Mara's throat protested again, as she swallowed the cold water offered by
the balding man sitting across from her. Inspector MacDonald was clearly
upset about the events. His face had been set in a grim displeasure since
arriving through the door of the detainment room. After all, she mused, it
wasn't every day that Scotland Yard was called in to interrogate a possible
terrorist.
After being "escorted" into the unadorned white room, she had
identified herself to the uniformed constable, giving him her badge number
and field office supervisors contact information. After initially
regarding her with blunt incredulity, he brusquely advised her to sit down
and wait patiently for the investigating officer's arrival. He would
collect her luggage and documents and verify her story.
Mara thanked him, then sat uncomfortably, the metal of the handcuffs pulling at her protesting elbow and shoulder. Five minutes after her arrival, the tall detective arrived and regarded her momentarily, questioning the reports he had been given by the customs officers. She certainly didn't look dangerous, much less the threat alluded to by the customs agent. But looks were often deceiving and he did have the gun and the statements of the other passengers, who even now, were giving statements to his staff.
She straightened up, wincing as the pain from her arm arced through her body.
"I don't think we'll be needing these any longer." his voice held a slight brogue as he moved behind her. The cold metal encircling her wrists loosed, as he unlocked and slipped off the handcuffs.
Taking a deep breath, Mara moved her shoulder, rubbing the offended joint with her uninjured hand. "Thank you." She stated, her voice hoarse. Wrapping her long slender fingers around the styrofoam cup she lifted the water to her lips and sipped cautiously.
His facial expression was flat as he slipped into the metal chair on the other side of the table. "Miss Forsythe, I'm Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard." He sighed heavily, as though he would rather be anywhere else but here. "I understand that you were involved in some trouble in customs today. Perhaps you would like to tell me your side of the story."
It was not a request. Silence followed. This was a tactic she was familiar with and had often used herself. Silence flustered the emotions, stirred the conscience and jarred guilt. He sat staring at her, waiting for a response.
"Yes, well, it seems that Don and I couldn't agree on the concept of probable cause. When I disagreed with his heavy handed tactics, he objected." She retorted levelly, maintaining eye contact as she spoke. "He seemed to take my objection rather. personally." A sharp rap on the door sounded as she sipped again at her ice water.
A smile twitched the corner of his thin lips as he stood and quickly moved to meet the uniformed officer coming into the room.
"Her story checks out, Sir." Mara's black leather wallet containing her badge and identification card was handed open to MacDonald. He examined the ID closely. Dark eyebrows crumpled together in frank disbelief as he looked to her, then back at the photo. "I'll just be a moment." He muttered, excusing himself as he quickly left the room with his uniformed colleague.
"At last. We're getting somewhere." she murmured.
Twenty minutes later, he returned with another glass of ice water and a profound look of annoyance on his rugged face. Plopping her passport, papers and badge onto the table, he seated himself across the small table from Mara, and smiled tightly as he offered her the cup.
"Thanks." Gratefully, she accepted the water, grimacing as the cold liquid soothed her inflamed throat, alleviating the pain pounding from the bruised tissue.
MacDonald frowned, "Special Agent Forsyth, It is customary for foreign law enforcement officers, who are traveling abroad on official purposes, to identify themselves as such upon arrival in customs. It's a quaint little rule, but one that seems to deter unfortunate incidents such as this." his pained tone matched the exasperation on his face.
"I did." She replied firmly. "Twice as I recall. The first officer directed me to the customs kiosk. However, once there, Don was so preoccupied with my lingerie, that he totally dismissed my passport and travel authorization forms. I repeatedly asked him to look at the documents." She ran her fingertips over the edge of the cup as she watched Inspector MacDonald's face twist again in disgust. "I'll take it, from the look on your face, that this isn't the first time he's caused an incident.."
"Unfortunately you would be correct in that. Bugger." He sat back in the chair, his finger and thumb squeezing the bridge of his thin nose, unsuccessfully attempting to ward off the massive headache building therein.
This was quite the legal tempest in a teapot. He needed to diffuse the situation immediately before it flared into legal action against the department. It seemed odd to him that the agent would deter from normal inspection processes without some justifiable cause. Don had only recently joined the department and was well known for his "vigorous inspections" and dislike of assertive women.. So well known, in fact, that he had earned himself a probationary period. This unpredictable young man had assured the Superintendent that he would improve his work performance and people skills, and thus had kept his job. Until now.
Despite the telephone conversation with Don's protesting father, Lord Ashbury, the consequences of his actions could no longer be avoided. With further discussion of the additional legal possibilities, an agreement was abruptly reached. MacDonald's instructions were clear. Don would accept his dismissal, if she did not press assault charges. But would she accept such a deal, he pondered.
Although the woman in front of him was beautiful, he doubted that it would have unnerved Don enough to manhandle her. Mara Forsyth had an ethereal, quality he couldn't quite explain. Her voice was beautiful, but her eyes captivated. You could drown in eyes like those. Bedroom eyes. He had never really understood the term before, until he looked into her eyes. This woman was enough to distract any man from lucid thought.
Perhaps Don had become unnerved by this assertive women. She'd certainly knocked him down a peg or two during her verbal reprimand of his actions. "Do you think perhaps that you did something to prompt his behavior." He asked, anticipating her reaction.
She was genuinely shocked. Was he actually inferring that she had caused this? "Perhaps I was a bit rude to him when he insulted me." Mara countered, keeping a tight rein on her temper. "But, our little friend's overzealous behavior stepped way over the boundaries of harassment and dereliction of duty. That kid had no idea what he was doing, and dismissed normal inspection processes for his own heavy handed style." She declared certain of her facts.
"We have already established that." He agreed. "I spoke with the other passengers who vouched for your story about his conduct. I would like to formally extend our apology to you on the behalf of Heathrow and the Customs Agency. This situation was handled totally wrong." She could clearly see that he meant it, felt his genuine regret. "The young lad has been dismissed and will not be causing further problems here."
She gathered herself quickly. "Thank you Detective. Perhaps he'll learn from this experience." She offered.
He snorted with disgust. "Somehow I don't think so." He stated shaking his head sadly. That lad? He couldn't imagine Don ever learning from his mistakes. Not with his parents constantly protecting him. His employment record was proof of that fact. "Do you know, that you are the second person I've had to interview from this flight?"
A soft smile curved her full mouth. "Let me guess, An elderly lady on diltiazam. Don thought it was dilaudid?" Mara's eyes looked at him meaningfully.
His eyebrows shot up. "To quote an American term, Bingo!" he grinned at her, shaking his head in derision. "Bloody sot confused a common heart medication for a controlled narcotic."
The error was one her father had to constantly correct in his first year after assuming his position with the drug team. Drug pushers often replaced the common heart medication with the potent narcotic hoping to get their disguised stashes into the US from Canada and Mexico. An anonymous tip to the DEA had quickly spread throughout the law enforcement community, leading to a surge in confiscations of the heart drug by drug enforcement units. Despite their diligence, only 4 percent of all seizures were confirmed replacements. In two of the most blatant instances the possessors had been young men, nowhere fitting the medical indications for the cardiac drug. Several of the mistaken cases however, had immediately filed lawsuits, insisting that the actions of the narcotic officers had caused dangerous side effects. Her father had grumbled about it during dinner one night. Then, being the proactive soul that he was, immediately instituted a department wide education program to prevent further blunders. "He missed the drug enforcement lecture?" she teased, watching him through laughing blue eyes.
"Must have. Missed the class on inspection process and probable cause, as well." He retorted. She was even more lovely when she smiled. No, not lovely, breathtaking. "Do you know that we have had 15 complaints submitted against him in 3 days. I'm not entirely certain but it must be some type of record." He laughed.
"And you are the lucky soul who gets to respond to these complaints?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I owe you a great deal of thanks. I can now close 15 complaint files with one rubber stamped "He's been sacked." He chuckled. "Good riddance to bad rubbish and all."
"No one was hurt in all the commotion, I hope?" she recalled the terrified screams of her fellow passengers as they attempted to hide from a possible firefight. Panicked skirmishes often caused terrible injuries as people sought to flee the danger for safety.
"Luckily, no. Just a few frayed nerves. It's all straightened out now. We had moved the witnesses into the lounge and explained that it was a case of mistaken identity. Well, needless to say, they were all quite relieved to learn that you were a police officer."
Mara closed her eyes, relieved at his news. "Good." She smiled softly, pushing her hair behind her ear.
His eyes followed the curiously innocent gesture. He'd give Don this. The lad had been right in his physical description of this woman. The more time he spent with her, the more he had to admit that she was incredibly beautiful. Her high delicate cheekbones, small nose and lush lips were set in a face of damask perfection. But those eyes. It was the deep blue of her eyes that had immediately caught his attention. Intelligence burned in their sapphire depths and held the promise of untapped passion and.... Snapping out of his distracted stupor, he blinked quickly asking, "So, what do we owe the pleasure of your visit to our humble isle? I assumed from your documents that you're on some form of official business. Or, do you often carry your weapon on vacation?" His teased
She laughed softly, low and amused, "Actually it is a bit of both. I was asked to consult on a homicide case in the town of Albright. My Grandmother lives just outside of the town and apparently slipped a recommendation to the wife of the chief inspector during their weekly bridge game. She seemed to think that my past experience with this sort of case might help them solve this one. Personally," She confided, leaning closer to him, her eyes lit with mischief, "I think it was a ploy to get me to visit."
He lifted his head and laughed. "Grandmothers are devious like that." Thoughtfully he tapped the table with his index finger, the smile still playing on his face. "Albright..Forsythe..you wouldn't be related to Lady Katherine Forsythe, the Duchess of Prescott?"
Mara's eyes widened, a slow smile curving her soft mouth. "Yes, Kate is my Grandmother."
Shaking his head, his face beamed. "My family has property about thirty kilometers south of Albright. We're practically neighbors."
She smiled warmly at him, realizing that this MacDonald must have been related to the MacDonalds whose property bordered Stonecroft, her Grandmother's estate. Both estates had been in the family for hundreds of generations, and had, in centuries past, been the bitter adversaries of frequent contentious land disputes over ownership of a large parcel of land. The courts had repeatedly agreed that the hill was indeed on Forsythe lands and therefore, legally a part of Stonecroft. But it wasn't the land value the MacDonalds had wanted.
Upon the disputed hill stood the thirteen standing stones of Men Scrafa. It was a peaceful place. A place that Kate had once fondly described as "untouched by time." Mara recalled the fond memories of pick nicks on the hill with her Grandmother. Playing games of tag, and hide and seek amongst the stones. Where the living voice of the land could be heard whispering to you if you stood still and quietly listened. It was her favorite childhood play site, holding the anchor of her fondest memories. A world of imaginary magical creatures and playmates who would avidly listen to her troubles and ease the loneliness of a little girl.
Unfortunately, the MacDonald's didn't see the land in quite the same light. To them it was a source of income. A historical relic to be corded off, tolled and opened to visitors. Mara shuddered inwardly, at the thought of her beloved stones being turned into a tourist attraction. It defamed the work of those who created the spot, of its own honor. It was part of her family's heritage, as her Grandmother frequently reminded Mara.
Kate had the responsibility of caring for the land and the ancient ring of stones, as had Kate's father, and his father before him. Each generation of Forsythe had been responsible for the land and had respected its ancient, mysterious secrets for hundreds of generations. This would not change while Kate lived. Not for money, land or title. The MacDonalds would just have to accept it.
Sensing his relaxed manner at the topic, Mara laughed softly at him. "So we must be. Though, you should know. I haven't been home in almost 20 years."
"Well, that was England's loss Agent Forsythe." She was returning home after twenty years at the request of her elderly grandmother. He found his admiration for this woman growing. Loyal, intelligent and beautiful, he appreciatively concluded. Indeed it had been their loss. His voice took on a serious note as his smile faded. "I am, of course, going to need to know if you wish to press charges against Don."
The young man had lost his job. That in itself would be a wake up call. She shook her head. "No. No charges. And please. Just call me Mara."
"Of course.Mara." He liked the sound of her name on his tongue. "Well then, I think we're done here. I wouldn't want to add further delay Her Ladyships plans for her lovely Granddaughter." He teased, handing back her belongings. "Your weapon. Documents. Ah yes, your luggage."
Tucking her documents and passport into the side flap of her attaché case, she retrieved her gun and deftly checked the clip. Satisfied that it was untouched, she snapped the clip back into place, flipped the safety to "on" and replaced the weapon in her holster at her slim waist.
As he walked Mara to the door, he watched her move with a fluid grace, innocently sexy. He shook his head as he held the door for her. Another uniformed officer turned a questioning eye to his supervisor. "Please assist Special Agent Forsythe to the side entrance." Turning to Mara, he added, "I had taken the liberty of asking one of our officers to drive you into your Hotel."
Mara flashed him a smile, completely unaware of the chaos she was causing within him. "Thank you so much, but it won't be necessary. I understand that my Grandmother sent a car down for me, but thank you for your thoughtfulness Inspector MacDonald." Her suitcase was deposited on a luggage cart.
MacDonald grinned, extending his hand. "It's Brian. Again, I apologize for the delay. Good luck on the case, and please find some time to enjoy your stay."
She accepted his proffered hand, returning his handshake with a firm grip. "I'm sure Kate will have something in mind. Thanks again, Brian." Smiling warmly one last time and gathering her belongings, she turned away and started towards the passenger loading entrance.
Brian watched her retreating form moving through the crowd with flowing grace. Blinking back to the present, he realized that the two uniformed guards next to him had also been mesmerized by the young woman. Pointedly he cleared his throat, abruptly drawing their attention back to him. "Back to work, chaps."
The first turned quizzical eyes on his boss as they walked back to the security office. "Why don't we get to work with women like that on our shift, Sir?"
"She could coax a confession out of me with just a smile." The second agreed. Eyes widening mischievously, he exhaled a low meaningful whistle
Brian stopped in his tracks, casting both men a withering stare. "Gentlemen.." he sighed with annoyance. "..Don't start."
***
Mara thanked him, then sat uncomfortably, the metal of the handcuffs pulling at her protesting elbow and shoulder. Five minutes after her arrival, the tall detective arrived and regarded her momentarily, questioning the reports he had been given by the customs officers. She certainly didn't look dangerous, much less the threat alluded to by the customs agent. But looks were often deceiving and he did have the gun and the statements of the other passengers, who even now, were giving statements to his staff.
She straightened up, wincing as the pain from her arm arced through her body.
"I don't think we'll be needing these any longer." his voice held a slight brogue as he moved behind her. The cold metal encircling her wrists loosed, as he unlocked and slipped off the handcuffs.
Taking a deep breath, Mara moved her shoulder, rubbing the offended joint with her uninjured hand. "Thank you." She stated, her voice hoarse. Wrapping her long slender fingers around the styrofoam cup she lifted the water to her lips and sipped cautiously.
His facial expression was flat as he slipped into the metal chair on the other side of the table. "Miss Forsythe, I'm Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard." He sighed heavily, as though he would rather be anywhere else but here. "I understand that you were involved in some trouble in customs today. Perhaps you would like to tell me your side of the story."
It was not a request. Silence followed. This was a tactic she was familiar with and had often used herself. Silence flustered the emotions, stirred the conscience and jarred guilt. He sat staring at her, waiting for a response.
"Yes, well, it seems that Don and I couldn't agree on the concept of probable cause. When I disagreed with his heavy handed tactics, he objected." She retorted levelly, maintaining eye contact as she spoke. "He seemed to take my objection rather. personally." A sharp rap on the door sounded as she sipped again at her ice water.
A smile twitched the corner of his thin lips as he stood and quickly moved to meet the uniformed officer coming into the room.
"Her story checks out, Sir." Mara's black leather wallet containing her badge and identification card was handed open to MacDonald. He examined the ID closely. Dark eyebrows crumpled together in frank disbelief as he looked to her, then back at the photo. "I'll just be a moment." He muttered, excusing himself as he quickly left the room with his uniformed colleague.
"At last. We're getting somewhere." she murmured.
Twenty minutes later, he returned with another glass of ice water and a profound look of annoyance on his rugged face. Plopping her passport, papers and badge onto the table, he seated himself across the small table from Mara, and smiled tightly as he offered her the cup.
"Thanks." Gratefully, she accepted the water, grimacing as the cold liquid soothed her inflamed throat, alleviating the pain pounding from the bruised tissue.
MacDonald frowned, "Special Agent Forsyth, It is customary for foreign law enforcement officers, who are traveling abroad on official purposes, to identify themselves as such upon arrival in customs. It's a quaint little rule, but one that seems to deter unfortunate incidents such as this." his pained tone matched the exasperation on his face.
"I did." She replied firmly. "Twice as I recall. The first officer directed me to the customs kiosk. However, once there, Don was so preoccupied with my lingerie, that he totally dismissed my passport and travel authorization forms. I repeatedly asked him to look at the documents." She ran her fingertips over the edge of the cup as she watched Inspector MacDonald's face twist again in disgust. "I'll take it, from the look on your face, that this isn't the first time he's caused an incident.."
"Unfortunately you would be correct in that. Bugger." He sat back in the chair, his finger and thumb squeezing the bridge of his thin nose, unsuccessfully attempting to ward off the massive headache building therein.
This was quite the legal tempest in a teapot. He needed to diffuse the situation immediately before it flared into legal action against the department. It seemed odd to him that the agent would deter from normal inspection processes without some justifiable cause. Don had only recently joined the department and was well known for his "vigorous inspections" and dislike of assertive women.. So well known, in fact, that he had earned himself a probationary period. This unpredictable young man had assured the Superintendent that he would improve his work performance and people skills, and thus had kept his job. Until now.
Despite the telephone conversation with Don's protesting father, Lord Ashbury, the consequences of his actions could no longer be avoided. With further discussion of the additional legal possibilities, an agreement was abruptly reached. MacDonald's instructions were clear. Don would accept his dismissal, if she did not press assault charges. But would she accept such a deal, he pondered.
Although the woman in front of him was beautiful, he doubted that it would have unnerved Don enough to manhandle her. Mara Forsyth had an ethereal, quality he couldn't quite explain. Her voice was beautiful, but her eyes captivated. You could drown in eyes like those. Bedroom eyes. He had never really understood the term before, until he looked into her eyes. This woman was enough to distract any man from lucid thought.
Perhaps Don had become unnerved by this assertive women. She'd certainly knocked him down a peg or two during her verbal reprimand of his actions. "Do you think perhaps that you did something to prompt his behavior." He asked, anticipating her reaction.
She was genuinely shocked. Was he actually inferring that she had caused this? "Perhaps I was a bit rude to him when he insulted me." Mara countered, keeping a tight rein on her temper. "But, our little friend's overzealous behavior stepped way over the boundaries of harassment and dereliction of duty. That kid had no idea what he was doing, and dismissed normal inspection processes for his own heavy handed style." She declared certain of her facts.
"We have already established that." He agreed. "I spoke with the other passengers who vouched for your story about his conduct. I would like to formally extend our apology to you on the behalf of Heathrow and the Customs Agency. This situation was handled totally wrong." She could clearly see that he meant it, felt his genuine regret. "The young lad has been dismissed and will not be causing further problems here."
She gathered herself quickly. "Thank you Detective. Perhaps he'll learn from this experience." She offered.
He snorted with disgust. "Somehow I don't think so." He stated shaking his head sadly. That lad? He couldn't imagine Don ever learning from his mistakes. Not with his parents constantly protecting him. His employment record was proof of that fact. "Do you know, that you are the second person I've had to interview from this flight?"
A soft smile curved her full mouth. "Let me guess, An elderly lady on diltiazam. Don thought it was dilaudid?" Mara's eyes looked at him meaningfully.
His eyebrows shot up. "To quote an American term, Bingo!" he grinned at her, shaking his head in derision. "Bloody sot confused a common heart medication for a controlled narcotic."
The error was one her father had to constantly correct in his first year after assuming his position with the drug team. Drug pushers often replaced the common heart medication with the potent narcotic hoping to get their disguised stashes into the US from Canada and Mexico. An anonymous tip to the DEA had quickly spread throughout the law enforcement community, leading to a surge in confiscations of the heart drug by drug enforcement units. Despite their diligence, only 4 percent of all seizures were confirmed replacements. In two of the most blatant instances the possessors had been young men, nowhere fitting the medical indications for the cardiac drug. Several of the mistaken cases however, had immediately filed lawsuits, insisting that the actions of the narcotic officers had caused dangerous side effects. Her father had grumbled about it during dinner one night. Then, being the proactive soul that he was, immediately instituted a department wide education program to prevent further blunders. "He missed the drug enforcement lecture?" she teased, watching him through laughing blue eyes.
"Must have. Missed the class on inspection process and probable cause, as well." He retorted. She was even more lovely when she smiled. No, not lovely, breathtaking. "Do you know that we have had 15 complaints submitted against him in 3 days. I'm not entirely certain but it must be some type of record." He laughed.
"And you are the lucky soul who gets to respond to these complaints?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I owe you a great deal of thanks. I can now close 15 complaint files with one rubber stamped "He's been sacked." He chuckled. "Good riddance to bad rubbish and all."
"No one was hurt in all the commotion, I hope?" she recalled the terrified screams of her fellow passengers as they attempted to hide from a possible firefight. Panicked skirmishes often caused terrible injuries as people sought to flee the danger for safety.
"Luckily, no. Just a few frayed nerves. It's all straightened out now. We had moved the witnesses into the lounge and explained that it was a case of mistaken identity. Well, needless to say, they were all quite relieved to learn that you were a police officer."
Mara closed her eyes, relieved at his news. "Good." She smiled softly, pushing her hair behind her ear.
His eyes followed the curiously innocent gesture. He'd give Don this. The lad had been right in his physical description of this woman. The more time he spent with her, the more he had to admit that she was incredibly beautiful. Her high delicate cheekbones, small nose and lush lips were set in a face of damask perfection. But those eyes. It was the deep blue of her eyes that had immediately caught his attention. Intelligence burned in their sapphire depths and held the promise of untapped passion and.... Snapping out of his distracted stupor, he blinked quickly asking, "So, what do we owe the pleasure of your visit to our humble isle? I assumed from your documents that you're on some form of official business. Or, do you often carry your weapon on vacation?" His teased
She laughed softly, low and amused, "Actually it is a bit of both. I was asked to consult on a homicide case in the town of Albright. My Grandmother lives just outside of the town and apparently slipped a recommendation to the wife of the chief inspector during their weekly bridge game. She seemed to think that my past experience with this sort of case might help them solve this one. Personally," She confided, leaning closer to him, her eyes lit with mischief, "I think it was a ploy to get me to visit."
He lifted his head and laughed. "Grandmothers are devious like that." Thoughtfully he tapped the table with his index finger, the smile still playing on his face. "Albright..Forsythe..you wouldn't be related to Lady Katherine Forsythe, the Duchess of Prescott?"
Mara's eyes widened, a slow smile curving her soft mouth. "Yes, Kate is my Grandmother."
Shaking his head, his face beamed. "My family has property about thirty kilometers south of Albright. We're practically neighbors."
She smiled warmly at him, realizing that this MacDonald must have been related to the MacDonalds whose property bordered Stonecroft, her Grandmother's estate. Both estates had been in the family for hundreds of generations, and had, in centuries past, been the bitter adversaries of frequent contentious land disputes over ownership of a large parcel of land. The courts had repeatedly agreed that the hill was indeed on Forsythe lands and therefore, legally a part of Stonecroft. But it wasn't the land value the MacDonalds had wanted.
Upon the disputed hill stood the thirteen standing stones of Men Scrafa. It was a peaceful place. A place that Kate had once fondly described as "untouched by time." Mara recalled the fond memories of pick nicks on the hill with her Grandmother. Playing games of tag, and hide and seek amongst the stones. Where the living voice of the land could be heard whispering to you if you stood still and quietly listened. It was her favorite childhood play site, holding the anchor of her fondest memories. A world of imaginary magical creatures and playmates who would avidly listen to her troubles and ease the loneliness of a little girl.
Unfortunately, the MacDonald's didn't see the land in quite the same light. To them it was a source of income. A historical relic to be corded off, tolled and opened to visitors. Mara shuddered inwardly, at the thought of her beloved stones being turned into a tourist attraction. It defamed the work of those who created the spot, of its own honor. It was part of her family's heritage, as her Grandmother frequently reminded Mara.
Kate had the responsibility of caring for the land and the ancient ring of stones, as had Kate's father, and his father before him. Each generation of Forsythe had been responsible for the land and had respected its ancient, mysterious secrets for hundreds of generations. This would not change while Kate lived. Not for money, land or title. The MacDonalds would just have to accept it.
Sensing his relaxed manner at the topic, Mara laughed softly at him. "So we must be. Though, you should know. I haven't been home in almost 20 years."
"Well, that was England's loss Agent Forsythe." She was returning home after twenty years at the request of her elderly grandmother. He found his admiration for this woman growing. Loyal, intelligent and beautiful, he appreciatively concluded. Indeed it had been their loss. His voice took on a serious note as his smile faded. "I am, of course, going to need to know if you wish to press charges against Don."
The young man had lost his job. That in itself would be a wake up call. She shook her head. "No. No charges. And please. Just call me Mara."
"Of course.Mara." He liked the sound of her name on his tongue. "Well then, I think we're done here. I wouldn't want to add further delay Her Ladyships plans for her lovely Granddaughter." He teased, handing back her belongings. "Your weapon. Documents. Ah yes, your luggage."
Tucking her documents and passport into the side flap of her attaché case, she retrieved her gun and deftly checked the clip. Satisfied that it was untouched, she snapped the clip back into place, flipped the safety to "on" and replaced the weapon in her holster at her slim waist.
As he walked Mara to the door, he watched her move with a fluid grace, innocently sexy. He shook his head as he held the door for her. Another uniformed officer turned a questioning eye to his supervisor. "Please assist Special Agent Forsythe to the side entrance." Turning to Mara, he added, "I had taken the liberty of asking one of our officers to drive you into your Hotel."
Mara flashed him a smile, completely unaware of the chaos she was causing within him. "Thank you so much, but it won't be necessary. I understand that my Grandmother sent a car down for me, but thank you for your thoughtfulness Inspector MacDonald." Her suitcase was deposited on a luggage cart.
MacDonald grinned, extending his hand. "It's Brian. Again, I apologize for the delay. Good luck on the case, and please find some time to enjoy your stay."
She accepted his proffered hand, returning his handshake with a firm grip. "I'm sure Kate will have something in mind. Thanks again, Brian." Smiling warmly one last time and gathering her belongings, she turned away and started towards the passenger loading entrance.
Brian watched her retreating form moving through the crowd with flowing grace. Blinking back to the present, he realized that the two uniformed guards next to him had also been mesmerized by the young woman. Pointedly he cleared his throat, abruptly drawing their attention back to him. "Back to work, chaps."
The first turned quizzical eyes on his boss as they walked back to the security office. "Why don't we get to work with women like that on our shift, Sir?"
"She could coax a confession out of me with just a smile." The second agreed. Eyes widening mischievously, he exhaled a low meaningful whistle
Brian stopped in his tracks, casting both men a withering stare. "Gentlemen.." he sighed with annoyance. "..Don't start."
***