Her heart sank lower. Why couldn't she be attracted to a normal guy? Ha! Who on earth would be attracted to a normal guy when Angus was around? His old-fashioned sense of honor and gentlemanly behavior touched her heart. He was the hero of a young girl's fantasies. Strong, brave, dependable, intelligent. But he was also a grown woman's fantasy—sexy, aggressive, and a little bit dangerous. How could she resist such a man?
"Good evening."
She turned with a gasp. "I didn't see you coming."
"Ye were deep in thought."
Thinking about him. Thank God she could block her mind from him. Even so, she realized the warmth invading her cheeks betrayed her innermost thoughts. Angus looked gorgeous as usual. He was wearing the blue and green plaid kilt. His hunter-green socks matched his sweater. The hilt of a knife showed above his right sock. The leather straps crossing his chest could only mean his claymore was on his back.
She cleared her throat. "You came prepared."
"As did you."
"Yes." She hitched her bag of stakes higher on her shoulder. "Thank you for coming."
He smiled slowly.
Too gorgeous. A feeling of awkwardness nettled her.
"Shall we?" He extended his hand.
Did he expect her to hold his hand? Or was he merely motioning for her to start walking?
Too awkward. She headed north, leaving the bridge behind. He strolled beside her. Close beside her. For a big man, he moved very quietly. She adjusted her bag to hear the comforting rattle of stakes break the silence.
Why was he being so quiet? She tried to think of something normal to talk about. "So, do you always wear the same plaid?"
"'Tis the MacKay tartan. Ye doona like my kilts?"
"Oh, I do. I just wondered if you had more than one." She winced. Brilliant. Why not insult the man? "I mean, more than one style."
He smiled. "I have actually acquired quite a few clothes over the centuries."
Several centuries of fashion stuffed into one closet? It was mind-boggling. "You mean you still have wigs and waistcoats and lacy shirts?"
"Aye. Stashed away somewhere in my castle."
Her mouth dropped open. His castle? Good heavens, how could anyone have a normal conversation with Angus MacKay? He was… fascinating.
His hand brushed against hers as they walked.
She thought about moving a bit to the right, out of his reach, but she didn't. It would be too obvious and more… awkward. "You'll be able to hear an attack anywhere in the park?"
"Aye. Just to be safe, I asked Connor to patrol the northern half."
"That's good. We'll have backup, if we need it."
"Aye." His hand lingered close to hers.
Her heart beat faster. "It seems odd that we just met last Friday night."
"Aye." He entwined his fingers with hers.
Her heart swelled with longing. "This is only our fifth night together."
"When ye've lived as long as I have, ye realize how relative time is. I've endured centuries that passed in the blink of an eye as if I were barely breathing." He stopped and faced her. "Or I can experience an entire lifetime in the span of a few nights. All the hope and passion that makes life worth living, 'tis suddenly surrounding me like a gift from God."
"Oh, Angus." Then she was different. She was special.
"We canna deny what is happening to us, Emma."
She released his hand. "I don't deny it. But we also can't deny that there's no chance for us."
"Emma—"
"No." She held up a hand. "I don't want to be one of a long line of human girlfriends. I–I feel special to you right now, just as I am. And I need to leave it that way. I want to be able to say good-bye when you go with my heart still full. Not drained and desolate. Can you understand?"
"Nay. For one thing, ye're assuming a sad ending."
"How could it possibly be anything else but sad? We're from two different worlds."
He frowned. "We're more alike than ye think. And there has never been a long line of mortal girlfriends."
"You fed off human women for centuries. You told me you left them all very satisfied. That sounds like a long line of lovers to me."
"That was survival. That was me giving back to faceless women I canna remember, so I wouldna feel guilty for stealing their blood. Yeare different, Emma. I doona need ye in order to survive. But surviving is no' the same as living. Or the same as feeling human again. I am alive when I'm with you. Ye feed my soul."