Page 10 of Blood Stone
Garrett dropped his right hand down so it was hanging fully extended, annoyed that Roman had noticed the old instinct. Of course Roman would. He’d lived through those times, too.
Roman gave a small, almost silent laugh in reaction.
“I don’t suppose ye’re about to tell me why you’re hanging about the lovely Ms. Lindenstream, then?” Garrett challenged Roman. He winced. His brogue had emerged thicker than he normally allowed. Roman was pushing his buttons, unravelling his discipline.
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, I didn’t just rock up here at all. I was already here. This ismytown, Calum. You’re the invader.”
“I take that as a ‘no,’ then.”
“I’d do that,” Roman replied evenly. He put the heavy sunglasses back on and picked up his jacket. “You’re not going to back away from Kate, are you?” His tone made it not a question.
“I can’t,” Garrett replied truthfully.
“I can’t give you free rein. It wouldn’t look right, even if I wanted to.”
Garrett sighed, as potential meanings and implications occurred to him. “Is she...important to you, Roman?”
The protective sunglasses were hiding Roman’s eyes from Garrett, and his eyes were one way Garrett most often could spot the real truth behind Roman’s layers of protective shielding. So Garrett knew he was about to be handed either a flat-out lie or a prevarication.
Roman glanced away, toward the roof access door.
Escape, Garrett realized.
“I guess you’ll just have to figure that out along with my name for this century,” Roman said, hoisting the jacket over his forearm. He turned to go, his whole body tight with the need to move. Garrett could see the tension in the ripple of tendons and muscles in his arms, the tight turn of his hips.
“I’ll protect her,” Garrett said. “She won’t be harmed.”
Roman swivelled slowly back to face Garrett again. He took off the glasses once more. “Thosesorts of games?” he asked quietly. He stepped closer. “Jesus Christ and all his saints preserve us, what have you embroiled her in, Mikey lad?”
It took Garrett a moment to understand Roman’s second question, because his voice had grown hoarse and guttural. Then Garrett realized: Roman had switched to Medieval Greek, the Greek of his childhood.
He’d let down his guard for one shocked moment.
“English, Roman,” Garrett murmured.
Roman drew in a sharp, surprised breath and pushed the sunglasses back on in a defensive, recovering gesture. He tilted his head in enquiry at Garrett.
“There are forces in play you don’t know about,” Garrett told him. “That’s as much as I can say.”
“Forces,” Roman said flatly. He considered Garrett a moment longer. Then he smiled. “Well, those forces haven’t met me, yet. And you just made sure I’m never leaving Kate’s side.”
“I said she would be safe. I meant it. Have I ever lied to you?”
“Before today?” Roman shot back.
Garrett bent to pick up his own jacket and tie, to hide the petty hurt he knew would show in his eyes.
“Besides,” Roman added. “There’s more to Kate than meets the eye. Don’t underestimate her.”
Garrett straightened up.
Roman had gone.
Garrett headed for the roof access door himself, not trying to catch up with Roman. The meeting was over and to be seen together in public would be dangerous. They had to return to their allotted roles now.
And Garrett had to report in to Nathanial. This was a turn of events that would create some ripples of concern.
As he walked down the echoing iron stairs, Garrett heard a whispering echo of his mother’s voice. It was a memory from when he was a child, and because it was a human memory, it was faded and fragmented. But he caught the sense-impression of a cottage, bright with summer light and the smell of bread baking. His mother stitching one of his shirts as he sat impatiently waiting for it so he could go out and play with friends who were outside, rolling in the grass. “Be slow choosing a friend, Calum Micheil,” she had intoned in her thick burr, “but slower in changing him.”
It had been nearly four hundred years since Roman had become a friend.
Was it time to rid himself of a bad habit once and for all?
