Only With a Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  Curses, she was right back to her original problem—no starter. She got to her feet, tiptoed to the entrance of the cave, and peeked outside to look for Matt. The wind had died down considerably, and only light snow was falling now, but all Winter saw were Matt’s footprints heading toward the meadow. She sighed in relief, ran to the birch tree she’d mutilated yesterday, and ripped off several more strips of bark. She ran back, stuffed the bark inside the tepee, then started hunting for her packet of matches.

  She lifted the sleeping bag and then the pad, tossing them away to see underneath, and found nothing but empty ground. She ran to the pile of blankets, pawing through them but still finding nothing. She did find the lantern sitting next to the side wall, but no matches beside it. Beginning to panic, she tore all the clothes out of Matt’s bag looking for a lighter, something, anything to start a fire!

  Winter walked back to the pit, circling it as she stared at the fireless tepee. Crouching down with her back to the entrance, she frowned. Robbie didn’t use a staff to start fires when they ate lunch in the forest; he only had to touch the wood to get it to burst into flame. He never spoke any words, but just seemed to want it to light and it did.

  Well, she was supposed to be a wizard, wasn’t she? Winter reached out and touched the wood with her finger, willed it to burst into flame, and got…She got nothing, not even a fizzle.

  She frowned, concentrating harder, this time demanding it to light…and still got nothing.

  A large hand suddenly covered hers, holding her finger on the wood. “You need to calmly ask for what you want,” Matt whispered just as the tepee gently burst into flame.

  Winter scurried away with a startled yelp, standing up and backing against the wall of the cave, her eyes wide with shock. Matt fed a few more sticks to the growing fire, then stood and brushed flakes of snow off his shoulders as he faced her.

  Winter opened her mouth but nothing, not even a squeak, came out. How could he…how had he done…she couldn’t even comprehend what had just happened, much less articulate it.

  He stepped toward her, and Winter scrambled sideways along the glowing wall. He stopped, tucked his hands behind his back, and smiled. “Good morning, wife,” he said softly.

  She opened her mouth again, and this time managed only an unintelligible squeak.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I know I’m starved.”

  “Wh-who are you?” she was finally able to whisper.

  “Matheson Gregor,” he answered calmly. “Guardian of Gairn.”

  “Cùram!” she gasped, clutching her hand around her neck, trying to stop the blood from draining from her face.

  He bowed slightly. “Aye, but I prefer you call me Matt. Or husband,” he offered with a crooked smile.

  Winter inched farther along the wall, its heat causing a trickle of sweat to run down her back. Daar and her papa and Robbie had been hunting for Cùram de Gairn for over two weeks, and he’d been right under their noses the whole time. She eyed the entrance of the cave, gauging her chances of getting past Matt—or Cùram or whoever the heck he was!—before he could get around the fire.

  “Don’t even try,” he said softly. “I’ll catch you before you can leave the meadow. And besides, there is no place for you to run, wife.”

  “Stop calling me that! I’m not your wife!”

  He pulled his hands from behind his back and folded his arms over his chest, looking down at the balled-up sleeping bag at his feet, then back at her, one eyebrow raised. “We became man and wife last night, Winter,” he whispered in calm contradiction to her shout.

  “We are not married! Having sex isn’t the same as having a wedding,” she continued a bit more forcefully, anger rising to her defense. She folded her own arms under her breasts, not to mimic him, but to hug herself against the chill growing inside her despite the wall scorching her back. “There has to be an actual ceremony and a priest in attendance for it to be binding.”

  “Oh, it’s binding, princess, if the two people exchanging vows do so willingly.” He shrugged. “A priest is only a formality for society’s sake.” He lifted one brow again. “Did you not pledge me your love and loyalty last night, Winter? Did you not agree to my own declaration of marriage?”

  She vehemently shook her head. “I didn’t pledge anything to you!” She inched closer to the entrance. “I said those things to somebody else last night. I thought you were Matt Gregor, a simple businessman.”

  He inclined his head. “But I am a simple businessman. I’ve lived and worked in this time for two and a half years now, accumulating enough wealth to buy this mountain and build a home for us to live in.”

  Winter pressed more deeply against the wall. “You didn’t come here to marry me. You’re here to destroy mankind!”

  He didn’t so much as flinch at her shouted accusation, but merely lifted one blasted brow again. “Who told you that? Pendaär?” He snorted and shook his head. “That old bastard is more prone to melodrama than to reason. Destroying mankind is not my intent, though it will likely be one of the consequences.”

  “T-then why are you here?”

  “For you, Winter. I’ve come here for you.”

  His softly spoken declaration finally sent Winter over the edge of reason and into a dark, swirling void of horror. She pushed off the wall and bolted for the entrance, kicking the sleeping bag into the fire as she ran past, tearing out of the cave as if the hounds of hell were nipping her heels.

  She ignored Matt’s calmly given shout as she wove through the trees toward the meadow. Where in curses was Snowball? And Gesader? The panther was supposed to be her protector, and now was not the time for him to worry about being seen.

  Winter broke into the meadow at a flat-out run, praying the snow wasn’t hiding anything to trip her, and shouted Gesader’s name. She was answered by Matt’s shout from behind her, only this time he sounded a bit frantic. And then she heard him roar Nay! at the same time something heavy slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground.

  Winter tumbled through the snow in a tangle of flailing arms and feet and black fur. There was another violent impact that knocked a scream from her lungs as she rolled free to land facedown in the snow, the sound of a snarl and an even more angry growl rolling down the meadow away from her.

  She looked up to find Matt and Gesader, only ten feet away, wrestling. Not wanting to leave her pet, but also not wanting to waste the opportunity he was so valiantly giving her, Winter scrambled to her feet and started running across the meadow again, this time in the direction of Tom’s cabin. Gesader could take care of himself, she decided. A man was no match for a leopard.

  She skidded to a halt and looked back. But a drùidh? Could Gesader hold his own against the powerful Cùram de Gairn?

  Winter saw the two of them were facing each other now, both crouched in a striking position. “Don’t run, Winter,” Matt shouted without taking his eyes off his adversary. “He’s drunk. He’s wanting to chase anything that runs, and he might hurt you.”

  Winter gaped at Gesader. Drunk? Her pet was drunk?

  It was a trick, she decided. Matt was only trying to trick her. Winter turned and started running again toward the bottom end of the meadow.

  “Nay!” Matt shouted.

  Winter looked over her shoulder and saw Gesader pursuing her, moving at an alarming speed that was quickly closing the distance between them. She changed direction with her own shout of surprise, making Gesader lose his footing as he tried to take a passing swipe at her.

  Winter was cleaned off her feet by Matt this time, but her landing was a lot less bruising as Matt wrapped her up in his arms and took the brunt of their fall. Before her head was even done spinning, Matt was on his feet and shoving her behind his back, putting himself between her and her snarling pet.

  “Back off, Kenzie,” he snapped. “Before you hurt her.”

  Gesader let out a roar that echoed through the meadow in bone-chilling waves, his tail whipping the air in anger.
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  “Go sleep it off, Kenzie,” Matt said softly. “And don’t come back until you’re sober and ready to apologize to my wife,” he finished, emphasizing the last word.

  For Gesader’s sake, Winter suddenly realized, not hers.

  The leopard gave another angry roar, then turned and started walking down the sloping meadow, his tail switching in agitation as he growled under his breath. Matt turned to Winter, and she stepped back from his own angry expression.

  “Your choice,” he said roughly. “You walk back to the cave on your own, or I carry you back.”

  Winter lifted her chin. “You called him Kenzie.”

  “Aye, because that’s his name. Kenzie Gregor.”

  Her gasp caused her to take another step back. “He’s your brother,” she whispered. “The first day we met, you mentioned you had business with your brother.” She looked down the meadow just as the panther disappeared into the woods, then back at Matt. “You didn’t come here for me. You came because of him.”

  Matt slowly shook his head. “Oh, I came here for you,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “I sent Kenzie ahead with your cousin, MacBain, then followed as soon as I could.”

  “But why?” Winter cried, holding her arms out in petition. “Why have you come here for me?”

  He stepped forward, and before she realized what he was going to do, Matt captured her face in his broad hands and made her look directly into his eyes. “Because you’re the only one who can help me,” he said softly.

  “H-help you what?”

  He leaned closer, his dark, turbulent eyes only inches from hers. “Kill my brother,” he whispered. He suddenly straightened, took one of her hands, and turned and led her back up the meadow toward the cave.

  Winter could do nothing more than walk beside him in silence. He hadn’t just said that. He couldn’t want to kill his own brother. And he surely couldn’t expect her to help him!

  He’d gone mad, she decided. Cùram de Gairn was upsetting the continuum with his madness, and now he was trying to drag her down into that dark, hopeless void with him. She had to find a way to destroy him before he destroyed mankind.

  Or…or she had to find a way to help him.

  Neither option, however, was going to fix her broken heart.

  Aye, though not very significant when compared to the fate of mankind, Winter couldn’t get past the fact that Matheson Gregor had broken her heart so badly she didn’t care if he and his drunken, traitorous brother rotted in Hades for all of eternity.

  They continued back up the meadow, both in silence; Matt seemingly still angry at the panther, and Winter simply sad. But just as Matt led her into the cave, she had a sneezing fit so violent, she had to pull free and cover her face. Her head swam dizzily, her eyes watered with congestion, and her empty stomach clenched as if it were trying to climb up her throat.

  “You’re catching a cold,” Matt said, leading her past his smoldering sleeping bag to the pile of blankets. He was about to help her sit down when he stopped, picked up one of the blankets, and held it up to let it unfurl in his hand. “What in hell happened to this?” he asked, staring at the scorched hole in the center of the blanket, then looking at her.

  Winter’s already hot, congested face heated even more as she remained mute, refusing to explain yesterday’s debacle. She wasn’t about to tell a fellow drùidh that she was so inept she couldn’t even light a fire.

  He smiled, tossed the blanket down, and sat her down on top of it. “I’ll heat up some soup,” he said, going over to one of the boxes near the far wall. “And see if we can’t roust that cold before it settles in. Flying isn’t much fun when your head feels like it’s about to explode.”

  Winter stopped from wiping her nose on her sleeve and gaped at him. “I’m not flying anywhere.”

  Matt opened a can of soup and poured it in a pot, then put the pot on a heated rock beside the nicely burning fire. “I still have a quality control problem at my Utah plant, and now a little matter of a wedding ceremony to deal with. I figure I can take care of both with one quick trip west.” He looked over at her and smiled. “It’ll be a corny little chapel on the Las Vegas Strip, but it will be legal.”

  “I am not marrying you,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. “I didn’t marry you last night, and I sure as heck am not marrying you in a corny little chapel in Las Vegas.”

  He shrugged. “It’s for your benefit, not mine,” he said, pouring the steaming soup into a bowl and bringing it over to her. He found two spoons, came back and sat down on the ground beside her, and ate what was left in the pot while she wolfed down her own soup in silence.

  “I—I have to go to the bathroom,” she whispered the moment she was done, lifting her chin to counter the blush she knew was coloring her cheeks.

  He set down the pot, stood up, and held his hand out to her. Winter ignored it and scrambled to her feet, sneezed twice, then strode out of the cave while wiping her nose on her sleeve again. He followed two steps behind her. She had just reached the edge of the woods when he stopped her by turning her around to face him. “Your word you won’t run, or I stay right beside you.”

  She lifted her brow at him. “You’ll take my word?”

  He smiled. “I took it last night.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I was under the impression you were a woman of honor. Was I wrong?”

  “No,” she snapped. “And you don’t need to hide your brogue from me. Not anymore.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not hiding anything from you, Winter. I told you it only surfaces when I’m…er, under stress.”

  She spun toward the woods, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her again. “Promise me you won’t run.”

  “I won’t run,” she said with her back to him. “I promise.”

  He released her shoulder and Winter rushed into the thick bushes, going until she thought she was safely out of sight. She quickly took care of business, then moved even deeper into the woods, pulling out her cell phone as she looked over her shoulder to make sure he wasn’t growing impatient.

  She stopped, opened the tiny phone, and turned on the power button to find two towers of signal. She put her thumb over the speed-dial for Gù Brath…but didn’t push it. What could she possibly tell her parents? Hi, I’m here with Cùram de Gairn on Bear Mountain. Why don’t you rush up here and kill him for being an unholy bastard and breaking my heart?

  Winter hit the power button instead of the speed-dial, closed the phone, and tucked it back in her pocket with a sigh. As much as she hated him, as much as she wanted to find her stick and beat Matt Gregor to a bloody pulp, she certainly didn’t want his death on her hands, even though she wasn’t the one who would actually be doing the killing.

  As perverse as it seemed, Winter realized she couldn’t be in love with Matt one minute and then hate him the next, no matter who he was or what he was planning on doing. She hadn’t given her love lightly, and it was going to take her some time to fall out of love with him.

  Which gave Winter a whole new respect for Megan.

  She turned and walked back through the bushes, stepped into the clearing beside the ledge, and saw Matt leaning against the cave entrance, his arms crossed over his chest, smiling at her.

  “What about Snowball?” she asked as she walked up to him. “I need to check on him.”

  “He’s fine. I took off his blanket this morning and sent him home.”

  “No, you didn’t. That will only worry my parents.”

  He lifted a brow, still leaning against the cliff. “Didn’t you just call them on the phone you always carry and let them know where you are?”

  She shoved her fists in her jacket pockets and looked at his feet. “I didn’t call them.”

  He said nothing, only held out his hand beneath her lowered gaze. Winter kept her own hands in her pockets and brushed past him into the cave. She immediately started straightening up by folding and replacing his clothes that she’d pulled from his d
uffel bag while she’d been looking for matches. “Where’s my pinewood stick?” she asked as she worked.

  “Up there, out of your reach.”

  She turned to see him nodding toward a high ledge on the still-glowing granite and saw the tip of her staff peeking out over the edge. She zipped up his duffel bag, scooted over, and started folding the blankets.

  Large, warm hands settled on her shoulders. “Leave that and come over here,” he said, helping her stand by pulling on her jacket, then leading her over to sit near the far wall next to the fire.

  “W-what are you doing?” she whispered when he sat down directly behind her with his back to the wall.

  “I’m going to brush out your hair.”

  She shot her hand to her hair, gathered the knotted tangles together in her fist, and pulled them over her shoulder away from him. “I can brush out my own hair,” she said, raking her fingers through the tangles.

  He reached around her, pulled her hands down to her lap, then slid her hair back over her shoulder. “But I want to,” he said softly. “You just sit quietly while I tell you a little story. Then when I’m done, we can discuss our wedding plans.”

  Winter closed her eyes, going utterly still as a shiver raced along her spine when Matt’s hands slid under her hair. Up the back of her scalp, then gently down through her curls his fingers moved, until they got caught in the tangles. Then she felt the gentle tug of a fine-bristled brush as Matt slowly started working free the knots near the ends of her curls.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Once upon a very long time ago,” Matt began softly, “in a land far away, lived a young boy with dreams of becoming a mighty warrior. He lived with his mama and papa, and a younger brother and baby sister in a cottage high on a mountain.”