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“I’m sorry.” Her muttered breath feathered his neck, forcing him to suppress a shiver of his own. “This is terribly intrusive of me. I should never have involved you, but I was—am—desperate. I don’t know what to—”
“Ye’re shakin’, lass.” He smoothed his hand down her back. “Dinnae fash. I’ll get ye someplace safe.”
“Where?” She raised her head slightly and swept a defeated gaze around the crowded street. “There’s no place they can’t follow.”
“Come wi’ me.” He tucked her close, his arm firmly around her, and guided her through the crowd toward the waiting bus, glancing back once to see if they were being followed.
Like a nasty odor, the men lingered in the crowd, continuing to show the picture around as they slowly made their way down the street.
Marcus pressed a kiss to her temple. Merely keeping up the pretense, he told himself while admitting to a sudden but strong sense of protectiveness. The fascination he’d felt from the first moment she’d all but attacked him was beside the point. It dinnae matter who she was or what she looked like. Or even how compelling her kisses were. She’d asked for his help, and he couldnae find it in him to refuse her.
“Do ye know them? Do ye ken what they want?”
“They’re connected to something I saw. Something terrible,” she whispered. “And they’ll do anything to stop me from talking.”
Her voice quivered and her body trembled beneath his arm. Marcus glanced over his shoulder. The blackguards were still there, weaving through the crowds of tourists.
“How long have they been followin’ ye?”
“All the way from Seattle,” she finally said. “We were traveling from Seattle, when…”
“We?” he queried.
She shook her head. “Not here. I can’t talk about it out here.”
Her fear of them appeared genuine. He’d stake his life on it. A tremor skittered through his shoulder blades. Is that what was happening? Was he literally putting his life on the line by helping her?
Ridiculous. Of course no’. He’d get the lass to safety of some kind, and she’d have a reasonable explanation. Then he’d go about his business of watching the spitting water and mayhap seeing some buffalo, and she’d go about hers. Whatever ’twas.
“I’ve a tour booked tae go intae the park tae see the geysers. Get on the bus wi’ me. They cannae hurt ye there.”
“But they could follow.”
“Aye, but they havnae identified ye yet, and as long as we stay wi’ the crowds o’ people, they cannae do anything. ’Twill keep ye safe while we devise a better plan.”
“I don’t know. A bus is so confined. They could be right there when we get off.”
“Aye. But ’tae do what?” He pulled her to a stop and wrapped his arms around her, as if stopping for another kiss and buried his face in her hair. “Lass,” he said close to her ear, “If I’ve a chance o’ keepin’ ye safe, ye have tae tell me what ye’re running from, and what kind o’ danger those men pose tae ye. I need tae ken what we’re facin’ in order tae help get ye free of it.”
She slipped her arms around him, grasping fistfuls of his shirt as if she feared losing him and took a halting breath. “I…I’m a witness in a…murdercase,” she muttered so low he wasnae sure he’d heard her right. “There’s nothing those men won’t do to keep me from testifying. Nothing. Not even shooting into a crowd. Or a bus.”
He felt her shudder so deeply it might have been his own. The lass truly was in danger and by the Saints, he needed to help her.
But how?
Marcus considered the unfamiliar surroundings. He was a stranger here wi’ no weapons aside from the sgian dubh tucked in his boot and no knowledge of the local laws. He dinnae even ken the lay o’ the land. How could he possibly keep her safe?
He eased her away from him as couples and families filtered around them to board the bus. “At least tell me yer name, lass.”
She looked around them before leaning close. “Tayl— Uh…Tait. Tait Keller.”
“Tait,” he repeated, liking the feel of it on his tongue. “I’m Marcus Beaton. I cannae make ye any promises but I give ye my word I’ll do everything in my power tae keep ye safe.”
“Truly?” she whispered, incredulously. “I’m incredibly grateful. But…why?”
He couldnae answer. He dinnae have one tae give.
Steering Tait onto the bus, Marcus took the seat nearest the window to better protect her from outside prying eyes. As she settled beside him, he noticed fresh scratches on her hands. More evidence of the lass’ trouble? And though her arms dinnae have scratches, he could see the early signs of some bruising. What had she gone through? Whatever ’twas, he wouldnae address it here. His job right now was to keep her safe. And hidden. “Put this on,” he said, handing her his ball cap.
