Fire on the Island (29 page)

Soon his
breathing became laborious and he lost his rhythm. Reaching around, she dug her
nails into his firm rear in encouragement, which seemed to send him over the
edge. He sank into her once more before he was finally swamped in his own
release.

He called out
her name in a voice edged with sandpaper and bit down delectably hard on the
fleshy part of her shoulder, sending her over another crest. They lay there,
wrapped up in each other, hearts pounding and breaths coming in gasps, for what
seemed like an eternity.

When he finally
caught his breath and came back down to earth, Jeremiah raised his head limply
to look down at her. With her wild curls drying around a face that glistened
with a fine sheen of perspiration, he thought she looked like an angel. She was
practically glowing.

He rose up on
his elbows and regarded her more closely. She
was
glowing. Her skin had
a goldish tint to it and, when he looked behind him, he saw that the pond was
lit from underneath with some ethereal golden glow. Might have freaked out a
normal person, but he had been dealing with the paranormal most of his life
and, well, he was sleeping with a witch. Turning back around, he gave her a lopsided
grin. “So…was it good for you?”

“You dork!” she
said, but she laughed and splashed him. He swept her up in his arms and dunked
them both. When they rose, Jeremiah sighed contentedly as Isla wound her arms
around him. He kissed the top of her head.

"We should
get some sleep."

"Mmm...sleep,"
she said, yawning.

He led her out
of the pool and into the biting chill of the night air. Quickly drying them
both off with his t-shirt, Jeremiah hastily pulled on his sweater and jeans
while Isla did the same. Hand in hand, they sprinted back to the campsite.

When they
reached the small clearing, Isla dove inside the tent and into her bedroll.
Jeremiah spent a few moments outside banking the fire so that it would burn
through the remaining hours of the night, and then joined Isla in the tent.

Completely
exhausted, both from their earlier ordeal and their lovemaking, they fell
asleep quickly, huddled together for warmth. Neither of them knew what the next
day would bring, but for tonight—for the next few hours—they were safe in each
other's arms.

Chapter
Twenty

When Jeremiah
and Isla returned from Dun Fionn the next day, they met the others at
Expeditions before the first tour of the day. They wanted to regroup and go
over what information they had—which they all agreed was absolutely goose-egg.

As the two
returned to the lobby, hand in hand, Isla smiled at Kieran who was already back
on his post at the front desk. "Hey Ki, why don't you tag along on Amy's
hike today? I'm too beat to go out, and I would really like two guides on each
tour until things settle down."

She saw the
subtle blush that covered his cheekbones, and she knew it had a lot to do with
his little crush on Amy, but she meant what she said. While the threat was upon
them, she didn't want her guides out alone.

Kieran flashed
her a brilliant smile and took off for the equipment room, tossing a look over
his shoulder. "Thanks, boss! Radio if you need me!"

Shaking her
head, Isla settled into the swivel chair behind the counter and waggled her
eyebrows at Jeremiah. "He's just excited to spend the next three hours
staring at Amy's arse."

"Can you
blame a kid?" Jere said with a snort. Isla rolled her eyes and turned her
attention to the day's schedule.

"We've
quite the busy schedule. What are you going to do with yourself today, Dr.
Rousseau," she said, treating him to a dimpled grin.

"Need to
get up with Drew and see if he's made any headway on those translations. Then I
thought I'd go to the library in Brodick and do some research."

"And check
your email. And Facebook."

"Yeah, so?
I'm a social butterfly," he said with a wink. Leaning across the counter,
he captured her lips in a tender kiss. It was an extreme contrast to the
aggression of last night, but it was no less powerful.

"Pick you
up here around four?"

Isla licked her
lips and nodded. Jeremiah's eyes latched on to the movement, causing him to
have to remove his ball cap and clutch it in front of his crotch to avoid
embarrassment. He backed away slowly, without taking his eyes off her seductive
expression.

The spell was
broken when he backed into a lamp beside the front door, and Isla erupted into
a fit of giggles. He was still smiling as he closed the door behind him and
stepped out into the morning sun.

It was a
bright, beautiful day, but he was learning from the locals that the grey clouds
obscuring the summit of Goat Fell would mean a storm later on. Pulling his
iPhone out of his back pocket, Jere checked for a return call or email from
Drew. Nothing.

"Damn,
brother, where are you?" he said out loud. It wasn't like Drew to go off
the grid for so long, and Jeremiah had an uneasy feeling about it. With all of
the strange things going on around him, he wasn't cool with his best friend
disappearing on top of it.

Not normally
one to bother his friend at work, he broke down and dialed Drew's office at
Tulane.

A tinny, nasal
voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Tulane University,
Anthropology Department."

"Hello,
this is Dr. Jeremiah Rousseau. I'm trying to reach Dr. Deveraux. Can you put me
through to him?"

"I'm
sorry, sir, Dr. Deveraux is traveling on University business for the next two
weeks. Would you like to leave him a voice mail?"

"No ma'am,
I've already left him one on his mobile. Is there any way you can tell me where
to reach him? It's important."

"No, sir,
I'm not allowed to give out that information. Is there anything else I can do
for you?"

Biting back the
urge to snap at the bored receptionist, Jere took a calming breath. "No,
ma'am. Thank you."

Ending the call
with a frustrated tap on the screen, he shoved a hand through his shaggy hair.
"Damn it, Drew! Where the hell are you? We're running out of time. We're
fixin' to have a demonpocalypse on our hands here."

Jeremiah
couldn't help the uneasy feeling that washed over him as he had the thought
that something was terribly off. Realizing
that pitching a fit to his
phone
wasn't going to get him
anywhere, Jere climbed into his rental and headed for the library.

Having just
waved off the last tour for the day, an afternoon kayak trip led by Callum and
Jack, Isla settled in to work on the accounting. Sitting at the old roll-top
desk in the corner behind the front counter, she was deeply engrossed in
paperwork when she heard the bells on the front door jingle.

Glancing up
from her work, she cautiously eyed the stranger who stepped inside. Big. That
was her first impression. The man was so tall and broad shouldered that his
large frame filled the door frame and almost completely blocked out the light
from outside, causing his features to be shadowed.

A fission of
fear passed through, causing her to palm the hunting knife she kept in the desk
drawer. Not moving a muscle, she narrowed her eyes at the shadow of the man's
face. When he stepped into the light, her posture relaxed slightly.

His eyes were
the color of a clear blue sky, and most importantly, they weren't swirling with
shadows. He had spiky blond hair, carefully arranged to look effortless, and he
had what she could only describe as classic all-American good looks.

Yes, definitely
American, she thought as he gave her a toothy smile. She'd put money on that.
He was dressed impeccably in steel grey slacks and a deep purple dress shirt
with just a tiny bit of sheen to it. She was sure that he was kitted out in
designer brands from his necktie to his polished black loafers.

As he
approached her, she noticed he moved with a fluid grace and commanding
confidence that spoke of old money. Someone used to getting his way.

"Canna
'elp ye, sir?" she asked, laying the brogue on thick. When confronted with
strangers, she'd often play the part of the naïve, little island girl until she
had a chance to assess them.

"Yes,
ma'am, I hope you can," he answered, his manners and his lopsided grin
strangely reminding her of Jeremiah. American, nailed it. She raised a delicate
eyebrow and waited for the handsome stranger to continue.

Shifting to
pull something out of his pocket, he presented her with an outdated flip phone.
Unable to completely stifle the chuckle at the polished young man's antiquated
piece of hardware, she unsuccessfully covered it with a cough.

Shrugging
sheepishly, he grinned at her. "Yeah, I know. I'm kind of holding out for
the iPhone 5."

"So what
can I do for ye?" Isla prompted.

"Um, well,
I think my battery has finally bit it. Do you know if there is an electronics
store somewhere on the island? I'm only here for one night to visit a friend of
mine, and right now I've no way to get a hold of him."

He spoke in a
very careful and cultured way, making Isla think he must be well-educated, practiced
in public speaking. There was a hint of something else in his refined accent
that she couldn't quite place. French? No, that wasn't it, but something
similar.

Giving up, she
focused on his question. "No, mate, I'm sorry. Y'won't find anythin' like that
on the island. Best take the ferry to Glasgow."

Leaning on the
counter, the man frowned slightly and then sighed. "Thanks anyway. Since I
won't be spending time looking for a cell phone battery, can I sign up for one
of your tours. I might as well do a little sightseeing while I'm here."

Isla didn't buy
for a second that the expensive-looking stranger had come here looking to go on
a hike, or to ask her about cell phones, for that matter. But, as she didn't
yet feel threatened, she played along, hoping he would eventually get to the
point.

"Out of
luck again, I'm afraid. I just sent out our last tour for the day. I can book
you something for tomorrow if you'd like." If he noticed her slipping back
into her regular accent, he didn't comment.

Blondie shook
his head and smiled. "I'll be leaving early in the morning. Next time. I
won't take up any more of your time. I appreciate the help, miss...?"

"Isla,"
she said, reaching out her hand for him to shake. "And you are?"

"You can
call me Andrew."

"Nice to
meet you, Andrew." Her brows disappeared under her thick bangs as he
gallantly kissed her hand.

"
Non,
Cher
, the pleasure is all mine." Okay, French it is, she thought. When
he bowed over her hand like a country gentleman, she dissolved into laughter.

This was the
scene Jeremiah was treated to when he quietly entered the lobby. Jerking her
hand away, Isla gasped when she saw the murderous look Jere aimed at the
stranger. Unsure of what to do, her eyes flickered back to Andrew.

Her eyes
widened as Jeremiah advanced on Andrew. "Hey!" he shouted at the
man's back. "You better keep your filthy coon-ass paws off my girl,
hear?"

Andrew whirled
around to face the other man, eyes angry and expression hard. "Listen
here,
coullion
, I don't know who ya think ya talkin' to, but I ain't
seen no ring on her fingah."

Whoa, where the
hell had that come from, Isla thought. Gone was the cultured socialite and out
came a manner of speech that was similar to Jeremiah's, but with the faint
French behind it. Gasping, she gripped the hunting knife as she saw the man
charge Jeremiah.

The men came
together with a thud, and Jeremiah immediately had Andrew in a headlock.
"Gonna teach you some manners, boy!"

"
Je vas
te passe une callotte!
" Andrew shouted between gags.

"Like to
see y'try," Jere answered, squeezing harder.

Isla rounded
the counter and bore down on them, hunting knife at the ready. "Alright,
break it up! Not in my house! Jeremiah, let him go." She faced a wheezing
Andrew as Jere released him. "I think you need to leave now."

Her jade eyes
threw sparks, and her chest heaved from the adrenaline from what she thought
was a genuine fight about to happen. Her face changed to one of surprise, and
then confusion when both men busted out laughing, clutching each other as they
doubled over.

Sighing, Isla
slapped the knife down on the counter and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Andrew gave Jeremiah a leering smile. "That your girl?"

"Hell,
yes!"

"Amazing,"
Andrew mumbled under his breath, making Jeremiah grin smugly.

Pushing between
them, Isla glared at Andrew and then turned her fierceness on Jeremiah.
"Excuse me, but what the hell is going on?"

Pulling her
against him, he gave her a quick kiss and nipped her lower lip. "Sorry,
baby. We're just kiddin' around. I'd like you to meet Dr. Andrew Deveraux, a
colleague of mine. We've also been friends since grade school. Drew's the one I
told you about, the one who's helpin' me with the translations on that book
from Latium."

Understanding
dawned, and she turned the full power of her dimpled smile on Drew. "You
could have just said so!"

Smiling back at
her, Drew punched Jeremiah in the shoulder. "You're a lucky man, brother.
A lucky man."

Nodding, he
wrapped his arms tighter around Isla. "What the hell are you doing here?
I've been tryin' to get a hold of you for a week!"

"Long
story, truly," he said. "If there's anywhere to get a decent cup of
coffee around here, we could sit down and talk about it."

"Sounds
good. You can follow us to the tearoom in Whiting Bay."

Drew cut his
eyes skeptically at the back of Isla's head, raising his brows questioningly.

Jeremiah
nodded. "I want Isla to be in on this too. She's somewhat of a local
expert on the folklore around here, and she's been helping me research."

It was the truth,
in a roundabout way, and Isla was grateful that he hadn't shared her secret.
She knew Jeremiah would trust Drew with his life, but she wasn't ready to trust
him with hers.

At the tearoom,
they found a table in a back corner, out of the main path of most of the
customers. After ordering three coffees, Jeremiah leaned forward expectantly.
"So, first things first. What are you doing on Arran, and where the hell
have you been?”

Drew paused
while the harried waitress set down their coffees, along with a carafe of milk
and an assortment of sugars.

"I'm
taking a sabbatical this semester. Been traveling around doing visiting
lectures. The cell phone's been on its last legs for a few days now, and I
think it's finally dead." He spun the boxy-looking flip phone on the
table.

Jeremiah
snickered, holding his mug in front of his mouth to hide his smile. "He's
holding out for the iPhone 5," Isla supplied with a grin.

"I'm
lecturing at Edinburgh on Wednesday, so I thought I'd drop in on you since I've
been out of touch."

Breathing an
audible sigh of relief, Jeremiah relaxed a bit. "With all of the crazy
things that have been going on lately, I was worried something had happened to
you."