a mountain.”

She heard him sigh clear over to the woodstove she was standing in front of. “Jessie, I couldn’t be worrying about you while we dealt with Dixon.”

She turned to him. “And?” she whispered.

“He’ll be transported to the county jail where he’ll be staying until he’s charged with arson and attempted murder here and then extradited to Georgia.” He shot her an uncivilized grin. “Just as soon as the hospital is done putting a cast on his broken arm and suturing a few . . . cuts.”

Jessie hugged herself. “Brad was . . . He really intended to kill us?”

Ian walked over and pulled her into his arms and started rubbing her back. “Oh yes, he was coming after both of us. While we were up the mountain, Jack, Alec, Robbie, and Duncan stood guard the entire length of the road. They spotted Dixon around four this morning, and we all waited until he actually got a small fire started on your porch by shortcircuiting the Christmas light wires on the cultured tree—after, that is, he wedged the back sliding door so it wouldn’t open, then doused all four sides of your house with gasoline.”

Jessie closed her eyes against Ian’s shirt. “He . . . he must have tried to poison Toby and thought he was at the vet.” She leaned back to look up. “So it’s over?”

“For now. You’re going to have to be a witness at his trials; at least the one he’ll have in Atlanta.” He stopped rubbing her back and gave her a gentle squeeze. “But I’ll be right beside you the entire time. And so will Toby.” He smiled down at her. “Are you hungry? We might as well eat the snack you packed for us to take up the mountain.” He let her go and walked to the counter. “Assuming it’s not skewered to death.”

Jessie rushed past him and stood blocking the basket. “Um . . . I’m not really that hungry right now. Let’s just go home and I’ll make us something to eat later.”

He arched a brow as he reached around her and snatched the basket off the counter, lifting it high over her head when she made a grab for it. “You’re really going to have to do something about controlling that little twitch at the corner of your mouth, Jess, because now I’m curious about what you packed.”

He set the basket on the counter, crowding her out of the way as he pried the axe out then reached in and pulled out a thick roll of fluffy towels she’d wrapped tape around. He peeled back the tape and then the towels to reveal a pair of fine crystal champagne flutes, staring down at them in a silence so thick that Jessie would swear she could hear the gears turning in his brain. He finally laid the flutes on the towels, then reached in the pack again and pulled out a magnum of champagne.

Well, dammit, she’d figured he would have gotten a bottle of wine, but you need champagne to properly celebrate a marriage proposal.

He set the bottle on the counter and reached in and pulled out a bag of rawhide chews, his gaze going from them to her as he arched a brow. Feeling every vein in her face flushing with heat, Jessie watched him set the rawhide on the counter and reach into the pack basket again, this time his hand emerging with the box of condoms.

He set them on the counter with a sigh, then looked inside the basket and sighed again when he saw what she knew were a half dozen votive candles in crystal holders carefully placed in the bottom. He closed his eyes, not moving so much as a muscle.

“You thought I was taking you up the mountain to propose,” he said quietly, still not moving, still not opening his eyes. “After our knowing each other only three weeks.”

“Y-you said you loved me,” she whispered, “and mentioned something about us being bound together for life when we came back down. From a woman’s perspective, that usually means . . . that sounds like . . .” Jessie sucked in a shuddering breath and walked out the still open door.

Ian caught up with her just as she was walking past the snowcat and pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him. “Too much has been happening too quickly in your life right now, Jessie. I’m not about to rush you into marriage before you’ve even managed to catch your breath.”

“I understand,” she said, trying to pull away.

His grip on her shoulders tightened. “No, you don’t. You’ve been here just over three weeks and you’ve already been introduced to something most people would need an entire lifetime to digest. You’re overwhelmed by the magic right now, and you’re looking for something solid to hold on to, and you think that’s me.”

“I’m not a naive twenty-four-year-old anymore, Ian. Nearly getting killed and losing a baby and having to learn to walk again is a hell of a lot more of a maelstrom than your fancy light display up on the mountain. It took me four years to know who I am, and a couple of nudges from a persistent old goat to make me realize what I want from life.” She jerked away and started walking out the driveway again. “And at the moment that life is waiting for me half a mile down the road,” she said softly without looking back.

Not that she could see ahead, either, she was crying so hard.

JESSIE SAT ON HER COUCH, STARING AT HER BEAUTIFUL little fir tree as the first rays of Christmas morning sunlight touched it, trying to decide who was more depressed, she or her dog. Even though he’d spent the last four nights in Ian’s monstrous bed with her, Toby had also spent the last four days lying on the rug in front of the woodstove instead of his new bed, pushing his food around in his dish instead of eating it, not even interested in playing find-the-squeakytoy with her. About the only time Jessie saw him perk up was when he heard an engine and he’d run to the window to see a snowmobile go by on the frozen lake, but then he’d go back and flop down in front of the stove when the machine would continue around the point.

But truth be told, Jessie also perked up whenever she heard an engine, only to flop down on the couch when she realized it wasn’t Ian.

She’d thought maybe part of Toby’s depression was that he wasn’t feeling all that useful anymore, since she no longer needed her cane and hadn’t had a flashback in over a week. Jessie had gone so far as to pretend she felt one coming on, told him to find a safe place, and curled up in a ball in her closet hoping to pull the poor dog out of his funk. Only Toby had stood in the bedroom staring at her, his expression asking if she was insane. Which Jessie had figured she was, because she’d hidden her face in her hands and burst into tears. Toby had come in the closet and sat down beside her, tucked his big warm head on her shoulder in a doggy hug, and she’d swear he had shed a few tears himself.