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

As she feared for them all now. Their destinies were all linked together. Because Claire was correct.

“Given what little we know, I believe Claire is justified in her worries,” Connor went on as if reading Scarlett’s mind. “I’d wager this Jameson fellow not only suspects but knows we are no’ from this time either.”

“How would he guess that?” Emmy wanted to know. “I agree with Laird. Association by proximity alone isn’t enough to jump to such a conclusion.”

“Nay?” he retorted, lifting a brow and gesturing to Laird and Rhys then to Hugh. “Look at them. Ye might put them in fancy clothes but ye cannae take the ancient Scot out of them. This agent knows unequivocally Hugh is from another time, aye? Hae ye seen another man in this time who looks as they do? I’m no’ talking size or build, there are others as large. I’m talking aboot their demeanor. I’ve heard Jack tease Rhys aboot being old-fashioned but ‘tis no’ only that. They are battle worn. Ye can see it wi’oot a word from their mouths, but if this agent heard them speak, ye dinnae think he would note the difference in their speech from the Scots here?”

“He said savages,” Claire exclaimed suddenly, drawing all eyes. “Jameson said something like he was going to rid the world of their savage blood. I was so flustered, I didn’t catch it in the moment. He often referred to Hugh as a savage when he talked about him. I think I realized the connection deep down and that’s why I guessed he knew everything. Because Connor’s right, somehow he does.”

Their combined confidence in that upsetting conclusion had dread clawing in Scarlett’s stomach. She’d suspected but didn’t care to be proven correct in this instance. A fanatical admirer tracking her was one thing. In the past, the danger was to her and her alone. She hadn’t anticipated obsession might compel them to remove any imagined obstacle between them, but she’d already set provisions in place after the attack at the theater to counter such a threat. Laird could defend himself, especially with the assistance of Tyrone’s added security guards. She’d felt confident in that last line of defense.

However, this was a different story. A madman bent on eradicating the men she loved from the face of the earth with the power of a government badge and years of training behind him may not be so easily defensible. And this agent might not stop at the men. Funny how she was fine thinking someone only wanted her dead, but this was unacceptable.

“Okay, fine.” Claire paused in her rotation of the living room to throw up her arms in surrender. “Assuming he knows or thinks he knows, we can force him to withdraw over lack of evidence just as we did when he was after Hugh. I’ll call my brother Danny and have him get Laird, Rhys, and Connor into the system and send some passports just in case Jameson pursues the issue. The sooner we have them, the sooner Jameson will have to desist in pursuing you.”

“As he’s refrained from pursuing ye?” Laird pointed out. “And what if he disnae? What if he persists in his quest? Takes it e’en further?”

“Will he come for us again?” Scarlett threw the chilling question out there. Icy dread weighed heavy in her gut. “Wait, are you saying he may go after my girls?”

Hugh shook his head adamantly. “Nay. It makes nae sense. Even if he suspects ye’ve traveled in time, it makes nae sense he’d be so convinced.”

He didn’t want to believe it, but wishing didn’t translate to reality. Regardless of the magic in her life, Scarlett wasn’t one for living in a fantasy world.

“Well, I’m not going to wait around to find out for certain.” She stood and marched across the room. “Not when he might be the one who tried to kill us last night. Not if there’s even a chance my children are in danger.” She picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. “Hello, this is Scarlett Thomas in room…yes? Yes, I’m sure I could find time…Sure, but listen, there’s a man who’s been hanging about in the lobby and I wonder if he’s still there? He’s…” She looked at Claire.

“About forty-five with brown hair and a receding hairline.”

Scarlett relayed the information and listened for a moment. She focused on Claire again. “She’s asking if I’m talking about the gobby ponce in a cheap blue suit and vomitus green tie?”

Claire nodded. “That’s him.”

“That’s him,” Scarlett repeated into the phone and listened for a bit. “No, thank you. That’s it. I appreciate your help.” She hung up the landline and pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. “The front desk clerk says he’s been hanging around for a week or so, not staying here but just loitering. When they ask him to leave, he flashes a badge and acts like a—I’m quoting here—a jobby-flavored fart lozenge. I guess that means he’s being a pretty big dick?”

“Verra big,” Hugh agreed.

Pursing her lips, Scarlett scrolled through her recent calls and redialed one. When Tyrone answered, she gave him a brief rundown of the previous night’s events. “I think the guy who did it has been stalking my hotel, too. He’s probably still down there. Do you think you could get the cops to pick him up?” She gave a brief description and told him the guy might try to pass a phony badge, too. She paused, listening. “Well, attempted murder should hold him for awhile, shouldn’t it? Great. Let me know. Thanks.”

She clicked off and looked at the others. The apex of her immediate fear had been smoothed over. For now. “That should get Agent Jameson off our backs for a few days, at least.”

It didn’t eliminate the whole issue though.

“And then?” Laird rubbed his lip again in deep