Midnight's Captive(18)

Charon met the dark brown eyes of the woman, noting her long, straight dark brown-colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and heels.

She looked the part of a businesswoman, but there was something about her which set off warning bells in Charon’s head that was more than just her American accent.

“I’m Cassie Wilson. I’ll bring you to the offices and give you a small tour before your appointment with Con.”

She said all the right things, but Charon wasn’t fooled. Her eyes were too direct, as if she were searching for something.

There was no hint of magic that Charon recognized surrounding Dreagan. That didn’t mean there wasn’t something going on. The privacy, the hidden men keeping guard? There was more to Dreagan than what was on the surface.

But what was it?

“Charon?” Laura asked.

He folded his arms over his chest and looked at Cassie. “Why was I brought here?”

Cassie’s smile grew before she laughed. “Let’s just say that Con and the others don’t do things in a hurry. They like to take their time and investigate.”

As much as Charon wanted to be a certified seller of Dreagan scotch, he wasn’t sure he could take the chance. No matter how he had looked, nothing came up about Dreagan or who ran it besides Constantine.

And finding a photo of the bastard was impossible.

Charon found himself rubbing his chest. He dropped his hand, but glimpsed Laura’s worried frown. After the last battle with Wallace, Charon was cautious of everyone.

“Investigate? What an odd choice of wording.”

“Not really,” Cassie answered. “It’s what they did. Dreagan isn’t the world’s leading scotch distributor for nothing, Mr. Bruce.”

“I’m no’ interested in being investigated.” What the hell would happen if they discovered his past identities and just how long he’d been in Ferness? That’s not something Charon wanted to try to explain.

“You’re wary of us.” Cassie’s smile was gone, but her dark eyes held an openness he hadn’t seen before.

“One can never be too guarded.”

Her gaze looked to the ground for just a moment before she swallowed. “Talk to Con, Mr. Bruce. He’s … guarded … as well. I think the two of you might get along better than you think. Despite him employing an American,” she finished with a laugh.

“I know several lasses from America. They’re good women. I doona hold that against you.”

Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled brightly. “Good. Now, come. Let me show you Dreagan.”

At Laura’s questioning look, Charon merely shook his head. He couldn’t tell her his worries. Not now.

Not ever.

As Laura moved to stand beside him, Charon had the overwhelming urge to take her hand and thread his fingers with hers. To keep from doing that, he put his hand on her lower back and felt the current that moved between them.

She stiffened for just an instant before her body relaxed. Had he helped ease her tension just by touching her? This reckless need, the uncontrollable hunger for Laura was driving him mad.

He should be thinking about the meeting or Wallace or why the drough blood affected him so, but all that filled his mind was Laura. Her sweet, clean smell, her smile, her kissable lips.

When they came to a doorway, Laura turned toward him and looked up at him as she walked through. There was no denying the desire he saw reflected in her pale green depths. It made his balls tighten.

He glanced down at her mouth to find her lips parted. He dragged his gaze back to her eyes and bit back a moan when his arm brushed her breast as they passed through the door together.

She turned away just before he gave in to the temptation and kissed her. Cassie was talking, but Charon heard none of it. He ground his teeth and made himself focus. Selling Dreagan whisky was his goal. He’d not mess it up because he couldn’t keep his cock from standing at attention.

They followed Cassie around the area, looking at the distillery and meeting workers. Charon was impressed with how smoothly everything ran. But it was the beauty of the place that tugged at his heart.

It reminded him of the Scotland he remembered as a lad. Untamed. Wild.

Savage.

He longed to run through the mountains, to forget what he was and the world he now lived in. It made him yearn to take out his kilt and live on the land as he had done so many centuries ago.

To look up at the night sky, the stars winking good night as he fell asleep. To dive into the dark waters of a loch and bathe.

To walk for days and never encounter another soul.

“Few people understand why Dreagan is situated the way it is, or why we don’t open ourselves to a constant flow of visitors. But I think you do,” Cassie said softly from beside him.