My Dark Highlander

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  Weary from lack of sleep, she gazed back toward the sea. The salty wind whipped the hem of her skirt around her legs. “Isn’t it always a man causing my problems?”

  “A man can show ye the way, lass. A man can be the answer ye seek.”

  The light smell of smoke, and the soft feminine voice, caught Jenny unaware. Since Jake had walked away, she assumed she stood alone. Glancing to her left, she found Dorcas Swann. The old witch stood at her side, puffing on her pipe.

  The witch’s long silvery tendrils batted about her face and shoulders. Long pale fingers gathered the gray cloak tighter over her threadbare light blue gown, and sunken chest. A crooked nose, far from homely, made her look wise. Her smile calmed everyone she met, and her all-knowing dark eyes widened with glee as she leaned on a crooked cane, and arched a bushy eyebrow.

  “Snuck up on me again, and what do you mean by a man?”

  Dorcas shrugged her bony shoulders. “I feel ye need guidance.”

  “Thanks, but men are not the issue. I should go home.”

  Dorcas didn’t answer. Puffing on her pipe, she gazed out over the North Sea. Most of Castle Ruadh’s inhabitants called Dorcas an old crone, or a witch, but Jenny knew by the amber-hued aura encircling her, that Dorcas’ powers personified her, making her very intuitive.

  Ever since Jenny’s childhood, growing up in the backwoods of northern New Hampshire, she discovered that she could read auras. Animals, or people, it didn’t matter. The knack, something she dare not share with anyone, helped in her job as a veterinarian. She simply knew what ailed an animal. The auras told her what area of the body to palpate. This helped her reach a conclusion, only quicker, which made her enjoy her job.

  Treating sick animals is a calling.

  It made sense to go home, to the animal clinic.

  Back to the only thing I’m good at. I have nothing here.

  Of course, if you didn’t include the clinic, her life was more an existence, living alone in a small apartment. Besides the workplace, she barely interacted with people. Caring for dogs, cats, horses, and the occasional snake kept her from going insane.

  Using her ability to heal sick animals was a Godsend, but when surrounded by crowds, their auras sparkled with intense rainbows of emotions. Sometimes the swirling colors hurt her eyes, and nausea was a common side effect.

  She stood on the edge of the cliff, with Dorcas quietly at her side. Dorcas was tiny, bent-over, and smoked like a chimney, but her aura proved she was the most powerful person in this time. Her presence calmed Jenny’s rolling stomach.

  Inhaling air scented with the smoke from Dorcas’ pipe, Jenny smiled. Whatever she’d lit inside that pipe smelled nothing like tobacco. She probably filled it with healing herbs and sweet grasses.

  “Dorcas, I thought you were inside the castle talking to Lady Fia. She told me you planned to help with her sick tenants.”

  Frowning, Dorcas’ long gnarled fingers reached up and plucked the pipe from her lips, while her other hand gripped the head of her crooked cane. “Aye. I promised to visit her people ‘afore I left for New England. Will ye come with me?”

  Did she ask if Jenny wanted to help tend her patients, or return with her to the future?

  “Both,” Dorcas answered, as if she’d read Jenny’s mind.

  The old woman oozed mystery, and the hunk of amber she wore around her neck, magically amplified her amber-hued aura. The medallion hung from a simple gold chain, and twinkled under the sun’s rays. As if sensing where Jenny’s gaze had settled, Dorcas grasped the edges of her gray cloak, and drew it tightly around her bony shoulders.

  When a stiff breeze battered the two women, goose bumps pebbled Jenny’s arms. “Perhaps I should have asked to borrow a parka or sweatshirt, though those words might cause a few stares.”

  Dorcas chuckled. “Aye, ye should have brought a cloak.”

  “I wouldn’t mind helping with the sick villagers.” The task might take her mind off the two men who’d stumbled into her life. Rae Wilson was Izzy’s cousin. He carried a secret as well, but something less dark and treacherous than whatever Gavin hid from her. She could tell by the mushroom-brown color of Rae’s aura. The odd color meant something was slowing his destiny, yet he was still young enough at thirty, to follow wherever destiny led him.

  Not much older than me.

  When they spoke, they stood eye-to-eye, which meant he was also five feet ten-inches. In her world, she didn’t consider herself tall, but compared with many of the women of this century, she felt like a regular mythological Amazon.

  “Rae Wilson is a good man, with abilities he may never share, but he can help ye find the answer.” Dorcas chuckled.

  “What answer?”

  Rae was a farmer. The first time they’d met, his muscular body stretched his shirt and pants. Leggings, he called them. They had molded to his frame and diverted her thoughts from another man who wore tight black leggings, a black shirt, and a long cloak.

  Gavin Sinclair.

  A man I’d be smart to forget.

  “Aye, the young Sinclair is a man around whom ye should take care.”

  Dorcas had read her mind, and spoke the truth. Unlike Gavin’s brooding manner and harsh mannerisms, Rae came across as shy. He spoke very little about himself, and she’d witnessed how he practically ignored Cinnie, one of Lady Fia’s pretty serving women. Cinnie had tried, in vain, to strike up a conversation with him several times. She hadn’t been able to read Cinnie’s aura, but there was something about the young woman that seemed off.

  This morning, as she served his breakfast in the great room, Rae’s dark brown eyes flicked to Cinnie’s low-cut light blue peasant shirt, then to the long golden braid hanging seductively over one shoulder. She was a tiny young woman, and quite pretty, but he acted like he only admired her clothing, or hairstyle.

  Maybe he’s gay.

  Dorcas laughed so loud, she nearly stumbled, and Jenny cupped the old woman’s elbow. When Dorcas regained her balance, Jenny stepped away. Izzy mentioned that Dorcas, her employer, visited New England often. Although obviously aware of modern terminology, she dressed and spoke like all the others of this time.

  Jenny pulled her thoughts back to Rae. When relaxed, and less concerned about keeping some kind of secret, his aura showed that he was a good man. Rumor said that he had suffered at the hands of Angus Sinclair.

  The bastard had kidnapped Rae. Trapped in a cell, Rae nearly died in a fire. Traumas like that could affect anyone. Izzy and Bull risked their lives to save him.

  Which brings me back to Gavin.

  Gavin had frightened her, thrilled her, and even kissed her, all while supposedly attempting to connect with his fiancé, Izzy MacHamish. When that surprising piece of news came out, it crushed Jenny’s heart like a pinecone beneath the lying bastard’s boot.

  “A kiss can heal a broken heart,” Dorcas whispered.

  Rattled by the old woman’s knack for hearing her private thoughts, Jenny rolled the words over in her mind. Jenny and Gavin had kissed, but he had hurt her, by keeping his engagement a secret. Did that mean she should kiss someone else?

  “I don’t need a man in my life, Dorcas. They’re nothing but trouble.” She inhaled the salty tang of the sea, and expelled the pain he’d caused. Besides, Gavin meant nothing to her. They barely knew each other. As the son of an evil man, responsibilities weighed him down.

  Dorcas puffed on her pipe. “Aye, his evil sire might return. His brother, Niall, is missing. Gavin’s clan needs him.”

  “More reason for me to believe he would never leave ancient Scotland.” The idea about returning home got easier.

  Then why do I feel like crying?

  “Shed no tears, lass. What is meant to be, shall be.”

  Dorcas had a way of laying Jenny’s soul bare. Gavin never laughed and hardly smiled, at least not during the time they’d spent together. Why would she want to date a guy like that? Besides, the disappearance and probable death of his brother, Niall, had le
ft him even more morose and bitter.

  “Thinking about men, and where ye should live, will not make ye happy. Ye need to act on yer gut feelings. Love someone, and time will stand still,” Dorcas whispered.

  “What?”

  “I said that when I am able, when my bones are not ailing me, I sell herbs at various Highland games, such as the festival that occurs near yer home each year.”

  “No, you said something about time standing still, but this is definitely not the time, nor place to fall in love.”

  “Mayhaps I misspoke. Do ye like the festival in your time?”

  “The New England Highland Games? I’ve seen the posters and read the ads in the newspapers, but I never bought a ticket. Jake and Izzy work there…worked there.”

  “Young Jake met Bull, Isobel, and others there,” Dorcas added.

  Jake used his profession as a horseshoe-making farrier to act like an old-time Scottish blacksmith. Izzy helped Dorcas sell her goods. Bull was an athlete.

  “Izzy has helped work my tent these past five years.”

  “But she’s staying here, in Scotland. Right?”

  Dorcas nodded, puffing on her pipe. “She has a future, here. Come back to New England with me, lass. ‘Twill feel like ye never left.”

  “I was thinking about it, but--”

  “Rae Wilson is coming with us, as well.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Time is fluid and ever changing. What he seeks is there, no’ here.”

  When Dorcas turned her attention to seabirds floating above them on the cool breeze, Jenny returned her gaze to the blue-green depths of the North Sea. The women stood several yards from the edge, and high above the scant wedge of beach. The muffled thunder of crashing waves reminded her that she had landed in a world far from the White Mountains of New Hampshire. At home, the closest she got to water was the stream that ran through the woods behind her apartment house, and the river it fed.

  Applause roared from the field, and Jenny wished she had the guts to join them, again. Why couldn’t she overcome this need for solitude? Why couldn’t she figure out a way to control her ability?

  “Have ye no appetite for competition?”

  “Who, me? Nope.” She couldn’t handle watching sweaty bodies, clad only in hip-hugging, ancient kilts fight and shout. No sense stirring up her senses any more. Her body was already in knots by the riot of brilliant auras.

  “Time, and a bit of romance, can do miracles, lass.”

  Jenny scratched the lacy edge of the white chemise, that peeked from beneath her simple skirt and blouse. She tugged the yellow fabric low on her shoulders, even though it bared a little too much skin for such weather. Once she returned home, she’d be back in jeans or scrubs.

  “Lass, ‘tis power in romance--”

  “Romance? I rarely date. My job at the clinic keeps me busy and I live alone because I like it.”

  The lies tripped over her tongue, and soured her belly. It didn’t help when Dorcas glared at her, as if reading her thoughts, again.

  “Help me in the village, and I shall keep ye busy. There be nothing like changing chamber pots to make a lass think of nicer things, like kissing and cuddling.” She giggled like a young woman, and waited for Jenny’s answer.

  “I’ll help. I’ve been inoculated against most diseases.”

  Dorcas’ left eyebrow quirked upward.

  “I’m not sure what good I can do. I work with animals.”

  Dorcas puffed again, then looked up at Jenny and winked. “Ye can help by reading the auras of my patients, to help me heal them quicker.”

  Jenny’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “You know about…? How? When?”

  Dorcas lowered her voice. “Have ye no’ heard the rumors about me, lass?”

  She doubted anyone called Dorcas a witch, to her face. Her ability to use potions and herbs, to heal the sick and wounded, was similar to what Jenny did at the animal clinic.

  “Well, yes, but who am I to judge?”

  “Aye, yer powers grow, but ye must learn to use them to yer benefit.”

  “I use them to help animals, nothing more.” Turning, she headed toward the castle gate. The tap-tap-tap of the witch’s cane indicated Jenny wasn’t going to evade Dorcas’ words, so she slowed her progress.

  “Lass, please think of ways to channel yer ability.”

  “I see things no one else sees. I can’t simply turn it off. When certain people walk by, and their auras vibrate black with evil, I cringe. When possible, I cross the street, but sometimes I’m stuck.”

  “Follow my instructions, and ye will learn to turn off this ability. A normal life might turn out to be somewhat dull, after a life filled with color.”

  “I’ll do anything to live a normal life!”

  Dorcas glanced away, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Be careful what ye wish for, lass.”

  She thought about Dorcas’ words, but shrugged. The woman was only trying to help. She ought to thank her, not argue with her.

  “Are you thirsty? A cup of cider would taste wonderful, right about now.” It was when Dorcas didn’t answer, that Jenny realized she was alone. When the aroma of roasting meat and fresh-baked bread made her mouth water, her gaze flicked to old wooden tables heaped with food. Dorcas was surrounded by children, their smiling faces covered with shortbread cookie crumbs. “How did Dorcas get over there so quickly?”

  I’d love some fresh-baked shortbread.

  A few children clapped in time to a gay tune. Drummers and pipers marched around the tables, filling the air with happy sounds. Children squealed in delight. Suddenly ravenous, Jenny’s stomach grew queasy, but food was not the answer.

  She headed back to the sharp edge of the cliff. Maybe the fresh sea air would calm her jitters. The tower’s red sandstone walls glistened from a recent rain, while her borrowed slippers grew damp and uncomfortable.

  “Even if I had my old sneakers, my toes would be soaked.” She glanced over the edge. Far below, waves crashed on jagged rocks that stuck up from the sandy beach like sharp black talons. The horror of Niall Sinclair’s recent fall from these cliffs clamped her throat in a tight grip.

  During a mighty battle, no one had seen Gavin’s brother since he fell. Had his body fallen on the rocks? Had he washed out to sea? Had the huge waves hauled him under, drowning him within sight of the castle, or had he succumbed to a horrible sea creature?

  Jenny shivered, then walked southward. She cleared her thoughts of the image of the fair-haired Niall Sinclair. The cry of gulls and the boom of crashing waves soothed her, until a sudden movement caught her eye. A lonely figure stood several hundred feet away, close to the edge. Too close. She was running, before she was aware she’d moved.

  Cold air flooded her nose, and fear stole her breath. As the scene unfolded in front of her, and with Niall Sinclair’s recent fall fresh in her mind, she opened her mouth. Hoping she was not too late, she inhaled a deep breath and screamed.

  “Don’t do it! Please! Don’t jump!

  CHAPTER 2

  Gavin Sinclair was brooding, but he cared not. His life had turned to Hell, and unless he found his brother Niall alive, and successfully brought their rampaging sire under control, he might as well jump into the North Sea.

  Falcon nudged his shoulder, and whinnied.

  Gavin pushed against his steed’s velvet nose. “Doono’ shove me whilst I be standing at the cliff’s edge.”

  The sleek, black stallion backed away, and trotted to the edge of the forest where sweet grass, turning brown with the cool autumn weather, made a handy snack.

  Within view of Castle Ruadh, a fortress far different than his own, Gavin leaned over the edge. His gaze wandered up and down the tiny strip of sandy beach. Waves rolled in, then retreated, but only after crashing against the jagged rocks that dotted the coastline, which claimed as many ships as the famous pirate, Blair MacIan.

  A scream wrenched his attention away from the crashing wa
ves. His foot slipped, and the sandstone lip he stood upon, crumbled. Swaying, and off-balance, he grabbed air. As he slid over the side, and turned to face the cliff wall, he clawed at small bushes. When his momentum slowed, and he jerked to a stop, he prayed their roots held. His left boot barely balanced on a small ledge, which had also helped to impede his hair-raising descent.

  When I meet the idiot who screamed, I shall wring their neck!

  Spitting grass and dead leaves, he held on. Dirt clogged his throat. Sand, whipped by a gust of wind, stung his eyes. The roots loosened, and pulled away from the cliff’s face. His feet slid inches lower. His gloves slipped, his fingers cramped, and his stomach churned.

  Scrabbling with his boots, he tried to raise his body toward the edge, but it was an arm’s length from his reach. The roots loosened more. Time was slipping away. Valuable time, better spent searching for his missing brother.

  The sorcery he practiced in secret, was useless in this situation. After years of trial and error, he had conjured a spell that had sent him to the future, in search of his betrothed.

  Look where that got me.

  Isobel MacHamish refused his advances, and was now Bryce Buchanan’s lover. ‘Izzy and Bull make a lovely pair’, villagers often whispered. Their words did not hurt, they simply bruised his pride. His heart had never been involved with the lass. From the beginning, his goal had been to marry her, thus acquiring her farmland, livestock, and the power that would have come his way as a landholder.

  His magic was no help then, nor now. What he needed was a couple of arms helping him reach the top of the cliff.

  “Dear Lord, are you okay?”

  Gavin stilled.

  The feminine voice, speaking from somewhere above him, was not the helping hands he sought in answer to his prayer. More than likely, she was the reason for his predicament. Spitting out more dirt, he blinked, and tipped back his head.

  “Lady Morgan? Did ye mean to scare me into falling?”

  “Falling? I thought you were going to jump!”

  The woman was daft. Why would he jump off a cliff? “Explain. Nay, get help.”

  When Jenny Morgan ignored his command, and knelt at the cliff’s edge, he closed his eyes. It wasn’t her wispy brown hair, streaked with gold that made his eyes snap shut.