“Afraid so. The caped hero has nothing on us.”

“He can fly.”

“Well, there is that.”

Bree rubbed her tummy. “I am hungry.”

“Then let’s see what treats Coira’s hiding from me.”

“She hides food from you?” Bree followed him out of the library.

“From all of us. Warrioring works up a hearty appetite.”

She knew a warrior with a hearty appetite, she thought sadly. “Then lead on, and I’ll blame it all on you.”

He led her into the kitchen and flipped on a light. “I’d bet my dirk she’s got cookies hidden somewhere.” Looking around the big, cozy kitchen, he went straight to the refrigerator, where he reached up and grabbed a cookie jar hidden behind some boxes. It sounded like he groaned. “Shortbread. Coira makes the best.” He took one, bit it, and held the rest to Bree’s mouth. “Try it. Don’t worry. I don’t have cooties, and my hands are clean. I haven’t scratched my ass all day.”

She smiled and took a nibble. “That is good.”

He took another and handed her the jar. “Coira says it’s Faelan’s mother’s recipe.”

Bree stopped chewing, but Faelan had already ruined her sleep; she wouldn’t let him ruin her appetite too.

Ronan pointed to a cabinet. “Grab a couple of glasses, and I’ll get the milk.”

“You must spend a lot of time here.”

He patted his flat stomach. “Does it show?”

Bree laughed. “I meant here at the house.”

“This is a second home, like base camp, for all of us. Warriors from the clan travel all over the world, wherever we’re sent, but we’re always welcome here.”

“I guess it’s all the traveling that makes the accents so hard to place. I can hear a hint of brogue, but no two are alike. Faelan sounds more like a Scot since he’s gotten here. He’d started to sound modern.”

“We pick up languages and dialects fast. It’s part of our disguise, but the tongue knows when it’s home.” Ronan poured two glasses of milk and took a long drink of his.

“I suppose not having a definite accent makes it harder for a demon to find out where you live.”

“Aye. We’ve gone to great lengths to protect our clan’s location. It wouldn’t be good if we were found out.”

“Druan’s castle is a duplicate of this one. Someone must know.”

“Let’s hope whoever it is, is dead.”

They chewed for a few moments in silence. Bree reached for another cookie. “Ronan and Declan sound like Irish names, not Scottish.”

“Celtic,” Ronan said, wiping his mouth. “Mostly used in Ireland. My mother was Irish, like Faelan’s. Many Scottish warriors find their mates in Ireland. My father named the first son…” His eyes shadowed. “My mother got to name the second. She didn’t know she’d get two.”

“You have an older brother? Is he a warrior?”

Ronan stared into his glass. “He died.”

“I’m sorry.” Bree dropped the subject, since he seemed uncomfortable discussing it. “Cody said he’s from the Connor clan, but he lives in America.”

“His family’s been there a long time. Some secret mission. There are other warriors in America besides the Connor clan, but they all originated from Scotland. Warriors were sent to guard the new country. I’ve lived there the last few years myself, when I’m not hunting.”

“In America?”

“Montana. I was in Alaska for a while. We had a warrior who went rogue. I needed some time to clear my head, so I volunteered. I chased him to Montana. Liked it there, so I stayed, as much as any warrior stays put. Last month I was given a demon in Ireland, so here I am.”

“A warrior went rogue? They can do that?”

“Just like angels can fall. It’s a choice.”

“Like being a traitor?” she asked, and they both grew silent. Was he thinking of Angus’s pronouncement?

“Like being a traitor,” Ronan agreed.

“So what did you do with this rogue warrior?”

He studied a cookie then met Bree’s gaze. “That’s nothing for a bonny lass to worry about.”

Bree traced the circle on her glass. “Then tell me something else. What’s with Sorcha and Duncan?”

“Don’t tell me you can feel the tension.” He rested his elbows on the counter. A look of pain crossed his face. Did he have a thing for Sorcha too? “Duncan’s always been protective of her, but protecting Sorcha’s like protecting a porcupine. She makes it hard for him. Hmmm, I think that was a pun.”

Bree’s face warmed. “Are they together?” she asked. “I mean this whole mate thing?”

“Duncan’s never said anything, but for his sake, I hope not. I’d shoot myself first.” Ronan handed Bree another cookie.

“Do you think Faelan and Sorcha could be…” Bree’s voice hitched.

“Mates?” Ronan finished, watching her closely. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. She seems attracted to him.”

“Sorcha acts like that with all men. She does it to piss Duncan off.”

“Why?”

“Who knows why Sorcha does anything. I don’t know how he puts up with her. I’d throw her in Loch Ness and be done with her. As for Sorcha and Faelan being mates, there’s been some speculation since she was to come and wake him, but that’s about it. Speculation.” He popped another cookie. “So life threw you for a loop, waking a warrior from another century. Not just any warrior, but the Mighty Faelan.”

“It’s been interesting.”

“You two get along? I mean, he’s living in your house, sleeping there…” His tone was deceptively casual. She suspected everything about Ronan was deceptively casual.

“I guess so. He didn’t have much choice but stay, waking after a century with only the clothes on his back. Well, that and his dagger and talisman.”

“That’ll change soon enough. His money’s been invested all this time.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what Sean said. A century and a half. Not bad, huh?”

“Does Faelan know?”

“Don’t know if Sean or Duncan mentioned it yet, with all the excitement.”

“He’ll be relieved. He hates depending on someone else. After this is over, he was going to get a job working with horses.”

“He could buy a hundred horse farms. Half the stock here came from Nandor’s line. Do you ride?”

“Me, on a horse? I have balance issues.” Bree smiled. “The cutest little boy offered to teach me to ride earlier. I’ve never seen so many happy kids.”

“We breed like rabbits. When a warrior finds his mate, he can’t think of anything else.” Ronan grinned. “Keeps the clan supplied with plenty of warriors.”

They munched in silence as Bree puzzled over Ronan’s words. Was that what Faelan’s appetite was about? Not a side effect from the time vault, but he’d met his mate? He was almost finished with his duty. Had he left behind a mate? He seemed guarded when she asked him about it earlier.

“Faelan speaks highly of you.”

“He does?”

“That surprises you?”

“He’s different lately.”

“Stands to reason. He’s got the world to save, demons to chase. And now we have mysterious time vaults popping up in cellars and castles vanishing into thin air.” He rubbed his chest and winced. A dark spot on his shirt seemed to be growing.

“Are you bleeding?”

He glanced down. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Scratches don’t bleed like that.” She put her cookie down, moved closer, and reached for his shirt collar to peek at the wound. It was about two inches long, above his battle marks. “This is way more than a scratch.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll throw a Band-Aid on it.”

“Warriors heal fast, but it’ll take more than a Band-Aid to cover that. I saw Coira put a first aid kit under the sink.”

“Aye, nurse, but don’t get too close. I haven’t showered yet. I’d hate to overpower you with my manly scent.”

Bree gathered the first aid kit and turned to find Ronan easing his T-shirt over his head. Jiminy Christmas! His chest was a work of art. His battle marks looked similar to Faelan’s, but they ran in two rows down the center of his chest.

Bree examined the wound. “Don’t tell me one of your girlfriends did this.”

He lifted a dark brow. “Somebody’s been telling tales. Just taking care of some unfinished business. It got a little messy.”

“Angus?”

He nodded. “I tracked down the demons that attacked him. Three of them. They wouldn’t say who ordered the attack. I’d say someone thought Angus knew something important.”

“You went after them alone?”

“I fight solo.” Ronan’s jaw was hard. Guilt flashed in his eyes. He watched her clean his wound, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, as if the words came from a sacred place. “My older brother was killed by a demon. I was there but I couldn’t save him.”

Like Faelan and Liam. Did all warriors feel responsible for everyone around them? “I’m sorry.” Bree wiped a drop of blood that ran down one of his marks, and her head started to buzz. “But you shouldn’t go out alone.” She covered the wound with antibacterial cream. “Getting yourself killed won’t bring Cam back.”

Ronan’s whole body tensed. “How did you know about Cam?”

“Who?”

“Cam. My brother.”

“You just told me.”

“Not his name.”

“I said his name? Are you sure?”

“Maybe I imagined it.” He rubbed his eyes. “Old ghosts.”

“Do you think those demons followed Angus here? He said something about a traitor. If they know where the house is—”

“I don’t think they got that far. If they did, they won’t be talking now. I have a hard time believing there was a traitor in the clan.” But like Sean, Ronan looked more worried about the matter than he sounded.

“There you go,” Bree said, smoothing the last piece of tape. “Next time, take someone with you.”

“Thank you. Faelan’s a lucky man. I am too, to have such a bonny nurse,” he said, inspecting his new bandage, almost touching his talisman.

“Are all talismans different?”