rocks at the water’s edge. This was his world, and he gloried in the surge and swell of the sea, the wind and mist that he loved so much.
Sadly, Pennard’s balance was bruised.
And it fell to him to keep the damage from worsening.
It was a burden he shouldered gladly.
Even so, his jaw tightened when he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the high crags at the far end of the bay. The haar was thickening, hanging low over the water and cloaking the cliffs. But pinpricks of yellow light glimmered through the mist where Ramsay’s Spindrift claimed a prominent ledge, the big house taunting and tormenting him. Just as the bastard’s forebears had bedeviled every MacGrath Guardian down the ages.
A self-proclaimed entrepreneur—windbag and arse, to Graeme’s mind—Ramsay’s seemingly endless funds supposedly came from his family’s involvement in the Aberdeen oil boom of the previous century.
Graeme suspected other origins.
Not that it mattered.
What did matter was that Ramsay had always shown an aptitude for noticing the supernatural. And now, of all times, a fetching American with an overbright aura had to visit Pennard.
Graeme’s gut clenched at the ramifications.
Ramsay would seek to charm her, believing he couldmanipulate her natural energy to aid his grasping, power-hungry schemes.
Graeme set down his pail and rolled his shoulders. He also flexed his fingers, shaking off all negative thoughts. He’d deal with Ramsay later. So far, the oily bastard was all glare and bluster. And only when he suspected no one but Graeme saw.
If he touched the American…
Graeme closed his eyes, willing the thought from his mind before it could create an image. He wouldn’t be putting his hands on her, either, much as he’d like to. He would look out for her as long as she lingered in Pennard, a visit he hoped would be of short duration.
And if he meant to do that, he needed to keep his wits. He couldn’t be distracted by Ramsay’s hooligans skulking about his property.
So he took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to the open sea. Closing his eyes, he stood with his legs apart and ground his feet firmly into the loose stones. That done, he raised his arms above his head, opening himself to the elemental energies he needed to balance his powers.
He allowed his hands to stretch for the sky, his fingers already tingling, as if he touched the heavens. His feet warmed, welcoming the connection to Mother Earth’s heart, beating so deep beneath him. Awareness poured into him, strong and potent, a river of molten heat sweeping his body as the distance between the manifest and unseen world began to close. Only then did he center himself.
His eyes still shut, he delved deep into the earth’s inner core for the intense white-light energy he needed. He summoned the same power from high above him, hardly breathing until he felt both energy sources flow together, surging and fusing inside him.
At last, he opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the dark, rolling sea as he lowered his arms. As he’d done so often, he let the energy gather in his hands and then flow from his fingers to fill the little cave and the curving strip of shore.
With all the knowledge he possessed, he willed the summoned power to cleanse and neutralize any negative energy around him and his home.
This tiny corner of Pennard that was so needful of his protection.
Would that he could expand his boundary shields all up and down the coast. But even good energy could turn bad if sent out without permission.
It had to be enough to guard these shores.
The Keel…
There he could expend his fullest powers.
So he retrieved his pail and went to the sea’s edge, collecting a bucketful of the energy-charged water. Slippery, weed-draped rocks where the swell washed ashore and clumps of the glistening wrack also littered the tide line. This flotsam he also gathered. Though he took only what he could carry in one hand.
The Keel was a small
Sadly, Pennard’s balance was bruised.
And it fell to him to keep the damage from worsening.
It was a burden he shouldered gladly.
Even so, his jaw tightened when he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the high crags at the far end of the bay. The haar was thickening, hanging low over the water and cloaking the cliffs. But pinpricks of yellow light glimmered through the mist where Ramsay’s Spindrift claimed a prominent ledge, the big house taunting and tormenting him. Just as the bastard’s forebears had bedeviled every MacGrath Guardian down the ages.
A self-proclaimed entrepreneur—windbag and arse, to Graeme’s mind—Ramsay’s seemingly endless funds supposedly came from his family’s involvement in the Aberdeen oil boom of the previous century.
Graeme suspected other origins.
Not that it mattered.
What did matter was that Ramsay had always shown an aptitude for noticing the supernatural. And now, of all times, a fetching American with an overbright aura had to visit Pennard.
Graeme’s gut clenched at the ramifications.
Ramsay would seek to charm her, believing he couldmanipulate her natural energy to aid his grasping, power-hungry schemes.
Graeme set down his pail and rolled his shoulders. He also flexed his fingers, shaking off all negative thoughts. He’d deal with Ramsay later. So far, the oily bastard was all glare and bluster. And only when he suspected no one but Graeme saw.
If he touched the American…
Graeme closed his eyes, willing the thought from his mind before it could create an image. He wouldn’t be putting his hands on her, either, much as he’d like to. He would look out for her as long as she lingered in Pennard, a visit he hoped would be of short duration.
And if he meant to do that, he needed to keep his wits. He couldn’t be distracted by Ramsay’s hooligans skulking about his property.
So he took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to the open sea. Closing his eyes, he stood with his legs apart and ground his feet firmly into the loose stones. That done, he raised his arms above his head, opening himself to the elemental energies he needed to balance his powers.
He allowed his hands to stretch for the sky, his fingers already tingling, as if he touched the heavens. His feet warmed, welcoming the connection to Mother Earth’s heart, beating so deep beneath him. Awareness poured into him, strong and potent, a river of molten heat sweeping his body as the distance between the manifest and unseen world began to close. Only then did he center himself.
His eyes still shut, he delved deep into the earth’s inner core for the intense white-light energy he needed. He summoned the same power from high above him, hardly breathing until he felt both energy sources flow together, surging and fusing inside him.
At last, he opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the dark, rolling sea as he lowered his arms. As he’d done so often, he let the energy gather in his hands and then flow from his fingers to fill the little cave and the curving strip of shore.
With all the knowledge he possessed, he willed the summoned power to cleanse and neutralize any negative energy around him and his home.
This tiny corner of Pennard that was so needful of his protection.
Would that he could expand his boundary shields all up and down the coast. But even good energy could turn bad if sent out without permission.
It had to be enough to guard these shores.
The Keel…
There he could expend his fullest powers.
So he retrieved his pail and went to the sea’s edge, collecting a bucketful of the energy-charged water. Slippery, weed-draped rocks where the swell washed ashore and clumps of the glistening wrack also littered the tide line. This flotsam he also gathered. Though he took only what he could carry in one hand.
The Keel was a small
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