Only With a Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  “I blessed the food while it was cooking,” Daar said, reaching for the bowl of potatoes. “We can begin eating.”

  Winter quickly slid the potatoes out of his reach. “Then maybe you could bless us,” she suggested.

  “All of us?” he asked, darting an uncharitable glance at Matt before glaring back at Winter.

  “I hope I don’t drop the pumpkin pie when I bring it out,” she said, keeping her hand on the bowl of potatoes.

  Daar snapped his gaze down to his empty plate, folded his hands together, and said, “We ask ye God, to bless all the good people here today, that we might finally get to enjoy yer bounty. Amen. Let’s eat.”

  Apparently eating was more important than worrying about sitting down to dinner with the enemy, and Daar took the casserole, spooned himself a huge helping, and bypassed Grey by handing it directly to Grace, obviously not wanting to interrupt the carving. “I’ll take that leg and thigh, Laird, if ye’re wanting to get it out of yer way,” Daar said, holding his plate toward Grey. “And some of that stuffing.”

  “So, Matt,” Grace said as she passed Winter the casserole, “have you found a way into your cave yet? Or do you think it even still exists?”

  “I can feel an energy coming from inside the cliff,” Matt told her as he took the cranberry sauce from Megan. “But only sometimes, and usually at night.”

  “You’ve been going to the cliff at night?” Winter asked in surprise. “When?”

  “I misspoke,” he told her. “I mean in the early morning, just before dawn. I often stop by on my way to check the progress on our cottage, just to see if anything’s changed at the cliff.” He looked over to include Grey. “If I place my hands on the rock and concentrate, I can make out a vibration coming from inside.” He looked to the far wall, and Winter saw him rub his fingers together on his right hand. “Actually, the granite feels unusually warm, and I can hear faint tapping sounds coming from inside.” He looked back at Grey and shook his head. “I’ve tried to place the sound, but I can’t.”

  “So you think something is going on in there?” Megan asked. “That the cave still exists and someone is working inside it?”

  Daar stopped stuffing food in his mouth long enough to glare at Matt. “Who else have ye angered over the centuries?” he asked.

  Matt looked startled. “No one,” he said. “I haven’t angered anyone…else.”

  “The vibration you felt,” Winter asked, drawing his attention. “Is it the same energy we sensed near the pine?”

  “It feels the same,” Matt said, though he was shaking his head. “Whoever it is, he’s much more powerful than either of us, I’m afraid. He’s able to cloak his identity even from me, and he’s made the cliff impervious. I tried getting inside from a different direction, but I couldn’t get within ten feet of the original cave.”

  Winter grinned crookedly. “You keep calling the energy a ‘he.’ Maybe it’s a ‘she.’ Maybe that’s why you can’t wiggle your way around her power.”

  “Neither can you.”

  “Not yet,” she said, filling her fork with potato and popping it into her mouth, smiling at Matt’s frown as she chewed.

  Daar stopped eating long enough to ask Matt another question. “What were ye doing up on TarStone yesterday? Ye made a terrible racket that shook the mountain hard enough to knock my lantern off its peg, and ye caused a landslide that missed my cabin by only a few yards.”

  Again, Matt looked surprised, then suddenly turned narrowed eyes on Winter. She quickly popped some turkey into her mouth, chewed, then said, “Megan, would you pass me the cranberry sauce, please?”

  “Winter?” Matt growled.

  At the sound of the doorbell, Winter rose to answer the door. “Hello, Tom. We’d given up on you, I’m afraid, and have already sat down to eat.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling off his cap and inclining his head in apology. “I lost track of time.” He looked toward the dining room. “Is there anything left?”

  “There won’t be if you don’t beat Daar to the dessert,” she said with a laugh, slipping her arm through Tom’s to escort him into the dining room once he hung up his coat.

  “I’m sorry,” Tom repeated to the table of people as he walked over to the empty chair beside Matt. “I lost track of time,” he told them, a gleam in his eyes as he looked at Winter. “I got involved working on Winter’s birthday gift.”

  “Oh,” she said, clasping her hands in delight and looking up the table at her parents. “Tom is carving something special for my birthday. He’s keeping it under a sheet in his workshop and won’t let me in, but I saw just enough to know it’s nearly as large as a small car. Tom, there’s really no reason to wait to give me my gift.”

  Tom chuckled as he began filling his plate with food. “I know it’s quite a difficult concept for you to imagine, Winter, but patience can be a useful virtue.” He gave her a wink, then scanned his gaze up the table. “Did any of you hear that loud noise on the summit of TarStone yesterday morning? I was hiking into town and I swear I heard thunder, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.” He looked at Matt. “At first I thought it was your jet breaking the sound barrier, but I saw you driving down to your cabin not ten minutes later.”

  “I heard it,” Daar piped up between bites before anyone could answer. “Something caused a powerful landslide that pretty near cleaned out my cabin.”

  “It could have been seismic activity,” Megan quickly offered with a smile, reaching over and poking Winter’s thigh. “We get tremors every now and then, when the land rebounds from the weight of the old glaciers.”

  “Even a small tremor could trigger a landslide,” Grace added, winking at Winter.

  Winter just kept eating, deciding that maybe she should start driving to the next county to practice her magic. She had been able to master some things, like masking her own vibrations of energy at least enough to hide her pencil from Matt. And she had finally conquered fire—well, mostly. But learning to think like a man was about as likely as her learning patience.

  “I have an announcement,” Matt said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Our cottage is finished. It cost me a bundle in bonuses, but the crew pounded the last nail and put on the final coat of paint yesterday afternoon. We can move in tomorrow.”

  “But tomorrow is the first official shopping day of Christmas, and my busiest day of the year,” Winter said. “And both Megan and Mama have to help me out in the gallery. We can’t move in tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to lift a finger,” Matt said. “I’ll move us in.”

  “And hang the curtains?” Grace asked, giving Matt a skeptical look. “And unpack all the boxes and set up the kitchen and bathroom? We’re going to be busy right up until Christmas.”

  “Don’t you wish there really was such a thing as magic?” Tom interjected with a smile. “That we could just wave a magic wand and make everything happen just like that?” he said, snapping his fingers in the air.

  Winter could only blink at her friend, and when she looked over and saw the gleam in Matt’s eyes, had to cover her mouth with her napkin so she wouldn’t burst into laughter.

  Yes, if only they had a magic wand…or two.

  Matt sat on the couch facing the brightly burning fieldstone hearth that dominated the north wall of their cozy three-room cottage, frowning at his wife draped across his lap. “You aren’t falling asleep on me, are you?” he asked, giving her a small shake. “This is our first night in our very own home. We should be dancing naked in front of the fire.”

  “You dance,” she said drowsily, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “I’ll watch.”

  “Poor baby. Hard day at work?” He tenderly stroked her thigh. “Were you sick again today?”

  “Only queasy, because I didn’t have time to throw up,” she said with a tired sigh. She looked at him and smiled. “I did finally call Heather, and she said having morning sickness is a good sign that the baby is settling in for a long and happy stay.” />
  “Heather’s the doctor, right? Your oldest sister who lives in California?” He laid his hand across her flat stomach when she nodded, his fingertips spanning her waist from hip to hip. “Seven daughters,” he said with a chuckle. “Your poor papa.” He smiled when she frowned. “You’re not going to take after your mama, I hope. I want at least a few sons.”

  “It’s the man who donates the Y chromosome,” she told him, her frown deepening as she wiggled around to see him better. “How come you know so much about the twenty-first century, about stuff like physics and business?”

  “I’ve been living here for almost three years now.”

  “Since Kenzie came? You came here when he did?”

  “No, shortly after.”

  “Did you come to Pine Creek? How come I never saw you?”

  “I only came here four times a year, and stayed just the twenty-four hours Kenzie was human. The rest of the time I spent out in the world, learning as much as I could about modern society and technology, gathering wealth and knowledge while waiting for when you were ready.”

  “Ready? For what?” she asked in surprise.

  “Me,” he said, leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose. “And actually, you did see me a few times in the last couple of years.” He nodded toward the hearth, to the large painting hanging over the mantel. “Even though I was damn good at masking myself, you were still able to sense my energy. I’m right there in Moon Watchers, in the top left corner.” He frowned when she looked from the painting to him. “I don’t like that you made me a fairy, and I’ve a mind to make you repaint my image.”

  She lifted her chin. “Artists do not change their vision to suit picky patrons. I sensed a warm, sweet spirit that night, and that’s what I painted. You don’t like it, hang it back in the gallery. I could probably get double what you paid for that painting the way business was today.”

  Matt pulled her more tightly against his chest. “I am not selling Moon Watchers.” He kissed her nose again. “And I am not sweet.”

  She looked around their perfectly furnished living room, then brought her gaze back to his and lifted her brow. “I would say busting your butt to get us moved in today without using your magic makes you sweet.”

  “It wasn’t sweetness motivating me, it was lust,” he said, lifting her shoulders to kiss her full on the mouth this time. “I worked my tail off to get us moved in here, so I can finally make you scream again without worrying about your father charging in on us with his sword.”

  His wide-eyed little wife giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Papa’s been living in this time over thirty-seven years, and he still sleeps with his sword by his bed.” She kissed the pulse on Matt’s neck, then grinned up at him. “I’ve noticed you’re in the habit of placing your fountain pen on the beside table. Maybe I should start sleeping with my pencil.”

  Matt involuntarily shuddered. “Lord, lass, don’t do that. You’ll burn down our home and we’ll have to move back in with your parents.”

  She ran her fingers through his loose hair, making him shudder again. “It was rather exciting trying to make love without making any noise,” she whispered. “Maybe even decadent. I liked doing it in the shower with the water running.”

  Matt smiled sadly. “Too bad you’re so tired. I planned to try out the hot tub on the front porch tonight,” he said with a sigh as he leaned his head against the back of the couch.

  But he quickly snapped forward with a surprised grunt when his suddenly wide-awake wife squealed in delight and scrambled off his lap. “We have a hot tub?” she cried. “Why didn’t I see it when I came home?”

  Home. Matt decided he liked the sound of that, especially when Winter said it. “Because you came in through the back door,” he explained, leaning against the couch again and lifting one brow. “Get a second wind, did you?”

  But he was talking to her back, as Winter ran out the front door. Matt got up with a rather tired sigh of his own. Moving an entire household in one day hadn’t been easy, especially considering that he’d only resorted to using his magic toward the end, when it had looked like he wouldn’t get done by the time Winter got home. He followed his wife onto the porch that overlooked the lake, and found her already stripped down to her bra and pants.

  “Quick, get undressed,” she said as she kicked off her shoes, unfastened her pants, shoved them down her legs, and stepped out of them. She stopped in the process of unclipping her bra. “The tub is all warmed up, isn’t it?”

  “It’s warm,” Matt said, unbuttoning his own shirt. “Wind up your braid so it won’t get wet. The…ah, hot tub won’t hurt the baby, will it?”

  “No,” she said, tossing her bra away and sliding her thumbs under the elastic of her panties. “As long as it’s not too hot, and I don’t stay in too long.”

  Matt had a little more trouble unfastening his own suddenly tight pants, and had to sit down to unlace his boots—and hopefully get control of his lust before neither of them reached the tub. But he only ended up making knots in his laces instead of undoing them, when he spotted his naked wife with her arms raised to twine her hair on top of her head, bathed in the soft light coming through the huge front windows.

  She was so stunningly beautiful, so vivaciously alive and filled with such innocent promise, that sometimes Matt found himself wondering if this was nothing more than a dream.

  Or maybe it was hell. Maybe Providence was punishing his sins by giving him just a taste of Winter—offering him this one small glimpse of hope—before it all disappeared just as suddenly as the entrance to his cave had. Aye, maybe the energy he felt coming from inside the cliff was really an avenging angel, waiting for just the right time to deliver his deathblow.

  If that was the case, then so be it. Matt had placed his future in Winter’s delicate hands, and he had four weeks left before he met his fate face on. He would damned well meet it with the courage of a warrior.

  But in the meantime, he had every intention of basking in the warmth of Winter’s hopefulness, regretting none of his actions that had ultimately brought him to her. She would at least save his brother, Matt knew, and protect their child at all costs—even if it meant destroying him—because her strength of spirit would not allow her to do anything less.

  As long as there was life there was hope, she’d told him in the cave the day after he’d claimed her, and at this single moment in time Matt felt more alive than he had in centuries.

  “Oh, this is heavenly,” Winter breathed, sliding into the warm swirling water up to her neck. “Run inside and turn out the lights so we can see the lake and the stars.”

  Matt gave up and tore his laces free, finished stripping off his clothes, reached inside and hit the light switch beside the door, and quickly climbed in the tub.

  “I’m so glad I was smart enough to marry a sweet man who’s enamored with modern technology,” she said, floating toward him until she was just barely straddling his thighs. Matt’s eyes had adjusted to the starlight enough that he could make out her smile when she asked, “How far are we from Tom’s cabin?”

  “Almost a mile,” he told her, only to suck air through his teeth when her floating breasts bumped his chest.

  “And will sound carry almost a mile?”

  “It—It depends on the sound,” he rasped when she slid her hips forward along his thighs.

  “Oh, say a scream, for instance,” she whispered, one of her hands dancing over his shoulders and into his hair. “Would a scream carry a mile down the shoreline?”

  His shout of surprise sure as hell did, when his anything but compassionate little wife suddenly reached down and wrapped her other hand around his shaft.

  She actually laughed. “I’ve been waiting five weeks to make you shout,” she said, guiding him inside her with painstaking slowness. “I can’t tell you how many times I was tempted to do this at Gù Brath,” she whispered as she nipped his neck just below his ear. “I think I’ll see if I can’t make both of us scre
am tonight, husband.”

  Oh, yes, Matt thought when he felt a sudden lurch very near where his heart used to be, capturing his sweet vixen fairy and kissing her deeply. As long as there was life, there truly must be hope.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Winter stood insentient, unable to do more than stare in disbelief at her pine tree. Its bark was shriveled like mummified skin, its remaining branches drooping bonelessly, its needles turned brown and scattered over the pristine blanket of last night’s snowfall. Sometime between two days ago and this morning, somebody had dug a large, deep hole at the base of the pine, exposing its roots to the frigid air and ultimately delivering a fatal blow.

  Winter had made a point of visiting her pine tree every few days since Gesader had brought her to it nine weeks ago, so she could sit and hug it and share enough of her energy to keep it alive. But this morning, eager to greet the dawn of the winter solstice in the company of her magical white pine, she had arrived at sunrise to find only death and destruction. And since first hearing Matt’s heartbreaking story of despair, Winter finally understood the chilling definition of hopelessness.

  She’d lost. Without her tree of life she had no way to save mankind or help Kenzie. On the dawn of her twenty-fifth birthday, her gift to the world was its end, her having failed Providence miserably and completely. If she only could have mastered the magic she would have been able to help the men find and defeat the strange and destructive energy before it had rendered this mortal blow.

  So confident she had been. So maddeningly sure of herself and her ability to rebalance the continuum with nothing more than her strength of conviction. Loving Matheson Gregor unconditionally hadn’t saved him, but had doomed them all.

  Winter finally came out of her stupor, unfastened her snowshoes and kicked them off. She rushed through the foot of new snow—skirting the deep hole—wrapped her arms around her pine’s shriveled bark, closed her eyes, and listened for even a whisper of life. She pulled off her cap and threw it to the ground to lay her ear against the trunk…and felt nothing. Tears streamed down her cheeks and froze on her jacket as she tightened her embrace and willed her life-energy into the tree…and still she felt nothing other than her own pounding heart racing in horror.