The Eye of the Wolf (5 page)

Mikayla
lifted her head and slowly turned around. He straightened from the doorway and
met her eyes. Her eye-brows were raised in speculation. The brilliant blue of
her eyes took his breath away and left him speechless.

Mikayla
met his gaze, but she took him in one glance. He leaned casually against the
door-frame in blue jeans faded just past the point of respectable and a denim
button-down shirt. His jeans fit him just right, curving around a well-toned
body with a hint of what lay beneath, a body well-toned and used to abuses that
others wouldn’t even contemplate. His blond hair was cropped short but fell
over one half of his forehead in a devil-may-care fashion. His skin was tanned
like those who reside in the Mediterranean year-round. His gray eyes were soft
but secretive. His face was handsome and hinted at his heart. He was tall and
athletic. His smile was just on the verge of a secret, hiding hidden thoughts
that perhaps weren’t polite enough to be thought and certainly weren’t polite
enough to be shared. Mikayla felt her words stop in her throat as she looked
into the eyes of either an angel or the devil. Her heart pounded just slightly
faster than was respectable, and her mouth was very dry. Any and all thoughts
that had been in her head instantly disappeared.

He
broke the spell first and stepped forward. He moved smoothly, as only someone
accustomed to his height could. He held out a hand. “Good day, Dr. Knight.” His
British accent surprised her, but it also stole her breath away.

She
took his hand and shook. It was surprisingly gentle but strong. The kind of
hand a person could hold onto forever. She swallowed and searched for her
voice. “Good afternoon.” She watched as he pulled out the chair beside her and
sat down. “Why is it that everyone here knows my name on sight, but I don’t
know theirs?”

He
laughed slightly. A musical sound that Mikayla knew she could get used to very
easily if she allowed it. “Perhaps because it is a small island and you are an
incredibly beautiful person.”

Mikayla
sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Hmm,…really?” She shook her head
and another curl escaped. “Then, who might you be?”

“I
am William Chambers. I was asked by Rene Dejeune to help you with your
research.” He smiled at her and tucked a curl behind her ear in a move that
appeared to Mikayla as if it were very practiced. She slid her chair a little
further away; its legs scratching like nails down a chalkboard. “I’ve been in
Britain for the last few weeks on business and wasn’t able to join you until
now. I apologize for my tardiness.”

Mikayla
rolled her shoulders and picked up the scroll she had been working on. She,
however, did not move her eyes from him. “I see. Dejeune didn’t mention any
assistants.”

“Well,
I don’t actually work for him. I live here in Amor, and I have a peculiar
interest in the monarchy and its history.” When she didn’t relax but kept her
eyes on his face, he smiled. He held up the bag he carried in his hand. “I am a
photographer. I have been working on a book of photos of the Mediterranean
region.”

Mikayla
inclined her head and studied him. She had known handsome men before and knew
that generally, they tended to be pure trouble, but something in her drew her
to him. He was intriguing, and he was offering to help. This project was
looking as if it were going to be larger than she had originally anticipated,
and she had no itching-to-help graduate student knocking on her door. 
“All right, but first, let me ask you a question.” He shrugged. “Can you read
Latin?”

Will’s
smile grew. He shrugged. “I can try.”

“Hmm…”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be perfectly honest with you, … Mr. Chambers, I
don’t really have time to look over your shoulder and help you translate every
word. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have the time nor the interest.” Her
voice was very prim as were the hands that were crossed on the table in front
of her. Then, he heard the pencil snap and saw her slip the two halves under
her hands that were still crossed.

Will
looked her in the eye and noted the irritation in them. He grinned. “Look,
Mikayla,” Her head jerked up at the use of her first name. All of her
assistants used her academic title; it was considered a sign of respect, even
with those assistants she was friendly with outside of the office and academic
sphere. She expected the same from him. She narrowed her eyes.

His
grin grew larger. He didn’t know why, but irritating her was a lot of fun. “I
grew up here. I know all of the local legends and the local folk lore. I also
know the royal family pretty well.” He paused. “I can get you the folk lore and
secrets of the people who have lived here for centuries.”

Will
looked over the stack of scrolls that littered the table. “I see you’ve been in
here awhile. Not making much progress, eh?”

Mikayla
rolled her shoulders and kept her wary eyes focused on him. Mikayla glanced
briefly at the scrolls on the table. She removed her glasses and rubbed her
eyes again. “You could say that, but I don’t need your help. Thank you very
much.”

Will
picked up one scroll and unrolled it. He scanned it briefly, “Do you practice
that haughty tone when you are at home or is it just natural?” Just as he finished
speaking and Mikayla’s eyes flared with a hidden temper that she had learned
long ago to keep in check, he flung the scroll back on the table.

Mikayla
jumped and grabbed the scroll. She carefully rolled it back up and set it
gently on the table.

He
smiled up at her as she scowled down at him. He had been testing her. She had
passed. “You aren’t going to find what you’re looking for in here, I can tell
you that. You aren’t really interested in how many goats the king was given in
exchange for granting a piece of property to the local tavern owner, are you?”

Mikayla
gathered up the scrolls and walked around the table. Will liked the way she
moved, smoothly but in a hurry. That was one thing he hated about Americans:
they were always in a hurry to get wherever they were going. At least her
movements were smooth, not jerky like he had seen in many Americans during his
many world travels. She was smooth, cool, and aloof, but there was something
else there, something hidden, something that suggested a hidden fire, a hidden
passion.

Mikayla
gently set the scrolls in the box she had found them in and placed the cover
over them. She turned to face him with her hands on her hips, anger blazing in
her eyes. “How dare you treat important historical artifacts with such a
laissez faire attitude? Do you realize how old these are? They could fall apart
just from being exposed to the air. You can’t just throw them across the
table!” Her pitch rose slightly, and her cheeks darkened.

Will
tried to swallow the grin that wanted to escape his lips. Her hair, her eyes
blazing away with fury, and her blush were the most appealing things he had
ever seen. He felt a pull from deep inside. He bowed his head slightly and
swallowed a sudden need to wrap her auburn curls around his fingers and yank
her to him to kiss that scowl off of her beautiful face. Will stood from his
seat. He walked around the table until he was just in front of her.

Mikayla
watched him carefully. He smelled of the outside: salt, and fresh air. He
flooded her senses with his scent. When he moved to her, she stood her ground
even though her first instinct was to run. She knew that even if she had needed
to, she couldn’t run from him, now or possibly ever. She tipped her head back
to meet his eyes in challenge and felt herself start to melt.

“I
apologize, Mikayla, for making light of the situation, but you see, you are
never going to learn anything in here.” His voice was soft, smooth as cream,
and threatened to drown her. The sound of her name was song-like. She had never
realized how truly sexy her own name could be coming from someone else’s lips.
“Come with me. Let me show you Amor.” His fingertip gently grazed the curve of
her chin. A tingle went up his arm.

The
gentle fragrance of vanilla enveloped him. It was warm, inviting, like a hug,
or his grandmother’s house where cookies were always baking. Her skin was
smooth, silk-like to the touch. He imagined her hair would be just as silky if
he ran his fingers through it, releasing it from its captivity.

A
tingle ran through her body, not a warning tingle, but an inviting tingle that
promised more than she was willing to take, more than she was willing to
explore. Mikayla looked away. She stepped back and picked up a stack of books.
She set them on the table. “I’m sorry, but I have work to be completed. And, my
research assistants always call me Dr. Knight. I would prefer if you did not
call me by my first name.” She walked around the table to her chair. Her head
held high. He was shocked she could still see where she was going and that her
pert nose didn’t rub against the ceiling it was so high in the air.

“Now,
if you are truly here to help me, you can pick up one of the books and begin
reading. As you read, take notes on a notepad of important items.” She sat down
at the table and opened the dusty tomb before her. She looked up over the edge
of her glasses. “Can you manage that?”

Will
shook his head and straddled one of the rickety wooden chairs. He picked up the
simple ball-point pen that sat on a yellow legal pad. The paper was new and the
pen was new, probably fresh from the package. Books sat in stacks on the table.
“Is there anywhere you would like me to begin, Doctor Knight.” He stressed her
academic title and looked her earnestly in the face. He had a sneaking
suspicion Mikayla had a specific organization already going, and that she would
become very moody if he upset her organization. She just looked so organized.

Mikayla
looked him up and down briefly and sighed. She pointed to the stack immediately
to Will’s left. “This stack contains books reporting on the general history of
the area especially during the Middle Ages, Renaissance, and closer to our
present time. This stack,” she gestured to the stack between them on the table,
“contains what island records I have been able to find in the past few days in
this room that predate Henry’s landing on Amor. Apparently,” she shifted her
reading glasses so they hung precariously from her ears, “Amor was a thriving
fishing island prior to the Crusades.”

Will
nodded. He felt his brain starting to overload. He suspected that if he had
looked in her dresser drawers at home, everything would have been color-coded
and arranged by season. “What about this pile right here?” He pointed to the
books immediately to his right.

Mikayla
nodded and slipped her glasses on again. “Ah yes, those are records from the
past three monarch’s reigns. They are relatively recent and really not a
concern, but they are interesting for their modern value concerning the
isolationist policies of Amor, especially during the World Wars.”

Will
nodded again. He leaned on the table with one hand and reached across to toy
with a stray hair that had escaped her untidy bun. Mikayla jerked back, out of
his reach. Will smiled at her. The smile stopped her heart. It was a lazy sort
of smile that should have been classified a federal offense, but perhaps it was
the fire that smoldered behind his eyes or her own innate sense that men just
didn’t look at her that way.  No other man ever had.

“So,
Mr. Chambers, where do you want to begin?” Mikayla gestured to the many books
on the table and the bookshelves lining the walls. “Perhaps you would like to
begin with the history predating King Henry, or perhaps, you would like to read
about Renard the Sheepherder giving the King 50 goats in exchange for the best
grazing land?”

He
smiled and shook his head. He grabbed one of the books off of the stack and
turned the chair around so he could sit properly.  He leaned back until
his feet could rest on the table and flipped open the book. He rested it on his
lap and waved the dust away. “Ah, here is the history of Joshua the Brave and
his Knights of the Triangular Table. How terribly interesting!” He grinned
across the table at her and then settled into reading.

Mikayla
shook her head and snickered to herself. Then, she settled in to read about the
history of the Crusades from the Middle Eastern point of view presented in the
book she had chosen.

He stood on the parapet
overlooking the beach. The sun had set and darkness had fallen on the island of
Amor. It was peaceful and had he been the type of man to relax and savor, he
would have; however, he was not the type of man to relax and enjoy simple
pleasures. He was paid to not relax when all others were enjoying life’s
fripperies. He was paid to know everything about the island of Amor and all of
the people on it. He was paid very well to insure that things went according to
plan. He was paid to be the servant.

He looked down at the small,
blue house at the base of the Secluded City. All of the lights were off except
for the one in the main bedroom. The gauzy curtains moved faintly in the
evening ocean breeze, and Mikayla moved about the room. Every so often, she
stopped at the window and looked out. When she did, he stepped back into the
nighttime shadows even though he knew she couldn’t see him at the top of the
giant wall. He couldn’t take any chances.