With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(21)
Author: Kristen Ashley

He was, it came to her too late after all that had happened that morning, that presence she’d sensed last night, the alluring one as, obviously, the cosmos could play a pretty mean joke. She’d noticed it (and it broke her heart) the instant he walked in from finishing with the logs and it had invaded the house when she opened his bag and put away his clothes.

If he came after her, got anywhere near her, she’d know it.

Once she got her medication, she hoped it didn’t quit snowing. Then she could get away from that scary, bossy (but handsome) jerk.

They’d had dinner and she’d made a big one. Steak, baked potatoes (with butter and sour cream, her h*ps were never going to forgive her), veggies and rolls. She didn’t want to give him reason to pin her against the counter or do anything else that set her teeth on edge and made her want to scratch his eyes out. And she told herself the meal wasn’t absolutely delicious (when it was).

Now she was going to have tea, examine the cupboards to plan what to take with her, pray that his “man” could get through the thick blanket of snow that was still falling and then she was going to call it a night.

Through the whistle of the kettle, she sensed it.

Someone was coming.

She didn’t make a move or give any indication that she felt anything.

But she knew they were coming.

Oh my God! I hope it’s park rangers, she thought.

“Wait here,” Callum ordered and her head snapped up.

He slid off the stool and went swiftly to the walk-in closet. He exited carrying some of his clothes and a pair of his boots.

He walked directly to the door, turned to her and stated, “I’ll be back in five minutes. Make coffee.”

Then he was gone.

She stared at the door.

What was he doing now?

Then she thought, Five minutes.

Did she have enough time to gather what she needed, bulk up on clothes and get out of there? Maybe even waylay who was out there and ask for their assistance?

No.

It was too much of a risk.

She’d have to do it when he was sleeping. Five minutes wouldn’t give her a good enough head start and if she didn’t manage to find whoever was out there, even with her keen senses in this storm she might get lost.

She didn’t need to go from the frying pan (kidnapped by a madman) to the fire (lost in a snowstorm).

She needed to stick to her plan.

She moved to the coffeepot and it was dripping away when the door opened.

Sonia turned to the door and stared.

Through its frame came Callum followed by another man, dark-haired too, also tall (not as tall as Callum, two, three inches shorter), muscular but without the same bulk. He looked younger as well.

But she stared because he was wearing Callum’s clothes.

What on earth?

They entered, Callum closed the door, the man’s eyes came to her face and then he dropped immediately to a knee.

Sonia braced for action (though she had no idea what she would do) as she thought for a second he might be overcome by hypothermia or something. But she watched as his hand came out to the floor beside his knee and his head dropped down.

Then, in a strong, deep voice that carried across the room but, no matter, she’d have heard it if he said it one hundred feet away and outside in this raging blizzard, he muttered reverentially, “My queen.”

Sonia gawped.

He stayed bowed with head low.

“Rise,” Callum murmured quietly but unmistakably regally.

What on earth?

The man stood and grinned at her.

Then he turned to Callum and remarked, “She’s pretty.”

Sonia’s startled eyes went from the man to Callum who was watching her.

“That she is,” he mumbled and then lifted his chin to Sonia. “Waring needs a cup of coffee, little one, something to eat. See to it.”

Sonia blinked as Callum slapped the man on the back and escorted him into the room.

What was going on?

She hadn’t heard a vehicle. She’d heard and smelled a person approaching the cabin.

Apparently, Callum had sensed him too!

And why was he in Callum’s clothes? How did he get there on foot through a blowing blizzard in no clothes? And what did he mean, “My queen”? And what did Callum mean, “See to it”?

And, what, she felt it pertinent to repeat, was going on?

“Sonia.” Callum’s firm voice came at her and her body jolted her out of her reverie. “Coffee. Waring’s been running the last ten miles.”

Running?

“Yes, of course,” she murmured, attempting to mask her alarm and, she had to admit, curiosity, and called to the other man, “How do you take it?”

“With two fingers of whisky,” he replied, still grinning at her. He waited for Callum to set down a small satchel on the coffee table and sit before he took his seat, looked at Callum and repeated, “Really, your grace, she’s seriously pretty.”

Your grace?

“I noticed,” Callum replied, humor in his tone.

In spite of herself, hearing Callum agree she was “seriously pretty” with that warm humor in his voice made a shiver dance across Sonia’s skin.

She pretended that didn’t happen, found the whisky, poured in two fingers, added the coffee, took it to the living room and handed it to the man.

“Thank you for bringing my –” she started but before she could finish Callum’s hands shot out, curved around her h*ps and she was flying through thin air for a moment before she landed in his lap.

This made Waring grin again.

It made Sonia twist around and glare before snapping, “Callum!”

Callum completely ignored her, his arms closing tight as he asked Waring, “You want a sandwich or do you want Sonia to grill you a steak?”

Waring patted his flat belly and said, “Had some fast food before I transformed. I’m good. The coffee and whisky will set me up. The weather’s not half bad a bit down the mountain. It’s just up here you’re really getting it.” His grin widened and he said, “And it’s all downhill on the way back.”

Both Callum and Waring laughed at this like it was the height of hilarity.

Sonia didn’t get it.

Then again, Sonia wasn’t getting anything. Except the fact that Callum, Sonia noted with extreme annoyance, had a great laugh.

Which was also part of the cosmos’s joke, no doubt.

“So, we go on campaign, is Queen Sonia coming with us?” Waring asked, grinning at her again. “She’d be useful. Makes good coffee,” he finished before he took another sip.