Chisholm Brothers 03 Night Watch Read online

  “Shit!” She looked up. “You fucking idiot!” She was sitting here, drowning…in a goddamn convertible. How had she let herself get so freaked out that she’d somehow become the embodiment of every stupid heroine she’d ever read about and hated? Christ, she deserved whatever fate was in store for her.

  She reached up to release the locking mechanism…right as the wild man’s face reappeared in the passenger window. She froze.Shit, shit, shit! But it wasn’t until he pulled out the knife that she screamed.

  A flash of lightning outlined him in a sudden burst of light, creating a strobe effect just as he swung his fist up, blade clenched in his grip, and brought it down, plunging it into the canvas roof.

  She screamed again and fought to climb out from behind the steering wheel but she was well and truly trapped. The blade of the knife came through above the passenger seat, preventing her from reaching for the other lock. Not that she was interested in opening the top now…although he was coming in one way or the other, if the look on his face was any indication. The only weapon she had was her laptop. One good crack to the head…

  Except it had been flung to the floor on the passenger side and was currently under water. Plus there was the little matter of a knife blade between it and her. Her attacker pulled at the blade and began sawing with it, ripping at the canvas. Bree plunged her arm into the water swirling up to her lap now and tugged off one of her shoes. Shaking hard with both the cold and an overdose of adrenaline, she took the sopping-wet shoe and began beating at the knife, hoping to make him drop it. Not that this would slow him down much, but then she’d at least have the weapon.

  “Hey!” he shouted angrily, loudly enough so she could hear him clearly. Or maybe that was because there was now a gaping hole in the roof of her car. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

  What, she was supposed to let him destroy her car and attack her? Wasn’t she already having a bad enough day? She just kept beating on his hand until he pulled it back out. With the knife, unfortunately. “I’m trying to rescue your wet, ungrateful arse and giving myself a nice case of pneumonia doin’ it,” he raged. “Maybe yer tryin’ to kill yourself and I’m just getting in the way. So fine, fine.” He lifted his hands as if in surrender.

  “Saving me?” she shouted, her nerves so badly frayed at this point that she simply snapped. “Saving me?” With the knife safely removed, she reached out and popped the other latch, then pushed the top back far enough so she could climb out.

  Freedom!

  She used the steering wheel to pull herself onto the awkwardly angled seat, having to clutch at it to keep from falling. The rain beat down on her head and the heavy wind snatched at her hair, but she hardly cared at this point. She was already soaked to the waist, anyway. Standing up a little made the car list dangerously and sent her would-be attacker scrambling out of the way. He slipped and slid in the muck, so soaked and covered in mud already that she could hardly make him out. She glanced around, trying to figure out what her best bet was to get safely out of the car without sending it all the way over.

  “Climb out the high side,” he called out.

  She looked over to find he was on the edge of the swollen gully. It appeared he wasn’t entirely naked after all, but close enough. He had to be completely insane, regardless. Trying to save her. Right. Probably some dotty nutcase that lived in a cave in the hills or something and had seen her go off the road, figured she’d be ripe for the picking. Why else was he out in the middle of the night in his boxers?

  “Are ye comin’ down or are ye going tae stand about in the storm all night? The water didn’t get you but the lightning still might.”

  Now that Bree knew she wasn’t going to die, at least not immediately, she realized that once out of the car and on solid ground…then what? Where was she supposed to go? And what the hell was she going to do about the nutjob Scot, who, despite his claims, hadn’t left her to do as she pleased? Even if he meant her no harm, and she certainly wasn’t sure of that by any stretch, she didn’t really fancy whiling away the nighttime hours with him until daybreak rolled around and she could see some sign of life she could hike toward. Maybe she could run, just flat-out run, find something to hide behind, or whatever. It was so dark now he’d never find her. Except he likely knew this area far better than she did.

  “Come on, jump!” he shouted, pacing the side of the gully. “We could be inside and dry by now. Just wade around the front and I’ll help pull you up the bank. You’ll get yer clothes muddy, but there’s no hope for that now, so no sense in worryin’ about it.”

  He thought she was worried about her clothes? And why, suddenly, did he actually sound almost…normal? Wait. Had he said they could be inside? And dry? She swung her gaze around, looking for lights or a nearby house, but from her crouched position, clutching the steering wheel, the wind plastering her hair into her eyes, she couldn’t see squat. She swung her gaze back to him. Did she dare even allow herself to contemplate—

  “I’m no’ leaving until you get out, but I’m not so sure what good I’ll be other than gettin’ in the way. I can’t get around to that side, but if you get in and make your way around the front of the car, the water’s only about waist-deep. Just take your time, go slow. I’ll pull you out. But you need to get away from the car. Upstream.”

  He’d gone from raging attacker to cajoling rescuer. A new ploy, perhaps? Or had her fertile imagination just taken one look at a naked wild man and run with it? She could hardly be blamed, given the extreme circumstances…Could it be he really was a Good Samaritan? The whole situation was too surreal. Whatever the case, he wasn’t going anywhere, and he seemed a great deal calmer now. And she had nowhere to turn.

  What she couldn’t do was stay crouched on the seat of her sportscar in a raging electrical storm one moment longer. So she made the split-second decision to work with him. If he thought she was being agreeable, maybe he’d let his guard down. She could use him to help her out, then take off at the first opportunity. She hadn’t forgotten he was armed with a knife, but there wasn’t much she could do about that at the moment. Maybe if he thought she wasn’t a threat of any kind, he’d be lax enough so she could snatch the knife.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all she had at the moment.

  “Okay,” she called through the howling wind. “I’m climbing out the high side.”

  “Jump clear, use the car for leverage,” he instructed, sounding tense but remarkably sane all of a sudden.

  Balancing her weight by holding on to the windshield frame, she propped her foot on the skinny edge of the raised window, which was harder than it looked. She silently counted to three, then hoisted herself up and leaped into the rushing gully waters. The car rocked dangerously as she pushed off, but she didn’t—couldn’t—look behind her to see if it had rolled or not. She was too busy finding her footing in the water and muck.You should have taken your other shoe off , she thought as she stumbled and fought her way around the front of the car—which was still upright and partially wedged on the stone wall framing the opposite side of the gully. And she’d left the other one back in the car. Along with her backpack and her purse…and well, everything else she’d taken with her when she’d fled this morning. Smart. Real smart.

  But there was no way she could retrieve anything at the moment. She was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, in a storm, with a half-naked man who may or may not be completely mad. No identification. She tried not to think about her laptop, presently in the watery grave of the car. Everything gone now. Not that there was anything to lose, really. She shuddered and it was only in part because of the murky water rushing around her waist as she continued with her painstakingly slow, slipping, sliding progress around the front of the car.

  It struck her, though, even in the midst of her current situation, that instead of being horrified by the loss of her accumulated hard work, as she should have been, given the enormity of the consequences…she felt strangely freed.

 
There was a sudden large splash, and she looked up from the slow, deliberate pace she was attempting, trying hard not to slip and go under…thinking maybe the car had come loose…only to find her rescuer presently wading toward her. As he drew closer, a particularly violent lightning strike illuminated his features.

  She’d been so overwhelmed with her predicament, all she’d noticed before was that he was wild-looking…and mostly naked.

  The unearthly white flash of light cast him in a rugged, harsh relief. His face was angular, his jaw a hard, square line. His eyes were bottomless pools of black, his long, dark hair plastered to his head and neck, reaching all the way to his shoulders. Broad shoulders, she noted. Muscular, in a lean, defined way.

  He reached a hand toward her. She’d expected something broad, with blunt, work-roughened fingers. So the refined hand with the long, almost elegant fingers surprised her.

  “Come, lass,” he said, his voice roughly cajoling but impatient. He beckoned her with his hand. “I dinnae know about you, but I’ve had all of this wet I can stand for a night.” He braced his weight, squared his hips, and reached for her.

  She looked from his hand to his face, and back to his hand.

  Then he grinned. And it changed everything.

  “No’ to worry. Ye’ve had me in this water so long anything I have that might do ye harm is frozen.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. Not because he suddenly looked harmless. Far from it. No matter the fact that he was standing thigh-deep in water, bedraggled and shivering…this man would never look harmless. Not with a smile like that.

  She laughed because this whole episode was so absurd that there was nothing left to do but laugh. “And if I don’t get out of this water, I’ll be too frozen to care what you do.”

  “Now that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.”

  She could only hope so. She reached out and took his hand.

  Chapter 4

  Her hand was slender and cold to the touch. Not a surprise, given the circumstances. What was a surprise was the strength in her grip. Thus far, she’d struck him as an entirely helpless female—and somewhat flighty as well.

  “Grab on to my wrist,” he said, reaching past her hand to take firm hold of her arm. “Our fingers are too slippery.”

  Once he had a good grip, he didn’t waste time. He turned away from her and began to guide her out. The sheeting rain and heavy winds hindered his forward progress, forcing him to duck his head down, barely able to see his way to the bank. The water was running higher and faster now, and it was so slippery and muddy he wasn’t sure how he was going to get up and out again, much less pull her up behind him. But that was all he allowed himself to focus on. Not the droll tone in her voice just now, one that hinted that she was someone of far greater intellect than he’d originally assumed. Nor did he let himself think about her face, all pointed chin and angular cheekbones, with a veritable waterfall of hair billowing out about it, dwarfing her narrow features, even with the rain quickly reducing it to a heavy, wet mop. No, no point in thinking about her as anything other than a major pain in the arse. And an unwelcome intruder into his solitude.

  It would only be for the night. He’d survive. By morning the flash flooding would have abated and they’d haul her car out of there and see what was what. He’d get Alastair to come take a look at it, tow it in for him. And yes, he’d offer to replace the canvas top, if the rest was salvageable. How was he supposed to know she’d finally figured it out? He’d apologize later. They’d almost reached the bank. Now that the car wasn’t providing a breakfront for them, they were in the narrow section of the gully where the water was rushing unabated. With the wall lining the other side, there was no other choice but to find a way to crawl out this side. He scanned the edge for the least-steep angle out, but visibility was well limited…and it really didn’t matter much at this point. He did look back then. “I’m going to lift you out first.”

  Her face was set in determined lines as she braced herself against the current, but she didn’t argue. She simply nodded instead.

  He braced himself as best as he could, then pulled her closer. “Hold on to my shoulders, and I’ll give you a leg up and out.”

  She nodded again, then turned so the water came at her side and bracketed her legs in the muck before tentatively putting her hands on his shoulders. At no time did she so much as look at his face.

  “Ye’ll have to hold on better than that.”

  She did look up then, just as a particularly heavy gust of wind caught her back and had her clutching at his bare shoulders, her nails digging into his chilled skin. He found himself grinning and couldn’t, for the life of him, have said why. “Better. Now up ye go.”

  He gripped her hips, trying not to note how trim she was, how lithe, as he bent his knees and lifted her up and more or less heaved her onto the bank. She grappled at the slick ground, scrabbling for a hold so she didn’t slide back down again. He reached up and caught her foot and gave her an extra shove, sliding her chest deep across the grass and mud.

  She grunted a little, but continued fighting for purchase, finally finding it and immediately climbing to her feet. She wobbled for a moment, but quickly regained her balance. She looked out and around into the dark of the storm, then looked back at him.

  She wasn’t close enough to read her expression, but Tristan could tell from the coiled tension in her body that she was thinking of running. Where to, he had no idea. Was she so afraid of him still? He had a flashback to the look on her face when he’d knifed the canvas roof. Perhaps from her perspective, he wasn’t exactly a friendly face.

  But before he could say anything to calm her down or reassure her—what that would have been, he had no idea—she turned back to him.

  “Can I help you?” she said, yelling over the roar of the wind.

  So. Well, then. He didn’t know what to make of her.

  “I’m fine,” he said, then set about making his entirely graceless exit from the gully waters, which almost included the loss of what little modesty he’d managed to preserve during his rescue effort as he dragged himself up the slick bank. Mercifully he found purchase before his boxers were scraped clean off him. An instant later she was on her hands and knees in front of him, grabbing at his wrists and pulling with all she had.

  The leverage was unexpected, and he’d just found a toehold and shoved with his feet. The end result was that he catapulted up the slope and knocked her clean to her back. Landing square on top of her.

  She grunted, surprised by the impact, then turned her face to look directly into his. “Well,” was all she said.

  Again, his lips quirked. “Aye.”

  He rolled off her, managing to catalogue just how her body had felt beneath his despite the brief contact, not to mention the complete inappropriateness of such a thing. “Are ye okay?”

  She sat up. “Defineokay .”

  He laughed. “Come on. I’ve got dry clothes and a warm house just down the lane.” He rolled to his feet and extended a hand.

  She crawled to a stand without taking advantage of his offer. She started to brush herself off, then shook her head at the useless effort. The rain continued to beat at them and the wind snatched at her clothes and hair. “Th-thank you,” she said, stuttering a little as she began to shake. Whether from the aftershock from the accident itself or the chilling effect of the water, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.

  “I mean ye no harm. I live just down the lane and saw your brake lights streak across my front window. My family owns this property, far as you can see. I manage it. I’ll take you into the village first thing. Beyond that, you’re just going to have to trust me. There’s nowhere else to go and it’s no’ safe standing out here any longer.”

  She studied him for a moment, then, crossing her arms across her chest, she looked back at the gully and her mostly submerged car.

  “We’ll get it pulled out tomorrow.”

  She nodded, rubbing her arms
and shivering. She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked back at him. “Okay.”

  “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  She shook her head.

  He paused, then turned and led the way at a trot. She stayed behind him, but said nothing else. He glanced over his shoulder every couple yards to make sure she was keeping up with him and hadn’t had a change of heart and bolted across the field.

  A minute later he was opening his gate and motioning her to the rear of the house. “Mud room,” he shouted over the wind.

  She didn’t even hesitate, but put her head down and scurried around back. He matched her pace, both reaching the door at the same time. “I have a dog,” he told her as they hunkered down. “Excitable, but friendly. Jinty is her name.”

  She just nodded with a jerk of her chin, shivering and shifting from one foot to the other while Tristan opened the door. He went in first, mostly to run interference. He corralled the dancing Jinty and herded her through the mud room door into the kitchen. “You can say hello in a moment,” he told her, then closed the door between them, much to her whining dismay. “Sorry,” he said, turning back to his guest.