She shook her head. “He’s out of the country right now. I would have to wait for him to return.”
Niall raised a brow. “Then I guess ye have me for a guest. Do we sleep here? I see nae bed.”
Rosy-pink flushed her face and Niall almost smiled. He loved how fair-skinned women so easily blushed. ‘Twas most becoming. And, now that he thought about it, pleasuring the lass in bed might be the way to persuade her to show him the sword. ‘Twas his duty, after all, to return to the MacBheatha.
He smiled at Cassidy. “'Tis yer choice, lass. Show me the sword or have me spend the night in yer bed. I nae would mind a tumble with ye.”
The blood drained from her face as she stared at him, her pupils dilated to make her eyes look black. Slowly, color returned as she tilted her head to consider him. And then, she laughed.
Frowning, he widened his stance and squared his shoulders. “Ye think I jest?”
“Oh, no,” she managed to say as she slid to the floor amidst uncontrollable bursts of near-hysterical laughter. “It’s just…funny.” And she giggled some more.
It wasn’t quite the response he had hoped for. Was she addle-brained?
~ * ~
Carlotta. It had to be Carlotta. Somehow, she had hired an actor… Cassidy really did not have a medieval Highlander standing in her store who’d just propositioned her. She glanced up through a curtain of hair. He certainly looked irate…and definitely all alpha male. She hiccupped, her laughter beginning to turn into a sob.
He reached down, his large hands closing on her arms and lifted her up, setting her against the counter. “Are ye ill?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath. As normalcy returned, she became aware of the warm tingle spreading through her from his touch as well as the very real fact that he had her backed up against the counter, trapping her with his body.
“Okay,” she said shakily, “the game is over. Carlotta set me up for this, didn’t she? She doesn’t think I need to be faithful to Aubrey.”
“Who is Aubrey?”
“My fiancé. The man I plan to marry.”
The Highlander stepped back. “Ye are betrothed?”
“Yes. Just a few weeks ago.” Warily, she moved along the counter away from him. “So, you see, I cannot have sex—go to bed—with you. Carlotta loves practical jokes. You know, I almost believed you for a moment earlier. Just tell me the truth and we’ll laugh about all of this.”
“I told ye, lass. I dinna ken any Carlotta.”
A hysterical bubble formed in Cassidy’s throat. “Look. A joke is a joke. You’re a very good actor. Really.”
Niall looked affronted. “Ye think me to be a jester?”
“No!” The thought of this huge, muscle-bound man in striped silk-pantalets with a buffoonish cap on his head almost sent her over the edge again, but the thunderous look on his face sobered her. “You can’t be from the year 1040. It’s not possible.”
He sighed. “I dinna know how it happened. But if ye show me the sword, mayhap I could go back.” His voice softened seductively. “Unlock the cabinet, lass.”
She fingered her jean’s pocket and then dropped her hand quickly, but not before his predatory gaze followed her movement. He looked over the cut of her jeans appreciatively and, for once, Cassidy wished she were wearing a dress. A big, sloppy tent-dress. Her jeans outlined her figure and that fact clearly wasn’t lost on Niall.
“Is the key in that wee pocket?”
Cassidy backed away from him and he took a step toward her. “I can’t let you have the sword. It isn’t mine.”
“Dinna fash.” Niall touched his sporran. “I have coin enough to pay.” He moved closer and held out his hand. “Give me the key.”
“No.” She took two more steps back and bumped into the wall by the door jam.
Niall smiled and moved with feline speed, blocking her before she could get through the door. “Ye have one last chance to give me the key, lass, or I take it.”
She could feel his body heat and his scent filled her nostrils. She tried to duck under his arm, but he caught her, spinning her around, pressing her up against him and then she felt his hand, sliding down her belly. She tried to push him away, but might as well have tried to move a brick wall.
His breath was soft and hot in her ear. “Dinna struggle so. I willna hurt ye.” His fingers slid into her pocket and pulled out the key. “I seek only this.”
Niall moved away so abruptly that Cassidy actually felt cold. Then she scurried after him, but he was already opening the cabinet.
He laid the box on the table and lifted out the sword as though it weighed no more than a child’s plastic one. He held it up to the light, the ruby catching fire like the rays of a sunset and then he lowered it, his fingers tracing the runes along the handle.
“Mac an Luinne,” he whispered reverently. “Ye have been found.”
“What did you call it?” Cassidy asked.
“’Tis its name.” Niall let his fingertips trace along the blade. “Do ye truly not ken what ye have here?”
Cassidy shook her head. “The sword only arrived this afternoon.” Then, her curiosity and love of history overcame her need for caution, at least for the moment. “I know the sword of the Great Féinn was supposedly magical, but what do you know about it?”
“The MacChumail was the son of the Fianna leader, his maithar the daughter of a druid. When he was still a wee lad, his da was killed and he swore revenge, but the soldiers laughed and wouldna follow him. He spent many years training in the secrecy of the forests of Kintyre under the warrior woman, Liath.”
“Someone like the Celtic queen, Boudicca?” Cassidy’s interest was totally engaged.
Niall shrugged. “Mayhap they were one and the same. Sithee, while hunting one day, a faerie came upon him and led him to her da, a smith, who was working a sword from a stone that fell from the sky. The metal was lighter and shinier than iron and the MacChumail wanted it.”
“And of course, her father gave it to him because it was his destiny?”
“Nae. The smith planned to sell it to the high king, but the faerie fancied herself in love with MacChumail, so she stole it. The old mon placed a spell on it, though, that cursed anyone who tried to steal it. As she was about to bestow the wondrous gift, she tripped and fell upon the sword. With her dying breath, she told the MacChumail her faerie blood would make the sword always strike true.” Niall stopped and smiled at Cassidy. “And that is how MacChumail became the Great Féinn.”
“Fascinating. These myths and legends always are. This story is as good as the Lady of the Lake handing Excalibur to King Arthur!”
Niall gave her a strange look. “Ye would be wise not to mock the gods of auld.” He opened his sporran and laid a handful of gold coins on the table. “These should pay for the sword. ‘Tis sorry I am I canna stay, but the MacBheatha will be waiting.”
He stepped away from her and gripped the sword with both hands, raising it high as he closed his eyes. He muttered something in Gaelic that sounded like a prayer and then, in a voice that made Cassidy envision him as the warrior on the hill once more:
“To Alba, Mac an Luinne.”
For a moment, white crystals shimmered around him and he began to fade. Cassidy held her breath. Was she really going to see someone leap through Time? No one would ever believe her. Worse, she would probably be committed to a psychiatric hospital if she told anyone.
The air sparkled as his shape wavered and then, just as suddenly, the light was gone. Niall opened his eyes.
Cassidy smiled uneasily. “You’re still here,” she said.
Three
By the time they’d walked the few blocks to a rather shabby-looking bungalow that Cassidy called home, Niall was becoming accustomed to the noise and fast pace of the things called ‘cars,’ but he didn’t like them.
Cassidy smiled as she pushed open the rickety gate in front of the small house. “Just wait until you see the cable cars and trolleys tomorrow when
we go to Union Square,” she said.
“Why do ye want to go there?” he asked and then added, “Whatever it be.”
“It’s where we can shop for clothes for you.”
Niall looked down at his plaid. “What be wrong with my breacan feile? ‘Tis of the finest weave.”
“It is.” Cassidy took a key from her purse and inserted it into the lock on the door. “And, in Haight-Ashbury—even here in lower Haight—people don’t look askance at someone dressed like a Highlander, but in the rest of San Fran, it would be best if you dressed like the rest of us. Keep a low profile.”
“Profile?” Niall turned to the side and looked down at her. “Ye do not like my looks?”
“No. I mean… Yes, I do. Um, well, not that I mean…” Heat warmed her face and Cassidy then tossed her head. “Your profile has nothing to do with your looks. What I meant was, that until we can figure a way to return you to 1039, it would be better if we didn’t draw attention to you.”
“Verra well, then. I’ll hunt some game in that wee forest back there in the morn, afore we go.”
Her brow furrowed. “Forest? Oh. You mean Buena Vista Park. There’s no hunting there.”
“Saks, lass! Where do ye find yer meat then?”
“In a supermarket.”
Niall looked down the street in the fading twilight. “I see no market.”
“Never mind. I’ll explain tomorrow.” Cassidy opened the door and touched a switch that flooded the room with light.
He followed her in. She had touched such a thing earlier in the store that had made it dark. It was very interesting, this world.
“Once it gets dark outside, it’s better to be indoors.” She slid a bolt into place across the door.
“Ye fear intruders?” Niall quickly drew his sword from the baldric on his back and widened his stance.
Cassidy jumped back. “No, no. Not really. You can put that down.”
Niall lowered the sword and looked around. “Ye have windows that need defending. Do ye not have a guard?”
“No. I really don’t need one. It’s just that, at night, the criminal element comes out. Gangs. Pimps. They won’t bother us if we’re inside.”
He frowned. “Be these street ruffians?”
“Something like that.”
“Faugh! They be nae match for my sword, lass.” He looked over to the box he’d placed by the door when they’d come in. “Especially not for Mac an Luinne.”
She followed his gaze. “I wish you’d let me lock that up.”
“Nae. It stays with me.”
Cassidy opened her mouth to retort and then stopped. “Well, it’s here. Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll fix us something to eat.”
He took both swords with him and went to stand at the kitchen window in case a ruffian should show his face. His fingers itched to show her how he would make quick work of one.
“Why do yer maithar and da let ye live alone?” he asked.
Her eyes grew moist. “My parents were killed in a car accident a year ago. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
He hated how sad she looked. “‘Tis sorry I am for ye.”
She forced a tight smile. “I’m managing.” Turning, she opened the door to a big box and cold air came out of it.
So she didn’t want to speak of it anymore. He quickly changed the subject. “What is that?”
“A refrigerator. It keeps food fresh.”
He moved closer for a better look. A package of what looked like red meat and a clear bag that held something spiny intrigued him. “Ye keep meat in here? ‘Tis why ye do not have to hunt in the morn?”
“Something like that.” Cassidy took out two cold bottles of water and handed one to him. “Go sit while I fix dinner.”
He studied the bottle and, from beneath his lashes, watched as she twisted the top off of hers. Trying to appear casual, he turned the top on his too. The water was surprisingly good.
Niall watched as Cassidy moved around the small room. He wasn’t sure what held his attention more…seeing the lush outline of her bottom in the strange pants or the strange objects in the kitchen. Oblivious to his eyes focused on her delicious behind, she set two pots of water on top of a surface that glowed red and soon, steam rose from them.
“What sort of fire be that?”
“It’s a stove.” She dropped the spiny things into one pot and something that looked like sticks into the other, then opened a box below the ‘stove’ and put something wrapped in shiny metal into it. Seeing his expression, she smiled. “Bread. It goes in this oven and heats up without fire.”
“‘Tis wonderous.” The MacBheatha would never believe him when he told all he’d seen here.
“I guess so, but I’ve always enjoyed camping out, building fires from scratch, and making do with what nature offers. I earned all sorts of awards as a Girl Scout.” He frowned and she explained the organization to him.
“‘Tis what we do when we foster children…they learn their duties at the hands of another laird,” he said.
“Sort of.” Cassidy opened a bottle of chilled Chardonnay and sat down at the table beside him. “I’ve always been interested in history. Do you know that one day a man named Shakespeare will write a play about MacBeth?”
He widened his eyes. “MacBheatha will be king then?”
“Oh, yes. Has he met the witches that give him the prophecy yet?”
“I ken of no witches, lass.”
“They’re in the play. They tell MacBeth to be bold and not fear any man, for none of a woman born will ever harm him.”
Niall raised an eyebrow. “‘Tis a powerful prediction.”
“It’s also a test. Will MacBeth become too arrogant or will he be a truly good king?”
“He is fair and just, even now.”
“Um.” Cassidy’s face took on a far-away look. “I wonder what it would be like to actually meet MacBeth? To live a part of history?” She gave herself a little shake and got up to check on the pasta and crab. Returning to the table, she poured more wine. “Well, in the play, once he kills old Duncan off—”
“Duncan be not auld,” Niall interrupted. “The lad be hardly more than dry behind the ears. Although he acts without thought more than not.”
Cassidy furrowed her brows. “Perhaps Shakespeare took poetic license with the age. The witches also tell MacBeth he will never be vanquished until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane Hill.”
“Ye speaks riddles, lass! How can a forest move?”
“It’s a play-on-words. Malcolm and MacDuff cut branches to hold in front of them, so it’s like the forest is moving.”
Niall grimaced. “Ye say Malcolm? The lad is just a pup.”
“But he flees to Britain once MacBeth kills his father, Duncan. He returns in…1058, I think. He and MacDuff come to Dunsinane…” She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
“What is it, lass?”
“Dunsinane is where MacBeth gets killed.”
Tightening his jaw, Niall fingered the sword he had laid on the table. “Then I must get back with Mac an Luinne to stop this.”
“I don’t know if you can change history.”
“I must try.” He rested his hand lightly on the pommel. “I ken I was sent to bring the sword home. On the morrow, I will give more thought to it.” Niall sniffed the air appreciatively. “Whatever ye are making, it smells good.”
“And should be ready in just a few minutes.” She got up and removed a bowl from the refrigerator. “I’ll just heat up the Alfredo sauce and we’ll be ready.”
Niall watched in fascination as she used something she called a microwave and how efficiently she drained water from the now soft sticks and put together the rest of the meal. She would make a man a good wife…and she would be capable of running a castle in his absence. He stopped himself. Where had that thought come from? She wasn't from his time.
He was amazed that she did everything herself. “Have ye no servants to tend to such?’ he as
ked as she whisked the dishes away after they ate and put them inside another type of metal box.
“Only the wealthy have servants,” she said in an off-hand manner and picked up the wine bottle. “Would you care for more?”
“Aye. ‘Tis verra smooth.” He held out his glass and watched how gracefully she poured without spilling a drop. He reached up and fingered a soft, burnished curl. “Ye are verra bonnie, lass.”
A rosy blush graced her cheeks as she placed the empty bottle on the counter. “I’ve always thought myself rather plain.”
Niall stood and trailed two fingers down her soft cheek and then ran his thumb along her jaw. “Dinna ever think ye are less than beautiful, lass.”
She looked up at him, startled, her eyes as misty green as spring fields of heather. “No one has ever called me beautiful. Ever.”
He had the strongest urge to gather her into his arms and ravage her lips, taking her mouth with his tongue until he had kissed her senseless with passion. But she was betrothed to another. He contented himself with brushing her lips softly with a butterfly kiss before he stepped back.
Cassidy’s eyes darkened briefly and her heartbeat fluttered in her slim, milky throat, before she took a deep breath. “I think I’d better get the couch ready for you to sleep on.”
He glanced into the small living room and then to another door farther down the short hallway. “Is that where ye sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will sleep there as well.” He strode over and opened the door.
Cassidy hurried after him. “You can’t.”
“Nae?”
“There’s only one bed.”
He lifted a corner of his mouth in a half-grin. “Aye. I can see that. And there be a window in here. I willna let a ruffian look in on ye or worse.”
“I shouldn’t have told you about the…the ruffians. I’m perfectly safe inside this room. And… Well... You can’t expect me to share the bed with you.”
Niall tilted his head. “Nothing would please me more, lass, than to share yon bed with ye, but ye need have no fear. Ye are betrothed. I willna dishonor ye.”
He left the room, only to return quickly with the two swords. Dragging the one, rather large armchair toward the window, he sank down into it.
Sword of the Highlander Page 2