Mystical Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page B

middle of town, after all, whereas she had been all alone in the woods, far from anyone who might hear her scream, when that bastard had stolen her a thousand years ago. Not wanting to cause a scene, she let Johnnie Dempster lead her across the street. But she did feel it was important to point out that she had no money left, so he wouldn’t think she expected him to pay.
    “I have no money to buy food and a leash and collar,” she said, clutching her coat closed at her throat and wishing she was still a hawk so she could fly away. “All I had was the five hundred dollars I gave you,” she told him, glancing over her shoulder for signs of her friend.
    He didn’t even slow down when the grocery store door suddenly opened all by itself. “Don’t worry; it’ll be my treat. Mismatch needs a collar and proper dog food.”
    “Mis neach ,” Fiona said, even as she wondered where she got the courage to correct him. “And I can’t possibly accept such a gift from you.”
    As if she hadn’t even spoken, Johnnie led her down one of the many aisles in the large store and stopped in front of a display of goods that had pictures of cats and dogs on them. “What in hell kind of name is Misnutch?” he asked. He looked at her, his expression disgruntled. “He’s a hunting dog; you have to give him a noble name like Winchester or Magnum or Decoy. Or at least give him a masculine name like Bruce or Henry or Rex or something.”
    “ Misneach is Gaelic for ‘noble one,’” she blatantly lied.
    Apparently mollified, he turned to the display. “I haven’t seen you around town before,” he said, fingering several ropes with clasps on the ends. “Did you just move to Midnight Bay? And was that Gaelic you and your friend were speaking back there at the bookstore?”
    “Yes,” she said, finally able to breathe normally now that he’d let her go.
    He glanced over his shoulder and lifted one brow. “Isn’t Gaelic some old Irish language or something?”
    “I’m Scots.”
    His beard bristled around his grin. “And you have a lovely accent, Fiona …? What’s your last name?”
    “Gregor.”
    His grin disappeared. “You related to Kenzie Gregor?”
    Fiona took the opportunity to step away when a woman pushed a cart full of food past them, although she didn’t quite have the nerve actually to bolt. Johnnie Dempster was a big, long-legged man, and she probably wouldn’t even reach the door before he caught her. “He’s my brother.”
    “Then how come you’re living at Huntsman’s?”
    “Because I wish to be independent.”
    Simply stating it out loud—to a complete stranger and a man, no less—made her feel somewhat braver, despite the fact that she was still effectively trapped.
    No, she never should have come to town today.
    “What’s your favorite color, Fiona?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “How about gold, to match your beautiful eyes?” he said, his own eyes smiling. “Or maybe red, like your hair—although I suppose it’s more of a strawberry blond. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a long, thick braid of hair on a woman.”
    Recognizing that his interest in her had become more than just a means to get rid of his dog, Fiona felt the knot in her belly rise into her throat, leaving her unable to speak.
    Johnnie blew out a sigh and returned to fingering the ropes on display. “You’re a bit gun-shy, aren’t you?” he murmured, pulling a bright orange rope off the hook. “Some guy must have burned you really bad. Here, forget about matching anything,” he said, thrusting the rope toward her. “No self-respecting Chesapeake would be caught dead wearing any color other than blaze orange.” He picked up one of the shorter orange belts from the display and snapped it closed to visually gauge its size. “This collar should fit Mismatch, but you’re going to have to buy him a bigger one in a few months.”
    Not daring to correct him again, Fiona thrust the leash toward him. “It’s very generous of