Ian McCullough is neck-deep in his own trouble. A half-mortal descendant of Faeries, he's been a Guardian for more than six hundred years, but he's never encountered a woman like Sarah. Assigned to protect her, he finds the job tougher than he could have imagined. Oh, he can handle the stalker, and even the renegade Faeries trying to kidnap her. But falling in love means forsaking his role as Guardian -- which is some-thing he could never do.

But there is no denying the passion that exists between two souls fated to be together.

Melissa Mayhue is the award-winning author of Thirty Nights with a Highland Husband, Highland Guardian, Soul of a Highlander, A Highlander of Her Own, A Highlander's Destiny, A Highlander's Homecoming, Healing the Highlander and A Highlander's Curse. She and her family live in Colorado in the shadow of the beautiful Rocky Mountains with three insanely spoiled dogs, one domineering cat, a turtle with an attitude, and way too many fish in their aquarium.

You can visit her website at www.MelissaMayhue.com.

Prologue

"The threat is over." Dallyn bowed to the assembled Fae dignitaries, long blond hair sweeping across his shoulders at the movement.

"Not over," Darnee corrected, her green eyes flashing in his direction. "Only suspended for the

moment. The threat will never be over as long as a single Nuadian lives."

Dallyn acknowledged her point with a slight nod. "Granted, but we have disabled most of the Portals. A guard has been set round the Fountain of Souls."

"We must do more. The souls on the Mortal Plain are still at risk. The Nuadians can gain limited amounts of the energy they seek by releasing souls from the Mortals' bodies. Without access to the Fountain, that will be their next logical target."

"The Fae can no longer fight on the Mortal Plain. You know that." Dallyn scowled.

"True. But they can gain control of weak Mortals,

ones who will gladly carry out the destruction they desire. We must guard against that eventuality."

"What would you suggest, my child?" The woman seated at the center of the great table spoke up.

"Guardians, Earth Mother, placed at each of the remaining Portals." Darnee turned to the woman who had asked the question. "Guardians drawn from the Mortal Plain itself."

"How can Mortals possibly defend against Fae? Our kind can only be seen by Mortals when we choose." Dallyn faced her directly now.

"Not ordinary Mortals. Mortals who share Fae blood." She arched an eyebrow, scanning the assemblage. "Many of our kind have half-Mortal offspring."

A low murmur spread through the room.

"This is true, Daughter." The Earth Mother frowned. "Our people have not always demonstrated proper restraint in their dealings with the Mortal race. Many of these offspring exist and the numbers will continue to grow through the generations. Even a small amount of Fae blood would allow them to see us. But most are unacknowledged. How would you find them?"

"I will seek them out."

"I agree that they would suit well, Darnee." Dallyn shrugged. "But Mortals have such short life spans. They would barely learn their task before their time would be at an end."

"That's another advantage of their Fae blood. They'll already be longer lived. And we can easily enhance that by exposing them to the Fountain of Souls. The energy will add many centuries to their time."

Dallyn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I see the merit of this plan. It could work. And many of them may carry gifts bestowed by their bloodline."

"Exactly." Darnee nodded in agreement. "Second sight, extra strength, other perceptions unusual in the Mortal Plain. All of these things will make them easier to identify and more capable of the task."

"I can see you've given this proposition a great deal of thought." The Earth Mother looked around the assembled group. "We cannot allow the Nuadians to disrupt the timelines of the souls on the Mortal Plain. We know firsthand the chaos that brings. Forcing too many of them from their chosen bodies before they are destined to leave could ultimately damage the very flow of time itself." She rose from her seat, lifting her hands to signal an end to the discontented murmur that swept the hall. "My decision is made. You two, Darnee and Dallyn, will share responsibility for choosing and training these Guardians. You will share oversight for their performance. Any questions? No? Then you will begin at once. There is no time to spare."

"Thank you, Earth Mother." The two bowed and hastily left the grand room, quietly discussing how to carry out their assignment.

One

"Bloody hell."

Ian McCullough glared at the telephone receiver he had slammed into place. Nothing was going as planned this week. He needed to be in London, following up on the latest threat. Instead here he was at Thistle Down Manor, waiting to play innkeeper to some stressed-out American while Henry lay in a hospital bed recovering from knee-replacement surgery.

How many times had he tried to discourage Henry from renting out the cottage? He'd lost count decades ago.

"This one needs to be here, Ian," Henry had told him on the way to the hospital. "I know it displeases you when I let the cottage, but rarely does it have any impact on you or yer responsibilities."

"Well it does this time. Honestly, it isna like you need the income. I've seen to that many times over. These guests of yers always need watching. You know the primary responsibility is to protect the Portal."

Henry had given him a sheepish grin. "I know, I know. But I have my own gifts, and I canna ignore them. I could feel it when I spoke to this woman. I believe her soul has been wounded. The peace of Heather Cottage, and the nearness of the Portal, will do much to help her." He'd grimaced in pain as he shifted in his seat. "If no for this damn knee, I would no have troubled you with this." He'd smiled then, his wrinkled face reflecting his inner calm. "Dinna worry. I'll be up and around in a few days. Peter and Martha will be there to help keep an eye on her as well, and you can get back to the things you need to be about."

Ian continued to glare at the telephone, his dark eyes narrowing, as if that inanimate object held full responsibility for his latest problem. Peter and Martha. They were the only hired help at Thistle Down Manor, although they were more like family than employees. Peter had taken over the position of caretaker after his father retired. When he married Martha, she came to work there as well, as housekeeper and cook. They really did shoulder most of the day-to-day care of the grounds and house. And now they wouldn't be returning until early tomorrow morning.

Their daughter had gone into labor early this morning. Her husband's call had come out of the blue, so there had been no time to prepare the cottage for their guest's arrival before they left. Now, thanks to the weather, they were staying at the hospital overnight.

Just one more thing to complicate his life.

The intensity of the storm raging outside only added to Ian's irritation. The downpour that had begun hours ago would probably flood the valley below. That would most likely mean power failures again. From what little news he'd heard, the storm front was huge, extending north well beyond Glasgow.

Surely the American wouldn't try to navigate the narrow backroads in weather like this.

"Perhaps this storm is good news, after all," he mumbled to himself as he rummaged through the hall closet searching for the emergency supply of candles. He glanced at the clock. She was an hour past due. Chances were she had stayed in one of the larger cities once she'd run into the storm.

"Thank the Fates for that, at least." The very last thing he wanted was to deal with the vacationing American on his own. Now it appeared he wouldn't have to.

Ian smiled to himself, and, feeling somewhat relieved, he carried the candles back into the library. After building a large fire in the fireplace, he settled back into his favorite chair to read, relaxing for the first time all day.

"Good Lord!"

Sarah Douglas slammed on her brakes to avoid the cows in front of her car. It wasn't the first time in the last three hours she'd almost collided with livestock. She had known driving would be a challenge here. After the first hour or so, even traveling on the wrong side hadn't been so bad. But since leaving the A76, she'd also had to contend with wandering animals and roads that were narrower than her driveway back home. By the time she added in the rain coming down in buckets for the last few hours, her nerves were almost completely frazzled.

Driving conditions alone would have been bad enough, but that was on top of twelve hours spent either on planes or in airports waiting for planes, not to mention the most horrible flight ever from Toronto to Glasgow. The woman seated next to her was traveling with two small children, one or the other of which was crying from the moment of takeoff until they'd landed. Sarah had literally been without sleep for more than twenty hours.

She should have stopped at one of the hotels she'd passed near the airport. Or even the one she'd noticed as she'd turned off the main highway, if you could call it that, at Dumfries. But she hadn't.

"Get a grip," she muttered, and then chuckled in spite of her circumstances.

Oh, she had a grip. On the steering wheel. So tight, in fact, that her fingers were starting to cramp.

Taking a deep breath, she consciously relaxed her hands and slowly accelerated as the last of the cows cleared a path in front of her.

It shouldn't be much farther now. Panic returned briefly as she again considered that she might be lost, but, taking another deep breath, she regained control.

The directions that nice Henry McCullough had emailed her were very thorough and she'd been careful. Well, except for starting off in the wrong direction when she'd left the airport. Once she'd gotten that figured out and headed back the right way, she'd been very careful. That little scenic detour had only increased her driving time by an hour or two.

It was simply exhaustion wreaking havoc with her emotions now. Exhaustion and the storm. And the dark. It was intensely dark. Between the late hour and the weather, she could only see those areas lit up by her headlights or brief flashes of lightning.

As if on cue, lightning sliced through the sky, striking directly ahead of Sarah's car. Illuminated in its flash was the figure of a man, staring straight at her, his face a mask of surprise. Once again she slammed on her brakes, but this time she accompanied the action with a scream, as her car began to slide slowly toward the man. He stood as if frozen for only a moment more before leaping -- actually leaping -- over her vehicle.

The automobile came to a gentle stop, nestled against a high rock wall. Breathing hard, Sarah peeled her fingers from the steering wheel and looked around. There was no man anywhere to be seen.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back to the headrest, t...