What in the heck was I doing?

I caught my eye in the rearview mirror, and what I saw angered me.

I was excited.

“Chill out,” I warned myself, though I knew there was no point. I was already too far gone. But who could blame me? How long had I been working in a vacuum, with only a very few people who gave a damn about what was so near and dear to my heart. I would finally get the chance to share my work with somebody who seemed to be interested.

“He’s not really interested, Ciera.” I had reminded myself of that so many times in just one short day. He didn’t care about my research—not for the same reason I did, anyway. It was personal for him. I couldn’t have described how I knew it. I just did.

Which meant he didn’t find me interesting, either.

“That doesn’t matter.”

Muttering to myself was a habit I thought I’d broken myself of years earlier. One which had gotten me made fun of endlessly when I was growing up. Seanmhair once told me I had too many thoughts for my brain to contain, so some needed to come out every once in a while. It had been a little bit of a comfort, anyway. I had needed all the comfort I could get in those days—Mom and Dad gone, no friends. And a penchant for talking to myself.

It didn’t matter whether or not Fence found me interesting on a personal level. Which he didn’t. He absolutely did not. I was the girl who’d knocked herself out cold in the cave he was exploring. I was also the girl he’d treated with suspicion. It was that suspicion which likely made him want to meet up with me. Nothing more than that. The thought made my chest twinge in a funny way. I hated the feeling that he was only using me. Who wouldn’t?

But for what? That was what I couldn’t understand. What interest could he have in anything to do with the clans? He was my age, maybe a little older. Thirty, tops. He was obviously American. And he didn’t strike me as a villain. It was a stupid thought, and I knew it. But that didn’t make it any less true. He seemed like a normal person.

And my instincts were always sharp.

I parked before hauling the wheeled suitcase from the trunk of my rental car. God, it had taken forever to get the hang of driving out here. I wondered how long it would take me to get used to driving in America again once I got home.

I nodded to a few people who were coming out of the library as I was walking in—one of them was a tall, redheaded man with a brilliant smile and thoughtful eyes. He offered a wink as he held the door for me, and I couldn’t help but giggle softly to myself. Some women didn’t like little come-ons like that, but they didn’t bother me. Except when the jerk got grabby or asked me to smile more.

“Who’s that guy?” I gasped in surprise when I almost walked straight into a firm, wide chest.

I bounced right off and would’ve fallen on my butt if a pair of strong hands hadn’t caught my arms.

I looked up and realized I could’ve guessed who it was. Fence’s dark eyes looked stormy.

“Caught you again,” he nearly growled as he straightened me up. I ran a hand over my carefully arranged curls to be sure they weren’t sticking up at all angles. I hadn’t spent a half hour taming them just to look like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket.

“You have a habit of catching me,” I replied with a breathless laugh. Even when he let go, I could still feel the pressure of his hands on my biceps. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.

“You have a habit of falling. Did you even hear my question?” He peered through the glass panes set in the double doors, looking outside with his eyes narrowed.

“No. What was it?” I tried to think back.

“I asked you who that guy was. The one who winked at you.”

I almost laughed. “That’s what you’re so worked up about? He was a stranger.”

He turned his attention from the windows and looked me up and down. “Anyway, here we are.”

“Yes. Lucky us, huh?” This was going well. “Do you want to look at what I have, or what?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile, and my cheeks burned.

“Yes. I would very much like to see what you have.” He nudged my suitcase with the toe of his trainer. “Tell me this isn’t it.”

“No. I thought I would bring my laundry with me.”

He chuckled. “All right, all right. I’m old-fashioned. I don’t believe a man should get away with being rude to a woman. I’m sorry my ideas are antiquated.”

“They’re not antiquated. I think it’s nice. I just think you overreacted, is all.”

“Point taken. I’ll refrain from overreacting from now on.”

I couldn’t help the little thrill that ran through me when he said that. From now on. Like there was a future for us. There wasn’t, obviously, but it felt nice to hear it. I wondered if I wasn’t too severely hard-up. That had to be the problem. Too busy with school to think about men.

You need to make room in your life for the laddies, my grandmother used to say as she brushed my hair. Not that I needed her to do it, but it was one of our little rituals. When I was too old to get tucked in with a bedtime story, I’d sit in front of the fire with her and watch as she knitted everything from the thickest sweaters to the most delicate lace. And when it was time for bed, she would brush out my curls. Make room in your life for the laddies, because all the fancy pieces of paper from all the universities in the world won’t make up for the lack of happiness in your heart.

And I’d spun around, shocked and almost angry. I thought you were proud of me for going to Columbia!

She had only smiled her gentle, knowing smile and patted my hand. I am, my dearest, but I would leave this world a lot easier if I knew you would be happy when I was gone.

I hadn’t known that she wasn’t only speaking hyperbolically. That she had already received her diagnosis.

Fence was polite enough to take the suitcase from me and carry it up the wide, marble stairs leading to the library’s main floor.

I felt like he was carrying my baby in his hands. Years of work. Sleepless nights. Feeling like I was about to go cross-eyed if I read one more like of eight-point font. I took it back from him the second we were at the top of the stairs—I tried to give him a grateful smile, so he wouldn’t think I was being rude.

“Where should we do this?” I asked.

He’d made a point of impressing the need for privacy.

“You’re more familiar with this place than I am.” He looked around us with an appraising eye, and I wondered if the architecture impressed him as much as it did me. We both looked up at the line of iron chandeliers stretching out for what seemed like miles, hanging above a long row of tables over which huddled dozens of young and old academics.

“Follow me.” I led the way to my favorite nook.

I was fairly sure nobody ever used it—smack dab in the middle of some of the dustiest books imaginable, which was a good sign of how rarely visitors did more than pass by. I settled into a leather chair and lowered the suitcase to the floor before unzipping it.

“You come here often?” Fence sat beside me and watched as I spread folios and thick, heavy books out onto the table.

“All the time,” I admitted. “My kitchen table isn’t big enough to fit all of this, and I hate working all spread out on the floor—besides, there’s hardly room there, anyway.”

“Small apartment?”

“More like a closet,” I clarified with a wry smile. “But I like the coziness. It reminds me of home. I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable anywhere larger.”

“Where did you find all this information?” He leaned over, brushing against me slightly as he did, and I caught the hint of a nameless scent coming off his skin.

I could only think of it as “masculine,” just like everything else about him. He was the sort of man who collected attention when he walked into a room, without so much as saying a word or lifting a finger. He was just… a man. Overwhelmingly so.

To the point where I almost forgot he’d asked a question. “Oh. Uh. All around. Everywhere. It’s taken me a very long time to compile this.”

I felt my brain cells dying with every word I spoke. I’d start drooling soon. I might even forget my name. Why did he have to be so darned… himself?

“I give you credit for your dedication,” he muttered. He glanced at me, an eyebrow cocked, his hands hovering over one of the books. Asking permission.

I warmed all over and nodded. It happened to be the same book I’d been carrying in my backpack when we met.

“You never told me what your connection is to all of this,” I ventured, watching his reaction to what he was reading.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s a long story.” He never took his eyes from the page, and his voice sounded far away.

When would I get the answers I was looking for? Not that I was interrogating him. I wouldn’t have even cared that much if he would’ve only been forthcoming. The way he kept dodging my questions made it worse. There was a growing sense of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach. Who was he? Should I even be spending time with him?

When we were as close as we were now, there was no question. I needed to be with him for as long as I could, even though I had no idea why. He fascinated me, like he had dropped out of the clear, blue sky. Old-fashioned enough to take offense when another man winked at me.

“Sgiathail,” he murmured. “That’s the name of the clan? The original one, I mean?”

I looked over his shoulder, where his finger lingered under the Scots Gaelic word for “winged.”

I asked, “You read the language? I mean, you seem to know it very well.”

“I know it well enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve used it.”

“Are you originally from Scotland?” I thought I could get a little information out of him while he was distracted by what he read.

“Mm-hmm.”

“How long ago did you go to America?”

He drew in a breath, like he was about to answer, then turned his head just enough to catch my eye. “It’s been a long time. Most of my life.”

“That can’t be too long,” I reasoned. Unless he had aged well. Just my luck, to develop a crush on a guy who looked ten years younger than he was.

“Long enough,” he murmured, going back to reading. “What happened to them? The clan, I mean?”

“Lots of things.” I pulled out another book, this one considerably older. “Part of the clan split off roughly eight hundred or more years ago.”

“Did they?” He nearly tore the book from my hands, he was so eager to read. “How many? Does it say?”

“You have a vested interest in all of this. I can tell.”

“You had your bedtime stories. I had mine. Let’s leave it at that for now.” He was almost brusque.

I bristled at his tone, even as my eyes drank him in. He was somehow even more attractive than ever.

“You don’t need to bite my head off over it,” I grumbled anyway.

My words seemed to seep into his consciousness, and he lowered the book with a sigh.

“Let me apologize. I don’t want you to think I’m completely boorish. I’m not used to spending time with people like you.”

“Like me? I don’t know how to take that.”

“As a compliment,” he insisted. “I spend most of my time with my family—my brother, my cousins. We’re all sort of… forceful.”

My thoughts darted back to Miles and Gate. If they were an example, I could see how he’d forgotten his manners. “I see. A bunch of guys, testosterone flowing like a river.”

“Like an ocean,” he grinned before tapping his fingers to the yellowed pages. “This is fascinating. I never would’ve known there was a breach in the clan if it weren’t for you.”

I let my attention go back to the issues at hand. “It doesn’t seem like a breach—at least, not to my understanding. More like… a spreading out. Although there are very few records of the branch which moved to Wales. They seem to have disappeared.”

“Disappeared.” He hung his head, just a little.

Enough for me to sense that the little bit of history I could provide had stung his heart somehow. The hand I placed over his was out of instinct, the need to comfort him in any little way I could. He flinched, but didn’t move away.

“I’m sorry.” I felt like such a fool as I let my hand slide from his. It was all so stupid. My imagination was running away with me. There was no way he could feel attachment to people who’d lived and died nearly a thousand years earlier, even if they were distant relatives. There was nothing romantic about him outside the tricks my lonely, loveless heart was playing on me.

“I suppose we could spend all day on this, couldn’t we?” he asked, gesturing to the spread in front of us. “I had no idea.”

“More than one day, for sure.” Weeks, even. My heart fluttered a little when I imagined spending weeks poring over research with him. Preferably in a confined space. I could’ve sworn my toes tingled at the thought.

He looked at me—but instead of a warm smile, indicating that his thoughts were moving in the direction mine were, he looked troubled.

What was he worried about? Maybe he’s wondering how much longer he can stomach pretending to like you. I wanted to ignore that voice, but it only taunted louder.

I raised my voice to drown it out. “Or I could just give you the edited version, if that would make it easier.” I was nearly shouting, and everything came out in a breathless rush. If we hadn’t been so secluded, I would’ve gotten dirty looks from the people around us.

He sat back with a look of surprise. “Are you all right? You seem flustered. Did I do something awkward?”

“You? I don’t think you could be awkward if you tried.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he replied with a wry grin.

God, he even made self-deprecation sexy. If I’d still been wearing my glasses, I would’ve pushed them up the bridge of my nose and ducked my head to hide my blush. Sometimes I still made that gesture, even though glasses were a part of my past.

When I spoke again, I sounded more like myself. “As I said, I could give you the Cliff’s Notes version, if that would be easier.”

“I don’t know that I want the quick-and-dirty version,” he replied, sounding thoughtful.

I gulped. Even his word choice was sexy—and I knew he didn’t mean it to be. I made a mental note to take a cold shower when I got home.

I offered a wan smile, spreading my hands out over the table like a game show hostess. “You’ve seen the alternative.”

“It doesn’t intimidate me.” He held my gaze. “I can think of much less enjoyable ways to spend my time.”

I didn’t know what I wished more: that he would stop flirting, because he was driving me crazy, or that I could sweep everything off the table and pull him on top of me.

I managed to speak over the rush of blood in my ears. “Why is this so important to you? I’ve told you why it’s important to me. And don’t try to charm your way out of it, either. I know when you’re being evasive.”

“Oh? You know me as well as that, eh?” He chuckled.

But underneath that chuckle, he was sizing me up. I could feel it. I threw back my shoulders and met his gaze.

Whatever he saw must’ve pleased him, since his expression softened. “I’d love to tell you all about it over dinner tonight. What do you say?”

What did I say? What could I say?