really aren’t needed.”
“You chose to travel there before?”
“Well, no.”
“Then heed my words, Helen. I can ’t be with you every moment of your day. Unless you want me by your side day and night.”
Helen ’s head shot up, her eyes grew wide. “Ahh.”
“Calm yourself, lass. I ’m only kidding.”
She wiggled a finger in his direction. “Men.”
Simon laughed, knowing he’d given her a chance to regain some of her earlier composure.
“I ’m going to bed,” she announced. “Alone.”
“Sleep well.”
Simon watched her turn to leave the room. When she reached the door, he called out. “Helen?”
“Yeah?”
“It might be wise to leave your door open in the night. In case something were to happen.”
With a nod, Helen left the room.
Simon waited until he heard her footsteps travel up the stairway and into the room Mrs. Dawson encouraged her to use. His was one, not far down the hall, but he didn’t intend to use it.
He glanced at the books one last time before turning off the lights. By the time he passed Helen ’s room, her light was off but her door was open a few inches.
After pulling back the covers on his bed, Simon stepped to the bathroom adjoining his guest room and removed his clothes.
Helen might not want Simon McAllister in her bed, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone. They were no closer to finding out how she traveled in time, and there was no guarantee it wouldn’t happen again.
No, Simon, in one form or another, would be by her side to protect her.
Standing in front of the mirror, Simon closed his eyes and allowed the shift. He pictured himself shrinking, the hair on his back sprouting. Everything in his body turned to flexible, expanding in some places, contracting in others. He reached for the floor and held in the haunting cry of pain.
* * * *
Helen punched her pillow with a fist and attempted to find a comfortable position. After her day, she was having a hard time falling asleep.
Talk about a confusing night.
Talk about a confusing man.
Simon McAllister or MacCoinnich, whichever name he wanted to use for the day, riddled her mind with questions and unease. Every hour he seemed to deliver one more compelling puzzle for her brain to decipher.
First was the undeniable fact that he’d traveled through time. Was a veteran of the sport in fact. The first time he’d ripped away time and space and traveled to the sixteenth century Scotland was because his mother wanted to prove his aunt was healthy and happily married to a Highland warrior. The second time was to return home so he could finish his first year in junior high school.
Things were sketchy from there. Simon told Helen he and his mother were forced back to the sixteenth century because of an evil woman who threatened all of Scotland. He didn ’t elaborate about how or why. He simply said it took some time for the family to figure out how to destroy her.
Destroy had been his word. So Simon had killed, or at the very least been a party to another human ’s death. Then again, how could she think he was anything but a medieval killer? The way he’d gone after the men in the forest suggested bloodshed wasn’t new to him.
Now that she reconsidered the events she ’d witnessed, how had Simon escaped the men in the forest? There had been six of them. Only two caught up with her.
What was up with the Druid thing? The man literally shot flames from his fingers. A part of her, an adolescent part, was in awe of his ability. He ’d made a flippant comment about how all Druids were capable of the task, even her, with practice.
Yeah, right!
She’d had a hard time mastering the fine art of snapping her fingers. Flinging fire across the room was not on her list of talents.
The thought of warm flames brought heat to her cheeks and reminded her of their near kiss. The fullness of his lips close to hers.
Electricity to the tune of a zillion volts simply didn’t compare. She hadn’t really expected it.