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  “Coffee? What is coffee?” Torin turned from the hearth, slaking the remaining water off the bulging planes of his muscled arms.

  Emma peered closer at the confusion registered on Torin’s face. He wasn’t joking about the coffee either. From the curious expression on his face, the man really didn’t know what it was. Pulling another cup off the hook by the sink, Emma filled it half full. Should she add sugar or give it to him black? Sometimes coffee could be an acquired taste. Nah. She wouldn’t dilute the flavor. Either he’d like it or he wouldn’t. “Here you go. Be careful. It’s very hot.”

  Torin watched Emma over the rim of the white ceramic mug as he slurped in a hesitant sip of the steaming black liquid.

  Emma hadn’t seen such a disgusted look on someone’s face since Laynie gagged on the meal of fried beef liver and onions Emma had attempted to prepare.

  Torin most definitely did not like coffee. His mouth pulled down into a repulsed sneer as he spit the liquid back in the cup. Wrinkling his nose as though he smelled a detestable odor, Torin shoved the mug back toward her. “It tastes as foul as dank bog water. Why would ye drink such wretched swill?” Torin swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling at the cup as though it held poison.

  “Well, for one thing, the caffeine gives me a jump start when I’m kind of draggy from lack of sleep.” Emma rescued the cup from his outstretched hand while she took another appreciative sip of her own robust-flavored brew. “I take it they didn’t serve coffee wherever you’re from?”

  “No.” Torin shook his head and licked his lips. “They knew better than to bring such swill into the hall. Mead, ale, or something stronger was ever at the ready when the weather was particularly bitter. If any in the keep happened to be unwell, old Graena brewed up a vile-tasting herbal tea. But even one of the old woman’s tisanes couldna rival the taste of that poison.” Torin swiped his hand across his mouth again, still eyeing the cup as though it held something evil. “Douse that mess and give me back the cup. I’ll manifest a drink of my own.”

  Manifest? What the heck did he mean by that? Emma glanced down into the steaming cup then raised her gaze to Torin’s. Had she truly brought an insane man into her house? She splashed the contents into the sink then cradled the cup against her chest. “What exactly do you mean by ‘manifest’?”

  Holding out his hand, Torin nodded toward the cup. Dark brows knotted over his intense stare while he flicked his fingers in a summoning motion. “Hand me the cup, little Emma, and I’ll show ye what I mean.”

  Emma slid the cup onto the counter between them. If he wanted the cup, he could come and get it.

  “Fine.” Torin rolled his eyes and exhaled an irritated huff. “I can fill the cup from here just as well.” Fixing the cup with a focused stare, Torin nodded once in the direction of the mug and his blind eye narrowed for a brief moment.

  Emma gasped as steaming red liquid rose to the rim of the white ceramic mug. Her skin tingled as the eeriness of the unknown suddenly filled the room with a cloying, threatening presence. She rubbed against the gooseflesh puckering across her arms. How had he done that?

  Leaning over the cup, Emma gingerly sniffed at the steam swirling above the ruby colored contents. The spicy sweetness of cinnamon and cloves blended with the tang of fermented apple. More spices, some she couldn’t quite place, tickled across her senses. Pulling in a deeper breath, Emma picked up the faintest nuance of the ripest grapes. “How did you do that?” Emma raised her head and locked eyes with Torin’s watchful gaze.

  “I am a stone guardian. I am one with the planes of all energy. I can do many things.”

  Emma’s voice died in her throat. Her tongue felt dry as a cotton ball as she clamped her lips together. “I don’t believe in magic,” she finally choked out. “I only believe what I can see and touch.” She swallowed against the uneasiness pounding through her chest. Her heart battered a panicked rhythm against her ribs. Falling back against the solidity of the counter, she went slack-jawed as Torin lifted the mug to his lips and drained it of its contents.

  As the empty cup clattered against the marble of the counter, Torin riveted his gaze toward the amulet resting on Emma’s chest. “If ye troubled yourself to learn to connect with the energies, magic would answer your commands as well.”

  No. It couldn’t be true. There was no such thing as magic. Only science existed—made everything she knew explainable. “I am not like you—whatever it is you said you are.” Emma clenched the stone of her necklace tighter in her hand until the engraved edges of the disc bit into her flesh. Something had to be done about Torin. Things had just gotten more unexplainable than she was prepared to handle. “I think you need help, Torin, but I don’t know how to give it. It would be best if you found a place to go while I’m at the clinic today. You can’t stay here anymore.”

  Tensing against the solid edge of the countertop, Emma fought against the pain and loneliness flashing across Torin’s face. This entire situation had escalated beyond strange. As far as she was concerned, the skin-tingling weirdness of the morning rescinded any obligatory hospitality Emma might owe the strange man. She wanted him gone and wanted the rest of her stay on the Isle of Lewis to settle into the frustrating simplicity of twenty-four hours ago.

  “Where am I to go, little Emma? Cailleach na Mointeach ended my stasis and brought us together. Hear me when I tell ye, she willna be denied.” Torin folded his arms across his chest, the dark tattooed muscles of his forearms rippled as he clenched his hands against his arms.

  Emma knew she’d regret asking but she just had to know. “Who is this Cailleach na Mointeach? What do you mean she brought us together?”

  “Cailleach na Mointeach. The old woman of the moor. Mistress of the Stones and half-sister to the goddess Brid.” Torin’s face darkened as he spoke. He flinched against what must’ve been unpleasant memories. “She is the one who awakened me from my cursed sleep and joined our paths at the stones.”

  What he said didn’t make sense. But then, nothing about Torin made any sense. Emma pushed herself away from the counter. Dammit! Torin needed help. Badly. Emma pushed the memory of the strangely filling cup to the back of her mind and focused her attention on Torin’s troubled face. Aside from the scars, he seemed so…healthy. What a shame his mind was gone. “Maybe you should come to the clinic with me and let Dr. Mackenzie check you out.” That had to be it.

  Maybe MacKenzie could arrange a trip to the mainland for a CAT scan or MRI. Torin had to be suffering from some weird psychosis. Could be some sort of syndrome linked to the terrible scars he wore. Uneasiness stirred the coffee in her stomach into a nauseating slosh. A psychosis wouldn’t explain the magic coffee cup that refilled on his command. She just wouldn’t worry about that part right now.

  “Why do ye fight what ye’ve seen with your own eyes? Why do ye no’ accept what your senses tell ye?” Torin took a step closer, his hands flexing open and closed with a jerking, irritated rhythm.

  “Because nothing you say ever makes any sense. Nothing about you could possibly be true.” Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Emma gave up on the mug of coffee clenched between her hands. With an irritated jerk, she threw the now tepid liquid into the sink. If Torin wouldn’t get the help he needed, there wasn’t anything more she could do. He had to go. She had important work to do and she hadn’t traveled all this way just to get waylaid by a muscle-bound mystery in a kilt.

  “Look. I’ve got to get to the clinic. By the time I get home this evening, I’d like for you to be gone. I let you stay here last night because of the storm but that’s it. There’s got to be some sort of shelter around here where you can stay until you get your bearings or figure out wherever it is you belong.” Emma inhaled a shaking breath. “If you won’t agree to getting some help, then I can’t allow you to stay here any longer.”

  Torin’s lips curled into a frustrated sneer. “The only help I can use, Emma, must be given by you.” His expression shut down as though a protective shield shuttered
into place. “But I willna stay where I am no’ welcome. But ye must know this: our fates are intertwined. Ye canna be free of my existence so easily. Nor can I be free of you.” With a dismissive jerk of his head in her direction, Torin yanked his still dripping plaid off the rack beside the hearth and headed back out into the storm.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The rain pelted against the tight weave of the plaid bunched about his shoulders. The water beaded and rolled in tiny rivulets down the water-resistant wool. The damp cold of the endless gusts of wind seeped into his bones and stung against his skin. Damn the woman and twice damn the infuriating Cailleach for shoving that frustrating female into my life. Maybe now, the spirit woman would agree to return him to the memory-free peace of the shadows. His conscience nudged him as Emma’s tear-streaked face blotted all other thoughts from his mind. She’d been so helpless when she’d thrashed with terror against the evils of her dreams. A brewing darkness troubled the little stone guardian and it was plain she had no idea whatsoever in how to fight it.

  Aye—well, she’d ousted him easily enough. Torin snorted as muddy water splashed over his soaked boots as he slogged through the flooded path. Squinting through the gray sheets of water sleeting down from black, sagging clouds, Torin spotted an outcropping of rain-slicked boulders wedged into the hillside. At last. A bit of shelter. Out of the cold, body-numbing rain, he could gather his bearings and plan his next move.

  Stomping into the cave created by the massive stones, Torin shook the water from his body. With a snap of his plaid, water flew from the heavy weave and splattered across the damp sandy ground of the cave floor.

  And now for a fire. Torin glanced around the perimeter of the small grotto. Bits of driftwood wedged around the base of the rear wall. Gray fingers of broken branches poked from between outcroppings of jagged stone scattered the length of the cave. The relentless tide had deposited all manner of debris throughout the dank interior. He pried the smooth, bleached branches from the grip of the rocks and stacked them near the entrance. ’Twould have been so much easier to manifest the wood but the tenet regarding abuse of the energies nagged at the back of his mind. Torin stared at the cold lifeless pile of debris. Well. Perhaps a bit of magic wouldn’t hurt. He waved his hand over the miniature pyre, stepping closer to the yellow flames as they greeted him with welcomed heat.

  Glancing around the small damp cave, Torin broke the silence with a satisfied chuckle. He’d done what she’d instructed. Found somewhere else to stay. Albeit briefly. He’d have to leave before the tide returned. As he stretched his hands over the warmth of the fire, he drew in a heavy breath. Now what? He sensed Emma needed him but she just didn’t realize it. The meddling Cailleach had shoved him into her life and now neither one of them would know any peace until they took the path the old spirit woman wished. Wariness stirred deep in his gut as he stared into the flames. The last woman he’d gotten close to had torn his heart from his chest. Scrubbing his hands together, he ground his teeth until his jaw nearly cracked. Perhaps, if he returned to his blessed stones, he could breach the portal and leave this god-awful place to the likes of Arach.

  “Now, ye know damn good and well the old woman will ne’er allow ye to pass through to the next realm until ye’ve done her bidding. Did ye no’ learn a thing when ye failed at ending your life?”

  Torin didn’t bother lifting his gaze from the mesmerizing flames, just stretched closer to the drying warmth. “What are ye doing out of your loch, Seonaidh? Have your mortals no’ offered ye suitable ale to slake yer unquenchable thirst?”

  The blue tinged form of a spritely youth wavered just outside the mouth of the cave, standing with both arms outspread to the blowing rain. “Nah. The offering they made was suitable enough. Why do ye think they’re receivin’ all this blessed rain?”

  Torin snorted, snapped a branch of wood across one knee and tossed it into the fire. “I figured this blessed rain came from the Cailleach herself to force the woman to give me shelter.”

  “Aye well, there is that. So, pray tell, oh damp stone guardian, why is your stubborn arse shivering in this cave instead of sitting in front of her lovely peat fire?” Seonaidh lifted his chin and released an ecstatic sigh as he closed his eyes to the blowing water pelting down his face.

  “‘Twould seem our present day stone guardian has a bit of a problem accepting the magic. She only believes what she can see or touch and doubts even that if it doesna agree with her learned rules for reality.” Torin blew out a heavy breath as Emma’s reaction to the cup of mulled wine filled his thoughts. He could only imagine how she’d react if she witnessed all his powers.

  “The magic’s been hidden from her consciousness up until now and she’s also shaped by her history. Surely, ye understand how the past molds the pliable beings of this time?” Seonaidh opened one eye and arched a pale blue brow in Torin’s direction. “The poor woman’s been scarred by her past, Torin. Have ye no’ even bothered to look?” The water spirit lowered his arms and hooked his long graceful fingers into the straps of his flowing tunic. Tightening his mouth into a disapproving line, he tucked his chin to his chest with a sad, sympathetic shake of his head. “The kelpies told me they sent her birth mother and her adoptive parents to the other side. They’re still hissing about how the wily female guardian snatched her step-sister from their grasp.”

  Torin glared into the crackling flames. So that was why Emma denied the magic. No wonder she turned her eyes from the proof staring her in the face. “Damn kelpies. Do they no’ understand what damage their actions do to those left behind by their mischief?”

  “They dinna care. Ye know ye canna tell a kelpie anything.”

  Torin paced away from the fire, circling the small circumference of the cave. “How long since her parents died? How bad was it when she saved her sister?”

  “Damn, Torin, have ye grown so lazy and inept with your centuries of sleep? Scry it, man. Ye need to see it for yourself so ye might learn what the old woman has placed within yer grasp.” Seonaidh jerked a thin blue hand toward a shimmering puddle just outside the entrance of the cave.

  The surface of the puddle immediately stilled and shimmered with a blue-white aura. The rains parted around the circumference of the glowing pool as though it were protected by an invisible barrier. The center of the glowing circle of water darkened as images formed across the surface. A strange shaped boat appeared, orange in color with swollen sides as though the thing was made of some sort of inflated bladder. Inside the boat, with puffy bright vests lashed around their bodies, sat an older man, a gray-haired woman, a young woman, and a spindly-armed little girl. Torin edged closer to the revealing puddle. He crouched down and touched the tip of his finger to the water’s edge. The vision immediately sprang into motion and the out-of-focus picture sharpened.

  Recognition rippled through his body. The young woman was a much younger Emma. Her green eyes were wide in her pale, panic-stricken face as she wrapped her arms around the tiny, tow-headed girl beside her. The boat lurched and dove between froth-covered rocks jutting up through the surface along the center of the treacherous stream. Angry water poured into the boat, drenching the passengers clutching at the ropes. The girls screamed as the boat slid halfway up an out-cropping of sinister black peaks. The thrashing inhabitants flipped out of the orange bladder into the churning stream. Torin leaned closer to the disturbing image, flexing his hands as Emma clenched a flailing hand through the straps fluttering loose in chaotic abandon down the side of the raft. She thrashed against the rushing water while maintaining her hold on her sister by the strap wrapped around the glowing orange vest. The boat burst free of the cluster of stones; the current rushed them down the swollen river. Emma yanked her young sister close, arching back against the rushing water to keep the child’s head protected against her chest. Torin watched. He held his breath in mounting dread while the girls bobbed along like two small chunks of river debris lost to the mercy of the water. The river finally released its hold and t
ossed them into a gently whirling eddy. With her arms wrapped around her sister’s limp body, Emma staggered to the muddy shore. Collapsing with the child on the unforgiving strand of rock and mud, Emma raised her head. Her hand shaking, she shoved matted hair out of her face as tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked around the remote wilderness with frantic, jerking motions. Her body froze and she eased back on her heels when her gaze landed on what she sought.

  Torin grimaced. A sudden feeling of helplessness flowed through him as Emma paled even further then collapsed into a huddled mound of violent shudders after she’d spotted the mangled forms of her parents. Their broken bodies dangled from the branches of a downed tree wedged between boulders in the center of the stream. Their arms trailed atop the water as the current tugged at their lifeless limbs. Rage choked him as Emma’s sobs echoed out of the vision. She cradled her sister in her arms and rocked the unconscious child against her breast.

  Raising his head, Torin scrubbed the image from his eyes, the memory of the pain etched on Emma’s face forever burned into his mind. “And what of her birth mother? Does she bear the trauma of that loved one’s death as well?”

  With a quiet sigh, Seonaidh shook his head. “No. She was just a wee babe when her mother walked into the sea and gave herself to the kelpies.”

  “Foolish woman. Why would she do such a thing when she’d been chosen as mother to a stone guardian?”

  “Did ye no’ try to take your own life, when ye felt things had no’ gone your way?”

  Torin flinched. He glared at Seonaidh with a go-to-hell look he hoped would dry the water sprite in his tracks. “Enough. Ye obviously sought me out for a reason. What is it?”

  Rippling his fingers through his silvery hair, Seonaidh’s image started fading from view. “The Cailleach bade me come and show ye the woman’s past since ye didna have the sense to seek the knowledge on your own. The old woman of the moors has great plans for the two of ye. Ye’d best accept it and get on wi’ your fate.”