“Now ye can go to sleep, lass. I am here.”
~ * ~
She certainly didn’t sleep well. Cassidy opened one eye slowly as sunlight drifted in her window. The Highlander was still there, sitting in the chair with his eyes closed, the great swords crossed over his thighs. Not a dream then. Her body responded to his presence. She didn’t remember ever waking up to Aubrey nearby with this longing ache…but then, Aubrey was an intellectual who compartmentalized his life. He would probably laugh at her if she tried to describe every nerve ending tingling…waiting…wanting to be touched. But then, how many women in the twenty-first century woke up to find a medieval warrior in their bedrooms?
Four
She was still asking herself that question two hours later. She’d fixed breakfast and explained, very logically, that he couldn’t carry two huge claymores down the street. He had looked at her incredulously and then launched into an argument that brought out every chauvinistic trait ever known to man. He had to protect her, he said, and how was a ‘mon’ to do that if denied his weapons? And she really didn’t need to understand Gaelic to get the meaning of the words he’d muttered when she told him that his dirk was included in the ‘no carry’ too.
Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped off the Market Street trolley and walked over to Macy’s East. Niall’s size and his ferocious glare at anyone who looked at Cassidy kept most of the passengers’ eyes averted.
It was quite a different story when they entered the store. Women shoppers stopped talking to stare at him. Some smiled seductively. Male clerks gave him appreciative looks, some lingering on his bare legs. Cassidy took his arm to hurry him along before he noticed. She was pretty sure medieval warriors took offense at such things.
Niall patted her hand. “I’ll nae let anything happen to ye here. I ken well ye were afeared on that great contraption we rode on.”
“I was not…” She stopped. Her fear had been that someone on the trolley would snigger at his kilt or worse, a man would come on to him, and all bedlam would break loose.
“‘Tis fine, lass. And I’ll nae leave ye here, even if those women were inviting me with their eyes.”
He said it with such simplicity, she couldn’t even accuse him of being arrogant. Luckily, a sales clerk was close by the counter by the Dockers section. Even though Cassidy didn’t much care for the rapacious look the attractive woman gave Niall as she effectively placed herself between them and purred hello.
She sighed as the woman ignored her and expertly began picking out slacks and polo shirts that would, no doubt, be the perfect size. That was the problem with handsome men. Sophisticated women were always sinking their claws into them.
But Niall had told her she was beautiful. Had he meant it? She sat down on a padded bench to wait for him to try on his clothes. The sales clerk hovered nearby, spraying a fresh whiff of perfume and smoothing her platinum page-boy with her hands as several other clerks joined her, twittering about like so many magpies.
“Pity that man is married,” one clerk said as she glanced toward Cassidy. “I’d have so loved to take him around town.”
“Why do good-looking men always marry such plain women?” another clerk asked. “She’s not even wearing make-up.”
It took a moment for Cassidy to realize they were talking about her. She looked down, letting the insult slide off her back. She was used to thinking of herself as plain, too. But married to Niall? Warmth flooded her cheeks. What would that be like? The heat intensified. She shouldn’t—
There was a collective gasp and she snapped her head up.
“What do ye think, lass?”
She stifled her own sharp intake of breath. Niall stood in front of her in a pair of black Dockers that looked as though they’d been sewn onto him, but she doubted that was what had caused the group to stand there gawking. Niall’s massive, broad-shouldered chest was bare, revealing chiseled biceps and a washboard belly. He could have been Adonis—with black hair—stepping down from a marble pedestal.
“Well?” He shook out shirts he was holding in either hand. “Do ye think the black or the white?”
“Black,” the group of clerks chorused together.
Niall looked over as though he had just noticed them. Then he turned back to Cassidy. “Well?” he asked again.
The thought of him, with his ebony hair and tawny eyes, dressed totally in tight-fitting black, brought to mind a predatory panther stalking his prey. She was so not ready to handle this.
“Wear the white.” For now. “But take the black, too.”
A corner of his mouth lifted as though he read her thoughts. “As ye wish.” Then he leaned closer. “For now.”
~ * ~
Cassidy finished hinging the armored knights back together and set them by the door of the shop. Niall growled something as he picked up a short Roman sword from the weapons that hung on the far wall.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I dinna understand why a mon who pays ye coin can carry one of these onto the street—poorly made as they be—and I canna carry my claymore outside.”
“I told you. These aren’t real weapons. They’re to complete the costumes people rent for parties. And I wrap them up before a customer leaves.” She suppressed a smile. This was the third day Niall had spent in the shop, dressed in his plaid with his baldric on his back. While he agreed to wear the Dockers and shirts when they went somewhere, inside the store he wore his kilt…and his claymore. The big sword was a little offsetting, but customers seemed to like seeing him in ‘costume.’ Little did they know, he’d made himself Cassidy’s bodyguard. Not that she needed one.
But she had won one small battle. After two nights of sitting in a chair by her bedroom window, she had convinced him to sleep on the couch. Carlotta had raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow when she’d stopped over and Cassidy explained that her ‘cousin’ had come for a visit from Scotland, but Carlotta seemed to accept it when Niall lavished attention on her. The flirtation set Cassidy’s nerves on edge, but only because of what might happen if Carlotta found out who Niall really was. Or so she told herself.
Moving behind the counter, Cassidy punched in the code to unlock the cash register. The small bell by the front door jangled and she looked up. Aubrey stood in the doorway, looking slim and elegant in an Armani suit that looked perfectly pressed even though he must have just come from the airport.
“Aubrey! I had no idea you were coming home today.” Cassidy walked toward him.
“Actually, I came in last night. I’m on my way to Honolulu.”
Cassidy stopped midway across the room. He’d come in last night? And was leaving again? She’d only had one voice message from him while he was gone and that had been about getting the Hepplewhite at a good price.
Niall joined her, a thumb notched in his belt near his dirk. “This be your betrothed, lass?”
Aubrey’s eyes widened as he looked over the Highlander and he almost took a step backward, checking himself at the last minute. Cassidy had to suppress another smile. As tall and broad-shouldered as Niall was, dressed in full Scottish gear with the fearsome claymore extending over his back, he did look intimidating. His scowl wasn’t exactly helping either.
“Yes. Aubrey Fournier.” She turned to Aubrey. “This is my…cousin, Niall MacChumail. He…arrived from Scotland over the weekend.”
Aubrey allowed his gaze to shift to Cassidy and she suddenly felt as though a cold wind had blown through the door. “I didn’t know you had relatives in Scotland.”
“Oh… Yes. I…do.” She hated that she was stammering. “A number of them from north of Aberdeen.” That much was true. She had traced her genealogy back to the early 12th century. She just had never met any of her current relatives.
Aubrey turned back to Niall, taking in the costume again. He didn’t offer his hand. “May I ask what it is you do?”
Niall widened his stance. “I serve the MacBheatha.”
Before he cou
ld continue, Cassidy decided to do damage control. “It’s a small firm that researches the history of the old Scottish kings. They…are working on a documentary for the National Museum of Scotland.”
“I see.” Aubrey’s tone clearly sounded like he didn’t believe a word of it. “Will you be staying long?”
Niall allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk up. “Aye. Until my business is done.”
Before Aubrey could ask where Niall was staying, Cassidy said, “Actually, he came here to collect a sword Mr. Sinclair had ordered. There’s an interesting history behind it that needs some research done.” Changing the subject, she asked, “What are you going to Honolulu for?”
“The Academy of Arts is hosting a special auction. One of the Japanese woodblock prints from James Michener’s collection may be offered.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I must run. Eugene is waiting in the car to drop me off at the airport.” He leaned over and brushed her cheek in a brief kiss. “I’ll call when I return, darling.”
Cassidy watched as the sleek BMW rolled up the street and came to a stop for him. His was a world of wealth, so different from her own. Sophisticated, cultured, cosmopolitan. Did she really fit in?
Beside her, Niall growled, reminding her that she had a Medieval warrior in her shop.
“I dinna like him, lass.”
“Why not?”
Niall gave her a long, appraising look before he answered. “Ye need a mon with cullions, lass. That mon has none.” He turned and stomped toward the back room, leaving Cassidy standing in the middle of the shop.
Frowning, she tried to translate and then widened her eyes. Testicles. Niall had totally insulted Aubrey.
Strange, then, that she didn’t feel angry.
Five
Niall sat in Cassidy’s tiny kitchen, running his fingers over the runes on the sword hilt, watching her prepare greens. She’d been quiet on the walk back from her shop. He couldn’t tell if she was upset or not for saying her betrothed had no bullocks. ‘Twas only the truth, but mayhap he shouldn’t have said it. But a man who merely pecked at his betrothed’s cheek when he had the right to a full kiss? And the lass had a very kissable mouth with soft, plump lips just ripe for a man’s taking of them.
“When are ye to be married?” he asked.
“We haven’t set a date.” She started slicing the tomatoes. “We just became engaged three weeks ago and haven’t even had time to go look for a ring.”
Forcing himself to think of something besides the lush roundness of her lovely tush in the tight jeans, it came to him that she wouldn’t be able to wear them if she carried a babe. A sharp pain knifed his belly at the thought of her with another man’s child.
“How many bairns do ye want?” he forced himself to ask.
“Bairns? Ah. Children.” She lifted the wooden cutting board and slipped the tomatoes into the salad and laughed nervously. “Aubrey doesn’t want children.”
Niall almost dropped the heavy sword. “What kind of mon has nae wish to sire strong sons? And bonnie lasses?”
Cassidy uncorked the wine before she answered. “Aubrey’s work—or success at it—depends on socializing with the wealthy. He wants me to be the perfect hostess for him.”
“Ye canna do that if ye have bairns? The thanes in my time—even the king—have nae problems with bairns being about.”
The corner of her mouth tightened slightly as she set down the wine glasses. “He says they would hinder us in our travels. That I would worry about them…and, he’s right. I would.” She poured the wine and put a smile on her face. “Now, let’s talk about you. This is the fifth night you’ve been in my world and we still haven’t figured out how to send you back.”
Niall wanted to talk more about bairns, to tell her that no man had a right to deny her becoming a mother. But she wasn’t about to let him. He traced the runes on the hilt again.
“Ye dinna remember exactly what ye said?”
“I didn’t say anything. That writing isn’t Gaelic, is it?
Niall shook his head. “‘Tis far older than that. ‘Tis likely it be the Tadg mac Nuadat’s etchings.”
“Who is he?”
“Twas the Great Féinn’s seanair on his maithar’s side. Even though there was no love lost between him and his good-son, Cumhall, the druid wouldna deny his protection to the grandson who would wield it. A magical sword, dipped in faerie blood and blessed by a druid, would be verra powerful. Think, lass. Ye said nothing?”
“No. Nothing. I’ve gone over this a dozen times in my head. I unpacked the sword and noticed the etchings. I did what you’re doing. I traced the lines. The only thing that came to me was a vision of a battle scene…men fighting their way up a steep hill. The leader held the sword…” She stopped. “Oh, my God. The leader was you.”
Niall stared at her. “I havena yet led this charge. ‘Tis a hill and a battle yet to come. This sword will win it. ‘Tis why I was summoned here.”
“Well, okay. I’ll buy that. A week ago I wouldn’t have thought any of this possible, but here you are. And we still don’t have a clue how to get you back. What are we going to do?”
Niall drained the contents of his glass and set it down. “I wish I knew, lass. I wish I knew.”
~ * ~
“So tell me how you managed to convince your knight-in-a kilt to allow you out of his sight?” Carlotta laughed as the waiter set two of the house-special Sangrias down at their table at Cha Cha Cha.
“We aren’t that far away from where I live, you know,” Cassidy answered. “Besides, I told him I needed some girl talk.”
Carlotta raised an eyebrow. “I hope this conversation will be deliciously sexy. I can only fantasize about what making love to that hunk of alpha male must be like.”
“I… We aren’t…” Cassidy felt herself blushing.
Her friend’s brow rose even higher. “You cannot sit there and tell me you haven’t had carnal relations with that man.”
“He’s a distant cousin. And I’m engaged.”
Carlotta gave a very European shrug. “And what does Aubrey do? Flies off to New York and then flits to Hawaii without so much as a night with you?”
Cassidy winced. It had hurt to know Aubrey had come into town and not called. In a moment of weakness, she’d confided in Carlotta, who had a much more liberal attitude toward casual sex than she did.
“You might say Niall has a…rather chivalrous code of honor,” Cassidy said.
“Of course,” Carlotta replied in an amused tone. “What else would one expect of someone who owns a huge Scottish sword and insists on carrying a knife—what’s it called?—under his jacket.”
“A Sgian Dubh,” Cassidy answered. Carlotta had seen that when she’d stopped at the shop one afternoon. It was just as well she didn’t know about the longer dirk Niall kept strapped to his calf inside his boot.
“Well, then, I believe I’ll have a romp in bed with him myself.” Carlotta sipped her Sangria and watched Cassidy.
“No! I mean…” A hot rush of anger seared through her. The very thought of her friend in bed with a naked Niall…
Carlotta laughed and patted her hand. “I thought so. You can say you aren’t interested, but your face gives you away. It’s a good thing you’ve never joined one of my strip-poker parties.”
Cassidy felt her face warm again. “You know how I feel about those. Now, can we just talk girlie for a little while?”
“If we must.” Carlotta signaled for two more drinks. “I certainly hope you don’t turn into some premature matron once you’re married.”
That didn’t sound like such a bad idea to Cassidy. Having a secure relationship with just one man she could count on and trust…like Niall… No. What was she thinking? Not Niall. Aubrey. Aubrey had assured her there would never be any other women in his life. It was one of the reasons she’d felt she was doing the right thing in accepting his proposal.
She pushed the thought of Niall out of her mind and, even though Carlotta tried t
o swing the conversation back several times, they finally settled into a more mundane conversation.
“I really have to go,” Cassidy said when they’d finished their second drink. “If you could drop me off at the shop, there’s a package that came in today that I have to catalog.”
“Sure.” Carlotta paid for their drinks and walked outside. When they pulled up in front of the shop she asked, “Do you want me to wait? I suspect your knight will want you dropped off at your front door.”
He probably would. But the package was a book she’d ordered in hopes of finding something that would give her a clue how Niall could return to his own time. If there was nothing that would help, she would just be embarrassed…and she certainly couldn’t let Carlotta know the truth about Niall. “No. It’s just a short walk and I’ll be home before it gets dark.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“Dinna fash,” she said.
“What?”
“I meant don’t worry.” Cassidy felt her face flame again. Now she was even beginning to sound like Niall! She really did need to find something that would send him back to his own time—and soon.
Cassidy let herself into the shop and took the book out of the locked cabinet and then sat down in a brocaded armchair with engraved wooden armrests that looked like it belonged in a Scottish castle and thumbed through the book. The book talked about sacred cycles, rituals to perform on full moons, alternations in the stream of consciousness, even astral projection. It seemed that in one’s mind, a person could return to the past, but physically returning the body wasn’t mentioned.
Cassidy sighed and rubbed her eyes. With a start, she realized it had grown dark outside. She must have read longer than she thought. Putting the book back inside the cabinet, she picked up her purse, took out her mace spray, and headed for the door.
The street was deserted, but fairly well-lit. The lighting would be dimmer when she turned off to the smaller street that led to her cottage, but that was only a short two blocks. And she had her mace. She glanced at her watch. 7:30 pm. It was still early.
Sword of the Highlander Page 3