Only With a Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  “They’re fine, Mama,” Winter said, running her hands down the dark green velvet material. She looked past Grace’s shoulder at her papa and scowled right back at him. “There is nothing immodest about this dress.”

  “Aye, and that’s the problem,” Grey returned from right behind Grace. “Ye look too modest. And that is more enticing than if ye were wearing a bathing suit.” He waved a hand at his again-gaping daughter. “At least braid yer hair, so it doesn’t fall over yer shoulders so…so provocatively.”

  Grace rolled her eyes at her daughters and burst into laughter as she spun to face her husband. She was just giving him another poke in the chest, about ready to scold him, when the door knocker sounded. “Be good,” she said instead. She turned to capture Winter’s hand to keep her from answering the door. “Let your sister get it,” she commanded, pulling her into the living room while pushing Grey ahead of them. “My God, you’re acting like Winter’s sixteen,” she muttered, shoving her laughing daughter in the chair beside the hearth and Grey into the opposite chair. Grace then turned while smoothing down the front of her blouse, folded her hands at her waist, and plastered a welcoming smile on her face just as Megan stepped into the living room doorway with Matt Gregor.

  Grace immediately went weak in the knees.

  The man was utterly gorgeous. Definitely imposing. His eyes…they were…she couldn’t tear herself away from his fantastically golden eyes. Holy hell, she thought with a shiver, no wonder Winter was a mess of churning emotions. Grace was getting a bit emotional herself.

  “Mama,” Megan said, leading Matt all the way into the room. “This is Matt Gregor. Matt, these are my parents, Grace and Greylen MacKeage.”

  Grace was just getting her racing heart under control when Matt Gregor gave her a smile that stopped it completely. He inclined his head and held his hand out to her, and Grace found she couldn’t breathe. In thirty-three years of marriage she had never once reacted to another man this way, most likely because she’d never met a man who could even come close to rivaling Greylen MacKeage.

  Until now. Grace placed her hand in Matt’s, immediately noticing how solid he felt. “Mr. Gregor,” she said, praying she sounded normal, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. MacKeage,” he returned, his deep voice resonating with warmth. “I can see where Winter and Megan get their beauty. And please, call me Matt.”

  “Gregor,” Grey said, extending his right hand while gently pulling Grace away from their guest. “I understand ye own Bear Mountain. Are ye planning on developing it?”

  “Mr. MacKeage,” Matt said, shaking Grey’s hand. “I bought the land for my own use. I plan to build my home there.”

  “It’s a rather long commute to New York City.”

  Matt shrugged. “But worth it, I think,” was all he said as he leaned to the side to better see Winter standing behind Grace.

  Grace was impressed with Winter’s restraint so far, and not at all surprised by Grey’s lack thereof. Her husband was looking at Matt as if he were a bug he was wanting to crush.

  To Matt’s credit, he didn’t seem worried, but his polite smile did disappear the moment Grace stepped to the side. His eyes locked on Winter with such intense male appreciation, Grace went weak in the knees again.

  “Where are ye going tonight?” Grey asked, moving between Winter and Matt.

  “To the resort restaurant,” Matt said somewhat absently, completely focused on their daughter. He took a step around the mountain of fatherly concern and held out his hand. “You look lovely, Winter. I take back what I said last night. I think I do prefer you in a dress.”

  Winter placed her hand in his, gave Grace a “will you please control Papa” look, and moved to stand beside Matt, linking her arm through his. “In the interest of not turning into a pumpkin, I’ll be home by midnight,” she said. She looked at her father and smiled smugly. “You needn’t wait up,” she finished as she quickly led Matt out of the living room.

  But her escort brought her to a halt in the doorway, turned back to the room, and inclined his head. “I’ll have her home by eleven,” Matt said. He looked directly at Grey. “Let me know where and when you want to meet for coffee, and I’ll answer any questions you have about me.”

  Grey said nothing, merely nodded.

  Matt nodded in return, lifted Winter’s gaping jaw closed with his finger, and finally led her out the front door.

  The moment the door shut, Megan burst into laughter. “Oh, Papa, I wish you could see your expression right now,” she said, walking up and rising on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t remember the last time anyone, male or female—other than Mama,” she whispered, “caught you off guard.” She turned to Grace. “And you. You should be ashamed of yourself for getting all flustered by Matt’s good looks.”

  “I’m old, not dead,” Grace said with a laugh.

  “Go to yer room,” Grey told Megan. “Ye’re no better than either yer mama or yer sister.”

  Not the least bit bothered to be treated like she was only sixteen, Megan turned on her heels and all but bounced across the foyer to the stairs. She stopped on the bottom step. “I like Matt,” she said. “And so does Winter.”

  “Ye don’t even know him,” Grey snapped.

  “I know Gesader didn’t eat him when Matt kissed Winter up on the mountain last night,” Megan returned, again laughing at her father’s stunned expression. “Winter told me Gesader was there, but that he didn’t so much as growl. So Matt must be a nice guy. Animals are good judges of character.”

  It took both of Grace’s hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

  The first rumbles of a growl started deep in her husband’s chest, only to finally erupt in a full-blown curse when he turned to Grace. “Ye’re laughing while our innocent daughter just left with a man who’s interested in only one thing.” Grey waved an angry hand at the door. “Dammit, did ye not see how Gregor was looking at our baby girl!”

  Grace reached up and traced a finger down the side of his scowling face. “I most certainly did,” she said, patting his cheek. “And I remember seeing that same look in your eyes thirty-three years ago, husband.” She rose on her toes while pulling down on his shirt collar to gently kiss his taut cheek. “And I can’t tell you how much that pleases me.”

  “Pleases ye?” he repeated, stepping back to better glare at her. “What about a predator dating our daughter pleases ye?”

  Grace mimicked his stance by folding her own arms under her breasts. “I’m pleased because I’ve just realized something you and Robbie and Father Daar never considered, which changes the entire equation of Winter’s destiny,” she said. “None of you factored in the possibility of someone like Matt Gregor coming along. The man I just met has no intention of letting something as insignificant as our daughter’s destiny stand in his way. Yes, I could see that he wants her, and I say let him go for it.”

  Grace unfolded her husband’s arms and held both his hands. “I love you, Greylen MacKeage. You’ve been my rock and my wings and my fiercest protector. Let Winter have what we’ve had. Let Matt Gregor be her superman.”

  “So ye’ve decided he’s superman after meeting him for all of two minutes?” Grey asked softly. “How can ye know that?”

  Grace looked down at her fingers twined in her husband’s strong hands. “I just know.” She smiled up at him. “You might call it magic, but I prefer to call it motherly intuition.”

  He studied her for several heartbeats, then suddenly turned away. “I have to go to the office,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the row of pegs on the foyer wall.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Grace muttered, grabbing the jacket away from him and hanging it back on the peg. “You are not going anywhere near that resort tonight.”

  “I have paperwork to do. Morgan and Callum and I are meeting with our accountant in the morning.”

  Grace captured his hand reaching for the jacket again and pulled it
around her waist. She took hold of his other hand, settled it around her, then wrapped her own hands around his neck. “Our meeting tonight is more important,” she whispered, leaning into him.

  Her husband always had been a quick study. His hands around her waist tightened at the realization of exactly what their meeting tonight was about. His cheeks darkened, his eyes focused completely on her, and his mouth swooped down and captured her pleased smile.

  Thirty-three years, and the magic still managed to catch her by surprise. Grace parted her lips to her superman, which instantly caused flashes of brilliant, sizzling white light to charge the air around them. Just that quickly, and just that intensely, she was caught in passion’s spell as Grey lifted her off her toes and deepened the kiss.

  “Take me to bed,” she whispered into his mouth. “Make love to me, husband.”

  She didn’t have to ask twice. Grey bent to capture her knees and swept her up in his arms. “I know what ye’re doing, woman,” he growled as he carried her up the stairs, his fiercely intense eyes locked on hers. He suddenly smiled, rather ferally. “Remind me to give ye hell in the morning.”

  Grace rested her head on his shoulder so he wouldn’t see her own smug smile. With any luck, they’d both be too tired in the morning to do anything more than sleep in.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Winter finished brushing Snowball and started saddling him up as she thought about how she had known Matt Gregor for over two weeks now, and how the entire time she’d been in a state of giddy happiness. She had spent the last two weeks exploring Bear Mountain with Matt by day and going out to dinner with him almost every evening. Sometimes Megan would join them on their daytime rides, and sometimes they rode to Tom’s cabin and he hiked the mountain with them.

  And although they had found several suitable building sites, Matt always seemed to come back to the high meadow as his first choice. But after two weeks and four sketch pads full of ideas, Winter suspected Matt’s unwillingness to simply declare the meadow his favorite site had more to do with wanting to spend time with her than an inability to make a decision.

  Five days ago Matt had bought camping equipment from Dolan’s Outfitter Store, and even though he had kept his hotel suite, he was now living on Bear Mountain and only coming back to the resort to shower before picking her up for dinner each evening.

  Matt had set his campsite at the top of the high meadow in a cave hallowed into an outcropping of rock that overlooked both the meadow and Pine Lake. He’d made a cozy little camp that was still within earshot of Bear Brook and seemed surprisingly comfortable roughing it despite October’s increasingly cold weather. The second night sleeping out, Matt had awakened to a two-inch blanket of snow, though it had completely melted by noon. But instead of scaring him off, the snow only seemed to further endear Matt to his mountain.

  When Matt had first mentioned his plan to camp in the cave so he could get a better feel for the mountain, Winter had become alarmed. She’d talked to Tom about the two swordsmen he’d seen in the meadow, worried that Matt might run into them.

  Tom had reminded her Matt had a pistol and that a bullet beat a sword any day of the week. Her boyfriend appeared more than capable of looking out for himself, Tom had assured Winter. And telling Matt there had been two men dressed in kilts, fighting with swords in his meadow in the light of a full moon, would only make him think his artist in residence might be crazy.

  So Winter had taken her petition to Gesader, explaining her worry and asking her pet to please keep an eye on Matt for her. She wasn’t sure if the panther had understood her request, much less cared what happened to Matt, but Gesader hadn’t been home for the last five nights. Winter could only hope it was because he was lurking around Bear Mountain, watching for Tom’s elusive swordsmen.

  Matt had flown back to New York City several times in the last two weeks, and each time before he left he would stop at Winter’s gallery and ask her to go with him. Each time she would tell him no, and each time Matt took her refusal with the graciousness of a gentleman.

  Not that he kissed like a gentleman. Nay, Matt’s kisses had grown increasingly more…well, more heated as Winter had grown more comfortable with him—which is exactly why she refused to go to New York City. The night on the mountain when they’d taken Daar home, when she’d all but thrown herself at Matt, had made Winter realize how close she’d come to nearly blowing it.

  She liked Matt. He was everything she could want in a man: intelligent, successful, attentive, charming, utterly gorgeous, and sexy as all get out. The only flaw that she could find was that he was too honorable.

  Winter could no longer deny that she wanted Matt Gregor so badly her heart actually ached. That first night they’d kissed had definitely been too soon for anything more, but dang it, how much longer was he going to drive her crazy with only kisses? The chemistry was right—she knew it was right. And she knew Matt also felt what she felt. So what in curses was he waiting for? For her to finally go to New York with him? Was he seeing her refusal as a sign she wasn’t ready to take the next step?

  Surely he realized she needed that monumental step to be right here in Pine Creek where she felt safe, didn’t he?

  Winter led Snowball out of the barn as she thought about the predicament she was in. How was she supposed to let Matt know she wanted him, but that their first time had to be on her turf? And then how was she going to explain being twenty-four years old and still a virgin without looking like a silly child?

  She wasn’t a prude; she was just fussy, was all. She simply had never met a man who made her insides hum with desire—not until Matheson Gregor had walked into her gallery. So how could she take the next step without coming across as a sex-starved hussy, and without having to go to New York City?

  She couldn’t ask her mama, Winter decided with a frown as she stepped onto the mounting block and swung into the saddle. She couldn’t quite see herself explaining how badly she wanted to make love to Matt, much less asking Grace to please give her some pointers on how to go about it. Aye, she thought with a snort, that would be quite a conversation between mother and daughter.

  Her mama seemed to have bigger worries right now, other than her daughter’s sex life. Winter’s last two weeks of happiness were marred only by the fact that she still couldn’t discover what was bugging her parents. Their moods seemed to be getting worse as time passed, not better. Her papa rode daily with Robbie up TarStone Mountain to Father Daar’s, and Winter knew the three men were still trying to find out what had happened to the pine tree.

  And her mama was up there with them today, which was why Winter was heading up TarStone herself. Matt had flown to his factory in Utah last night after dinner, and had said he probably wouldn’t be back for a couple of days, which left Winter plenty of time to spy on her parents. One way or another, once and for all, she was going to find out what the big secret was.

  Instead of taking the tote road, Winter urged Snowball into a canter straight up the ski slope. She would go almost to the summit and approach Daar’s cabin from an unlikely direction. She’d leave Snowball a good distance away, sneak up on the cabin, and listen to what was going on inside.

  She had Megan’s wholehearted approval, both girls deciding they were being caring daughters, not spies. Winter preferred to think she was helping Megan, since constant fretting on top of a broken heart was slowly turning Megan into a basket case. That was why Winter had talked her sister into watching the gallery this morning while she followed their parents.

  Winter pulled up the collar on her jacket to ward off the chill October breeze as she eyed the bank of clouds moving in from the southeast. A storm was moving up the New England coast, and it was predicted to dump Atlantic moisture ahead of it across the entire state of Maine. For the coast that meant rain; for the mountains, six-to-ten inches of wet snow. It was still early yet for accumulating snow, despite the unusually cold and stormy fall, but even if a foot of snow fell, it wouldn’t likely stick around more tha
n a week.

  Winter pulled Snowball back to a walk as she guided him off the ski slope and onto a narrow trail that wove through the woods. They hadn’t gone twenty yards when Gesader stepped into view and sat down right in the middle of the path. Snowball stopped, tugged on his bit to loosen his reins, and nuzzled the panther’s head. Gesader returned Snowball’s greeting with a throaty growl and a rough lick to the horse’s nose.

  “Well, good morning,” Winter said, leaning forward in the saddle to look down at her pet. “How come you didn’t come home last night? Matt’s gone.”

  Gesader snarled in greeting, turned, and padded up the path ahead of them. Snowball automatically started following him, and Winter chuckled to herself.

  Either Gesader could read her mind or he knew this path ended at Father Daar’s cabin, because her pet continued to take up the lead for the next twenty minutes. He suddenly stopped in a thick stand of trees about two hundred yards above the cabin’s clearing, sat down, and simply stared up at her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, dismounting and tying Snowball’s reins to a bush. “You can help me spy.”

  As if he understood exactly what she wanted, Gesader led the way to the clearing on the south side of Daar’s cabin. Winter saw only two horses tied up out front, her papa’s warhorse and old Butterball, which meant Robbie wasn’t there. She nudged Gesader with her knee, signaling him to work his way around the perimeter of the clearing toward the front. “Ye keep a watch out for Robbie,” she whispered as she started working her way around the clearing, using the trees for cover.

  She watched and listened for a good five minutes, then finally tiptoed across the open space and up to the back wall of the cabin. Keeping her back against the weathered logs, she inched her way toward the window and slowly straightened to peer inside.

  Daar was sitting at the table opposite her papa, Daar softly talking and her papa listening. Her mama was standing at the wood-fired cookstove, poking bacon in the large iron skillet with a wooden spoon. Grace suddenly stopped, turned to the men with a frown, and waved her spoon at them.