Mystical Warrior by Janet Chapman Page B

place. He pulled his hammer and a couple of nails out of his belt and started nailing through the wood and plastic directly into the siding on the house.
    Holding her end of the lath by the very tip the moment he got one side of it nailed, Fiona leaned away when he nailed her end.
    Not because she was afraid of him but because he smelled strongly of fish!
    And for some reason, the thought of this big, powerful man doing what might be considered woman’s work, stuffing little bags with bait fish he had to cut up himself, made her feel somewhat giddy.
    Then again, it could be the fish fumes causing her lightheadedness.
    Either way, that knot in her belly slowly started unraveling.
    “We cut fir and pine boughs and tucked them around the bottom of our house,” she told him, grabbing another lath and placing it over the plastic he held up.
    “We’ll do that tomorrow afternoon,” he said around a nail he’d stuck in his mouth as he pounded in another one. “The boughs will keep the plastic from billowing up and hold the snow against it for added insulation.”
    We? He expected her to help him again tomorrow?
    “I assume Misneach is Gaelic. What does it mean?” he asked, waiting for her to set another lath in place.
    Fiona didn’t answer him right away. If she said it meant “noble one” as she’d told Johnnie Dempster, Mr. Huntsman might discover she had lied to him if Kenzie or William told him otherwise. But neither did she want to further humiliate herself by revealing her weakness.
    “I named him ‘Courage,’” she finally admitted. “Because of how brave he was today when he lost the only home he’s ever known,” she added in a rush.
    He glanced over at her, and then with a snort drove a nail through the lath in one powerful stroke. “That pup’s not courageous; it’s clueless.” He walked to the pail and filled his work belt with another fistful of nails. “Mother Nature designed all babies that way, so they’ll attach themselves to anyone who pays attention to them. Hell, they’ll even remain loyal to someone who kicks them around for sport.”
    Hearing the slight edge in his voice, she didn’t respond.
    They continued working their way down the house in companionable silence, and the unraveling sensation inside her made Fiona realize how wonderful it felt to be working. She held another lath in place and stared at her hands, trying to remember the last time she’d done anything truly constructive. She’d helped Kenzie with his displaced souls when she’d been a hawk, but when was the last time she’d helped another human being without being forced to?
    It really was quite empowering.
    And she didn’t even mind that it was a man she was helping.
    Nor was she bothered when he inevitably brushed up against her, not even when his large, callused hand suddenly shot out to cup her face protectively when her feet got tangled up in the blowing plastic and she nearly fell against the house.
    “Thank you,” she murmured, tucking several strands of hair back into her braid.
    “The wind’s picking up, and the temperature’s dropping with the sun,” he said, turning to the ocean. He gave a sharp whistle, causing Misneach to stop right in the middle of a tidal pool and look up. When he gave another whistle, the pup started running toward them. “Why don’t you and Misneach head inside? I can finish this.”
    “But it will go faster if I continue to help.”
    He took the lath out of her hand and used it to gesture at Misneach, struggling up over the bluff. “A full-grown Chesapeake can splash around in cold water all day, but he hasn’t got much meat on his bones yet. You’d better get him warmed up before he catches a chill. There’s dry firewood in the shed, and the stove in your front room works if you want to build a fire. In fact, I prefer you burn wood once it gets really cold, to save on heating oil. I assume you know how to run a woodstove?”
    She picked up Misneach and started