Haunted Warrior Read online

  Praise for the Novels

  of Allie Mackay

  Must Love Kilts

  “You almost feel that you have actually visited Scotland yourself after reading [Allie Mackay’s] books because of her vivid descriptions and the realistic scenes that she paints with her words.”

  —­Sapphire Romance Realm

  “A good book filled with strapping Scottish warriors, evil curses, and lots of fighting of the Vikings. Not a bad way to pass an afternoon.”

  —­Book Binge

  “A delightfully lighthearted time-­travel romance. Talented author Allie Mackay brings Scotland to life for her readers with her descriptive phrases and settings, showing her own love of the location she chose for her books….The heated romance, passion, witty repartee, inept witches, plot twists, Scottish allure, and hunky hero in this story combine for an entertaining read that readers will hate to see end.”

  —­Romance Junkies

  “Mackay’s lusty romance is an action-­packed trip through time.”

  —­BookPage

  Some Like It Kilted

  “I’m a kilt convert! After plunging into the rowdy world of Some Like It Kilted, I would follow Allie Mackay’s hot Scot anywhere!”

  —­New York Times bestselling author

  Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “If you want a fun and passionate ghost love story, look no further than Allie Mackay!”—­Sapphire Romance Realm

  Tall, Dark, and Kilted

  “An engaging urban romantic fantasy with a touch of mystery and a terrific twist….The story line is brisk and breezy from the moment the ghost and the American meet, and never slows down. With a strong cast, paranormal and human, fans will enjoy Cilla’s Scottish adventure in love.”

  —­Genre Go Round Reviews

  continued…

  Highlander in Her Dreams

  “Scottish charm, humor, and…hot romance.”

  —­Night Owl Romance

  “Sexy…imaginative…a fascinating mix of exciting action and passionate romance.”

  —­Romance Reader at Heart

  “[A] pleasing blend of wit, passion, and the paranormal…a steamy romance that packs emotional punch.”

  —­Romance Reviews Today

  “A fabulous mixture of magic and romance. Allie Mackay has penned an enchanting romance of lovers from different times…a captivating paranormal romance and a wonderful addition to a book lover’s library.”

  —­Fresh Fiction

  “Cleverly plotted and well-­written…a fun, sexy story.”

  —­Romantic Times

  Highlander in Her Bed

  “[A] randy paranormal romance….The premise is charming and innovative….This novel definitely delivers a blast of Scottish steam.”—­Publishers Weekly

  “A yummy paranormal romp.”

  —­USA Today bestselling author Angela Knight

  “A delightful paranormal romance. The writing is poetic, compelling, and fun, and the story features an imaginative premise, crisp dialogue, and sexy characters whose narrative voices are both believable and memorable. HOT.”

  —­Romantic Times

  “A superb paranormal romance.”—­Midwest Book Review

  “A sexy, humor-­filled romance with delightfully amusing characters. Artfully blending past and present, Highlander in Her Bed is an entertaining read. Well-­written. Readers will enjoy this one!”—­Fresh Fiction

  “Appealing and amusing. Sizzles with passion.”

  —­Romance Reviews Today

  “A whimsical read that will have you panting from start to finish! Mackay knows what a Scottish romance novel needs and socks it to you! Red-­hot sizzling chemistry ignites from the moment Sir Alex materializes in front of feisty Mara…a sure-­bet bestseller.”

  —­A Romance Review

  ALSO BY ALLIE MACKAY

  Must Love Kilts

  Some Like It Kilted

  Tall, Dark, and Kilted

  Highlander in Her Dreams

  Highlander in Her Bed

  Haunted

  Warrior

  Allie Mackay

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, January 2012

  10 9 8 7 5 4 3 2 1

  Copyright © Sue-­Ellen Welfonder, 2012

  All rights reserved

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-­party Web sites or their content.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported “destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  For Griff, a mini dachshund with the heart of a Great Dane, the bravery of a Highland warrior, and enough charisma to rival a romance novel hero. He was Lily’s canine protector and soul mate, the love of his mommy’s life, and very dear to me as well.

  I couldn’t have loved him more if he’d been my own. He left this world much too soon, leaving us unprepared to say good-­bye. Like Jock in this book, Griff was extraspecial, making all who knew him love him just a bit more. I know he’s smiling and wagging his tail at us still, eager to run into our arms again. As Graeme and Jock will agree, it’s only a matter of time. Until then, Griff, you’re in our hearts!

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

>   The Beginning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My books are always inspired by my great passion for Scotland. Home of my ancestors and land of my dreams, Scotland calls to me as nowhere else, and I visit as often as I can. To me, every inch of Scotland is magical. There’s enchantment in ancient rock, blowing mist, and wild, windswept moors. And who wouldn’t find wonder in the quiet places, awe in the huge seas and soaring granite precipices? Each time I return, I’m reminded anew that Scotland truly is a place like no other. Yet some places there, and the memories made in them, wrap themselves just a bit more soundly around my heart. When that happens, stories are born.

  Haunted Warrior is set in one of these special places, beginning at Balmedie Beach, where I’ve enjoyed walking on chill autumn afternoons as Kendra does in the book’s opening, and ending with a tiny fishing village on Scotland’s northeastern coast that’s exactly as I’ve described Pennard. The real Pennard shall remain unnamed because, like Graeme and Kendra, I believe its charm would be dimmed if it were “discovered.” Luckily, the cliff road, which really is harrowing, and the frequent thick sea mist (haar) that rolls in to cloak the shore, help the village remain a near-­inaccessible hidden gem. I hope that never changes.

  For the curious, I once did spot a lone man atop the high dunes at Balmedie. As Graeme is doing when Kendra first sees him, the man I saw was looking out to the North Sea. He was tall, striking, and kilted. And he had an air about him as if he owned the strand. The word “guardian” struck me as I watched him. And as I did, he vanished before my eyes. Balmedie is known to be haunted. And it is true that many ships have met their doom in the rough seas there. I’ll never know whom I saw on the dunes. But it was an unforgettable incident and also inspired another book of mine, Highlander in Her Dreams.

  Concerning ghosts, they’ve always fascinated me. So much so that I’ve spent years traveling the UK with two like-­minded friends, exploring haunted locations and enjoying extraordinary experiences. Like Kendra, I believe spirits are just people, too. Whether they haunt a country manor house, a castle, a medieval battlefield, a pub, or a ruined abbey, they should always be treated with respect.

  I’d like to add that driving on the left isn’t as bad as I make it seem in my books. But it does have its moments. Even so, it’s the best way to see Scotland.

  Three special women helped me through this book’s writing. Roberta Brown, superagent and my dearest friend. She’s my champion always. Thanks to Kerry Donovan, my talented editor, for her input and direction. Thanks, too, to my copy editor, Robin Catalano, for her skill and sharp eye. She makes copyedits a pleasure. Ladies, I’m appreciative.

  Much love and appreciation to my very handsome husband, Manfred. Keeper of my stronghold, he fends off all trouble, not letting anything darken my days. I’m eternally grateful. As ever, my little Jack Russell, Em. He’s the whole of my world and my greatest love. I hope he knows how much I love him.

  “The dead don’t come back to life. They never stop living.”

  —Kendra Chase, spirit negotiator for

  Ghostcatchers International;

  landscape historian for

  the rest of the world

  The Beginning

  Balmedie Beach, Northeast Scotland

  A chill autumn afternoon, present day

  She wasn’t alone.

  Kendra Chase, hardworking American from Bucks County, Pennsylvania, and a woman much in need of some private downtime, knew the instant someone intruded on the solitude of the wild and rugged North Sea strand she’d been walking along for the last two hours.

  In that time, she hadn’t seen a soul.

  Now her skin tingled and the fine hairs on her nape lifted. Awareness flooded her, her entire body responding to the changed nuance of the air. The atmosphere was charging, turning crystalline as her senses sharpened. Everything looked polished, colors intensifying before her eyes. The deep red-­gold of the sand glowed, as did the steely gray of the sea and even the crimson sky. The brilliance was blinding, and the chills slipped down her spine, warning that the changes weren’t just a trick of the light.

  Something other than the sinking Scottish sun was responsible.

  Kendra took a long, calming breath. So much for surrounding herself with white light to block unwanted intrusions from the Other Side, though…

  No ghost was causing the back of her neck to prickle. As one of the top spirit negotiators employed by Ghostcatchers International, she always knew when she was in the presence of the disembodied.

  This was different.

  And although she’d been assured by the desk clerk at her hotel that Balmedie Beach, with its high, grass-­grown dunes and long, broad strand, was a safe place to walk, the teeming city of Aberdeen was close enough for some wacko to have also chosen this afternoon for a jaunt on the strand.

  She doubted there were many ax murderers in Scotland, but every urban area had its thugs.

  Yet she didn’t actually feel any sense of menace.

  Just something unusual.

  And thanks to her work, she knew that the world was filled with things that were out of the ordinary.

  Most people just weren’t aware of it.

  She was, every day of her life.

  Just now she wanted only to be left alone. So she pulled her jacket tighter against the wind and kept walking. If she pretended not to notice whatever powerful something was altering the peaceful afternoon, she hoped she’d be granted the quiet time she really did deserve.

  But with each forward step, the urge to turn around grew stronger.

  She needed to see the source of her neck prickles.

  Don’t do it, Chase, her inner self protested, her natural defenses buzzing on high alert. But the more her heart raced, the slower she walked. Her palms were dampening and she could hear the roar of her blood in her ears. There was no choice, really. She had to know who—­or what—­was on the strand with her, affecting her so strongly.

  “Oh, man…” She puffed her bangs off her forehead and tried to brace herself for anything.

  Then she turned.

  She saw the man at once. And everything about him made her breath catch. She blinked in surprise and astonishment, and a thread of alarm rose in her throat.

  For a peace-­shattering interloper, the man was magnificent.

  No other word could describe him.

  He stood on the high dunes a good way behind her, his gaze focused on the sea. Even now, he didn’t glance in her direction. Yet his presence was powerful, claiming the strand as if by right.

  Tall, imposing, and well built, he was kilted and appeared to be wearing a cloak that blew in the wind. Even at a distance, Kendra could tell that he had dark good looks. And—­she swallowed—­there was an air of ancient pride and power about him. So much so that she could easily imagine a long sword at his side.

  He looked like the sword-­carrying type of man.

  Limned as he was against the setting sun, he might have been cast of shadows. But there could be no doubt that he was solid and real.

  He was a true, flesh-­and-­blood man, no specter.

  Yet…

  Kendra’s pulse quickened, her attention riveted by his magnetism. She pressed a hand to her breast, her eyes wide as she stared at him. The same wind that tore at his cloak also tossed his hair. A dark, shoulder-­length mane that gleamed in the lowering sun and that he wore unbound, giving him a wickedly sexy look. His stance was pure alpha male. Bold, fearless, and uncompromisingly masculine. He coul
d’ve been an avenging angel or some kind of sentry.

  Whoever he was, he seemed more interested in the sea than a work-­weary, couldn’t-­stop-­staring American female.

  And that was probably just as well, because even if she’d hoped to enjoy her one night in Aberdeen, she wasn’t in Scotland as a tourist.

  She was working and couldn’t risk involvement.

  Not that such a hunky Scotsman would give her the time of day if he did notice her.

  She had on her old, comfortable, but terribly worn walking shoes. Her waxed jacket had also seen better days, however warm it kept her. And the wind had made a rat’s nest of her hair, blowing the strands every which way until she was sure she looked frightful.

  It was then that she noticed the man on the dune was looking at her.

  His gaze was deep, knowing, and intense, meeting hers in a way that made her heart pound. The air between them seemed to crackle, his stare almost a physical touch. Her nerves rippled and swirled; fluttery warmth spread through the lowest part of her belly. Decidedly pleasurable, the sensation reminded her how long it’d been since she’d slept with a man.

  Embarrassed, she hoped he couldn’t tell.

  She didn’t do one-­night stands.

  But she felt the man’s perusal in such an intimate way—­how his gaze slid over her, lingering in places that stirred a reaction. He made her want, his slow-­roaming assessment sluicing her with desire.

  She tried to glance aside, pretending she hadn’t stopped walking to stare at him. But she couldn’t look away. Her eyes were beginning to burn because she wasn’t even blinking.

  Retreat wasn’t an option.

  Her legs refused to stir. Some strange, invisible connection sizzled between them, then wound around her like a lover’s arms, shocking and sensuous. The sensation dried her mouth and weakened her knees, making it impossible for her to move as he took in everything about her, from her tangled hair to her scuffed-­toed shoes. His gaze returned to her chest, hovering there as if he knew her bulky, all-­weather jacket hid breasts she considered her best asset.