by L. L. Muir
“Got ‘em!” A short man held a package over his head like it was filled with gold, not just gold lights.
A woman snatched the man’s box away. “Should we see if there’s more?” Her arm disappeared before anyone answered.
“No. We need go!” The short man left her behind. He shouted, “Just one!” to the girl in the apron and ran out the door without paying. The woman swore and dropped the box before running after him. Harper was just glad they were gone.
“Idiot.” She ground the word out between her teeth, dying from frustration because Lachlan wouldn’t allow anyone help him.
“Florists.” The girl with the apron grumbled, mistaking Harper’s meaning. She bent to clean up the mess. “They have an account.” She dropped to her knees and started scooping up noisy packs of clear plastic.
Harper turned back to plead over their entwined hands. “Please, let me call an ambulance. I don’t care if it leads Bart to us. You have to let me help you.”
He raised his eyebrows, trying to look sincere. “No, lass. I have no need.”
She wasn’t about to let him be a martyr. If calling an ambulance gave away her location, then so be it. If he was still on his feet, surely that meant he could be helped!
She pulled her hands out of his grasp and put them on her hips again, something she never remembered doing much before that day. “You mean to tell me you didn’t get shot? Twice?”
He frowned and looked at the floor for a second. “Apparently not?”
He was asking?
“What?!”
Apron Girl got to her feet and brushed her hands together. When she walked away, Harper could almost see her ears straining to hear more.
Lachlan shifted from foot to foot and glanced at the large store windows, doing anything to avoid looking at her.
“You aren’t bleeding? You could have told me sooner! You could have said something when we made it to the street, instead of throwing me over your shoulder and running away! I thought you were as good as dead! For protecting me!”
Yes, they’d needed to keep running, especially if he wasn’t dying, but she’d been expecting him to drop dead that whole time, and feeling sick about it. And now, she wanted to jump around and celebrate, but she’d made such a fuss, she felt foolish.
And feeling foolish had a tendency to make her tear up.
“Forgive me, lass.” He cautiously wrapped his arms around her while she fell apart. But before she got very far in the unraveling process, she remembered something he’d said and pulled back to look at his face.
“Just why did you think I would faint, Mac?”
“Mac? Nay. My name is Lachlan. Do ye not remember?”
“Okay, Lachlan. Don’t change the subject. I’ll faint when I realize what?”
He looked around nervously and turned her so both their backs were to Apron Girl. “Oh. That. Well, uh, from…shock, I’m sure.” His arms dropped to his sides and he took a step back. “It was a terrible fright, being shot at—the pair of us. Weren’t ye afeared?”
“I guess so. But I’ve been pretty afeared for a long time, so I guess it didn’t register.”
“Aye. I’m right sorry for it, I am.” He did his nervous dance again.
She finally got it. “Look. Do you need a restroom or something?” She looked around and saw a unisex sign. “It’s right over there.”
He shook his head, then his eyes widened and he nodded, like it was suddenly a great idea. “I’ll just go to it then, shall I?” But instead of heading toward the restroom, he frowned and looked around the place. She had no idea what he was looking for. But suddenly, he leapt forward and lifted her by the waist.
“Don’t you dare put me over your shoulder!”
He froze. They were nose to nose. Her hands were back on his biceps.
“Was it so unpleasant for ye before?” The possibility seemed to worry him.
Harper shook her head and closed her eyes to keep from staring at his lips. And before she opened them again, her battering ram was abruptly dropped onto the seat of a life-sized, pink sleigh covered in enormous candy. She had just become part of a Christmas in July display marked ‘SOLD.’ A gumdrop the size of a softball teetered and fell, then rolled across the floor, leaving small, artificial sugar crystals in its wake.
A blanket of bubblegum-pink velvet, edged with white fur, landed on her, then Lachlan pushed the excess over her head.
“Stay put, so the villain doesn’t find ye while I am indisposed.” His footsteps faded in the direction of the restroom. But she was pretty sure he’d mumbled something more—something about a witch.
“The villain’s name is Bart,” she said through the blanket. Bart. Ha ha ha.
She sat as still as she could, not minding the chance to breathe quietly for a minute, snuggling into the soft blanket, knowing her protector wasn’t far away. What she worried about was the chick with the apron. Was she going to come rip off the blanket and toss her out of the store? Or was she stalking Harper’s big Scot to the men’s room?
And just when had he become her Scot?
CHAPTER NINE
Heaven help him, what could he tell the lass? He’d survived two shots to his torso without a scratch to show for them. Without a drop of blood spilt. Thankfully, for the moment, her relief at finding him whole distracted her from the fact she’d witnessed the gun firing, had seen him fall to one knee the first time, and be knocked to the back of the elevator the second. It wouldn’t be long before she considered it more closely and would press him for an explanation.
Bulletproof?
A chill ran down his spine and he couldn’t help wish that he’d been that invincible during the battle at Culloden. How much might have changed if they’d had a Muir witch or two burning fires and making bargains on the Stuart’s behalf?
The comforting heat of the water pouring over his hands brought his attention back from what might have been. From the commercials he’d seen, he’d learned disgusting things about germs and was determined to keep them from his newly animated body.
Warmth was no longer just a pleasant memory. It was something fresh and new that, after a minute, reached the bones of his hands and warmed the blood pumping through his arms. Blood that had found no means of escape out his back, where a bullet had definitely entered!
A miracle not to be believed.
Being shot at Culloden had been painful, aye. But this time, when both bullets had caught him, the hurt had been more akin to the memory of pain than pain itself. And he well knew the memory of pain. Though it rarely made a man cry out, it was enough to make him stir from his grave…
He was determined to question Soni about it when next they met. He hadn’t expected to be brought back to life in truth. But once alive, he’d never imagined he might be indestructible as well.
He dared not take his time in the lavatory, in spite of the temptation to dally. But he wondered, as he toyed with the paper towel machine, what the witch was thinking, sending him to this city, entwining his fate with the lovely lass. Had Soni known of Harper and her pursuers? Or had she simply expected the modern city to be ripe with danger?
So many questions to ask. He only hoped he would have time to ask them.
If his duty was to protect the lass from the three blackguards, he’d already done that. And yet he remained. So a moment or two of safety was not enough. He would need to discover her true problem and help her solve it. And although it meant he might need every minute of his invincible-yet-mortal visit, he didn’t mind. He was, strangely, in no hurry to see the familiar stretch of the moors. In fact, there had been moments when he’d forgotten the holy ground altogether—moments when a certain bonny lass found his arms impressive.
He flexed those arms in front of his reflection, then blanched when he looked into his own eyes. Heaven help him, he’d been mortal less than a pair of hours and already he was growing vain.
Sober now from the headiness of invincibility, he hurried to the door. They’d le
ft Bart whole and hale outside that elevator. His accomplices would have only taken a moment to rouse, so he’d be sniffing along behind them any minute.
Lachlan simply had to keep the lass moving and distracted, so she would not have time to realize that he was immortal. Though, in truth, only spirit.
Goose bumps rose along his well-warmed arms. Something was wrong.
He turned off the light switch and peered out into the store. Bart stood just inside the door at the top of the steps, hands on hips, glaring around the fantastical place.
“Can I help you?” The aproned lass approached him.
“F.B.I. A dangerous man came in here, with a woman in a black jacket. Tell me where they are, and then get your people out of the store.”
What a clever liar. If the young miss believed him, they were caught. Lachlan knew she’d watched him when he tossed the great pink cloth over Harper’s head. All she had to do was point.
But the aproned lass was unimpressed. “Are you sure they came in here?”
Bart glared. “I assure you, I saw them come in through this door. He was wearing a kilt and was carrying her over his shoulder. You couldn’t have missed them.” He took a step toward her, but the brave lass laughed lightly.
“I would have liked to have seen that. I must have had my head stuffed down in the bottom of a box of lights. We’re pretty busy around here. Our Christmas in July events are huge.” She looked over her shoulder, in the direction of the sleigh. A man stood near it and reached for the pink cloth.
Lachlan braced himself to fly to Harper’s aid.
“Brian!” the lass snapped. “That pink blanket goes with the sleigh. Some of the candies will have to be reattached, so I’m sending the blanket for compensation. One of the gumdrops rolled under the blue reindeer. Don’t leave it behind.”
When she turned back to Bart, Lachlan thought her eye caught on the door he hid behind.
“Look,” she said, her tone edged with impatience. “You’re welcome to look around, but if they came through here, they probably went out that door down there. It leads to the alley. If I see some guy in a kilt, with or without a woman over his shoulder, I promise to call 911.” She laughed. “Right after I stop swooning.”
She turned away from Bart and headed down to the next level. Bart and his slower pair of ruffians glanced around the store for a bit, then followed. Lachlan had to stick his head out the door to keep them in view. Eventually, the trio wandered toward the sleigh—or at least where the sleigh had been.
Blast!
Lachlan left the restroom behind him and crept quickly to the corner of the wall. Two wide doors stood open to the alley beyond. The trio stepped outside, so he was freer to move about. He hurried to the open doors, but stayed just inside, his colorful plaid hidden for the most part by a slender box a full foot taller than he was.
The sleigh sat unattended while a large platform was lowered from the back of a lorry. The brightly colored decorations sparkled in the sunlight. Colors that had never been so impressive without mortal eyes.
What a truly sad place he had chosen to spend the last two hundred and seventy years.
The aproned lass argued with Brian, the tall black-haired fellow who kept gesturing back to the blanket. The soft pink fabric hadn’t moved an inch since Lachlan had tossed it over Harper’s head. Bart and company debated near the front of the sleigh, disturbingly close to the seat. And it tore at Lachlan to imagine how frightened Harper must be to hear those voices so near.
Brian reached once again for the blanket and yanked it off Harper, stopping Lachlan’s newly revived heart. But the man took no notice of the lass cowering in the seat.
Lachlan couldn’t breathe. If she made the merest sound Bart would need only reach out to place his hand on her head.
The troublesome fellow found a tag on the blanket and held it up for the aproned lass to read, then he tossed it at her. He turned back toward the sleigh and froze.
Bart glanced at Brian, then over his shoulder at the window before motioning for one of his men to precede him farther down the alley. But Lachlan’s relief was short lived when Bart waved the second man back to the doors. He had to run full out to make it around a wall before the henchman re-entered.
It seemed an eternity before the man finally gave up searching and went back to the alley. A second eternity passed while Lachlan waited for the man to disappear altogether. But by then, the sleigh was loaded.
He had no need to wonder if his Harper was still on board for she stood just inside the box of the lorry as it began to move. Lachlan hurried to help her down, but she looked at his raised arms and shook her head. Her face was streaked with tears.
She needs me! Why does she not jump?
“Go home, Lachlan. I won’t watch you die for me.”
He hurried to keep pace, glad the vehicle was moving in the opposite direction of Bart and his fools. “Ye need me, Sweeting. I’ll not leave ye…until yer safe.” How he hated to say the last three words.
She shook her head and the door began to lower. Only then did he realize the lass held the rope in her hand. She truly meant to shut him out.
With a determination he summoned only for those nights when he and the lads reenacted the Battle of Culloden, he focused all his concentration on leaping into the truck. But just then, the truck turned and thundered out into the road. Lachlan increased his speed, but so did the vehicle and inch by inch, the distance between himself and his lass increased.
There was no time left to leap. His only hope was a thin metal handle just above the floor, but the door was falling fast. He had to hurry.
He stretched and touched the handle with his fingertips, but the gap widened again. Harper disappeared behind the falling door.
Faster!
The edge of the door jerked to a stop with still a foot and a half left to fall. The lass raised a foot to force it down. But he couldn’t let her succeed! She needed him, whether she admitted it or not!
When the driver let off the accelerator to change gears, Lachlan recognized his last chance. He surged forward, praying for God to give him but a fair chance, and got close enough to wrap his fingers around the thin handle! He then pulled himself near enough to get a sure hold with his entire hand. He swung his legs out to the side, then up toward the floor, but there was no time to rejoice when he landed on the edge of the bed. No time to solidify his hold. He had to let go again and hope his momentum could get him beyond the door before it slammed shut.
He dropped his shoulder and rolled with all his might. The front wedge of the platform stopped his progress. He turned onto his back and looked up into that bonny, misguided face a moment before the door slammed shut and plunged them into darkness.
She appeared to be a wee bit pleased, a wee bit disappointed, and a wee bit afeared…
CHAPTER TEN
The inside of the truck was as cold as a winter’s night in the Highlands. A large fan blew the chilled air through the metal box and chill bumps rose on Lachlan’s arms. It was a thrill to be reminded of what cold really was when, for so long, he’d only been able to draw from his imagination. Of course he’d been able to empathize with the Culloden tourists, but there had been no real feeling to it.
He spread his feet apart to keep his balance while the lorry made its way down the road. And he rubbed his sleeves to see if that grand body of his could generate any heat.
He grinned into the darkness. It could.
“Lass,” he said clearly, but quietly so as not to alarm her.
She said nothing.
He moved toward her, careful to keep his balance, sensing where she stood by the flow of the chilled air circling them.
A thin line of light seeped around the edges of the door and his eyes began to adjust. He could see her form against the wall, her raised chin, her hands pressed to the wall behind her helping her balance.
Since her eyes would be adjusting as well, he closed the space between them quickly before she thought to make
him chase her through the darkness. He stopped with barely an inch between them, set his hands on her shoulders, and felt a tremor wrack through her.
“Easy now. Ye should ken by now I wouldna harm ye for all the potatoes in Ireland.”
He leaned down, drawn to the warmth of her face, eager for a tender word. But it was enough that she raised her face—a sign that a kiss from him wouldna go amiss.
Bless ye, Soncerae.
He was a breath away from accepting Harper’s invitation when the inside of the truck began to lighten from an expanding mist of green.
Heaven help me! I’ve summoned the wee witch with my blasted benediction!
Only when the green phantoms began to circle did young Soni appear. Her typically generous smile illuminated the box even more than the fog of her protective ancestors.
“Lachlan!” She seemed pleased to see him, as if they’d not just parted earlier in the day.
“Soni, forgive me. I did not intend to summon ye.” He took a step back from Harper and turned so he could introduce the two, but his modern day lass was still waiting for her kiss. Her eyes were closed and her face was as still as death.
He would know!
“Be easy, Lachlan. She is fine. It is ye and I who have been taken out of the moment.”
The rumbling of the engine, the whirring of the fans, all gone. Time, it seemed, had truly stopped.
Reluctantly, he nodded and relaxed. “Truly, Soncerae, I did not mean to summon ye—”
“Ye didn’t.”
“Then why—”
“I’ve come to collect ye, Lachlan McLean. Ye’ve done what was required and ye’ve earned yer boon. Prince Charles Stuart awaits yer pleasure.”
His chest bubbled with outright joy. “Truly?”
Soni nodded. “Truly.”
After two hundred and seventy years, he was about to have peace restored to him. The bitterness and frustration of the prince’s betrayal were soon to be removed from his breast. Finally.