My Dark Highlander

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

  Jaden-Tog gasped. Before he could run away, everything went dark.

  CHAPTER 6

  Rae had nearly stumbled over the short brownie. His first reaction, before he thought about why the imp was four-hundred years from where he should be, was to capture him, which is why he had pulled his new green athlete’s shirt off, and covered the brownie’s head.

  “Let me go, ye big oaf!”

  Rae shook the little man, then draped his tiny form over a shoulder. “Stop yer blathering. I have questions, and would rather ask them in private.” He strode back to the old witch’s tent.

  “I have a few of me own.”

  The brownie had lowered his voice, and his muffled statement made Rae chuckle. When he reached old Dorcas’ tent, he dipped through the open tent flaps, then spun and closed them.

  “Have mercy, ye big oaf. My stomach…”

  “Quiet.” Rae paused, letting his eyes adjust to the tent’s darker interior. On the far side, near a table covered with bagged potions and herbs, Jenny raised her head from a large bundle.

  “Hey! It’s too dark…” Jenny’s voice faded. She must have noticed the pair of feet dangling over Rae’s naked chest. Then again, he might have embarrassed the lass with his unclothed state.

  “Um…your shirt…”

  “My pardon, lass. I used my garment to capture our little friend.” Rae set the brownie on his feet, then slipped the shirt off the imp’s head. The brownie sputtered, pulled at the lower edges of his leather jerkin, and smoothed his hair and beard.

  “How dare ye abduct a working man, farm boy.”

  Rae glanced at Jenny again. His cheeks burned, because she stared at the middle of his chest, and not at the imp. He slipped his shirt on, and Jenny’s attention moved to their guest.

  “That’s Jaden-Tog!”

  “Aye. That be me. Glad I am to see ye, lass, though I was unlucky to have crossed this lad’s path. He holds a lot of anger, and a secret or two.”

  Jenny glanced at Rae, then to Dorcas. The brownie walked up to the old witch, and bowed.

  “Dear lady, ‘tis a joy to see yer smiling face once more.”

  Dorcas nodded, and Rae wondered when those two had met.

  “I found the imp near a food cart, but I believe it was him who hid under yer cart, earlier. He has mischief on his mind, of that, ye can be sure.” Rae crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the imp, to press his point.

  Jenny came around and stood before Rae, but addressed the brownie. “Why are you here?”

  Jaden-Tog only smiled.

  “He has his reasons, and we shall keep our eyes open, until he wanders home again,” Dorcas said.

  “I doono’ mean to intrude on this little group, but I am not yer enemy.” The brownie swung his attention from Dorcas, back to Jenny. “I am on an adventure. I will no’ bother ye, and I ask ye to leave me be, as I have a job to do.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened and she slapped a palm against her chest. “What kind of job?”

  Was she recalling how the brownie had tried to kill Izzy? Luckily for Rae’s cousin, the imp had reconsidered. Later, he had managed to whisk Izzy, Bull, and himself from the confines of Tulac Castle’s dungeon to the safety of Castle Ruadh.

  “Aye,” Rae chimed in, “what other devious plots are ye conjuring?”

  “I cook.”

  Stunned, Rae could only stare. Jenny laughed.

  “May I take my leave?” he asked Rae.

  Rae glanced at Dorcas, who nodded. The imp spun on his heels, and raced out of the tent. Rae did not attempt to stop him. If Dorcas saw no danger in letting him go, who was he to argue? He glanced at the old woman. “Dorcas, do ye think there be any chance he means to harm Jenny?”

  “Me? Why? I’m nobody.”

  “Ye doono’ believe that, do ye lass?” Dorcas asked, moving close enough to whisper, “and ye caught a laird’s eye. If Jaden-Tog is still in Sinclair’s employ, the danger is real.”

  “No! Angus Sinclair wanted Izzy. She’s the reason Bull stayed in the past, to protect her.”

  Dorcas patted her arm. “If the eldest Sinclair wishes to hurt his son, Gavin, can ye think of an easier a way, than to hurt ye?”

  Jenny paled. “That’s ridiculous. He and I…we…no one thinks…”

  Dorcas shook her head. “Danger lurks.”

  Rae nodded. “I will watch over ye, until the danger passes.”

  “But I have to go back to my job. I already called the animal clinic.” As if on cue, a bell rang from the pocket of her gown. “Excuse me.”

  Rae watched in awe, as she pulled a small black box from her pocket, and held it to her ear. She strode by him, to stand just outside the tent. Worried that Jaden-Tog roamed nearby, Rae stepped close enough to watch over her. She talked to the box as if it was a person, yet he only heard her side of the conversation.

  “Yes, I’m at the games. Sure. No problem. Please stop at my apartment and get my medical bag? It’s out back, in the barn’s tack room. I’ll let you know.” The little box beeped, and she turned so fast, she walked into him.

  “Oomph.”

  When she planted her face into his chest, she stumbled, and Rae wrapped his arms around her. Only when he was sure that she stood steady on her feet, did he pull away. Ignoring the softness of her skin, and her lavender scent, he moved aside, so she could reenter the tent. When she ignored him, and walked over to Dorcas, he muttered a string of Gaelic curses.

  Dorcas laughed.

  Good ears on that one.

  Jenny would explain the tiny box and the conversation, in due time. Until then, he had wares to unload. Heading back outside, the tingling sense of her glaring at his back, as he walked away, washed over him like a cool mountain stream.

  ***

  “Ye are away, lass?” Dorcas tossed an empty basket in the corner, popped her unlit pipe between her thin lips, and sucked air.

  “Dorcas, someday you’ll explain how you know things. Yes, the clinic got a call about a sick cow.”

  “One of those hairy Highland beasties?”

  “Yes. I’m meeting my friend, Denise, by the livestock corrals. She’s my assistant at the clinic where I work.”

  “How did ye hear this?”

  Jenny pulled her mobile phone from her pocket. “My telephone still has a charge. I had it with me when Jaden-Tog whisked us into the past. I hope that’s okay? Heading off, I mean.”

  Dorcas nodded. “Yer not my prisoner, lass. Rae can help with the last few bundles of goods, before I send him off to compete.”

  “I wondered where he picked up that shirt. The kilt is a nice touch, though I don’t know enough about Scottish tartans to name the clan. The navy and dark green stripes are nice, but white sneakers? I tried not to laugh.”

  “Aye, but he needs to conform to this time. He will compete this afternoon, and I feel he shall do well.”

  “You feel, or have you seen the future?”

  Dorcas laughed, as she unpacked a large mortar and pestle, and tossed the empty basket to the side. The heavy club-shaped implement would easily pulverize any dried herbs, berries, or flower buds placed into the huge porcelain bowl.

  “I will watch the tent, crush some herbs, and wait for ye to return.”

  “I had best be on my way.” Peeking out the open tent flap, Jenny gasped. Rae bent over to collect a basket of fruit from a lower cupboard. An apple would taste great right about now, but when his kilt rode up, revealing long, thick thigh muscles, her throat closed up tight.

  “The lad will no’ want ye leaving his sight.”

  Jenny laughed. “I’ll be fine. This festival is crowded with thousands of people. I’m meeting Denise, and I promise not to go anywhere else, except the corral. May I borrow these?” Jenny pointed to a scrap of colorful cloth. Anything would brighten her plain costume. The leather belt was pretty, too. Dorcas nodded, and she tied her hair in a simple ponytail to keep her hair out of her face,
then tied the belt to accentuate her waist.

  Jenny wanted to kick herself, for not remembering to ask Denise to grab her rubber stable boots, since she might have to walk through muck. She had borrowed her doeskin slippers from a servant at Castle Ruadh, and ought to treat her shoes as antiques.

  Jenny strode down a gravel lane, passed the ski lodge, and headed toward the fenced-in area, a temporary home to Highland cows and sheep. After a short pause to watch a marching band stroll by, their bagpipes blaring, and their drums booming, she continued on her way. People nodded and smiled at her, but she didn’t know a soul. Their auras ran the gamut from vermillion to pale yellow, so she felt safe. No one wanted to use her as leverage.

  The brownie is wrong. I’m nothing to Gavin.

  The people running the games had set up several fenced paddocks beneath a stand of trees, whose leaves had turned molten orange and daffodil yellow. A touch of smoke from the vendor carts scented the cool air, but the sun was rising higher. Autumn had arrived, and the heavy snows of a New England winter lurked around the corner.

  At the first fence, a small herd of sheep trotted around the enclosure. A Border Collie ran from a water bowl beneath a small tree, barked, then sat beside her.

  “Who is this?” Jenny asked. She did not lower a hand to pet him, even though the animal’s black and white coat looked silky soft. He was a working dog, and might consider her a threat to his herd.

  “That sorry mutt is Scotty.”

  Jenny glanced at the dog’s handler. He smiled beneath the brim of his straw hat. “Original, since he’s a Scottish breed.”

  “Aye, and he’s about to earn his dog biscuits. Pardon us.” Scotty yapped louder, then spun in a circle. His leash tangled around the man’s legs.

  “Cut that out, ye mangy beast!” With a trace of laughter in the man’s voice, the pair headed toward the competition area. A second man released three sheep and herded them with a long staff.

  Jenny walked over to the other fenced area and found her patient, a Highland cow with a raised foreleg. She observed her movements for several minutes. The poor beast never put her weight on the hoof in question. Though there was no open wound, the foreleg appeared more swollen than the other front leg.

  She glanced around for the owner, or person in charge. A young man, no more than sixteen, leaned over the rickety fence, sprinkling handfuls of hay into the corral. “Do you work here?”

  He looked at her, startled. “Yep. Who are you?”

  “The clinic called me. Once my assistant brings my medical bag, I’ll treat her.”

  “You’re the doc?” His eyes widened.

  “Yes, I’m the veterinarian. Is there an adult here, that can authorize me to treat her?”

  “Dad!” His scream startled the Highland bull, who rushed at Jenny’s side of the fence. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back several feet. The steer stopped with his nose pressed against the metal fence, but his long, sharp horns pierced the air where she had stood, moments earlier.

  “Take care, lass.”

  Jenny shrugged loose of Rae’s embrace. He’d saved her from possible injury, but that didn’t give him the right to get so close.

  “Danger averted. I suppose I ought to thank you.”

  Rae grunted. “If that be an apology, lass, ‘tis a horrid example.”

  Mortified, Jenny’s cheeks burned. “Sorry. Really. I should have been more aware of my surroundings before I--”

  “Aye, and ‘tis why I am yer shadow. Ye should no’ have left the tent, without me.”

  If she rolled her eyes, he probably wouldn’t understand. Did women roll their eyes at him back in his time?

  “And doono’ be dreaming up another way to escape.”

  Whirling toward him, they were suddenly nose-to-nose.

  “I didn’t escape. I have a job. Remember that word? Job? One of these cows is hurt, and I’m going to tend to it. Stay here, if you prefer.”

  Rae glanced at the corral, then toward the meadow where the athletic events had started. “I will no’ leave ye alone.”

  His statement washed over her, his low voice not more than a whisper. Two men strode toward them, and she looked at them with suspicion. Rae’s influence, she assumed.

  “You the doc?” the younger of the two asked. Threadbare jeans, and rubber boots caked with muck, fit the image of a modern-day cattle owner, even with his shaggy brown hair. The dirt-brown leather gloves and a flannel shirt, in a faded reddish plaid, made her smile. She’d missed this normalcy. Her life could do without sword-carrying Highlanders, and castles lacking hot showers.

  “Yes. I’m from the clinic. Jenny Morgan.”

  “Never met a doc so young, or so cute.” The stranger’s brows lifted, and he slipped one hand into the front pocket of his filthy jeans.

  Professional courtesy made her ignore his flirtation. “I’m waiting for my assistant. Are you Mr. Hay?”

  “Yep, and this here’s my pa.” He nodded toward the other man.

  Jenny shook the older man’s hand, then glanced toward the cow with the lifted hoof. “What happened to her?”

  “That darn bull knocked into her, when we moved them from the trailer to the pen. He might have stepped on her. I’ll tie him up in the sheep pen, while you work.” He winked, and his mud-brown eyes swept over her, before he turned to the task of moving the horned bull out of her way.

  “Great. Please restrain the cow as well.”

  The older man was dressed the same, though a tad cleaner. He was partially bald, and what little hair he did have, was gray. He handled the gate while his son lassoed the steer.

  “Stand back, please,” the younger Mr. Hay said. As he led the large bull to the emptied sheep pen, he murmured to the feisty beast. Soothed, and more docile, it followed him with lumbering steps.

  When the older man closed the gate, then nodded at her, she turned and bussed Rae’s cheek. “I am fine, here. These men will watch over me, and I’ll come find you at the athletic field when we’re done.”

  His glare spoke volumes.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “ ‘Tis why I should stay,” he whispered.

  “Are you serious? It’s a figure of speech. I’ll be fine. Go!” She pointed toward the meadow. Rae grumbled, then walked over and said something to the older of the two men.

  “I don’t believe this.” Was he instructing them to watch her like a hawk? Embarrassing.

  “Why are your cheeks red, Jenny? Does it have something to do with that hunk in a kilt I saw you talking to?”

  “Denise! I’m glad you made it and, no, I’m simply hot. I mean, from the sun.” Her cheeks heated further, so she turned to face the sick cow. Time to change the subject. “Did you bring my gear?”

  Denise smiled, and her loud laugh was at Jenny’s expense. After she passed Jenny the medical bag, Denise pushed her loose red bangs out of her all-seeing eyes.

  “Since you cut the rest of your hair shorter than most guys, why do you keep those bothersome bangs?”

  “They make me look mysterious. How else will I attract a man? I’ve got five years on you.”

  Denise wore her regular workday jeans, but the addition of a pretty red and white checked shirt made her creamy skin glow. Freckles dotted a pert nose, and she had curves to make any woman green with envy. Rolling her eyes, Denise shoved her wire-rimmed glasses low on her nose. At thirty-three, Denise was an attractive flirt.

  “You are still young, have curves in the right places, and the most amazing hazel eyes. I cannot believe you don’t have a steady guy,” Jenny said.

  However, while Denise checked out men for herself, she was constantly trying to set Jenny up with this guy, or that one. Tension clawed at Jenny’s shoulders. It was difficult enough, standing near two more strangers, especially males. When she returned her attention to them, she found it difficult to read the auras of the two Mister Hays. Both were busy trying to secure the injured cow.

  Denise co
ughed to gain her attention, raising a pair of green boots. “I figured you could use these, too.”

  “My muck boots! You’re a mind reader.” Grabbing them, she toed off her dainty shoes, and slipped on the boots. She gathered up her skirts, tucked the hem in her belt, and grabbed the kit. “Maybe you should hold this outside the fence, and pass me the instruments. No sense us both getting filthy.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Denise wiggled her eyebrows, as she stared at two passing hunks in Highland attire. Had she come to work, or find a date?

  Jenny smiled. “Let’s get this job done, and I’ll buy you a beer. Can you stay?”

  “I clocked out, so I’m all yours.” Denise whipped her head toward the meadow, then cupped her brow with one hand. The sun continued to beat down, unusually warm for this time of year. “That’s quite a crowd.”

  Jenny could tell by the tone of her breathy voice, and the way she bit her lower lip, that Denise was intrigued with all the Scottish regalia. This was Jenny’s first time at one of these festivals, too, but she’d lived among real Highlanders for weeks.

  She shivered at the memory.

  Turning her attention back to the job at hand, she slipped through the gate and stepped into the pen. The Highland cow lifted her head and glared at Jenny, as the gate clanged shut behind her.

  CHAPTER 7

  Both cattlemen, and a relieved Denise, remained outside, while Jenny cooed to the cow. In an attempt to calm the large animal, she concentrated on its indigo blue aura. The intrusion of a stranger had darkened the color, which should be the red of vitality and stamina.

  She’s in a lot of pain, she thought. No sense voicing her opinion, since she couldn’t explain how she knew. The reddish cow’s head hung below her knees, and her tongue drooped from the side of her mouth. A female of the Highland cattle species, she still weighed more than ten times Jenny’s weight.