Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

“Yup, that’s me … American … Native American in fact, on my mother’s side.” She had spanned the distance between them and stepped into the central hall. A quick glance showed her a modern ‘log cabin—mansion-styled’ home. Everything was in rich wood and stone, and it was warm and inviting. She put out her hand and said, “Hi … I’m Roxie MacBran—your solicitor said you would be expecting me?” She tilted her head.

“Tom said that?” He frowned and turned to the round table sitting in the middle of the hallway where a stack of mail he had picked up still reposed unread. He went to it and sorted through until he found what he was looking for and slapped it across his hand. “Ah …” He smiled at her. “Save us some time, Miss MacBran. Why are ye here?”

“To fill the position of gatekeeper,” she answered with self-assurance.

He stopped, looked at her for a long pause, and shook his head. “Noo … oh … I don’t think so.”

“But you haven’t even looked at my references … they should be in that envelope.” She pointed to the letter he was still holding.

“I was looking for a man,” he answered roundly.

“I am fully qualified. I have a gun license, and I know how to use one. I am a black belt and—”

“Just what do ye think being a gatekeeper involves? I don’t need protection or that kind of a guard. I just need someone to man—the key word being ‘man’—my gate at the beginning of my drive. People have a habit driving right up to the gate and parking along it on both sides, thinking I am away … or whatever. They’ve been using my woods for camping, especially during the spring and summer months. I need it to stop.”

“If that is all you really need, an automatic gate would do you,” she suggested softly. “But I think you need more than that.”

“As I said, they park outside the gate and find a way in along the border and then tramp on up …” He shook his head. “No … a woman couldn’t stop—”

“Then I am the one for the job. No one will tramp on up while I am on duty,” she interjected. “As I said, I own a gun and I know how to use one … and I’m black belt trained.”

“Yes, but—”

“But what—no room there for a but. You need a gatekeeper … here I am.”

“Why would ye want the job? It will be lonely here for ye, lass, in the Highlands.”

“You have a village nearby where I’m sure I can find a pub and make some friends, and there is Inverness on my days off.”

He frowned, circled around her, came right up to her, and leaned in close. As his six-foot-something towered over her, he said, “I doona think it is a good idea for a woman to live alone … up here away from … the world.”

“As I said,” she answered softly.

He was drawn to her and those luscious green-gold eyes of hers—so unique. He was on fire suddenly with desire, and his wolf was beating a drum in his head. His heart pounded in a hard, quick staccato, and he thought she might hear it beating between them. He shook his head at her, unable to speak.

She said, “I know how to take care of myself, and I need this job.”

“Why? Why do ye need this job?”

“The pay is more than I could presently make in the States. Economy not so good just now, and I’m working on my first novel.”

“I don’t have Internet set up in the gatehouse,” he said firmly.

“Ah, but I looked into getting satellite for both TV and Internet—no problem. If you give me the job I can have that all set up tomorrow.”

“I doona like this,” he answered, moving another step closer to her.

She moved into him and looked long into his warm, gold eyes. “Why? It all fits. I came all the way here. Do you mean to turn me away?”

“I doona think ye are right for the job.” He frowned darkly at her.

“Give me a chance, and if it doesn’t work out for you, well, you can always fire me, boss,” she said and gave him a look that blew all his resolve out the door. She put out her hand. “Deal? I need to hurry and get someone out to the house to install the dish, and I need to go shopping …”

He studied her for a long moment and admitted to himself that he’d decided to give her the job the moment he realized it was what she wanted. He gave her his hand; when their hands clasped he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through his arm and aim directly at his brain, scalding all logical thought as it continued and found a path straight to his dick. The problem was that his wolf had decided he had to have her. This one was trouble, he told himself—so muc

h trouble. The little American did something to him she wasn’t supposed to be able to do. Only ‘the one’, his intended imprinted mate, should have this effect on him. He was momentarily off balance and thrown off his usual self-assurance.

She smiled warmly and said, “Key?”