Lauren closed her eyes, thinking about how frightened she’d been when that boat had come up close to her. She could also swear she’d heard someone shout to her, but she couldn’t make out the words. Now she’d be suspicious of everything and everyone.
She shivered in the wind, and Nate grabbed another towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she mumbled, chastising herself immediately for having run off on him earlier. He was a nice guy. She should try to talk to him more, actually make friends. She could handle being friends with him.
That’s exactly what her counselor had encouraged her to do—make friends with more males. She thought it would help Lauren to trust men again. True, she had many wonderful men in her family, but it was hard to trust new people. No, new men.
She glanced at Nate out of the corner of her eye. He was so good-looking—tan and muscular in all the right places, with just a smattering of dark hair across his chest. She wondered how often he went to the gym to work out. Quit it, Lauren, that’s not the kind of question a friend asks.
She thought he was staring at her, but she couldn’t tell through his sunglasses. He moved his gaze to the shoreline, then bolted out of his seat. “Right there, Ramsay.” He pointed toward a boat just pulling away from a dock.
Ryan looked in that direction and turned the wheel to steer the boat toward them. The two crafts were headed straight for each other, though not at top speed.
Cait put her hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Is he going to play chicken with you? Please don’t, Ry. Those games scare me.”
“No, he’s going to listen to what I have to say. They’re a threat to anyone on this lake, and some people could have young kids on board.” Once they drew close, Ryan blew his horn and slowed his engine to a crawl, drawing up next to the other boat. Nate was on the side closest to them.
Ryan shouted, “Allow me to teach you proper boating etiquette. There’s a certain distance you should keep between your vessel and a person in the water, whether they’re skiing or not.”
Dom was still driving the boat. “Ramsay, your word means nothing out here on the water. You’re not coast guard, last I heard.”
His crew laughed at the joke, and he gave Ryan a huge smile.
Nate jumped to his feet, and something about his stance told her he was barely keeping a handle on his temper. “You were too close to our skier and she fell because of your wake.”
“That’s her problem, not ours,” piped in a guy with a beer gut and a black eye.
“You mean Lauren huddling back there?” Dom pointed to her, and she couldn’t help but shrink away. “I can’t help it if she can’t ski.”
Trevor said, “Leave her out of it, guys.”
“Shut up, Hutton,” Dom shouted. “We’re going. Teach her to ski, Ramsay.”
Nate said, “Move your boat a little closer, and I’ll teach you not to yell at a lady.”
“I don’t see a lady,” the one with the beer gut scoffed.
Nate said, “Bring me closer, Ryan.”
Beer Gut drawled, “And you think you can take five of us?”
“Yeah, I do. Come closer, and I’ll take you out first, you piece of shit. I’ll take you by the neck and toss you overboard before I go after the rest.”
Beer Gut, a.k.a. Randy, moved away from the edge of the boat, edging behind one of his friends. The rest of his crew laughed at him. Nate was larger than anyone in their boat, and much more muscular. But there were five of them. He couldn’t possibly win a fight with those odds.
She whispered, “Please don’t, Nate.”
Dominic gunned his engine and brought his boat around to the other side. Once he was close enough, he whistled. “It’s nice to see Lauren Grant in the flesh. You don’t come out too often, do you? Drop the towel, Lauren. Give us a good view.”
Lauren stood between the boat and Nate. She backed up until she hit Nate’s chest. He immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, and to her surprise and pleasure, the touch felt good—comforting, not scary. She pushed closer to him. “Please don’t, Nate. Let them go.”
Randy said, “Yeah, please don’t, Nate. You’ll only get hurt.” His voice had climbed up two octaves in imitation of hers. The tone of his voice went up the back of her neck, causing goose bumps to break out down both arms.
She shivered and Nate stepped in front of her, shielding her from view. He was so tall and his shoulders were so massive, she couldn’t see past him.
She didn’t want to—instead she closed her eyes and wished they were back at the dock.
Nate said, “You insult her one more time, and I’ll jump into that boat to kick your ass.” His voice had dropped to a dangerous register and silence reigned on both boats.
Ryan said, “We’re leaving. Don’t follow us, Dominic. I may not have my badge out here, but I know who to call about a boatful of drunks on the water.”
“Big man, Ramsay,” Randy shouted. “Go on home.”
Ryan turned the boat away, forcing Lauren to grab Nate’s arms to keep from falling. He spun around, laying gentle hands on her shoulders, and said, “Sit down over here, Lauren. Don’t let the assholes bother you.”
Little did he know that was impossible for her.
Ryan headed back in toward their boathouse. “We can go out later if you like, but I promised Lorraine we wouldn’t miss the food. She puts on quite a spread.”
Nate added, “If you want anything at all, you better get there before Tristan eats. We eat take-out most of the time, so we’re all excited for some home cooking.”
Lauren said, “My mother’s cooking is the best. I think Tristan will be happy.”
They pulled into the dock, and Lauren was happy to be on dry land again, safe from the jerks in the other boat. Even so, she found herself wanting to stay close to Nate. She grabbed her cover-up and leaped onto the dock. “Introduce me to your brothers?” she asked as they headed up the slope at the back of the house.
“Sure. In fact, I see the two of them in line for the buffet. Are you hungry?”
“Yes. I love my mother’s summer spreads.”
Once they moved through the buffet on the porch, Nate and Lauren joined Tristan and Sam at an outside table on the patio. They exchanged a quick round of introductions, and Lauren settled her napkin on her lap and lifted her gaze across the table, only to freeze when she noticed Tristan’s plate.
Nate grinned, so he must have noticed her reaction.
“What?” Tristan said through a mouthful of macaroni salad. “We don’t get good food like this very often.” He finished chewing, then said, “Nate makes a great breakfast and Sam makes spaghetti with a jar of sauce and frozen meatballs, but that’s it. I had to try everything.” He dove into a pile of salt potatoes with his fork.
Lauren couldn’t help but giggle as she looked at the two heaping plates of food in front of the teenager. “Can you really eat all that?”
Nate and Sam answered in unison. “Yeah.”
They all burst into laughter just as Mallory walked by. “Wow.” She whistled. “Whose plate is that?” She was staring at Tristan’s second plate, mounded with salads and side dishes, which sat almost in the middle of the table.
The group pointed at Tristan, who shrugged and gave them a Cheshire-cat grin.
Mallory asked, “May I sit?” as she grabbed the empty chair. “I have to see this go down. I’ll make sure and tell Lorraine if you finish it all.”
“I will,” he mumbled through a bite of a hot dog. He frowned as if he couldn’t believe she’d questioned his persistence.
“Join us,” Nate replied. “Mallory, this is my brother, Sam, and the one with all the food is Tristan.”
Tristan stood up and gave a mock bow since his mouth was full.
Lauren grinned at him. “A hot dog, a cheeseburger, and a pulled pork sandwich?”
Tristan nodded as he took a bite of his cheeseburger. “And don’t forget all of the sides.”
Sam said, “You’d think we never feed him, but he’s eaten like this ever since he started working out at the gym.”
Tristan stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and said, “This is great. Tell your mom the potato salad is excellent, and that green stuff with the pistachios in it is even better.”
Lauren couldn’t help but laugh again. “I will.” All of the brothers looked alike, but Tristan and Nate shared the same dark hair and gray eyes. Sam’s coloring was lighter, and his eyes were brown.
Her gaze caught Nate’s, and a bolt of pleasure shot straight to her core.
Nate’s phone went off, so he grabbed it. “Excuse me,” he said as he stepped away from the table. A minute later he returned and said, “Sorry, but I’m on call. Working house fire on the other side of town. Got to go. Thanks so much, Lauren and Mallory. Thank your mom and Ryan for inviting me.” He stepped away and turned to his brothers, “See you at home later.” He reached back to grab his hot dog to take with him.
Sam said, “If you need me, call. I haven’t had a beer yet.”
Nate nodded and left, trotting across the lawn to his truck.
Lauren felt like she’d lost something important.
***
Three days later, Lauren parked her car in the library parking lot, glancing around before she got out to make sure there was no one that appeared threatening lurking around. The weekend had helped restore her, and she had classes the next day, so she wanted to do a bit of research. While her favorite old tomes were at the library at Cornell University, there were several useful books on Scottish history at the Summerhill College’s library.
For a long time after her first attack, she’d sworn to never go out alone again, but she’d woken up one day and decided she would not let the bastard beat her. She was too strong for that.
This last attack had been different. Though her life had been threatened, it didn’t feel as personal. Ryan seemed convinced that the arsonist’s purpose had been to convince her to end her group.
And so she had stopped it. For now. Her brothers and stepfather had convinced her it was the best course until things settled down. The group met twice a month, so she’d only had to cancel one meeting so far, and she had honestly blamed it on her health. She was not up to handling others’ issues when she was afraid for her own safety. At least she could refer them to Stacy’s Center, though the distance would be tough for some.
Lauren was tired. For the moment, anyway, she’d had enough. Her stepfather had warned her that dealing with traumatized women would wear on her, that she would need to take extra-special care of herself to stay strong enough to be of assistance to others. He’d been right, so right. For the time being, she just wanted to study and forget about all her troubles—and everyone else’s. Sure, she knew it sounded selfish, but she was drained. The fire had taken a lot out of her.
She’d seen many counselors, so she knew the warning signs of being pulled back under the cloud of depression—too much sleeping, too many tears, and too much solitude. She’d felt herself pulling away from her family lately, which had frightened her enough to force her to take action. So she’d vowed to get out to her safe places. Skiing had been great for her and, much to her surprise, Nate’s company had also been a welcome balm. She wished their relationship would go further, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to him, so she shoved that thought to the back of her mind.
There were other, easier, ways of pushing herself to step outside her comfort zone. One was getting well so she could once again help the women in her group. First on her list was the library, and she promised herself she would speak to at least two people while there. Her fingers still gripped the steering wheel, but she managed to release them one finger at a time.
Take a deep breath, Lauren. You can do this.
A second spot check assured her there was no one in the area. It was still daylight, and it was early in the week. She had her phone, her mace, and her brothers and stepbrothers had taught her how to fight back.
That was something she hadn’t done the first time. She’d been paralyzed with fear.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her keys and reached for the door handle. As she opened it wide and glanced around, she felt her body react in the usual way—racing pulse, sweaty palms, shallow breathing. She fought through it, making herself stand up, grab her bag, close the door, lock it, check the lock again, and turn around. One foot at a time….one step at a time.
Deep breath.
She dropped the keys in her bag, checked to make sure she had her phone.
Fifty steps. Ten more. Five more. She could almost let her breath out.
Whoosh. She opened the library door and stepped into the foyer. A calming sensation entered her body and she smiled. She’d done it.
Moving inside the old stone building, she took a deep breath to inhale one of her favorite smells—that of old books. There were shelves, racks, and piles of books everywhere. Books were her sanctuary, offering her a welcome escape from the world she lived in.
She had two favorite genres—history books, especially from the medieval time period, and historical romance. Though she’d once been ashamed of her love of romance, she now felt differently. Reading romance novels at night helped her sleep. It freed her, temporarily, of the nightmares. There was such a wealth of time periods in historical romance. Scottish historicals were her favorite because of her family’s heritage, and she loved the medieval time period, but she often read novels set during the Revolutionary War, the American Civil War, or World War II. Her only complaint about books was that she didn’t have time to read all of them.
Her Bachelor’s degree was in history, and she had originally planned to become a high school history teacher, but now she was pulled in another direction. She’d fallen in love with the 1200s of Scotland, the time of lairds and chieftains, of clan wars, skirmishes, and more. Whenever she found any book about that time period, she would get lost in the medieval world, not realizing how much time had passed while she read.
Then she’d discovered the Battle of Largs and she couldn’t soak enough information on the period. She’d decided to make it the subject of her master’s thesis. Taking a deep sigh of satisfaction, she strolled over to the desk and whispered, “Hello, Mrs. Evans.”
The woman behind the desk in a pencil skirt, her hair up in a tight bun with the requisite pencil behind her ear, spun around and said, “Lauren Grant! Thank goodness, you’re here. I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I heard about your house being burned down, you poor thing.”
People had started to turn their heads and stare, but Lauren knew it was only because they were talking in the library, a place where everyone sought peace and quiet. Sandy Evans said, “Never mind. I’m glad to see you. Call me sometime. Can I help you with anything?”
Lauren shook her head. “Not today. I have some research to do, so I’m going upstairs. I’ll catch you on the way out.” Summerhill College and Cornell University had reciprocal library privileges for their students.
She waved to the older woman and headed up the large staircase in the middle of the library, glancing down at the various cubicles tucked into the corners for studying. They weren’t very busy tonight, though it was still the beginning of the semester. By finals week, every cubicle would be taken with students trying to cram a semester’s worth of information into their heads in one or two nights. School libraries, while losing some to internet searches, still thrived. Many students required silence when they studied, and it wasn’t possible in the dorms, or in the Grant-Ramsay abode.
She settled into her favorite spot, texted her mother to let her know she’d arrived safely, and then moved down the aisles of books, searching for some of her favorite books about the 1200s of the Highlands of Scotland and clan wars.
She’d found many references to Clan Grant and Clan Ramsay in different time periods, but very little back in the 1200s, mostly because so little had been recorded back then. While she had no idea if she was a descendant of Clan Grant, she loved the thought. She found the fact that her mother had married a Ramsay so delightfully coincidental that she was determined to seek out all the information she could on the two clans.
As one Scottish historian had told her, there hadn’t been many major events during the 1200s in the Highlands to record until the Battle of Largs.
The battle wasn’t well known, mostly because nothing decisive resulted from the battle until much later. Lauren had pored over online documents and found enough basic information to recreate the battle. The Norse had plundered and pillaged up the coastline, ravaging the Scottish women and stealing anything of value. The two sides had met in battle in Largs. The Scots had fought hard, sending the Norse, now known as the Vikings by many, back onto their galley ships and down the firth to the Norse King Haakon on the Isle of Arran. The King of the Scots had hoped to wrest control of the Western Isles of Scotland back from the Norse as part of the spoils of the surprise victory, but the King of Norway didn’t relinquish them for two more years.
It seemed a bit curious to her that despite the acrimonious relationship between the Norse and the Scots there were statues in Ayr celebrating the Vikings and their culture. It was a little bit curious to her. She found a couple of books to peruse, so she settled down, her laptop open to record her notes as she searched.
Before she knew it, someone made an announcement that the library was closing. She glanced at her watch in shock, unable to believe it was almost eleven p.m. She hadn’t planned on staying past nine, but she’d gotten so wrapped up in the history of Clan Grant she’d lost track of time.
Now it was pitch dark out…
She could do it. There would be others in the parking lot. She would not be alone.
She packed up, making sure everything was saved on her laptop, and returned the books she’d looked over to the right place for reshelving. Checking her phone, she was surprised to see a text and a voice message from Nate. Once she made it to her car and locked the door, she’d check them both. Maybe she’d even call him just to calm her nerves…and also because she wanted to talk to him.
As she walked down the staircase, she glanced around, hoping to see others getting ready to leave. Ryan had advised her to walk out near someone, preferably someone she trusted. No one was around, so she went to the desk.
A young guy came out and said, “The library is closing. You’ll have to leave.”
She shifted her book bag to the other shoulder. “I know. I was just going to say goodbye to Mrs. Evans.”
“She already headed out over an hour ago.” He pivoted and left her there alone.
Drat. Mrs. Evans had been her last hope of finding someone to walk with, at least to the parking lot. Well, at least she wasn’t parked too far back. She took a deep breath as she pressed her weight into the heavy door, enjoying the cool breeze that hit her face as soon as she stepped outside.
Pausing, she checked her surroundings as Jake had taught her and then moved quickly toward her car. She reached into her bag to grab the can of mace just in case she’d need it, but she’d remain positive.
Only about fifty steps. She would remain positive, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be prepared. After opening her car door with the beeper on her keys, she reached into her bag and grabbed out her cell phone and her mace, carrying one in each hand.
Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…she spun around because she thought she’d heard a sound behind her.
No one there. A few cars were in the area, but they all looked empty.
Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…another sound. Nothing, but she lifted her face to the sky because she thought she’d felt a raindrop. Sure enough, it was starting to rain.
Huddling her shoulders against the damp cold, she started forward again and pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head.
Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten…almost there.
Nine, eight, seven…almost.
Six, five…
A harsh hand shoved the small of her back, forcing her into a group of pine trees at the side of the lot. Pushing against the attacker, she attempted to turn around. To determine who’d attacked her. The phone! She swiped up from the bottom of her iPhone and did her best to hit the camera icon over and over again, having no idea if she was capturing anything. She screamed, but a hand quickly clamped over her mouth. Fighting as much as she could, she made sure the bastard had to drag her to get her where he wanted her. As soon as they were inside the pine trees, her vision settled on something that frightened her more than anything she’d ever seen.
Six men stood inside the trees waiting for her.