The Highlander's Vow (Loch Moigh #4)

by Barbara Longley

  “We’ll gladly take you up on your offer,” Connor replied. “Walk with us to the car, Struan. I’ve a few more things to say to you before we leave.”

  “Great.” Struan slid his chair back, so that it made an unpleasant scraping sound against the floor. He followed the McGladreys to their rental, widened his stance and crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing himself to be ground into the dirt yet again, even if it was only metaphorically this time around.

  Connor helped his wife into the car, circled around the hood and came to face him toe-to-toe. “Despite what you might think, laddie, heroes are not born; they’re forged through trial and tempered by adversity in much the same way as your steel blades. When called upon, a hero rises above his fellows, while a common man chooses to remain . . . common. At some point in our lives, each of us is given the choice to either rise above or remain rooted to the ground.”

  “OK.” Struan squirmed beneath the man’s unwavering scrutiny. “Got it. To rise, or not to rise. That is the question.”

  Connor huffed out a laugh. “Think about it, and we’ll talk more when I return.”

  He saluted him. “Will do.” Then he crossed his arms in front of him again and tried really, really hard not to throw curses at the retreating rental car. Life was closing in around him, herding him closer and closer toward a ledge, and he couldn’t help feeling like he was about to be shoved into the waiting abyss.

  He surveyed the land, taking in the mountains sheltering their valley. The deep green of the pines and spruce covering the hills, and the pastures where Ethan’s cattle grazed were as familiar to him as his own face. He caught sight of Andrew’s truck near the forge.

  Needing time to regroup, finish his coffee and spend a little time with his family, he turned to go back inside. His heart thumped against his sternum. Sky stood by the front door, watching him in that intense way she had about her. Had she heard Connor’s cryptic speech? “So, what are your plans for today?”

  “Lindsay is taking me shopping for a suit for swimming.”

  “A swimsuit.”

  Her chin lifted a notch. “That’s what I said.”

  Every time she lifted her chin like that, the urge to drag her into his arms and ravish her sweet mouth slammed into him. The image that sprang to mind—Sky wearing nothing but a hot barely-there-bikini—really didn’t help matters. “When do you want to apply for that state ID?”

  “Mayhap ’twould be best to put off shopping and take care of the ID as soon as can be arranged.”

  “Mayhap.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “While we’re at the DMV, do you think you could speak with an American accent using more contemporary speech?”

  “For certes . . . er . . . of course I can. I’ve been listening carefully and practicing in the privacy of my bedroom.”

  Her words came out so artificial and stilted he had to bite down on the urge to laugh. “Say as little as possible, and we’ll be fine.” He abandoned the idea of going back inside. He had coffee at his house, and Andrew would be waiting for him. “I have to take care of a few things at the forge. I’ll come for you after lunch.”

  He started for the lane, considering whether or not he should take Connor’s advice to get in shape and jog home. His sore muscles heartily objected to the notion. He’d get up early tomorrow morning and begin his jogging regimen, and he’d ask Andrew to train with him on a daily basis. If Connor wanted a worthy opponent, Struan intended to give him one.

  “Struan.”

  “Hmm?” He turned back.

  “I don’t expect you to rise above your fellows.” Her gorgeous eyes were filled with concern. “If you please, I’d much prefer it if you’d stay rooted here in Gordon Hollow.”

  With that, she marched back into the house, and Struan was left staring at air. And scowling. “Hmm. So she doesn’t see me as the stuff of legends,” he muttered under his breath. Damn if that didn’t take more than just the wind out of his sails. It also took his pride. He growled low in his throat and strode down the street in his medieval boots.

  He was still in stomp mode when he walked into his forge. “Andrew, we need to start knocking off a little early every afternoon, so we can practice our combat skills.”

  “Oh? Why is that?” Andrew spared him a glance. “No. Wait. Let me guess. The folks at the Society for Creative Anachronism have finally begun their global takeover. Am I right?”

  “No.” Struan scowled.

  “For the sake of argument, if the SCA did start a coup, whose side would you be on?”

  “Can we leave the SCA out of this?” he huffed. “I need to train harder because I just got my ass handed to me in the lists by a man in his fifties. He’s a grandfather, for crying out loud!” Still scowling, he scanned the interior of his forge. “Where’s Brian?”

  “He had horses to shoe this morning. He’ll be in as soon as he can.” Andrew finished cutting the leather strips for wrapping the grips of their swords, and then he straightened. “You want to tell me what’s going on besides the ass kicking?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m intelligent.”

  “Seems I’ve fallen in lust with the earl of Fife’s eldest daughter.”

  “Ah, I see.” Andrew nodded. “So we’re done with the brotherly proprietary looking out for her thing?”

  “I never said it was brotherly. That was you.”

  “Granted. What else?”

  “Connor McGladrey is trying to coerce me into becoming a hero.”

  “Hmm?” Andrew cocked an eyebrow.

  “I’m a bastard.”

  “Well, you’ve always been a moody sort, but we all have our moments. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Struan slanted a narrow-eyed look at him. “Not that kind of bastard.” He launched into an explanation of everything that had happened since the McGladreys’ arrival. “He hasn’t said it outright, but Connor wants me to go back with them to protect Sky. I know he does. But, see, if I do go back, I’ll have no chance with Sky. None.” Not to mention his fears that the timer on his extended life was about to go ding.

  “If you convinced her to stay, do you believe you’d have a chance with her?” Andrew asked. “Oh, wait. You said you’re in lust. Just what kind of chance are we talking here?”

  The kind of chance that had the eldest daughter of the earl of Fife falling willingly into his bed. “I had this stupid notion that once she got to know me, my origins wouldn’t matter.” He shrugged. “Where things between us were supposed to go from there is still a little hazy. I figured she’d settle into this century, and I’d have time to sort it all out.”

  He shook his head and heaved a frustration-laced breath. “But in her time? Sky’s father, the earl, would never allow me anywhere near her. I’m not even a knight. I’m just a common blacksmith. Besides, I don’t have the slightest desire to be in any time or place other than this one.”

  “I’d say you were an uncommonly excellent blacksmith, Struan. And wasn’t your dad also an earl? Doesn’t that count?”

  “No. I’m illegitimate, and with the nobility that makes me persona non grata. Bastards are to be avoided like the black plague. Especially by eligible bachelorettes possessing large dowries, and I’m certain Sky Elizabeth falls into that lofty category.” He didn’t mention the fear, the panic and the overwhelming sense of foreboding the thought of stepping through time’s portal caused him. “So you see, I’m a shit if I don’t and screwed if I do.”

  “Have you considered talking her into staying here with you?”

  “I’ve toyed with the notion, and I’m not above attempting to do just that.” He sent Andrew a pointed look. “But what kind of an ass does that make me? Her family is going to suffer the fallout for her disappearance, and if she doesn’t at least try to rectify the situation, she’s going to suffer the guilt for the rest of her life. If I’m the one who talks her out of returning, eventually she’s going to resent me.”

  “Hmm. Quite a dilemm
a you’ve found yourself in, my friend. I don’t envy you.”

  “Heroes aren’t born; they’re forged through trial and tempered by adversity,” Struan bit out.

  “Sounds like something you’d see written on the front of a T-shirt.” Andrew began wrapping a sword grip with leather.

  “Sounds like coercion.” Struan grabbed the bearing sword he was working on for the pretend SCA king and dropped it on the workbench. He had a few spots to finish cleaning up, and then he’d put it in the acid bath. “I never signed up to be anyone’s hero. I don’t want to be a hero. All the men I’ve thought of as legendary died violent deaths much too young.” A chill traipsed down his spine.

  “There is that. What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Once again the hollow ache rose up to engulf him. “I really don’t know.”

  “Alrighty then. I guess we’ll be knocking off early to train.”

  “I guess so. Starting tomorrow though. I already took a beating today. There isn’t a square inch of me that doesn’t ache.”

  He was certain Sky had watched his very poor showing in the lists. Is that why she preferred he stay in Gordon Hollow? She probably didn’t think he’d last a day in 1443. Come to think of it, she might be right.

  “So . . . back to my earlier question. Say the SCA did attempt a world takeover.” Andrew peered at him. “Which side would you be on?”

  Struan huffed out a laugh, settled into his work, and the rest of the morning was spent weighing the pros and cons of an anachronistic takeover.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sky buckled herself into the seat of Struan’s truck, trying her best not to think about his kiss, or the way he’d snatched her from her horse and held her to him but a day ago. She already suffered enough torment—like worrying about whether or not her family was safe. She didn’t need to add to her list. Still, think about it she did, and she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes from him.

  “Did you and Lindsay go shopping this morning?” Struan turned the key, and his truck roared to life.

  “We did, and I now have a garment to wear when swimming.” If you could call such a wee scrap of cloth a garment. Her face heated just thinking about being garbed thus in front of Struan. “While we were in Warm Springs, Lindsay pointed out the DMV. She said that’s where one gets a license to drive.”

  “That’s right.” Struan glanced at her before backing the truck out of the Gordons’ driveway.

  “Might I get a license to drive whilst we’re there?”

  “Um, not today.” He grinned. “That’s not how it works.”

  The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes creased in a most charming manner. Struan was irresistible when he smiled and intriguing when brooding. He drew her in a way she’d never before experienced, and if she wasn’t careful, she was likely to lose her heart. “How does getting one’s license work then?”

  “You have to take a class, study a manual, learn all the rules and laws first. Once you feel you’re ready, you take a written test, and if you pass, you get a permit. With a permit, you can learn to drive, so long as a licensed driver is in the vehicle with you. Once you’re very good at driving, then you have to pass another test—this one behind the wheel.”

  “Och, ’tis a lengthy process.”

  “Very.”

  Still, she was likely to be in Gordon Hollow for some time to come, and the thought of learning how to drive excited her. “I wish to get a license to drive before I leave. Where might I find a manual, so that I can begin studying the laws and such?”

  “Why?”

  “So that I will have accomplished something whilst here.” Sky shrugged. “Something I can boast about to my brothers and sisters. They’ll be envious. Especially Owain. He’s the adventurous sort, and for once I’d like to best him.”

  “Michael just got his license a few months ago. He probably still has his drivers’ manual and his notes from the class he took. I’m sure he’d be glad to pass all of it along to you. I’d be happy to teach you to drive, but I think we’ll borrow Lindsay’s car. It’s smaller and easier to manage than a truck.”

  “I’d be most grateful to you. I’ll ask Michael for his manual once we’ve returned.” Anticipation brought a smile to her face. They reached the main road, and Struan turned away from Warm Springs. “Where are we going for this ID?” she asked.

  “Lexington. In Warm Springs, everyone knows everyone, and I’m sure news that you’re staying with us has already circulated. I don’t want to draw attention, especially since we’re using Meghan McGladrey’s documents, when everyone will have heard your name is Sky.”

  He shifted in his seat. “It’ll be early evening by the time we return. Do you want to stop for pizza?” His eyes met hers for an instant before returning to the road. “Pizza is similar to lasagna. Lots of melted cheese, tomato sauce, meat and vegetables. What do you think?”

  “I enjoyed Lindsay’s lasagna very much. I’d like that.” If we meet someone who appeals to us, we ask them out on a date, get to know them without chaperones hovering about. That’s what Struan had told her when she’d asked if the Gordons would arrange a marriage for him. Had he just asked her out on a date? She didn’t want to ask, fearing he’d tell her ’twas just the circumstance and the hour of their return that compelled him to see that she was fed.

  Nay, she’d rather imagine he’d asked her for a date, and that she appealed to him enough that he wished to spend more time with her. After all, once she returned home, she planned to convince her father to allow her to remain unwed. This might be her only chance to experience how men and women in this century courted. Her pulse quickened as she recalled the feel of Struan’s lips against hers, his tongue plunging so intimately into her mouth. If only he would kiss her again.

  The rest of their journey was spent in companionable silence, broken only by small talk about the view, the weather and Struan’s family. He didn’t bring up yesterday’s kiss, so neither did she.

  Sky studied his strong profile, the way the muscles in his forearms moved as he handled the massive truck so competently. She’d always longed for the breathless, heart-fluttering sensations Struan elicited, and now that she’d felt them firsthand, it only made things worse. Her heart was engaged. ’Twas unlikely she’d ever experience the same again once she returned to her own time—without Struan.

  Was it wrong to want to experience a man’s touch just once? Not any man’s, but Struan’s. He was the only man who had ever set her heart racing or caused this aching longing within. Her face flushed at the thought, and she turned to stare out the window lest he wonder at the cause.

  Struan pulled his truck to the side of the road in front of a red brick building with white columns in front. “This is it.” He reached to the backseat for the folder holding the documents Katherine had given her. “Don’t forget. You’re Meghan McGladrey. I guess we should start calling you that all the time now.”

  “’Twould be easier to continue calling me Sky and claim ’tis a sobriquet.”

  “Sure, but while we’re here to get your ID, it’s Meghan, and don’t say any more than you have to.” His blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “When you try to speak like Americans, it sounds more like a speech impediment than it does an accent.”

  Sky lifted her chin. “There is naught amiss . . . nothing wrong with my American accent.”

  “If you say so.” He laughed as he climbed out of the truck and came around to her side.

  He helped her to step to the ground, and she followed him along the paved pathway to the building and in through heavy glass doors. Struan led her to the space designated as the DMV. He took a scrap of paper from some sort of dispenser before ushering her toward a counter holding various forms.

  “Here’s an application for a state ID.” He handed her a sheet of paper.

  He stood next to her, close enough that she could detect his masculine scent and feel his warmth. Distracted by his nearness, she took the pen he offered and be
gan filling out the information she’d studied from what the McGladreys had written down for her. Struan completed the lines where it called for her local address. Folder and application in hand, she took a seat and awaited her turn.

  Struan sat next to her, leaned close and whispered, “Nervous?”

  His breath against her skin caused a shiver of pleasure, and again she recalled his kiss. “No, not really,” she replied in her best modern-day speech.

  “That’s the spirit, princess.”

  A number was called out by an older, silver-haired woman behind a different counter, and Struan rose. “That’s us. I’ll do most of the talking.” They approached together. “My girlfriend has recently moved to Virginia and needs a picture ID.” He took the application and documents from her and gave them to the clerk.

  The clerk behind the counter studied the documents and Sky’s application.

  What if she could tell Sky wasn’t Meghan McGladrey? “My wallet was stolen,” she added, using the story she and Lindsay had concocted just in case. “And since I live here now, it makes sense to get a Virginia ID, rather than replace the one from Minnesota.” Struan looked askance at her. She looked back, forcing a smile.

  “Step around the counter to the camera.” The woman gestured, her expression disinterested.

  Sky did as she was told, her nerves calming. She hadn’t been challenged or questioned. Her picture was taken, and then the woman told them the cost, and Struan handed her the paper currency to pay the fee.

  The woman glanced at Sky. “It will take a week to ten days for your ID to arrive in the mail.”

  “Thanks,” Struan said, taking the receipt and the copy of her application. He tucked them into the folder with the other documents as he led her back outside to his truck. “You lost your wallet, eh?”

  “Lindsay suggested the tale in case I was asked why I didn’t already have a picture ID.”

  “Ah, I see.” One side of his mouth turned up. “Hungry?”