A Laird to Hold Angeline Fortin (most important books of all time .TXT) 📖

What was he doing lingering in the lobby of her hotel? Coincidence? She thought not. He was here for her and Hugh. For another round of threaten and be threatened. Well, if the bastard was dead set on pestering her, she’d gladly shovel a crap load of shit back at him.

Claire pasted on a smile and strolled forward, calling his name with sweet feminine surprise. “Phil!”

He looked up in disbelief and grimaced when he noticed her. Then frowned. Whether it was because she was there or that the pleasure in her inflection was so obviously negated by the daggers she was shooting at him didn’t matter. In any case, her tone was pleasant enough when she spoke again, only because she knew how it aggravated him. “What a small world, Agent Phil Jameson.” She clicked her tongue. “Microscopic even. Imagine seeing you here, exactly where I would least imagine you being. Vacation? Again?”

His lip curled and those cold hazel eyes scoured her from head to toe. “It’s Special Agent to you, Mrs. Manning.”

“Really? How special?” Claire asked, to annoy him more, but geez, she was curious too. Just a month before he’d been on desk duty. Had something changed? She couldn’t ask but took the opportunity to goad him. “Are we talking simply special or special-special?”

The NSA agent—former or present, it didn’t matter—was grinding his teeth. Claire took some gratification in riling him, but not enough to offset her dismay at finding him here. It was obvious he’d followed them to Edinburgh, just as he’d come all the way to Scotland as a part of his fanatical pursuit. Even so, she wasn’t about to let him see how his presence affected her. The jerk would no doubt get a cheap thrill from knowing he rattled her.

“And it’s Mrs. Urquhart, remember? I did tell you… recently in fact,” she went on in the same friendly tone, “that I’d remarried. You haven’t forgotten have you? It hasn’t been that long.”

No, it had been just a month since Phil had tracked her down at the Highland Games in Braemar and threatened once again to take Hugh down. Just as he’d hunted Hugh relentlessly since his escape from Mark-Davis. He was dogged in his pursuit, but Claire hadn’t yet been able to conclude whether duty alone drove the agent to such a sociopathic degree of tenacity.

Jameson said nothing but scowled ferociously.

“My husband, you know the big, burly Scotsman? He should be here in just a few minutes. You want to stick around and say hi? I’m sure he’d just love to see you.”

Since Hugh had threatened Jameson’s life last time they met, the agent’s sudden pallor wasn’t misplaced. If Hugh were here now, he’d wring the man’s neck without bothering with the questions.

“Really, what are you doing here, Phil?” She pressed for answers. “You’ve already lost your job over this nonsense. What more could you want? I’ve told you again and again, Hugh isn’t the man you’re looking for.”

“I doubt that.” He spat out the words with far more vitriol than she was used to hearing from him. But then, because of them, he had lost his job. “But if he isn’t maybe one of the others is?”

Taken off guard by the accusation, Claire was unable to provide a quick witty comeback and she could tell from the morbid glee in his eyes, he knew he’d struck a nerve.

“I’ve been watching you all for some time, but I can’t decide. Which one is it?” His low, raspy undertone toyed with her. “Not the redhead obviously. That would have been easy to spot. One of the others then? Both of them are about the right size. With similar coloring. But then your new husband meets the criteria, as well.”

Watching them? For how long? Had she brought danger down on her new friends? Oh, she’d never forgive herself!

Claire struggled to regain her bravado, her only defense against him. “Fishing season is over, Phil. I told you before, go home and forget about this ridiculous obsession of yours. You know, if you’re looking for a man, there are plenty of places that hire them out for your personal pleasure.”

Her heart jolted as his hand swung back, then froze and fisted. God, had he been about to strike her there in the lobby with a dozen people around to witness it?

The rabid hatred in his eyes said yes and a icy coil of fear gripped Claire for the first time. He’d never frightened her so before. His persistence had been nothing more than an annoying obstacle to overcome, but now…

God, where was Hugh? With him by her side, her bluster would be fully restored, but she refused to glance around for a rescue and give Phil the pleasure of knowing he’d shaken her.

“You think its all bullshit, Mrs. Manning?” he snarled and stepped so close she could see his nose hairs as he glared down at her. “Do you think I won’t fight this as long as I know the truth? About everything?”

Claire clamped her lips together, refusing to say anything more. He moved even closer until she could feel each word leaving his mouth against her cheek. He was digging, he had to be digging. There was no way he could know the truth.

 “I know more than you think, Mrs. Manning,” he rasped out close to her ear. She tried to duck away, but he caught her upper arms and yanked her closer. “I will hunt each one of them down and wipe the earth of their savage blood. It doesn’t matter that you know I’m here anymore. They will never see it coming. I promise you.”

A shiver snaked down her spine, but Claire couldn’t let fear overtake her. “My name is—” she drove an elbow into his ribs as hard as she could