Highlander's Magical Love

by Donna Fletcher

  Flanna nodded, knowing it was better she held her tongue, and she and Lila watched him walk off.

  “You were going to tell him about Dawn,” Lila said, stepping next to her.

  Flanna nodded. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

  The quiet of the night caught Cree’s attention when he stepped outside. It seemed odd that there was not a sound to be heard. It was as if everything had stilled or as if time had frozen everything. Even the gray storm clouds seemed suspended in the sky. He listened for a moment to the absolute silence and shook his head. Odd. So very odd.

  He approached the Elite Catering truck and wondered why it was parked a distance from the back door that lead from a mudroom of sorts to the kitchen.

  A rare anxiousness gripped him and he found himself taking hasty steps to the truck. One of the two back doors sat partially open and he could see a faint light coming from inside. He stepped around the open door, calling out, “Dawn.”

  There was a clatter of noise, the light dropping to the floor of the truck.

  Cree hoisted himself up into the truck. “It’s Cree,” he said, making himself known so he wouldn’t frighten her any further. When she didn’t answer him, he called out to her again, “Dawn, are you all right?”

  He quickly stepped around a tall pallet of glasses to see Dawn, a dark shadow, standing with her hand pressed to her chest. He approached her slowly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took another step toward her and was about to reach down and grab the small torch she had dropped when the door to the truck slammed shut so hard, it rocked the vehicle.

  His arm instinctively shot out to circle Dawn’s waist and settle her solidly against him so she wouldn’t take a tumble. He felt her tense in his arms, though he wasn’t sure if it was from his taking hold of her or the lock on the truck door they both heard fall into place.

  The torch shut off as it rolled away, pitching the interior into complete darkness.

  “Are you all right?” he asked again and he felt her nod her head, the top just reaching past his shoulder. He was taller than average, reaching several inches over six feet. He was lucky if most women reached his shoulder. He liked that she had height to her. It would be easier to kiss her and damn if he wasn’t tempted to do just that.

  He didn’t know if it was the lotion she wore or perfume, or her own scent, light, delicate with a hint of wild honeysuckle, that stirred his senses. He told himself to let her go, but something inside him refused to listen and he kept her tucked in his arms.

  “It would seem we’re locked in here,” he said, wondering, though not wanting to voice it and further frighten her, if it was by accident or on purpose. He felt her nod again and was concerned she was too frightened to speak. To alleviate her fears and get her to talk, he said, “Flanna, your boss knows we’re here. We should be found shortly. Have you worked long for Elite?” Again she nodded and he grew annoyed when she shifted in his arms to step out of them. He didn’t want to let her go. He liked her there in his arms. She felt good there, the slight, soft curves of her body melding with his. It was like two pieces that had been broken apart, coming together in a perfect fit.

  He almost reached out and grabbed her to pull her back against him, wanting her to return to him. Thankfully, sanity prevailed and he kept his hands to himself.

  He did, however, ask, “Do I frighten you?”

  Dawn shook her head and realized her mistake. She should have remained in his arms, at least then he would feel her nodding or shaking her head. Besides, she had found herself quite content there, far too content with his strong arms snug around her and her body resting with an odd, familiar ease against his.

  She pushed the thought away, more important she dealt with the issue at hand… her not being able to speak. The darkness only worsened the situation. If he could see her, she could use sign language, not that she knew if he understood it, but at least he would know she could not speak. In the dark, he could see nothing, which left her no choice.

  Dawn stepped closer to him and reached out, her hand hesitant at first, after all he might get the wrong idea when she touched him, but how else was she to communicate with him in the dark? She placed a gentle hand on his chest and waited a moment to see his response and couldn’t help but feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt. An image of him naked popped in her head, his chest broad and powerful with thick muscles and the rest of him equally as impressive and even more potent.

  She shook her head and realizing he had not moved or made a sound, she ran her hand up and over his broad shoulder, trying not to linger, while trying to ignore the tingle that ran through her fingers and along her arm at the feel of his toned body. She forced herself to hurry her hand down along his arm, as goosebumps rushed over her own arm igniting an ember of passion in her that she dared not let spark to life. With a sigh of relief, he could not hear, she finally reached his hand.

  Cree remained still the whole time her hand drifted over him. He didn’t know her intention, but he did know he liked her touch. It was tender and hesitant at first, then had seemed to rush over him, eager or anxious, he wasn’t sure, though it had aroused his heart as well as a more intimate appendage.

  Dawn took his hand and raised it slowly to place it against her cheek so he would be able to feel her responses, and shook her head.

  “You can’t speak,” he said, understanding immediately. “Laryngitis?”

  Dawn shook her head again.

  It took Cree a moment to comprehend. “Are you telling me that you cannot speak at all?”

  She nodded.

  “You have no voice at all?” A touch of anger bubbled in him that she should be condemned to such a limited life and he was surprised when she shook her head. The way he felt her body lightly shake, he could have sworn she had laughed.

  She took his hand off her cheek, touched it to both her hands and then to her lips.

  “You speak with your hands—sign language.”

  She nodded.

  He got angry with himself for not learning it along with Wintra. She had urged him when they were younger to learn it with her, telling him that one never knew when it might come in handy. She had taken easily to it and had translated speeches at various functions they had. He could kick himself for not having learned and he had no doubt his sister would be sure to say I told you so.

  Dawn tapped his chest, then his hands.

  Cree answered, understanding her question. “No, unfortunately I don’t know sign language, but I plan on learning immediately, perhaps you could teach me.” He could have sworn he felt her lips spread with a smile and he smiled himself and took it as a hopeful yes. It was a way of making sure he would see her again, but then he didn’t need an excuse since he intended to get to know her better.

  You are mine.

  Where the archaic thought came from, he had no idea. Somehow, though, it felt familiar and rang true.

  She moved his hand to the side of her neck so he could continue to feel her responses, and he was only too glad to leave it there, though he had to keep himself from stroking her soft skin.

  “Do you live nearby?” he asked.

  She nodded and took his other hand, placing hers on top of his. She turned his over and ran her finger faintly across his palm, trailing down along it before turning it and repeating the gesture.

  Cree tried to concentrate on what she was trying to tell him, but it wasn’t easy with her finger faintly brushing his palm over and over. This time it wasn’t his heart she aroused.

  It suddenly dawned on him that her gesture was like reading and turning the pages of a book. “Books… bookshop.” There was a bookshop in the village and he hoped that was where she lived since it was close. “You live in the flat above Wise Reads Bookshop in the village?”

  She nodded.

  He was pleased that he understood her and continued talking with her. “Do you work there as well?”

  She nodded again.

  He wanted to know all he could a
bout her, but not here in the dark. He wanted light around them. He wanted to see her face, watch her hands move as she spoke. He wished they would be found and yet he wished they wouldn’t be found. He liked this time alone with her, his hand resting at her neck, her faint touches as she spoke, the hint of intimacy that lingered around them. No, he didn’t want to give up this time alone with her, this forced intimacy that proved anything but forced.

  The lock on the door being lifted jolted the both of them and had Dawn pressing herself against him, instinctively seeking his protection. His arms greeted her eagerly and wrapped around her, holding her tight, offering her safety.

  “Keep close. I’ll keep you from harm,” Cree said and kept hold of her as he led her past the pallets of glasses.

  His words weren’t necessary. The tenderness, strength, and possessiveness in the way his arms kept her tucked against him let her know this man would keep her safe.

  Cree wasn’t surprised to see Flanna and Sloan looking up at them.

  “How did you get locked in?” Sloan asked, shaking his head. “I went searching for you, at your mum’s request, and having no luck anywhere, I finally went to the kitchen where this woman explained where you might be.”

  “I’d like to know how we got locked in here myself,” Cree said and reluctantly released Dawn and jumped down out of the truck, then reached up, closed his hands around her waist, snug and firm, and lowered her to the ground. A shot of Deja Vu hit him, feeling not only as if he had done this before but that his hands had rested at her waist many times before, not only in simple gestures like now, but intimate ones as well. That was pure and utter nonsense. They had just met.

  “Probably one of the staff thinking it was left open by accident,” Flanna said and looked to Dawn. “Hurry, you’re needed. One of the servers took ill.”

  Dawn turned her eyes on Cree before stepping away from him and when his hands fell away from her waist, she thought, for a sheer moment, she saw—felt in the sudden shift of his body—that he wasn’t going to let her go and, strange as it felt, she didn’t want him to.

  She shook her head to chase the odd feeling away.

  “Dawn!”

  Dawn jumped and turned to Flanna, nodding, and before she would find herself foolishly throwing herself at the lord of the castle, she hurried off, Flanna following alongside her.

  Cree had to stop himself from going after her just as he had to stop himself from reaching out and not letting her leave his side.

  “What’s going on, Cree?” Sloan asked as they walked back to the castle. “For a moment there, I didn’t think you were going to release that woman.”

  “Dawn, her name is Dawn and she cannot speak.”

  “What is she doing serving here tonight if she has laryngitis?” Sloan complained.

  “She doesn’t have laryngitis. She was born without a voice.”

  “How do you know that if she can’t speak?”

  “She told me with her hands.”

  “You don’t know sign language and when we opened the truck door it was dark in—” Sloan grinned. “Playing touchy, feely in the dark with her?” Cree stopped abruptly and Sloan was quick to do the same, his hand going up. “Wow, if looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. This woman—Dawn—has really captured your interest. Be careful. You don’t know anything about her. And what’s up with being locked in that truck?”

  “I have a feeling it was on purpose,” Cree said as they began to walk.

  “Your instincts are always good, so tell me what makes you think that. It could have just been a simple mistake.”

  “Shut the door to the truck, yes, but why lock it when more glasses were sure to be needed throughout the night? And why not call out to at least make sure no one was inside?”

  Sloan nodded. “You’ve got a point. But why lock someone in there in the first place? What purpose would it serve?”

  “I don’t know, but something’s up and I’m going to alert the security teams.”

  The two men entered the castle not noticing the figure that lurked in the darkness behind the bush. It watched and smiled… all was going better than planned.

  Chapter 4

  “You were locked in one of the Elite trucks with Lord Cree?” Lila asked not that she didn’t understand Dawn’s gestures, she understood her perfectly, and had since they were young and lived not far from each other. It was shock that had her confirming what had been said. “What happened? How did you communicate? What’s he like?”

  Dawn sighed, though no sound was heard and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she reached for a tray of champagne glasses.

  Lila reached for a tray as well and whispered, “You like him, but then he is gorgeous. How could any woman resist him?”

  Dawn’s slight smile turned to a frown and she shook her head as she balanced the tray on her hand.

  “It isn’t the Middle Ages anymore where peasants weren’t permitted to mingle with the titled gentry,” Lila said as she followed Dawn out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  Dawn shook her head again. She would not pursue something that would never be. She had learned that lesson as year after year her mum and da would take her to another doctor they had heard about in hopes of restoring a voice she never had to begin with. The disappointment on her mum and da’s face when they were told once again nothing could be done for their daughter hurt Dawn more than knowing there was no hope in her ever having a voice.

  It was when she finally refused to go to any more doctors that her parents realized it was futile. There was no miracle for Dawn. It hadn’t and still didn’t matter to her. From the beginning, her parents had made sure she learned all she could to be able to communicate. And most importantly, they didn’t treat her differently because of her disability, though others did. It hadn’t been easy, but she had done well and continued to do so. But to think that a man like Cree would be interested in her was beyond foolish and she would not pursue something that would end up like her endless doctor visits… in disappointment and heartbreak.

  Lila went to speak and Dawn scrunched her brow and shook her head again.

  Lila knew when to let things be with Dawn. She smiled. “One good thing about tonight. We get to sample some of those fabulous desserts that that temperamental pastry chef, Turbett, has slaved over.”

  Dawn licked her lips, showing her approval and both women turned on smiles as they went separate ways. Lila to the dining room and Dawn to the gallery.

  Dawn loved the long gallery where works of family art hung along with known artists from various centuries. She couldn’t take her eyes off the paintings, such talent and such beauty. It was an impressive collection and wise of the Carrick family to have guards at the two entrances to the room. Though, it seemed unlikely as well as impossible that a piece of art could be stolen in front of so many people.

  She wished she could linger and enjoy the artwork, but she was here to serve and she got busy doing so.

  Cree saw Dawn as soon as she entered the room. He had to smile, seeing the way she stared with such interest at the numerous paintings that hung on the gallery walls and how she looked as though she caught her breath when her eyes settled on certain ones. It was easy to see how she appreciated art and he appreciated seeing the enjoyment it brought her. He would love to discuss the paintings with her, find out more about her interests. Get to know her.

  He almost laughed at his own thought. He had not met a woman that had come near to catching his attention and interest as much as Dawn had. There was something about her that enticed and he wanted to go to her, snatch her by the arm, and take her to a part of the castle where they would be alone.

  Not a thought he should be having, since it sounded more like an abduction with a hint of seduction. More than a hint since he found himself aching to kiss those inviting yet silent lips of hers.

  “Cree. Cree, are you listening to me.”

  He heard his sister, but ignored her, his eyes intent on Dawn
.

  “Who does he think he is? Some mighty Highland warrior of old who does as he pleases?” Wintra complained to her husband.

  Cree was about to turn to his sister when he watched as Lady Ann Gerwan, a mean-spirited woman with a constant pinch to her gaunt features, was too busy talking to watch where she walked or expecting others to move out of her way, walked straight at Dawn who was just turning. She tried to avoid the woman, but Lady Ann’s arm caught the edge of the tray Dawn carried and sent it and champagne glasses flying directly at herself.

  Her outcry echoed throughout the gallery. “You clumsy idiot! Look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined a priceless copy of the dress Queen Victoria wore at her wedding to Prince Albert in 1840.”

  Cree hurried to Dawn as his mum approached Lady Ann from another direction.

  “Let me help you, Ann,” Cree’s mum said. stopping next to the irate woman.

  “I want her out of my sight and fired, Colleen. Do you hear me? Fired!” Lady Ann demanded.

  Cree stepped protectively next to Dawn. “That is not for you to decide.”

  Dawn felt a chill race up her spine at the harsh command in Cree’s voice, and she was not the only one who took note of it. His mum’s eyes rounded and Lady Ann’s head jolted back as if his words had struck her like a slap in the face. Complete silence followed, not a sound being heard in the gallery.

  “See to Lady Ann,” Cree ordered his mother, then took Dawn by the arm and hurried her out of the room to the surprise of those around him.

  Dawn had to hurry her steps to keep up with him and saw how people quickly cleared a path for him but then the glare on his handsome face did intimidate, and she worried that he would take her to Flanna and order her fired. She was surprised when he bypassed the kitchen and made his way through the foyer, people staring, and past security guards into the section closed to guests and entered a room where two security men stood guard.

  Dawn caught her breath when she saw it was the library. It looked exactly like a library, an old one, everything in it weathered from the creaks in the dark wood floor, to the, mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookcases packed with musty, leather bound books, and well-worn pages scenting the air. Three library ladders, their rungs worn with use, stretched like long arms to the top shelves that reached at least twelve feet. Bookcases were also built around the two windows, inside shutters closed tight, and the heavy green velvet drapes drawn back with gold silk ropes and tassels. Several overstuffed chairs, the cushions crushed and faded from frequent use, were placed throughout, though the grouping in front of the fireplace…