Authors: Annette McCleave

Surrender to Darkness (28 page)

BOOK: Surrender to Darkness

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“I sold the statue on the black market for three hundred thousand dollars. It would help me out if you would tell the insurance company that it was in the house when it burned, so I can avoid jail.”

Kiyoko lifted her gaze from her tea. “What?”

“Just checking to see if you were listening.” Ryuji smiled and poured them both more tea. “You’re bored.”

Her cheeks grew warm. Ryuji had been an excellent breakfast companion. While they ate, he amused her with stories about his childhood in rural Nagano, politely inquired about typical
onmyōji
rituals, and even shared a few memories of her beloved father.

But he was not Murdoch.

“Not bored,” she said. “Momentarily distracted. So much has happened in the past few days.”

“Then I suggest we resume our business talks. The corporate art list still needs to be reviewed. It’s in my room at the bunkhouse.”

Ryuji’s smile was so engaging, Kiyoko almost said yes. But time had a tendency to run away on her during sessions with him. Minutes turned into hours. “Would you mind terribly if we postponed? I promised Murdoch I would meet with him after breakfast.”

The smile disappeared. “I was hoping to get your sign-off this morning, so I could fax it to the office. It won’t take long, I promise. Half an hour at most.”

“I hate to inconvenience Murdoch more than I have already. As you no doubt noticed, he was very eager to speak with me.”

A crease on Ryuji’s brow briefly signaled his displeasure. “Later today, then?”

They agreed on a time and place to get together and then she left him in the cafeteria, eyeing a cinnamon sticky bun smothered in white icing.

She fully expected to bump into Murdoch on the way back—he’d staked his claim, after all. Every rumble of deep male voice made her heart flutter, every heavy footstep in the gravel behind her made her head turn. But none of the Soul Gatherers she met on her return to the ranch house were six foot five and Scottish.

Sighing, she pushed open the door …

… and nearly took Yoshio’s nose off.

“My apologies, Yoshio-san,” she said as he leapt back. “I was—” Distracted by thoughts of Murdoch. Again. “Lost in thought.”

“No apology necessary, Kiyoko-san. The fault is mine.” His face pale, the young man bowed politely, then ducked out the door.

She stared at the closed door, frowning.

What had he—

“I take it you can now fit me into your busy social calendar?” drawled the low voice she’d wanted to hear for the past five minutes.

She spun around.

Murdoch was lounging against the doorjamb leading into the living room, a wry smile on his lips and a giant mug of coffee in his hand. The sight of him sucked the air out of the room. Broad shoulders draped in smooth white cotton, narrow hips encased in low-slung black jeans, and muscular forearms sprinkled with dark hair. Handsome beyond belief.

And he knew it.

Kiyoko licked her dry lips. “I’m about to meditate.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s go upstairs and get started.”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be alone, given the … uh, given the …”

“Dreams we’ve been sharing?” he finished for her.

“Yes.”

He pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her. “Lass, we’ve already hit second base and we’re rounding the corner toward third. At this point, modesty is a rather insubstantial barrier.”

“Dreams are
not
reality.” She backed up a step.

“Are you certain? You have a birthmark just below your right breast. How real is that?” he asked softly.

Her cheeks flamed. “Sora-san told you.”

“No, I’ve seen it. I’ve kissed it.”

Desperate to shut out his all-too-perceptive gaze, she buried her face in her hands. “Stop.”

Heavy footsteps skipped down the stairs from the second floor. “Is everything all right?” asked a male voice. A milder version of Murdoch’s Scottish brogue, barely noticeable. MacGregor.

“We’re fine,” Murdoch responded, taking up a protective stance, his back to her. Hiding her embarrassment from prying eyes. “Headed back to the hospital, are you?”

“Aye.” A pause. “Are you sure everything is all right?”

Kiyoko took a deep calming breath and stepped out from behind her huge shield. “Yes, everything is fine. Please offer Rachel-san my most sincere apologies. I’m relieved to know she and the baby are healthy.”

MacGregor smiled. “It was an accident—think no more of it. I’ll be bringing Rachel and Kate home later today.”

With that, he almost flew out the door.

“I’ve never seen the man smile so much,” Murdoch said, shaking his head. “Apparently, producing a babe is a joy like no other.”

Kiyoko met his gaze. “Even when it’s a girl.”

“So it would seem. Shall we go upstairs?” Spying her downturned lips, he added, “I’ll keep my distance—you have my word. I’ve no intention of repeating the mistake of touching you. Believe it or not, it’s not my habit to crush women.”

“Crush? Perhaps not. But you seem quite content to smother me. Threatening my friends at every turn and claiming me as
yours
is hardly a way to give me breathing room.”

His gaze remained level. “Lass, let’s be blunt. Dream or no dream, you’ve been naked and willing in my arms. Call me old-fashioned, but to my mind, that means something.”

Willing
? More like wanton. “Threatening Watanabe-san was unwarranted.”

“Aye, well. I’m a simple man with simple notions.” Using his coffee mug, he pointed up the stairs.

Kiyoko obeyed the unspoken command and climbed the stairs.
Simple
was the last word she would use to describe Murdoch. “What does that mean, precisely?”

“I expect my women to be true.”

She halted and turned to face him, two steps lower than she was. His eyes were level with hers. There was so much wrong with his offhand remark, she didn’t know where to begin. “Your
women
? You have more than one?”

“At the moment? No.”

“Are you suggesting that
I
am your woman?”

“Yes.”

“Did I agree to that?”

He smiled. “Verbally? No.”

“Are you also suggesting that
if
I were your woman—a claim which I dispute—having breakfast with Watanabe-san would constitute being
untrue
?”

His eyes narrowed at her icy tone. “Encouraging his attention is unwise.”

“And how does one encourage a man’s attention, may I ask? Speaking to him? Smiling? Pouring tea for him?”

Murdoch frowned. “I believe I was quite specific.”

“No touching.”

“Aye.”

“So, accepting a proffered arm on a stroll is forbidden. Is that true with any man, or just Watanabe-san?”

Murdoch stared at her, silent.

She sighed. “He’s the president of my father’s company. I am making a very determined effort to learn the business. That means spending time with him. Lots of time. Get used to it, Murdoch.”

“Admit that you’re my woman, and I’ll do my best.”

“This is the twenty-first century. Men don’t own women.”

A slow smile spread over his face. “If you prefer to claim me as your man, that’s an acceptable compromise.”

Kiyoko snorted and continued up the stairs. “Why bother? We can never be a couple. We cannot touch without invoking your berserker.”

They entered Murdoch’s bedroom—now hers—and closed the door. Kiyoko curled up on the cushioned window seat, as far away from the bed and Murdoch as she could get.

“I thought you said I need only acknowledge that the berserker’s actions are my own,” he said, trailing her across the room, “and I would gain control over it.”

“That’s a necessary step, but taming the berserker will not be easy. It will take practice.” She tilted her head and studied the rugged angles of his face. “And self-knowledge.”

He appropriated the armchair with the lithe grace of a large cat, kicked off his boots, and rested his socked feet on the cushion next to her. Effectively trapping her against the window. “Please don’t tell me I need to confess all my deep dark sins, confront my past, and accept who I am. I’m not into psychobabble bullshit.”

“Do you
have
any deep dark sins?”

Murdoch cupped his mug in both hands. “If I did, I sure as bloody hell wouldn’t admit them to the woman I’m trying to impress.”

“But you did commit at least one serious sin. Lena told me all Gatherers are serving time in purgatory.”

He sipped his coffee. “Are you back on speaking terms with Lena? I’m happy to hear that.”

“Don’t change the subject. What was your sin?”

“Adultery.”

She feigned a gasp. “You? The one who insists his women be true? Surely not.” A flush rose on his cheeks. “Is a single adulterous affair enough to send a person to purgatory? Death must have Gatherers to spare.”

“There may have been more than one,” he admitted.

“Hmmm. Something tells me there’s more to this story that you’re saying, Murdoch.”

“Isn’t seducing a bevy of married women bad enough?”

“To send you to purgatory, perhaps. But not to account for your reluctance to discuss the topic. You’re embarrassed. Tell me why.”

“I’d rather not.”

Kiyoko considered letting him off the hook. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. But confession was good for the soul. “An honorable man would share such information. To ensure that his chosen woman entered into a relationship with open eyes.”

“Damn, you’re ruthless.”

She waited. Patiently.

“All right,” he said, on a heavy sigh. “I slept with my brother’s wife.”

She sucked in a breath so sharp it stung. “You did
what
?”

“You heard me.”

“
Why
?”

“Why does any man tup a woman?” he asked drily.

“But she was married to your brother. That’s like sleeping with your sister.”

“No, it bloody well is not.” Sitting up, he set his mug on the table next to his chair. “Margaret was a lovely lass, and I had occasion to sleep with her a time or two before she married my brother. Believe me, she wasn’t my sister.”

“Did she make the first overture?”

“Is a glance an overture?” he asked.Then he shrugged. “I knew she wanted me. I was off to war the next morn, so I took advantage. That’s the whole of it.”

His stiff shoulders said far more than his words. He was lying. There was something else about the tale that he didn’t wish to reveal. But she chose to let it go.

“Tell me about the potion.”

He sat back. “When I was fifteen, I was captured by the Norse in a raid on the coast of Mann. They hoped that I would fill out enough to become a rower on one of their Viking ships. Alas, that never happened. For three years, I was held as a slave in the Northern Isles and worked to the bone. I was near death when a very powerful jarl purchased me from my master.”

“He saved you.”

Murdoch snorted. “In a manner of speaking. To improve his odds of success in a raid on a neighboring island, he offered me as a sacrifice to Odin, the Norse god of war. He’d have cut my heart out had one of Odin’s warriors not stayed his hand.”

“You mean a temple guard?”

“No, I mean a soldier acting at Odin’s behest. The pagan gods are real. Not as powerful as some myths suggest, but far more capable than you might imagine. They have their own society and keep to themselves, only occasionally interacting with humankind.”

A fantastical tale, to be sure, but not beyond Kiyoko’s imagination. “Please don’t be offended, but why would Odin choose to save you? Of all the men he could have approached?”

“Loki, Odin’s court jester, thought it would be amusing to change a frail, sickly lad with poor vision into a powerful warrior with uncontrollable fits of rage.”

“Oh.”

“The war god gave me a choice. Return home, or swallow his mystical potion and take up my sword as his indentured knight. I chose the potion.”

“Did he not explain all that would happen to you?”

Murdoch nodded. “He was quite thorough in his explanation. I was just too stupid to say no. I served him for seven years, then returned home.”

A very long and arduous seven years, almost guaranteed. But Murdoch provided no detail, asked for no sympathy. “Your family must have been overjoyed to see you again.”

“Not exactly.”

She smiled. “Did they think you were a ghost?”

BOOK: Surrender to Darkness

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