A Highlander’s Homecoming

by Melissa Mayhue

  Jesse was on a roll. “You fix your hair the way Richard wants, you attend the society functions Richard wants, you’re forever starving yourself trying to lose weight because Richard wants, you wear the clothes Richard wants. Hell, you aren’t even going to wear Grandma’s wedding dress, and you and I both know you’ve wanted to do that your whole life.”

  “Richard said he only wanted the best for me, that he loved me.” She barely noted that she’d referred to him in the past tense.

  “I am so sorry to be the one to say this to you, but it’s way past time someone did. Richard doesn’t love you. Anyone can see it. If he did, he wouldn’t be trying to change everything about you. You’re great just the way you are. Richard only loves Richard. And the Coryell money. That and all the potential political allies he can meet through Coryell Enterprises. He’s slime, Caty, and you need to drop him like a bad habit.” Jesse stopped to draw in a ragged breath.

  “He’s simply an ambitious lawyer.” She defended him now out of habit, though that wasn’t really much of a defense for the man she was supposed to love more than anything.

  “Lawyer or not, Richard is just plain slime of the earth. And, Caty?” Jesse waited until he knew he had her attention. “I don’t really believe you love him either. I haven’t seen you seriously happy since you agreed to marry this creep. I think you just want to be in love because you think it’s supposed to happen now. But love doesn’t happen on schedule. It sneaks up when you least expect it. You can’t plug it into that little day planner of yours. You can’t make it happen. You need to ask yourself some pretty serious questions about how you honest to God feel before that wedding next week.”

  “Okay, enough. Thanks for your honesty. I know you don’t understand my relationship with Richard. I just …’’ She paused and took a deep breath. How could he understand? She wasn’t sure she understood why she’d agreed to marry Richard. Or why she was still considering it. “So will you guys be finished up in time to get home by the end of the week?” He would know she was changing the subject, but she couldn’t bear anymore right now.

  “Sure.” His deep sigh was clearly audible on her end. “You know we will, Cate. We won’t let you down. So, I guess that means you’re still going through with this?”

  Still going through with it? That was the question she’d been asking herself for the last couple of hours.

  After listening to Richard tell her how it was all her fault, how he forgave her, how he loved her, and how they needed to put this incident behind them, she had risen from his sofa without comment and crossed the office, dazedly stepping over the broken glass and the spilled basket that had been her carefully packed lunch. Lemonade had squished into her sandals as she’d opened the door.

  “Don’t forget the dinner tonight,” he’d said as he strode toward her. “Remember there will be some very important people there, Caitlyn. Try to be ready when I come to pick you up. I don’t want to keep them waiting. Oh, and why don’t you put your hair up tonight? You look more polished that way.” He’d kissed her on the forehead and ushered her out the door, closing it behind her as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Was she still going through with it? She’d been too numb to think, too shocked to fully accept what had happened. Even now she avoided the decision, rattling off the first thing that came to mind in response to her brother’s question.

  “I finished my last prewedding detail today. I wandered into this little antiques shop in LoDo and found the perfect ‘something old’ to wear. I can’t wait to show it to you. It’s this beautiful old necklace. It looks like an emerald, although I know it can’t be because I only paid ten dollars for it.” Cate forced some lightness into her voice. “Oh my gosh, it’s almost five thirty. I’ve got to get off the phone and start getting ready for tonight.”

  The senior partner of Richard’s firm was giving a dinner in honor of their upcoming wedding. If she were late, there would be such a scene.

  “All right. But at least promise me you’ll think about what I said, okay? It’s not too late to change your mind. You don’t have to go through with this. I’m not hanging up until you promise.”

  As if I’ll be able to think of anything else.

  “Don’t worry about me, Jesse. And yes, before you get all upset, I promise to think about it. I love you. Give my love to Dad and the guys.”

  “Love you, too, baby sister. You remember to think about what you really want. Just because Mom and Granny were both married at your age doesn’t mean you have to get married right now.” Allowing no time for her to protest, he quickly continued. “We should be on our way home in a couple of days. We’re just tying up loose ends here. But when I get home, we’re going to continue this conversation, whether you want to or not.” He hung up before she could argue the point.

  She put down her tissues, deciding she didn’t have time to spend on tears, and shuffled off to the shower, deep in thought.

  Why couldn’t she decide what to do?

  On a daily basis Cate negotiated contracts, met with clients of her father’s company, and compiled sensitive background information for negotiations or hostage rescue. She even handled the business side of Coryell Enterprises whenever government agencies contracted them for civilian covert operations. How could she possibly be so weak willed and indecisive now?

  “Because that’s business and this is personal.”

  Cate stood wrapped in a towel in front of her bedroom mirror, examining her reflection. She’d spent thirty minutes in the shower, trying to decide what was wrong with her. If she hadn’t used all the hot water, she’d probably still be there.

  “I’m not that bad. Maybe not model or movie star material, but not totally ugly. I’m smart. I’m good at my work. I’m not mean and I don’t smell bad.” Cate smiled ruefully at her image. “But I might be crazy, because I’m talking to myself again. Maybe this is what a nervous breakdown feels like.”

  It was then the thought hit, stopping her in her tracks. Do I really, honestly love Richard enough to have a nervous breakdown over him? No.

  Such a simple word. No. And yet for the first time, it allowed her to see her situation quite clearly. No. She didn’t love Richard that much. In fact, right now, she didn’t even like him. Maybe that was why it had always been so easy to tell him she wouldn’t sleep with him before they got married. Jesse was right. Richard was slime. But she couldn’t lay all the blame at his doorstep. She had chosen to ignore all the things that bothered her about him because she should be in love by now. And Richard should have been the perfect one. He was tall, strong, blond, intelligent, and very handsome. He opened doors for her, held her hand, took her to the places she wanted to go. He had been attentive and affectionate. More important, he instantly took command of every situation and people flocked around him. He had power over any circumstances, always smooth and in control. Not only was he everything she should want in a man, he was everything she wanted to be herself. And he had loved her.

  No. He had used her. He had never loved her. He loved being with her and meeting all the important people she took for granted because, thanks to her father’s company, they had always been part of her life. All the powerful, famous people who could make things happen for an ambitious lawyer with political aspirations. And everyone around her had seen it all along; watched as she let him make a fool out of her—no, as she’d made a fool out of herself.

  Cate sat down on the end of the bed, her legs literally giving out under her. Richard might have used her, but she had used him, too. She had wanted to be in love, and when Richard came along she convinced herself that she was. She hadn’t loved him any more than he had loved her. What had she been thinking for the past year?

  “You know, for an almost genius, Cate Coryell, you’re pretty stupid.” Just because you could make it through school a few years ahead of everyone else certainly didn’t mean you had learned anything about life.

  She wouldn’t need to straighten her hair or
put on makeup or get dressed. She wasn’t going out to dinner with Richard tonight.

  And she wasn’t going to marry him.

  She stood up and headed for the kitchen. There was a bottle of some kind of alcohol she had never opened in the cupboard over the refrigerator. Her brother Cody had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday, warning her to be careful with it, but, since she didn’t drink, it had languished with the cobwebs for the past three years. Now she deserved a celebration. She was declaring her freedom.

  “‘An dram buidheach,’ ” she quoted out loud, reading the back of the bottle. “‘The drink that satisfies.’ Exactly what I need. A little satisfaction. ‘Product of Scotland.’ ”

  She had wanted to visit Scotland since her college Medieval History classes. Such a tragic, turbulent past, and yet so romantic. She had loved those classes, soaking up the history of the times, immersing herself in the lore.

  Cate shook her head in disgust, remembering that she had even recommended Scotland for their honeymoon, but Richard was set on Belize, where the senior partner in his law firm liked to vacation.

  Well, that isn’t a problem anymore.

  After struggling to open the dusty bottle, she poured some of the amber liquid into one of her pretty wineglasses and headed back to the bedroom, taking the bottle with her.

  “It’s time to straighten out a few things in here.”

  She took a quick sip of the Drambuie and gasped for air, coughing. Cody had been right. She’d need to be careful with this stuff.

  First she went to her closet and, climbing on an overturned wooden storage box, brought down an old dress box, tied with an emerald green ribbon. Gently she laid the cardboard box on the bed and untied the ribbon, lifting out an antique ivory lace dress. Her grandmother had worn this when she married her grandfather. Her mother had worn it when she married. To think, she’d almost given up the opportunity to wear it herself.

  Never again. Never again would she sacrifice her dreams. Never again would she accept anything less than the real thing. And if she ended up being one of those women for whom there was no true love? Well, so be it. Being without a man would be better than being with the wrong one for the wrong reasons.

  She strode firmly to the closet and took out a huge garment bag, unzipping it and tossing its frothy white contents to the floor next to her trash can.

  “Without a doubt, the most hideous excuse for a wedding dress ever, regardless of what Richard thinks.” It had been vastly expensive, and she had waited three months for the designer to meet with her for a fitting. So what if it had cost a small fortune? It had been her money. She could do what she wanted with the white netted horror.

  No doubt some charitable organization would be calling in a few weeks. They always wanted clothes to sell in their thrift stores. This time she could give them something that had never been used.

  She congratulated herself on another decision well made by choking down a sip of the Drambuie. It burned a trail down her throat.

  Next she pulled a stack of clothing out of her dresser, things she’d bought for her wedding and honeymoon. She dropped her towel and slipped into the white lace bra and panties set. She admired her reflection in the mirror for a moment. This wasn’t really her style, not the least bit practical as she normally preferred, but it was so beautiful she was keeping it. A girl deserved a few pretty things. Another sip of the warm liqueur to seal the decision.

  Taking the towel off her long damp hair, Cate grabbed the ribbon that had held her grandmother’s wedding dress box and tied her auburn curls into a quick ponytail. Then she slipped into the emerald silk pajama set she had thought so sexy when she’d seen it hanging on the mannequin. The elastic waist of the pants hung low, riding on her hips, while the camisole top barely brushed her waistline. She’d hunted a long time for a set to fit like this. At not quite five foot four, she found everything was usually too long for her.

  So maybe she could stand to lose another ten pounds like Richard said, but just maybe he should see her like this. Not that he would get to. One more little sip. It went down much more smoothly this time.

  Cate turned to the dressing table and searched through her jewelry box, choosing the diamond and yellow gold earrings her father had given her for her college graduation. Normally she never wore anything but her plain silver hoops, but simple diamonds would be appropriate for a wedding. If there were going to be a wedding. Which there isn’t. Cate was having a difficult time getting the little studs into her ears. Her sense of balance seemed just a bit off.

  She glanced at the small emerald eternity band lying on her dresser and placed it on her right hand. It had been a birthday gift from her grandmother. Their shared birthstone. She took just one more little sip and stopped to refill her glass.

  Next she reached for the long-sleeved silk Asian-style jacket that went with the pajama set, but stopped as her eyes lit on the bag she’d tossed to the bed when she’d first come home. It held her little treasure, the pendant she’d found in the antiques store today before she’d gone to see Richard.

  Nope, not going to think about that scene again.

  Instead she’d try on the necklace to see if it looked as good on her as it had lying on the velvet cloth in the store.

  Cate held the necklace up and admired it as the light sparkled off the multifaceted emerald. Well, of course it couldn’t be a real emerald, even if light did fairly dance off the jewel. Nobody sold those for ten dollars. Still, the gold setting and chain looked ancient. It was so beautiful it had to be the best bargain she’d ever found. It was the perfect “something old” for her wedding. If I were having a wedding. Which now, of course, she wasn’t.

  With some difficulty, Cate fastened the chain around her neck, and stood back to admire her reflection in the mirror.

  “Not bad.”

  The pendant felt unusually warm against her skin, causing a tingling sensation that spread to her neck and shoulders. Or was that the drink?

  She pulled the ribbon from her hair, allowing her natural curls to fan out, and lifted her glass in salute to her reflection.

  “Here’s to you, Richard. Just look what you almost …” She stopped suddenly when she noticed an odd green glow behind her reflected in the mirror.

  “What the … ?”

  Cate turned to see a large sphere of emerald green light forming in the middle of her bedroom, pulsing and growing larger. Even more startling than the unusual glow was the man who gradually materialized in the center of the sphere—he was incredible.

  Or maybe she was drunk.

  Or actually having that nervous breakdown she’d contemplated earlier. Do drunks having nervous breakdowns suffer from hallucinations about incredibly handsome men showing up in their bedrooms?

  “Oh my God. What are you doing in my … who are … how did you get in here?” Cate demanded, slamming her full wineglass down onto the dressing table and jerking the chair out in front of her. The little chair wouldn’t do much to stop someone his size, but somehow it made her feel better.

  He straightened, pausing for a moment, just staring at her before he spoke. “I am Connor MacKiernan. I’ve crossed time seeking yer assistance, milady. Only you can help me.”

  He had the most wonderful Scottish brogue. Cate leaned toward him for a moment and then shook her head to clear it.

  “Right.” Stall for time and this hallucination would probably go away. “Through time.” Oh my, he was gorgeous, and with that accent … !

  But one of them must be crazy.

  He was dressed like an ancient Scots warrior, boldly standing there with his legs apart and his hands on his hips, in a bubble of green light, in her bedroom, for crying out loud.

  Connor cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head questioningly. “I am no used to begging, but if you require it, I will do so. We’ve no much time.”

  “Oh, great. Just great. I have Braveheart-slash-Conan standing in my bedroom, and he’s in a big hurry.” She blew out her brea
th in irritation. “What do you want with me? Why am I the only one who can help you … to do what?” Cate put her hands on her hips, mirroring his stance. Hadn’t someone said you should take the offensive in these situations? She almost laughed out loud when she realized that chances were extremely high no one had ever encountered a situation quite like this one.

  “Although some do call me brave, I’m no Conan. I told you, my name is Connor. Connor MacKiernan.”

  He looked a little annoyed now.

  Annoying him might not be such a good thing; he was a really big man. Big and gorgeous.

  Is that a knife sticking out of his boot?

  “Are you no listening to me, woman? This is important and we hae precious little time.” He shouted the last.

  While gaping at him, she’d missed part of what he’d said. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not in the habit of having strange men—strange men with weapons, I might add—pop into my bedroom.” She stared pointedly at his leg.

  That is definitely a knife sticking out of his boot.

  “No, you’re no the one who needs to apologize.” At least he had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I’d no thought of how, or where, I might appear to you.” He tilted his head in a slight bow and then, raising his head, he pointed to the emerald necklace she wore. “It’s the jewel, milady. It’s led me to you as the one to help me save my sister. The Fae magic sent me here to fetch you.”

  She should be completely freaked out. But he seemed so sincere. Well, wouldn’t all homicidal maniacs, or even simple hallucinations for that matter, seem sincere?

  She could hardly believe it when she heard herself ask, “Save your sister, huh? What exactly does this magic want me to do?”

  “You must come home with me, to marry me. Then I’ll return you here. No one will even know yer gone.”

  When Cate laughed, he looked offended.

  “Sorry. It’s just that, as you can see”—she waved her arm unsteadily around to encompass the disarray in the room—“I’ve just been dealing with preparations for a wedding.” Is that green circle shrinking around him? “I still don’t get it. Why would you need me to marry you? You don’t even know me.”