Morgan grinned. “With daughters?”

Daar nodded. “Aye. But also with the sons you will give him, warrior.”

“I’m not having children,” Morgan snapped.

“Sometimes children appear without warning,” the old priest replied, a smirk lifting the edge of his mouth. “Sometimes they’re wanting to be born so badly they sneak in when you’re not looking. Or do you intend to live like a monk the rest of your life?”

“Babies can be prevented.”

“Aye,” Daar agreed. “And sometimes they can’t, no matter how careful you are. Mother Nature is a formidable force to go up against when she’s wanting something to happen.”

Morgan stood up and got himself another beer. He wasn’t liking what the olddrùidh was saying. He didn’t want children.

Then again, he didn’t much care for the celibate life he was living now.

A vision of a leggy, blue-eyed blonde suddenly rose unbidden in his mind. He’d gotten hard lying on top of her, knowing he just had to use his knees to spread her legs apart.

Oh, yes, he wouldn’t mind feeling those long, lovely legs wrapped around his waist.

Hell, he wanted the woman.

Morgan turned to look out the window and adjusted the fit of his pants. Dammit, he wanted her gone from this valley.

But he also wanted to see her again.

“There’s something that doesn’t make sense in all this,” Daar said from the table.

Morgan continued to look out the window, willing his male urges to go away. “What?”

he asked harshly.

“I’m wondering why they would start work on a park if they don’t even own the land yet.”

That changed the direction of his thoughts. Morgan turned around. “I wondered the same thing,” he admitted, “when I discovered the valley was owned by several different people. Two paper mills own most of it, but five individuals own the rest.”

Daar turned in his seat to face him. “Can your lawyer find outwho is building this park?

Is it the government or a group of people?”

“I’ll have him look into it,” Morgan said, nodding. “Now, will you give me the name of that auction house?”

“You can’t really mean to sell the dagger? It was a gift from your father.”

“And the land I buy with it will become his legacy. It’s metal and stone, old man. Selling the dagger to gain property will not diminish my father’s gift. It will only strengthen my memory of him.”

“Speaking of Duncan, have you seen Faol lately?” Daar asked.

Morgan had to shift gears mentally. How had they gone from Duncan to the wolf?

“Aye. The beast has been sneaking around here for the last seven weeks. Did you not notice the scratch marks on my door?” Morgan asked, irritation lacing his voice.

That damn animal had nearly ruined his woodwork.

Daar made no more mention of the wolf. He stood up and walked out onto the porch, his cane tapping the rhythm of his steps. “I’m wanting a ride home. And not on that damn rough-gaited beast ya call Pet,” he complained, though Morgan knew he shared his affection for the beast. “I want to go on the ATV.”

Morgan followed him out. The olddrùidh was fascinated with mechanical rides—trucks, snowcats, ATVs, even the chair lift that climbed TarStone Mountain. Daar insisted on riding the lift at least three times a week from May to October. But when the snows came, he stopped. He thought only idiots would ride in the winter, in the freezing weather, with sticks strapped to their feet.

Morgan settled Daar on the back of the four-wheeler and climbed on in front of him. But before he could start the engine, the old man tapped him on the back with his cane.

“You’ve done a fine job with the house,” Daar said, when Morgan looked back to see what he wanted. “Any woman would be proud to call it home.”

Morgan swung back around and started the bike, the engine drowning out his muttered disagreement. Hell would freeze over before he ever brought a woman here.

Chapter Four

Both mentally and physically exhaustedfrom her afternoon outrunning a gorgeous, nude maniac, Sadie spent a fitful night locked in her cabin. She tossed and turned as nightmares paraded through her mind. She was trapped inside a mountain of solid green that glowed with crushing malevolence. She was running without direction through a maelstrom of swirling black mist that sucked the very energy from her muscles. And she was trapped in a burning house, her only escape blocked by an apparition carrying a sword, mounted on horseback, laughing at her as she cowered in the corner of her smoke-filled bedroom.

Sadie woke with a scream lodged in her throat. Thunder shook the cabin with resounding force just as lightning flashed through the cracks of the shutters, splintering the wood and shattering the glass in one of the windows on the opposite side of the room. Rain flooded into the cabin, immediately soaking everything it touched.

Sadie struggled to free herself from the sheet twisted around her body. Ping shot from the foot of the bed, her snarl of displeasure lost in another crack of thunder and blinding white lightning. The cat disappeared under the table, and Sadie ran to the window to capture the banging shutter and lock it back into place.

Her heart pounding louder than the rain on the roof, Sadie slowly backed up until her knees buckled against the seat of a chair. She sat down, flinching as another shaft of pure light brought another deafening boom of thunder. She rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her head, forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths. Still bent over, she placed a hand on her chest, willing her heart to slow down before it cracked one of her ribs.

Holy hell, the storm was intense. The lightning seemed bright enough to penetrate the walls and continued to strike in rapid succession. Sadie could hear the sizzle of boiling sap when a nearby tree was hit. She sat in darkness broken only by intense flashes of light, hugging her soaked, shivering body as she waited for the storm to pass.

It seemed forever before the rain slowed to a drizzle and the thunder faded. Ping brought Sadie out of her trance by jumping onto her lap, forcing Sadie to open her arms and catch her.

“Ah, Ping Pong,” she whispered, scratching the cat behind her ears. “Did the thunder scare you?”

Ping purred in answer, then moved from Sadie’s lap to the table. She sat down and promptly began cleaning herself. Sadie sighed. After the fire had burned down in the stove last night, she had simply crawled over to her bed, still fully dressed, wrapped herself in the sheets, and fallen into a fitful sleep—only to be awakened this morning by the storm.

The intermittent rumble of the retreating storm had a surprisingly calming effect on Sadie. Her energies slowly rebalanced, and the events of yesterday were finally washed from her immediate conscience.

She doubted she’d ever forget feeling that vulnerable, but this morning’s storm had served to remind Sadie that nothing in this world was without risk. Such as how a candle left burning unattended in the study could spark a deadly house fire or how trespassing on a stranger’s privacy could provoke him to violence.

But the green-eyed man hadn’t turned violent, had he? He hadn’t actually hurt her. He had only accomplished his goal of scaring the holy hell out of her, smartly teaching her a lesson she wasn’t likely to forget.

Yes, the stranger had never meant her physical harm—she could see that now. Heck.

What would she have done if she had discovered someone snapping pictures of her?

She might not have been quite so gracious.

Sadie started to stand up but winced at the pain in her feet. She immediately lifted one foot to her knee, saw the blood, and glanced at the shards of glass littering the floor in front of the broken window. She’d cut herself closing the shutter. She looked at her other foot.

Well, damn. Both feet were bleeding.