Highland Shift (Highland Destiny: 1)

by LAURA HARNER

  “You shouldna be up and about yet. You had a rough experience. Who were your friends out there?” he asked, his tone casual.

  “Those weren’t my friends! They tried to attack me outside the pub, and I fought them off. They must have followed…” Her voice trailed off, as she realized they’d been waiting for her. They knew where she lived. Then to her horror, she began to cry. Crying was something best done alone, if at all, but she couldn’t help it. Great, racking sobs shook through her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

  Closing the gap between them, Faolan took the poker and dropped it to the floor. He swept Elena into his arms and cradled her like a baby. “Shhh, lass. Doona’ cry,” Faolan crooned repeatedly, holding her tight against his chest and rocking her gently. He held her until, with enormous shudders, her crying subsided into occasional hiccups. Faolan sat Elena on the bed and pulled the covers over her legs. He sat down next to her and stroked her hair once before settling his hands in his lap.

  “Why doona’ you tell me what is happening, so I can help you?” he asked. His whisky-rich voice sent shivers through her, and apparently, misunderstanding, he pulled her covers up higher.

  Elena thought about his question. She had very nearly been raped and hadn’t escaped being badly beaten. Now, a man she’d met only once before, under less than trust-inspiring circumstances, showed up, claiming to have saved her life for a second time. She couldn’t think of any reason for Faolan to be at her home. Unless, of course, he was somehow connected to those punks. She hadn’t told any of them where she lived.

  Elena countered, “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Faolan?”

  He seemed to consider either her question or his answer for a minute. Then he met her gaze levelly and shrugged his massive shoulders, “I was worried about you, lass. There was a man following you at the airport. I wondered what he was up to, so I followed, too. When you went inside to get your car, I walked up behind him and asked what he was doing.” Faolan stopped for a moment, likely envisioning the scene in his mind, before he continued, “At first, I was only slightly suspicious, and I didna think he posed a physical threat. I wasna expecting him to turn swinging a knife.”

  Faolan looked chagrined to admit he’d been caught off guard. He continued his story, but with short pauses here and there. She was sure she was getting an edited version. “I took his knife from him, waited for you to come out, and rode with you to Inverness. I thought I would check on you from time to time, since I needed to be around here for my…” he paused, as if searching for a word, “business. Last night, I happened to be driving by, when I saw a van pull off the road near here, and four men got out. Since the only thing this far out of town is your farm, I thought I would follow to see what they were doing. You drove up before I got a chance to find out.”

  He reached his hand up tentatively to her face and touched her gently. “I am sorry, lass. I should have been closer. Lie down and try to rest. We can talk more on the morrow. I’ll be in the other room should you need anything.”

  “Who undressed me?” Elena blurted, embarrassment making her voice sharp.

  Again, he carefully considered his words before he answered. “I did, lass. You were wet, cold, and I didna’ know how badly you were hurt. I took your clothes off and put you in your robe. You will have some bad bruises, and your shoulder will be very sore tomorrow, but I doona’ think you need a doctor.” His manner was matter-of-fact and his voice carefully neutral.

  Without waiting to hear if she had any more questions, Faolan pulled the covers up to Elena’s shoulders then leaned down and gently kissed her on the forehead. He turned out the light and pulled the door partway closed. It was a testament to her mental fragility and physical exhaustion that she closed her eyes and slept, feeling safe in the knowledge Faolan was here.

  ****

  The next morning was another matter altogether. All the unanswered questions from the night before came rushing back, demanding answers. Foremost in her mind was how Faolan came to be here, supposedly just in time, once again. Elena was about to go in search of him and ask, when she heard the sound of mewling from the kitchen.

  The kittens! In all the chaos last night, she’d forgotten about the kittens. Elena went into the kitchen and found Faolan sitting at her table. The kittens were in a basket at his feet and his hand was dangling within reach of their paws. The orange kitten was climbing over the back of the black kitten, trying to chew on his hand. When he wiggled his fingers, the orange kitten lost his footing and rolled over on his head. The black kitten rolled over too, and started chewing on the orange kitten’s tail.

  Elena swallowed a laugh, and Faolan turned to see her standing in the doorway. He was wearing blue jeans with a long-sleeved tan t-shirt that clung tightly to his shoulders and hugged his chest. His boots were by the back door, and it felt uncomfortably intimate to see him in his stocking feet, drinking his coffee at her kitchen table. To keep from staring at the domestic picture he presented, Elena turned to the stove to start water for her tea. “Why are you here, Faolan?”

  Last night he was concerned and gentle. Today, the more self-assured and mocking Faolan was back. He grinned and said, “T’was a good thing that I was here, lass.”

  Elena couldn’t argue with that, unless of course, he was in league with the thugs. She didn’t want to think Faolan had anything to do with the attack. Her lawyerly mind tried to apply a logical solution to fit the facts, but she was at a loss for a reasonable explanation for his presence.

  What she really wanted to know but was afraid to ask was what he’d been thinking when he undressed her last night. She was confident he hadn’t touched her anywhere inappropriate; that was just about the only place she wasn’t sore. However, the idea that Faolan had undressed her while she was unconscious left her warm and fuzzy in places she had no business being warm and fuzzy.

  Elena gasped with pain as she tried to lift the teakettle when the water boiled. Faolan was at her side in an instant.

  “Sit down, let me look at you.” He examined her with the detached thoroughness of any physician. When he pulled the front of her robe open, he was careful not to pull it too far, and kept his hand on her shoulder. “Now, let me see your hip,” he asked. Faolan knelt down in front Elena, before carefully opening the bottom just far enough to look at the hip Liam had kicked the night before.

  Elena was horrified to see a deep purple imprint of a shoe marring the fleshy part of her hip. “Oh, God!”

  “Aye, you’re bruised badly.” His amber eyes gazed up at her somberly. “Would you like to visit the doctor or the police?”

  Elena had watched him carefully as he folded back her robe, looking for any sign of duplicity, any indication that he might somehow have been involved with Liam. His jaw had clenched and unclenched, he’d swallowed convulsively, and his eyes had narrowed as he gently probed the edges of the bruise.

  Her track record wasn’t the best when it came to reading men, but Elena would have sworn what she saw on Faolan’s face when he’d looked at her injuries was pure, unadulterated rage. With a sigh, Elena thanked Faolan sincerely, then answered, “I’ll be fine. Maybe just some ibuprofen after breakfast. Speaking of that, what would you like for breakfast?” She started to rise from her chair but with a firm hand and a roll of his eyes, Faolan gently pushed her back into her seat.

  “Sit,” he ordered. Elena watched him as he moved comfortably around her kitchen. He seemed to know more about where things were stored than she did. He made her a cup of tea, and then put together a light breakfast of toast, yogurt, and peeled an orange. “What else would you be likin’, lass?”

  “This is fine, thanks. Why don’t you get your own breakfast before you head out?” His question just stoked a fire that did not need any more heat. Elena hoped that if she fed him, he would see that she was all right and leave. She didn’t want to think too long about the way he’d kissed her the last time he left her.

  Faolan laughed easily and sho
ok his head. “I’m not going anywhere, lass. Which bedroom would you like me in, lass? Yours?” he teased, with a raised eyebrow and lazy grin.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered. Had he read her mind? She felt her face burn in embarrassment and no small amount of lust.

  “I am going to be stayin’ here ‘til I make sure you’re safe, so where would you be likin’ me?”

  Okay, that was a trick question right? “Well, you’re not staying in my bedroom,” Elena said indignantly, pushing back the immediate image of tangled sheets and naked limbs.

  “Right, ‘tis the next room to it then.” He grabbed a black duffle bag near the kitchen door and stalked down the hall.

  Stupid Scott! What was his business here, anyway? She couldn’t decide if he had some ancient sense of chivalry at work, or if there was something else he wanted. She would explain to him why it was so inappropriate for him to stay at her house. The situation reminded her of that old adage: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And which one is Faolan?

  Chapter Five

  After breakfast, Elena forced her bruised and battered body into jeans and a flannel shirt to keep warm so she could work in the barn. Although there was still plenty to do inside, she was anxious to put a bit of distance between herself and Faolan. Throwing on her jacket and boots, she went to look at her Rover to check for damages and get the lantern and flashlights.

  Grabbing the lights, Elena walked through the interior of the barn to the north wing. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she’d decided to go to town, but she hadn’t forgotten the reason for her errand. She was still determined to see if the metal panels ever opened. Moving gingerly, she ran her hand around the flat edges that looked fused to the surrounding stone. Heat radiated beneath her hand as soon as she touched the metal.

  Elena looked closer. There was a small seam that ran from top to bottom and looked like an opening for a door. She pressed her hands flat against the panels, one on either side of the seam, to see if she could pull them apart. They began to glow noticeably and vibrate under her touch. With a gasp, Elena pulled her hands away.

  Heart pounding uncomfortably fast, she raised a shaky hand and pressed it to the panel. It was warm, but nothing more exciting happened. Taking a big breath and holding it, she put both hands on the panels again. The light and vibration returned. Before she could chicken out, Elena pressed hard with both hands and when the panels slid easily apart, she nearly tipped ass over teakettle through the opening.

  A secret room!

  Picking herself up, she grabbed the lantern and a flashlight, and climbed inside. Not a fan of enclosed spaces, she propped the lantern in the doorway, ensuring an escape route before she went further. The room was narrow, deep, and built right into the mountain.

  A small table held what appeared to be ancient treasures, including a jewelry casket, a hand mirror, and a dagger with a stunningly large, deep red jewel embedded in the handle. A thin book that looked like a journal was splayed open on its back. Elena shone the flashlight on the open page, and although she couldn’t read the faded writing, the date showed the last entry as 1693. She would need to do some research to find out who had lived here then.

  Elena carefully opened the lid of the jewelry casket and saw two large keys nestled on top of a pile of gold and silver coins. Both keys had markings on the top, but nothing she could easily decipher. Other than that, the box was empty.

  The mirror was tarnished silver, and she turned it over, admiring the ornate design. The glass was dirty, so she rubbed the surface with the tail of her flannel shirt. Something appeared in the smooth, dark surface and it wasn’t Elena’s reflection. She gasped as Faolan’s unmistakable image appeared in the swirling mist. The distorted figure began to fade and subtly shift until she was watching a wolf stalking through the shadowy glass just before the surface went completely dark.

  The sound of her breathing was harsh in the silence of the tomb-like chamber. What was this place? Thousands of butterflies took flight in her stomach and she was suddenly frantic to be out, to see the light of the day. She needed reassurance that, despite what she’d seen in this room, the real world still existed.

  Tucking the mirror under her shirt, Elena took a final glance around, and then climbed from the chamber. She didn’t know the purpose of the room, but she suspected it had remained hidden for a long time behind all that junk. There were deep secrets here, not to mention some kind of magical woo-woo. She would keep these discoveries to herself until she knew more about them. She had to admit, finding the underground chamber pleased her greatly. Her farm held secrets.

  Educated as a lawyer, Elena knew how to examine, organize, catalog the facts of a case, and assemble them to tell a story the way she wanted it heard by the jury. She also knew the opposing counsel had the same facts, yet arranged them to tell a different story. The proper interpretation of facts could mean the difference between guilty or innocent, jail or freedom, life or death.

  Faolan told her someone had been following her, someone who attacked when questioned. A week later, she was jumped outside a pub, and then again outside her home. These weren’t local punks looking for harmless fun. They were serious, they knew where she lived, and had it not been for an inexplicable interference, they would have raped and possibly killed her.

  She supposed there was a remote possibility that these were random acts of violence. Just as likely as winning the lottery. It seemed far more likely that they were aimed at her. If so, someone wanted her dead, or at the very least, scared away.

  It always comes down to the same old question. Cui bono? Who would benefit by my death? That was an easy question, for sure. Martin Worthington, III. As a provision of the sale, the house reverted to his ownership if she died in the next six months. What about Faolan? What did he have to gain? Was seeing him in the mirror just the wishful thinking of an overtaxed and over-imaginative brain?

  She stopped suddenly in the middle of the yard. Something was….missing. She pivoted, looking for Faolan’s vehicle. There was no sign of how he’d arrived in time to rescue her the night before. She blew out a frustrated breath; she didn’t have enough information. She hurried inside to put away the mirror.

  When Elena had been scrubbing the fireplace in her room on her first afternoon at the farm, she’d been startled when one of the stones sprang open to reveal a secret hiding space. She’d been preoccupied at the time, and merely closed the door again, so she could finish cleaning the hearth. It made a perfect hiding place for the mirror. Pushing open the stone once more, Elena added the mirror, closed the stone front, and went in search of Faolan.

  Earlier this morning, she’d intended to tell Faolan over lunch that he couldn’t stay. It was just wrong, in so many ways. Now, she was about to make sure he stuck around for a while. She didn’t think she was in physical danger from him; he easily could have killed her while she was sleeping last night. However, believing he wasn’t trying to kill her wasn’t the same thing as trusting him. Although she had theories, she needed to know what he wanted.

  Her most elaborate theory involved Faolan hiring the punks to scare her, so she would believe he saved her and come to trust him. Then he could take advantage of her and… She shook her head at the foolishness of that theory. She didn’t own anything worth stealing.

  Her favorite fantasy theory was that after their kiss in Inverness, Faolan realized he couldn’t live without her, and was protecting her because he—

  She grinned at the image of Faolan charging in on his white steed before she mentally kicked herself for nearly slipping back into her Cinderella syndrome. She’d once believed Marty was a prince, and she’d discovered he’d had more warts than she cared to count. Thinking of Faolan as her Prince Charming wasn’t going to work, either.

  All her life, Elena had followed the rules and always tried to do what she believed other’s expected. She could have died last night. Maybe it was time to live a little. Last night’s attack had knocked something lose
inside her, and there was no going back. Elena was starting over, free of emotional entanglements, free to experience life on her terms.

  It’s way past time to stop believing in fairy tales.

  Chapter Six

  Elena found Faolan in the library, unpacking boxes and putting books on the shelves. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and the kittens were snuggled together in their basket. He looked for all the world as though he was the lord of the manor, and that made her more than a little cranky.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, sharply.

  He smiled and said, “It looked like you could use a bit of help here. I was just putting the books on the shelf so you could arrange them where it suited. How are you feeling?”

  He stood and closed the gap between them with his question. Putting his hand under Elena’s chin, he tilted her face so he could examine the bruises. Elena tried to pull her head back and step away, but Faolan used size to his advantage and crowded her against the doorframe. She had to tip her head nearly straight back to look up at him; he was a full foot taller than she was. It was a show of pure male dominance, and it pissed her off.

  “Tell me, Faolan, just exactly why would that be of any concern to you?”

  “Still feisty, lass, even after I twice saved your life? In Scotia, if you save a man’s life, he owes you his. Will you be paying me with your life twice over, Elena?”

  Elena’s breath caught in her throat. Faolan’s beautiful mouth curved in a soft smile, his tone lightly teasing. He was standing so close, too close. She wanted to look away but his tawny gaze held her captive. She could feel the electricity as his body tensed and became aware of hers. The heat between them blazed became a white-hot fire that threatened to steal all the oxygen from the room. Elena grew embarrassingly wet with desire, and Faolan’s nostrils flared, as though he was a predator scenting his prey. His gaze turned dark and went from teasing to hungry in an instant.