My Lady Highlande

by Nancy Lee Badger

  “Jenny, ye need to know about Gavin Sinclair because he is--”

  “Yeah. He’s hot. Are you and he an item?”

  “A what?”

  “As Shakespeare said in one of his plays, do you two make the beasts with two backs?”

  “William Shakespeare, the playwright in London? I am sorry, but…” Izzy was unsure what Jenny was insinuating. Her words were unclear, yet she wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Do you make love? Are you lovers?” Jenny was also whispering, as they waited to hear what was happening just inside the barn doors.

  “Nay. Gavin is a former…neighbor. He wants more than I care to give him.”

  “I had a feeling you and Bull are more than acquaintances. I had no idea you knew Jake’s best friend.”

  “Aye, we met today at the New England Highland Games.”

  “Only today? Hmm.”

  “Why are ye surprised?”

  “He crashed my pickup, while driving you and your boxes home.”

  “True. He is helpful. My tent caught fire, and he put it out. Besides, the crash was no’ his fault.”

  “Right. Why is he shirtless?” Jenny’s left eyebrow rose.

  Heat raced up Izzy’s throat to her cheeks. She turned away, as if searching the open barn door for the men. It had certainly been foolish to ask Bull’s help. Certainly dangerous to allow him to caress and kiss her. Tasting Bull’s warm lips, and exploring how his tongue turned her into a molten puddle of desire, had awakened something long dead. Izzy had no idea what to do about it.

  “ ‘Twas an accident.”

  “His shirt came off by accident? Or, him walking outside naked to the waist for all the world to see?”

  Izzy’s hand slipped into the pocket of her skirt, and around the potion bottles. An idea popped into her head. “Aye. A potion bottle had broken during the crash. I offered to wash the stain.”

  “Sure you did,” Jenny said, crossing her arms across her chest.

  Before she could come up with a better lie, Bull and Gavin strode from the building, with cobwebs and straw stuck in their hair. Bull reached her before Gavin could get close.

  “What did ye see?” Izzy asked.

  “An imp. He tried to flatten us beneath bales of hay,” Gavin answered.

  “He hit me in the head with the grain scoop,” Bull said, rubbing his temple. Blood trickled from the newest wound.

  Izzy reached up and wiped the blood away with her fingers. “My stars, ye mean to say ye saw a brownie? Could he have been at the Highland games as well?”

  She stared up at Bull, hoping he recalled the theft of her strongbox, and the fire.

  “Yes, I’m thinking what you’re thinking. Our bandit.”

  Gavin growled. “A bandit and a would-be murderer. He most likely burned yer tent.”

  “Can you people hear yourselves? An imp? A brownie?” Jenny glared at both men. Her fists rested on her hips, and her eyes were wide.

  No one answered her.

  “He’s dangerous. I get that. So, where did he go?” Jenny asked.

  Izzy watched, as her friend huddled behind Gavin, who did not appear to mind.

  Gavin looked from Jenny to her, then spoke to Jenny. “He disappeared in a puff of smoke. They be well known thieves, but I dinna’ know they could do magic.”

  Izzy clasped a hand over her suddenly queasy stomach. “Was he simply being mischievous?”

  Bull and Gavin glared at each other, and Bull nodded. Gavin must have taken the nod to mean he should speak.

  “Flame erupted from his hand. As we entered the barn, he released it inside the hayloft.”

  “What are you saying?” Jenny said. “Someone tried to burn down the barn? A mythological brownie, no less?”

  “Aye, but we stopped the flames.” Gavin said.

  Bull growled, and pointed at him. “While your friend here spouted weird words, and I stomped on the cinders, the thing had time to escape. Whoever he was, he left while laughing and spouting odd words. He said ‘Live for today and let tomorrow worry about itself.’”

  Izzy’s skin crawled. She believed in omens and predictions. The string of words were familiar. “Bull, dinna’ you say the same thing to me earlier today?”

  Gavin brandished his dirk, as if he thought Bull was in league with the devilish imp. The Sinclair spawn had murder in his darkened gaze, and bared teeth.

  Bull stood with his hands raised. In his bare feet, with his naked chest rising with every breath, he looked concerned, yet unafraid. Bull had no idea the danger he was in, and it was her duty to protect him.

  If only I had a sword.

  CHAPTER 8

  “I don’t know who the Hell nearly burned down Jake Jamison’s barn, but it wasn’t me,” Bull said, as he lowered his arms, and glared at Gavin. The man still brandished a lethal-looking dirk, and he acted like the warriors he managed to elude, back in ancient Scotland.

  “Yer word, against all others,” Gavin said.

  “I know next to nothing about imps and brownies. Scottish mythology is not my strong suit.”

  Gavin’s right brow rose along with his dirk.

  “I’m a teacher, not a warrior.”

  “Believe him, Gavin,” Izzy said, “He confided this to me.”

  Gavin lowered his weapon and snickered, while Izzy strode toward the barn. “Isobel, stay back!”

  Bull bristled at Gavin’s harsh command, but he kept silent, even though he agreed she should stay well away from whatever creature was in the barn. Izzy ignored Gavin. If Gavin would sheath his nasty little weapon, Bull could tackle her. The fool was putting her life in danger. The imp or brownie was still a threat.

  When the bastard with the short sword headed after her, Bull followed. If only he could get his hands on one of the massive swords, he’d seen in Scotland. Lethal steel, wielded by huge warriors, was one of the reasons he decided to leave the early 17th century, and return home.

  Home? He missed Jake, who’d stayed behind, in the past. Home was a lonely apartment and a dead-end job.

  “Wait for me,” Jenny called, following close on his heels.

  The tall woman reminded him of a beautiful Valkyrie. She had grabbed a broom he’d seen leaning against the paddock fence, and raised it in front of her like a weapon. The flowered dress whipped around her knees, but the frown on her face warned him she was intent on helping Izzy.

  “Stay behind us, Jenny, until we see if the barn is clear.”

  The dim light and dark corners created shadows. Nothing moved. Glancing toward the far wall, Bull squinted. Izzy tied Balfour’s halter to the stall gate nearest the open doors. She climbed a ladder, disappearing into the loft. When Gavin sheathed his dirk and moved to follow her, Bull shoved him off the bottom rung. Gavin growled at Bull, until Jenny pulled him to her.

  “Keep me company?” she asked.

  Gavin glared down at her, then stilled. Had he finally noticed Izzy’s pretty neighbor?

  Jenny Morgan was five or six inches taller than Izzy, but Izzy’s small stature and womanly curves had caught Bull’s eye, the moment she ran into his chest in a smoke-filled tent.

  “Izzy? See anything?” Bull called, from the bottom of the ladder. Several minutes passed, until her face appeared from the dark hole of the loft. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he held.

  “Nay.” She slipped her feet over the edge and backed down. “I am coming down.”

  Averting his eyes, he clasped her around the waist, and helped her to her feet. “We need to regroup. Let’s go back outside."

  “Aye, this space ‘tis too confining,” Gavin said. ‘Tis no’ a good idea to get trapped. If the brownie is still here, he might hurt our women.”

  “Yer women!”

  “Izzy, let it go. I hear something,” Bull whispered. He flicked his gaze to find Jenny holding tight to Gavin’s long, leather coat.

  A sudden whiff of wet earth and mold, made Bull stop in his tracks. The scents that assaulted his nose were so unusua
l in Jake’s clean horse barn.

  “At the ready!” Gavin brandished his dirk, then shoved Jenny between himself, and the barn wall. He lowered into a warrior’s stance with one fluid motion. Izzy pulled two small bottles from her skirt, and raised them as if to fend off an attack. Instinctively, Bull shoved Izzy behind him, then stood shoulder to shoulder, with the warrior with a weapon. She muttered a few harsh words, but he concentrated on listening. Something smelled wrong, and whatever it was, also spooked Gavin.

  A shrill whistle filled the barn, echoing off the walls. It seemed to affect the entire group, as each staggered. Jenny screamed, covering her ears with her hands, then fainted at Izzy’s feet. Izzy dropped her potions, and Gavin’s blade clanged, as it fell to the barn floor. Gavin fell to his knees, seconds before Bull collapsed in a heap. Bull gathered Izzy to his chest before rolling to cover her with his bulk. His last conscious thought was to protect her at all costs.

  What does that mean?

  ***

  Izzy awoke, cradled in warm arms, blanketed beneath a naked chest. She blinked. Bull was propped partway on top of her. Tall blades of sweet-smelling grass tickled her ears.

  Grass?

  She shoved at his dead weight, and where his head lay on her breasts, but he did not move. Was he dead? When his warm breath tickled the exposed skin above her left breast, she calmed. He lived, and that was all she needed to know.

  What does that mean?

  Izzy had sworn not to care for any man, to live her life alone, unless she found a way to return home without the threat of a forced marriage. Would men like Gavin ever stop following her? Where was Gavin?

  A loud snort and a face full of hot breath, made her turn aside. It was not Bull’s breath. The unwelcome heat washed over her head, the only part of her that she could move with ease. The silky, furred snout of a large creature partially blocked a blue sky under a blazing sun.

  “Balfour, go away!” When he shuffled off, she could clearly see that they were no longer inside Jake’s barn. The grass smelled fresh and sweet, unlike the putrid odor that had surrounded them, the moment before the attack. The fragrant breeze carried only the sound of birds singing from trees that ringed the meadow. How did they get from a barn into the middle of a meadow?

  A high-pitched whine had descended upon them in the barn. Had only minutes passed? Her ears continued to ache and ring. Why was the sun shining? When they all had entered the barn to look for the brownie, dusk had fallen. Her next breath was shallow, and the reason was clear.

  “Bull? Bryce? Wake up, ye brute. I canna’ breathe.” She strained to push him to the side. When he finally slid off her chest, she gulped a lungful of fresh air. He groaned, but he lived.

  “Be ye alive, lass?” Gavin stood over her, with Jenny cradled in his arms, like a sack of grain.

  “Stars above! Ye startled me. I be uninjured. Is Jenny dead?” Izzy rolled to her side, pushed to her knees, and stood. Without stopping to brush off her skirt or sweep grass from her hair, she smoothed stray locks from Jenny’s forehead. A small bruise marred her temple, and was worrisome. When Jenny opened her eyes and smiled, Izzy returned it, willingly.

  “Now I look like you, Izzy.”

  Izzy smiled back, and wondered how Jenny could joke about bruised skin. She helped her out of Gavin’s arms and onto her feet. Both she and Jenny staggered a little, from the aftermath of the magical attack.

  “Lean on me, my lady,” Gavin said. He cupped Jenny’s elbow and kept her on her feet.

  Izzy bent, collecting the two unbroken potion bottles, then hid them in her skirt. The attack had come upon them swiftly. Since Bull had shoved her behind his bulk, she could not identify their attacker.

  “Thanks,” Jenny said to Gavin. She shivered, rubbing her hands up her exposed arms. The air was crisp and clear, and even chillier than Jake’s barnyard. Gavin removed his long black cloak, and helped Jenny into it. The length kept her hands hidden inside the long sleeves, but her height kept the hem off the ground.

  “Thanks, again.”

  Did Jenny’s cheeks turn pink from the cold, or from Gavin’s concern? Hmm…

  Gavin bowed, then headed for Bull’s prone form. As they followed him, Izzy rubbed her ears.

  “Mine hurt, too. What was that noise?” Jenny said. She glanced around, and stopped in her tracks. She had finally realized they were no longer in the barn behind their apartment house.

  “A magically-amplified brownie screech, I fear,” Izzy answered.

  “Aye, I believe that be the truth.” Gavin said over his shoulder, then returned his attention to Bull. He slapped Bull’s cheeks.

  “Ye take yer life in yer hands, Gavin,” Izzy said. Bull was bigger, and more muscular, than Gavin.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Bull groaned. When Bull’s eyes opened, relief swept over Izzy, and her heart leapt. She would make time later to worry about these new feelings for the strange man.

  Grasping Bull’s forearm, Gavin grunted as he pulled Bull to his feet. He grabbed his dirk from where it had fallen into the tall grass, while Bull straightened his plaid and brushed grass from his naked chest.

  “Where are we?” Bull asked. He rubbed his eyes, tunneled fingers through his disheveled hair, then froze. “Why is Balfour grazing in a meadow? What happened to the barn and the fenced paddock?”

  No one answered. There was no answer, yet.

  What could she tell him to ease his discomfort? Nothing looked familiar to her. The barn and apartment house were gone. They stood in the middle of a large meadow ringed by a dark forest. A small snow-dusted mountain peak rose in the distance.

  “I know that mountain,” Gavin whispered. Everyone turned to stare at him. “We are on Sinclair land, close to the clan Gunn homeland.”

  Izzy glanced around more closely. The trees, and the mountain peak, sparked a memory, but before she grasped the meaning, a dozen mounted warriors in Highland dress burst from the trees. With swords raised toward the brilliant blue sky, their war cries filled the air. Thunder boomed as their mounts galloped closer, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

  Izzy gulped. “Stars above. We are home!”

  ***

  “What do you mean…home?” Bull said. To protect her from the men and horses bearing down on them, Bull shoved Izzy behind him. He waited for an explanation. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Jenny jumped behind Gavin and grabbed the back of his black shirt. She huddled in his black overcoat, as if she wanted to wear him, too.

  “At least he has a weapon.” Gavin could keep Izzy’s friend safe from whatever new hell grew closer.

  The wave of angry Highlanders parted, and their horses carried them into a circle that surrounded him, Izzy, Gavin, and Jenny. To their credit, the women didn’t scream or try to run, but he’d feel better with a dirk or sword in his hand.

  “If these men attack us, one more weapon will no’ make a difference,” Izzy whispered near his ear. She could reach his head because he had instinctively lowered into a warrior’s stance.

  If the four of them had magically traveled back in time, he was smart enough to know he was out of his element. He glanced at Gavin. He trusted the warrior enough to follow his lead. Gavin, surprisingly, bowed his head, then sheathed his dirk.

  A tall blond man, with a scar crossing his left chest, angled his horse closer to the startled group. His plaid, a muted green and blue, stretched over a muscular thigh. His leather boots, laced up the back, fitted strong calves. He had a longbow looped over one shoulder. He sheathed his big sword, and leaned one forearm on his thigh. A smile crept up the side of his mouth, and made a whitish scar below his right eye stand out.

  “Gavin? Why are ye here in the middle of the meadow?” he asked.

  All eyes turned to Gavin.

  “Aye, Niall. ‘Tis me. I…journeyed to find my betrothed. As ye see, I have returned with her.”

  “What I see, little brother, is a tall beauty draped in your cloak,” he said, nodding toward Jenny, “no�
� the small bundle of curves, ye told me ye loved.”

  Gavin’s eyes widened, and his cheeks took on a ruddy tint. He stepped away from Jenny, whose mouth had dropped open. Gavin shoved against Bull’s shoulder. Before he could regain his balance, Gavin turned to Izzy, who was now visible to the newcomers. His hand shot out.

  “Isobel, come here.” His demand was loud and threatening.

  “Nay.”

  At her response, relief washed over Bull. He pushed her back behind him, and growled at Gavin, then glared at the warrior on the horse.

  Growled? What the Hell?

  “Who be this?” the fair-haired Highlander asked. The warriors, astride huge warhorses, glared at Bull. A familiar thread of fear threatened to rise, but he shoved it away. He’d survived worse. Highland warriors were one of the reasons he had high-tailed it home, to the future. Sword-wielding Highlanders, and the hatred filling their faces, were reminders of what he’d hoped never to experience again.

  The man Gavin referred to as Niall suddenly sat upright, unsheathed a long, slender dirk, and pointed it at Bull.

  “Yep. Just like the warriors I encountered near Castle Ruadh.”

  “Castle Ruadh? The Keith and Mackenzie stronghold on the northern coast? If ye have had dealings with them and lived to tell the tale, ye must be a highly trained warrior.” Niall glanced up and down Bull’s body, “yet ye travel without a weapon? ‘Tis odd. Did the lass take it from ye?”

  The men laughed. Bull did not.

  When Gavin stopped laughing, he pointed to Bull and said, “He claims to be a teacher of bairns.”

  “Bairns?” Bull whispered in Izzy’s ear. Her shoulders tightened, and she gazed up at him. Her eyes sparkled under the afternoon sun, but he could tell by the way she held herself, that she wasn’t frightened. She seemed exasperated, as if her afternoon was ruined. As if she had something better to do. A sly smile tipped her bottom lip up.