Part 7 (1/2)

She said between gritted teeth, ”I don't care who you are or what you are. This dog has suffered more abuse than most prisoners of war do. I'm not putting him down or giving him over to you. So if you want him, you're going to have to come through me to get him. And for Christ's sake, what's the matter with you? Who wants a dog this badly anyway?”

It was sheer, stupid bravado. She was outcla.s.sed and outgunned, and the only thing she had going for her at the moment was a curse that was more likely to kill her than cause them anything more than a few moments' discomfort. They were so much stronger. d.a.m.n it. She might be stupid and crazy, but she wasn't suicidal.

A tiny silence fell as they stared at her again.

Then Thunder said, ”Lady. That's not a dog.”

”What?” she uttered. She glanced down at the ridiculous Ewok face tucked under her arm. Huge, walleyed, filmy eyes blinked up at her. Whatever it was, it looked aged and sad. Her voice hardened. ”I don't care what it is. It's been hurt and used badly, and I won't stand for any more of it.”

If, that is, she had any choice about the matter. As far as strength went, they could easily wrestle it away from her.

Unpredictability s.h.i.+mmered in the air. She held firm in the face of it. She had dealt many times with those of the Elder Races, and despite the vastly different personalities and situations, invariably, they all respected a show of strength.

Nikolas's attention s.h.i.+fted down to the creature she held. After a long moment, he lifted his sword behind his head and sheathed it. She watched him warily. In fact, she couldn't look away.

He didn't need to feel for the sheath with his second hand or fumble to get the sword in. He knew precisely how long his sword was and exactly where the sheath rode between his shoulder blades, like both items were extensions of his body. This was not a man to engage in a sword fight.

Then he released her wrist and took a step back. She felt, rather than heard, their witnesses let out a collective sigh. If she were honest with herself, she would admit to losing her own breath as well.

”You're American.” His voice was clipped and cold. ”I want to hear what you were doing two weeks ago when your magic accosted me. And I want to hear everything about how you and the puck met.”

The puck. The puck?

The only puck Sophie knew of was a hockey puck. And this guy might be able to carry off every ounce of his monumental arrogance, but after he'd bared his weapon and a.s.saulted her, she was still too full of anger and adrenaline to give in to it.

She told him in an insolent, indifferent voice. ”Do you? I want a million bucks and a villa in Capri. Thanks for asking, a.s.shole.”

The lightning of his Power flared, whiting out her mental senses until all she could see was the masculine outline of his body. He looked-felt-like an avenging angel.

He snarled, ”Do not push me, human.”

But when Sophie reached this level of overload, she truly had no concept of sense or limits. She lifted her face to his and hissed. ”I'll push you every bit as much as you've pushed me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thunder's fingers clench on Nikolas's shoulder, and suddenly Arran was on his other side as well.

Arran said in a conciliatory tone, ”Tempers have run very high on both sides, my lord. Perhaps if everyone could take a moment, I'm sure this unfortunate misunderstanding can be cleared up. I would be honored to offer you all a drink, on the house as it were, and you can sit down to discuss your differences all civil-like. And I can get the miss a bite of supper. I know she was looking forward to a hot meal, seeing as she just arrived in England today.”

My lord. Arran talked as if this guy was a prince of his people. Sophie tried to sneer at the thought, but actually, given his utterly atrocious behavior, she could well believe it.

On the other side, Thunder muttered, ”d.a.m.n it, man, listen to him. Do it.”

The rage in Nikolas's face eased somewhat as he listened to the others speak, but Sophie's didn't. She wanted to push him, and push him, and see what he might do then, because like the part of her that had needed to melt down earlier, the part of her that had no sense, had the bit between its teeth and wanted to run amok.

Then she caught another glimpse of Arran's wife, back against the wall. Maggie wiped her face with a visibly trembling hand, and Sophie's uncontrollable rage died. This confrontation was not just frightening for her. It was frightening other people.

Sliding away from Nikolas's taut body, she said directly to Maggie, ”I'm sorry we've caused such a fuss. If we have any more arguing to do, we'll take it outside, well away from here.”

She put an extra glare in her glance at Nikolas as she said that. He looked supremely, utterly indifferent to it. In a calm voice, as if he had never lost his temper, he said to Arran, ”Thank you for your offer, but there's no need for you to bear the financial brunt of our conflict. Please see that everyone gets a drink, whatever they want, and put it on my tab. We'll be at the corner table when you're done.”

Relief flooded Arran's weathered features. He nodded and smiled. ”Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

With a long, inscrutable look at her and another one at the dog... the doglike creature... she still clutched, Nikolas turned away.

Her capacity to glare after him was disrupted as Thunder stepped in front of her, blocked her view of Nikolas's back, and offered his hand. In a low voice, he said, ”I'm Gawain. My apologies for what just happened. We've been too involved for too long in combat situations. Our first reaction to any kind of conflict or inexplicable event tends to be, well, less than peaceful.”

That gave her pause. She had known men like that, men who had been at war for so long their response to any kind of conflict was violent. Often they were unable to a.s.similate back into normal society, and they re-upped and went back into the army, or they became police officers. Occasionally they turned a gun on themselves.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied Thunder's rough features. He appeared to be sincere enough, and the dog (doglike creature) wasn't yapping or yodeling any longer or acting fearful.

Taking her cue from that, cautiously she took Gawain's hand and shook it. ”Sophie Ross. Maybe there's no harm done this time, but there's no trust won either. If one of you draws your weapon or manhandles me again, I'll slap you with a curse so fast it will make your head spin. That's a promise, Gawain.”

”I understand, and I respect it.” Gently his fingers squeezed hers, and then he released her. ”Please, come join us at the table and tell us your story. It's important.”

She hesitated, looking from one male to the other, but as deadly as Gawain was, she sensed no danger coming from him.

Nikolas though. She gave him a narrow look, which he returned with more than a hint of banked malice.

As far as Nikolas went, whether he was a prince of his people or not, she wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

Chapter Five.

The round, wooden table in the corner of the front room was stained dark and scarred from many years of use. Nikolas chose a worn velvet chair tucked in the corner so he could look out over the rest of the room and watch the door.

From that vantage point, he watched Gawain talk with the American woman and listened easily to their low-voiced exchange. Nikolas filed her name away for future reference as he took in the details of her appearance.

She wasn't short for a female, but she appeared short and slight next to Gawain, whose brawny height emphasized the femininity of her slender figure. Many of the details Nikolas had gleaned from the vision two weeks ago held true.

Her hair was long, black, and curling. She kept it pulled back from her pale, angular face by looping it into a short braid. It exploded from the end of the braid in an extravagant cloud of curls. Like the vision, her creamy skin was sprinkled with freckles, her lips were plush and pink, and she looked tired and too thin, almost gaunt. Dark circles ringed her eyes.

There was one arresting change from what he had seen before.

Those eyes. In the vision, her eyes had been pale and uninteresting. In reality, they were spectacular. They might be called pale gray or even light blue-it was hard to tell across the room-but mere descriptive words were inadequate and didn't do them justice.

Her eyes were brilliant, and not just with the force of her personality and the magic she carried. They seemed to draw from every light around her and sparkled with luminosity, almost like diamonds.

He drew in a deep breath, filtering out the other scents in the pub to bring her feminine scent into his lungs. There was something different about her. She wasn't quite fully human, and she held a significant amount of personal Power. It would be a mistake to underestimate her.

Gawain persuaded her to join them, and still carrying Robin under her arm, she followed him reluctantly to the corner table where she gave Nikolas one sour, brief glance before choosing a seat to his right, which kept her from having her back to the room as well.

Gawain took the seat to Nikolas's left, settling his large, powerful body with care into the chair, leaving Nikolas's view of the room un.o.bstructed.

He completed his study of the female and turned his attention to Robin, who looked strangely small and frail. The puck's Power felt nonexistent, and there was something wrong with his eyes as well. One of them was off-center, appearing to look off to the side. Frowning, Nikolas cupped his chin in one hand, resting the elbow on the other arm, which he crossed over his chest as he studied the puck.

In a low voice, Gawain said to him, ”How long do you think we have?”

”Not long,” he responded. ”A half an hour at most. We should not take any longer than that. This isn't an isolated area, like our gathering was up north.”