Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

Crossing Enemy Lines: When Meeting His Foe Goes Awry

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

I examined my plan to charm and interrogate my husband and found a few weak spots to fortify before fatigue overcame me. Heavy eyelids slid closed as I threw myself onto the bed…

Once again, I dreamed of the wedding. Only this time, my gown-clad self sobbed and begged a full-length mirror to be a portal into another world. Callen still watched, his arms crossed over his chest.

Ugh. I preferred the version of me having hilarious conversations with invisible animals.

Bright and early the next morning, I discovered the rings I'd stuffed in Isobel's purse were gone. Confiscated by the king of the castle? I worked my jaw. A setback, nothing more. I'd soon be rolling in dough. Because yes, I intended to go ahead and ask Callen for the ten thousand pounds while doing all that charming. I'd learned enough about him already to know he valued straight-forwardness. Look at how he'd rewarded me when I'd hurt my ankle and demanded aid.

I'd get the money, then figure out what to do about my nemesis. To pay or not to pay. But whatever road I traveled, I must be prepared for the consequences.

For the upcoming discussion, I selected the most comfortable of my new clothing pieces. The cashmere cat sweater and leggings made of dreams and clouds.

I checked my phone, dreading to find a text from Isobel. She must be getting antsy. But no messages awaited me. Good. I set the device on the nightstand. Bringing it would only lead to distraction.

Ready for anything, I marched to the dining room, trailed by my usual shadows, Buzz and Ponytail. My new sneakers cushioned every step, reminding me of Callen's generosity. He'd spent more on my lounge clothes than I made in a year. Or two!

As I approached the dining room, anticipation and apprehension fizzed in my veins, battling for supremacy. Would I find the ice king or the fascinating rogue who paid me compliments?

Heart pounding, I stopped in the entryway. There he sat, at the head of the table, cutting into a steaming breakfast burrito. He didn't look up or act as if he noticed me, but I knew he clocked my arrival. The air between us sharpened.

Ice king. Definitely. Was he burning with fury within, though?

Inner sigh. Let Operation Elizagain commence!

The bodyguards faded from my orbit as I trudged forward and plopped into the seat at Callen's right. "Well? You owe me an opinion. How are they?"

"Not terrible," he grumbled, forking another bite into his mouth. Judging by the remnants on his plate, he'd downed others before this one.

I almost snorted. "Please. You'd choose my burrito as a last meal, and we both know it." He might have reverted to his default setting, but I would proceed as planned.

After I'd eaten.

I waved at Old Man Butler, who stood at the ready. "A plate for me, good sir." I mean, I was here. Might as well fuel up. "And don't short-change me. I'm the chef."

He looked to his employer for a verdict. After a brief hesitation, Callen gave a clipped nod. He didn't meet my gaze when he added, "Bring me another plate as well."

I did snort this time. Old Man Butler cast me a disdainful humph before rushing to comply.

Alone with hubby dearest, I took the time to examine him. He looked delicious this morning. But when didn't he?

Um. Delicious? Seriously? I must be hungrier than I'd realized. Anyway . Muted light streamed from the wall of windows, paying his flawless skin absolute tribute. Rumpled dark hair stuck out in spikes. Had he plowed a hand through the strands? A five o'clock shadow covered his strong jaw. I wasn't shocked all signs of the brawl were gone. He did have that amazing elixir, after all.

His jacket hung over the back of his chair. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his (clean) white dress shirt, revealing his forearms. I'd never been someone who admired forearms, but his were powerful with thick black slashes tattooed from his elbow to his wrists.

My heart blipped, my brain short-circuiting, and my tongue seeming to thicken. Just for a moment. Just long enough to startle me into near panic. Uh-oh. I knew this sensation. Horror of horrors, this was the beginning of an attraction.

Denials exploded through my head. I couldn't be romantically interested in this man. I refused! Even if I won him over, we were doomed.

Maybe I should retreat to my bedroom and do a little more tweaking to my plan?

Whoa! Give up? Not happening. I'd come here with a goal. I might as well rip off the bandage and get it done. But how did one start a conversation like this?

"Why are you here, Isobel?" he asked, sounding almost weary.

Perfect opening. "As your wife, your money is my money. Like any rational person, I expect unfettered access to my money. If it makes you feel better, consider it the cost of maintaining my patience, with an added service charge for shipping and handling. I'll take twenty thousand pounds to start." Begin high, allowing for wiggle room. "Just so we're clear, this will be cold, hard cash I can spend in any way I wish without involving you."

Callen released his silverware, reclined in his seat, and met my gaze at last. Tension pulsed from him, and I barely stopped myself from squirming. But. He started twisting his ring again, a good sign.

"You dare seek more from me." Calmly stated with any hint of his accent.

A good sign? Or a really, really bad one? "Yes?" I squeaked. Had Isobel gotten money pre-wedding and spent it? Did he give her pin money I had no idea how to access?

He gave his earlobe a tug and rubbed two fingers over his jaw. "The day before our wedding, when I considered backing out, you vowed to ask for nothing but my name. "

Menace rumbled in his voice, yet I felt no fear. Only heat. Wonderful, tantalizing, awful heat. Of course Isobel had made such a vow. Her attempt to hobble me.

"I guess I wasn't clear." I smiled a little too sweetly. "I wasn't asking for the money."

He arched a brow in that haughty way of his, as if he stood in front of a trap and dared me to jump in. "Do you mock me now?"

"Why? Is it a crime to mock the–" Could I say ‘secret king of immortal berserkers' out loud? Did the servants know the truth?

"The what?" he demanded.

Old Man Butler returned with our plates. I collected my silverware, saying, "The husband with a grudge against his wife." A subject we needed to discuss from his point of view. I only knew Isobel's side of the story, and she couldn't be trusted.

His eyelids narrowed. "Yes. It's a crime. So how do you suggest I punish you?"

"With only fifteen thousand pounds instead of twenty." I forked a piece of fried egg and toast, dipped them into a cup of gravy, and sampled the goods. Very good. "Agreed?"

"I will give you no money."

Well, not yet, obviously. But I wasn't done with my attempts. For now, why not shift my target to an equally important topic? Information. "Will you give me five minutes to ask you anything?"

Another brow arched. "I should do this, why?"

"Because we're on our honeymoon, and even unwanted husbands and brides can enjoy a game now and then. But you have to answer honestly. And you can't pass." Best to be clear .

He tilted his head to the side, deepening his study of me to an uncomfortable degree. "Ask."

My jaw slackened, the fork stopping halfway to my mouth. Seriously? A thousand questions raced through my mind at once. Some revolved around being a berserker. Others involved his daughter. The bulk grew from curiosity about becoming an immortal. Not something I wanted to do. Live forever? No thank you. In fact, the more I knew of the ritual, the better I could avoid it, but this might not be the time to inquire. The real Isobel should already know.

Finally I settled on, "Why isn't your daughter here with you?"

He wasted no time considering his response. "I don't want her around you."

Ouch. I wasn't Isobel, but the insult seared straight to bone. Especially since helping children was my life's mission.

Better go a different route with my next question. "Why is the signet ring so special to you?"

In a blink, he ceased twisting the ring, as if I'd caught him doing something he shouldn't. His expression grew blanker, a feat I hadn't known was possible. "It belonged to my mother. The only thing of hers I own."

Belonged. Past tense. She'd died? How special the ring must be to him. He probably thought of his mother every time he handled it, the way I so often remembered my father.

Chest aching, I reached for my necklace. My fingers closed around air, and I swallowed a mewl. What I wouldn't give for the coin's return.

Mr. Callen Bruce and I had more in common than we'd realized.

New topic. "The day after our wedding, I almost voiced that which should not be mentioned." Soul switching. I bit my bottom lip. What are you doing? Stop! But I didn't stop. Great risk, great reward. I sought information, and this was my chance to get it. "You inferred I would be executed if I wasn't really Isobel Campbell."

"Bruce," he grated.

"Right. Isobel Bruce."

"I didn't hear a question."

"Speaking hypothetically, why execute me, but not the real Isobel Campbell-Bruce?"

"Who says I wouldn't execute you both?"

I double blinked. "Would you? For all you know, I'm an innocent woman trapped in the body of a vicious redhead with admittedly brilliant taste in dogs."

He traced a fingertip along the edge of a coffee mug, his attention glued to me. "Soul switching is a dark art long abandoned, forever forbidden, and best forgotten. Those who participated, whether by will or force, became tainted and had to be eliminated."

Finally! Facts! But… "You'd really kill an innocent as well as your long-awaited mate?"

He smiled at me for the first time, stealing my breath. Never had I beheld such a cold display of anticipation. "Yes, but you'd die, regardless. The first occasion I lost control of my temper, you would fail to calm me, and I'd strike, unaware of my actions."

Yikes! He was so sexy right now. Er, scary. Very, very scary. No wonder Isobel had traded lives with an American and not a fellow Scot. The farther away, the better.

"Well," I muttered and gulped. "Thank goodness I'm Isobel, able to soothe your inner beastie." If I were home, and me, this was the point I would run for the hills and never look back .

"Yes. Thank goodness. From the beginning, I made it clear. To enjoy the perks of being wed to me, you must deal with the hassle. That hasn't changed."

"Aha! So you admit being with you is a hassle." I focused on teasing him rather than the terror he'd attempted to plant in my heart with his words.

His nostrils flared.

Whatever happened, I must keep him calm. "What is it you want?" I asked.

"To have never met you," he offered easily.

Ouch. Another stinger. I slunk down in my chair as he held up two fingers. A signal of some sort. A woman rushed over to give him a glass of whiskey before she returned to the shadows, fading into the background.

Hard liquor at breakfast? Isobel wasn't the only one wreaking havoc in this man's life.

He sipped the beverage and stared at me, his expression darkening. "You bewitched my brother," he told me softly, fiercely, "but you will not bewitch me."

As if I didn't know that. "What makes you think I didn't truly love him?"

"That's easy." He drained his glass, ice cube clinking. "You have no heart."

Okay, enough with the insults. "At least I've changed for the better since the wedding. Can you say the same?" Red alert! Antagonizing!

Buzz strode into the room, bringing a distraction and a boatload of aggression. "A messenger sent by Tavish waits at the gate," he announced.

Tavish? Who was Tavish? The words nearly rolled off my tongue. With the threat of execution regarding my true identity ringing in my head, I swallowed the question. Did Isobel know Tavish ?

Callen reacted as if a bomb had been discovered in the castle. Red flickered in his irises. This time, I wasn't flabbergasted or frightened, just concerned for his wellbeing. What did that say about me?

He tossed his napkin on the table and sprang to his feet. "Escort Isobel to her room." Icy rage underscored his tone. "Remain at her door. Do not leave for any reason."

I was to be locked in like a child? "What's going on?"

Buzz approached me and reached out, offering his hand. I brushed it aside and stood.

"Leave, Isobel," Callen demanded, inserting a clip in a gun.

My nerves sang. Where had he gotten those parts so quickly, without moving away from the table?

I chose to misunderstand his words. "You heard him," I told Buzz. "He's changed his mind. Leave me behind and go."

He jerked his gaze to Callen. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he nodded; at the same time, he put the final touches on the weapon. My stomach twisted harder, faster. What had he just given Buzz permission to do? And did he plan to kill the messenger or scare him off?

Though reluctant, Buzz clasped my wrist, firmly but gently pulling me toward the door. Ah. The nod now made sense. The bodyguard wasn't allowed to touch the boss's wife without permission. Good to know.

I wrenched free and lifted my chin. "Try to keep up." I power walked, eager to get to my phone. I'd call Isobel and demand the story on Tavish. No way the greedy wench had blocked me again. Not with money on the line.

Leaving Buzz on the other side of the door, I sealed myself inside my room. No sign of Thora as I rushed to the nightstand and swiped up the cell to call Isobel. A frigid breeze brushed my nape, and I sucked in a breath. What the?—

Strong arms snaked around me. One hand slapped over my mouth, and the other pinned my arms. "Hello, beauty," a low voice whispered in my ear. "So good to see you again. I admit I've been quite eager for this."

Fear flooded me, paralyzing my limbs. How I hated fear, the open door to torment and doom, mistakes and regrets. Wait. His voice. I recognized it. Didn't I?

"I verra much enjoy holding you." He nuzzled his cheek against mine and chuckled softly. "You are a banquet of delights."

Deep breath in. Out. Focus came. Fight! My fingers twisted, the paralysis evaporating. I launched into action–but got nowhere fast. My captor proved too strong, easily subduing my struggles.

"Don't worry, darlin'," he said, his amusement stronger. "I have no plans to harm you. I came to see if a switch was made, as arranged. Was it? Are you the indomitable Isobel or the clueless human she highjacked?"

He knew of the switch? I went still again, my fight ending.

"I'm releasin' you now. If you scream, I'll silence you. You'll hurt, and I'll be gone before your man gets here. Aye?"

I nodded emphatically, and I meant it. I had so many questions.

Slowly, he eased his grip. Then he stepped back, severing contact with me. Heart galloping, I spun to face him. My eyes widened. The hottie who'd pointed out my open zipper. I would recognize his mane of blond hair, hazel eyes, and chiseled features anywhere. Today he wore a white T-shirt and jeans, with the hems tucked into combat boots. Fresh bite marks marred his arm. Thora's doing?

I. Will. Do. Murder! "If you dared harm my dog…"

His lips twitched at the corners. "You'll what?"

"I don't know, but I'll figure it out." Not murder, but something worse!

He waved toward the closet. "She's in there, alive and well. But you're no' Isobel. She would've threatened to castrate me. You are the adorable brunette." He performed a regal bow, as if I were royalty. "I am Tavish the Great, at your service."

Tavish, the man who'd inspired such wrath in Callen. I gulped. "How did you sneak in here with guards stationed inside and out?" He must've had help.

"I have my ways." The intruder smiled, revealing straight white teeth. "What have you heard about me?"

"Just your name. Of course, I then got to witness the reaction it caused." My nerves sang louder and louder, really kicking up a fuss. Was I in danger? Was he a bad guy, as Callen believed, or a good one? Tavish was obviously well acquainted with Isobel; they'd discussed the soul-switch. But. Whatever he was, I'd mind my words. A betrayal could get me executed.

"Ah, yes. My name stirred up a fit of almost-rage, I'm sure. I'm not well-liked around here." He spread his arms, all get a look at this . "Not by other males, anyway."

"Or women you accost in their bedrooms."

He waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm at a disadvantage. You are privy to my name, but I'm not privy to yours."

"That's a lie," I retorted. "Clearly, you're working with Isobel. What, did you scout for her that day outside the hotel, attempting to pick out a quote unquote adorable brunette?" So much for minding my words .

He flashed another smile. "I admit, I did herd you in her direction, hoping she'd choose you," he said with a grin. "You were just so cute with your overstuffed suitcase, clomping along the sidewalks, gawking at the sights."

I worked my jaw. "What can you tell me concerning the switch itself?" Self-perseverance forced me to add, "Not that I'm admitting there was any kind of switch."

"Darlin', I know everythin'. I'm the one who sold her the potion that made it possible."

A potion. Finally, an answer to carry me to my goal!

"The way your eyes just lit up," he said and chuckled. "Do you wish to switch back already? Does Mrs. Bruce not enjoy her new husband?"

"He's not terrible." And okay, yes, guilt flared. Despite everything, Callen had been kind to me. Mostly. I didn't wish to cause him trouble. But. "I love my family, and I want to be with them again. As soon as possible."

Tavish all but pulsed with glee. "You can return if I provide you with a potion and Isobel. For the switch to occur, you must be near each other. Something I can arrange. For the right price."

Okay, so, he was a total sleaze. Buyable. I hated his type and didn't appreciate the icky once-over he gave me as we stood in silence. But. With him, I had a possibility of success. "Out of curiosity and nothing more, what is the right price?"

"I'll get back to you on that. In the meantime, we should get better acquainted." He reached out, as if to pinch a lock of my hair, but I jumped away, avoiding contact. His shoulders hiked in a negligent shrug, as if my rejection didn't bother him in the least. "I can be a verra good friend to you, darlin'. If you value your life, you'll tell no one of your association with me. "

Let him intimidate me? No. I'd do whatever I thought was right. "Are you a rival berserker?" A question I never thought I'd ask. Who was he to Callen, exactly, besides an enemy?

Tavish grinned, his glee on full display. "No, sweet. I'm no rival, and I'm no berserker. I'm king of the wolves."