Or her.
The longest he’d ever gone without a woman, since the eve he’d turned dark, was a sennight. At the end of it, he’d been up on that terrace wall himself. Clutching a bottle of whisky, dancing a Scots reel atop the slippery stones in the midst of an ice storm, letting fate choose which side he fell off first.
“He lied to me,” she said, raking her hair, still damp from the shower, back from her face with a bandaged hand. “He said he was a friend of yours and I told him you wouldn’t be back for an hour.” Her eyes widened. “Why did you come back?”
“I forgot the key, lass.”
“Oh, God,” she breathed, looking panicked all over again. “What if you hadn’t?”
“But I did. You’re safe now.” Never again will I permit danger to touch you.
“You didn’t know him, did you? I mean, he just said that to find out how long you’d be gone, right?”
“Nay, lass, I’d never seen the man before.” That much was true. “ ’Tis as you thought, he lied to find out when I’d be returning, how long you’d be alone. He may have gotten my name anywhere. The mail call, the phone book.” He wasn’t listed in either of those places. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Why would Security let him up?”
Dageus shrugged. “I’m sure they didn’t. There are ways to circumvent Security,” he evaded, scanning the damage resultant from the attack. He needed to tidy the kitchen before the police inevitably came to question the occupants on his side of the building. Fortunately, there were twenty-eight terraces below his, down to the fourteenth level, and the police would, he knew, in that wide berth the rich were ceded in any century, leave the penthouse level for last.
His mind raced over details: eradicate all sign of a tussle, pack up the last two tomes, stop at her place for her passport, take her artifacts to the bank, get them to the airport. He was glad they were leaving today. He’d dragged her into something even he didn’t understand, and only he could protect her.
And he would protect her. She was keeper of his Selvar. His life was now her shield.
May I serve the Draghar … the man had said.
It made no sense to him. He’d been so startled to hear those words on the man’s lips that he’d stared blankly. He was furious with himself because, had he moved or spoken more quickly, he could have forced answers from the man. Apparently, someone knew more about his problem than he himself did. How? Who could possibly know what he’d gotten himself into? Not even Drustan knew for certain! Who the blethering hell were the Draghar? And in what fashion had the man been serving them?
If they were, as he’d considered earlier, some part of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, and if they had indeed decided to hunt him down, why harm an innocent woman? And if they were the allegedly immortal race, why send a mortal to do their bidding? There was no question the man had been mortal. Dageus had seen him. He’d landed on a car, or rather, merged with the car.
While he’d cleansed Chloe’s wounds, he’d quizzed her thoroughly about the intruder, in part to keep her talking so she wouldn’t go into shock. The man had identified himself to her as Giles Jones, though Dageus suffered no illusions ’twas his real name. The man had recognized him somehow. He might not have known Giles Jones, but Giles Jones had known him. How long had the man been watching him? Spying on him. Waiting for a moment to strike.
A sudden fear for his brother and Gwen gripped him. If he was being watched, was Drustan also? What curse had he brought down upon himself and his clan?
He shook his head, sorting through dozens of questions for which he had no answers. Thinking was of no avail. Action was necessary now. He needed to get things tidied up, get them out of the country, then he could concentrate on discovering who the Draghar were.
He finished with the last cut and glanced up at her. She was watching him in silence, her eyes huge, but the color was slowly returning to her face.
“Forgive me, lass. I should have been here to protect you,” he apologized gravely. “ ’Twill never happen again.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She gave a shaky little laugh. “You can’t be held responsible for all the criminals in the city. It’s obvious he wasn’t in his right mind. I mean—my God, he jumped. He killed himself.” She shook her head, still unable to fathom it. “Did he say something before he jumped? It looked like he did.”
She’d been too far away to hear it. “ ’Twas gibberish. Made no sense. I’m sure you’ve the right of it. Like as not he was crazy or . . .” He shrugged.