Katie's Highlander

by Maeve Greyson

  Katie’s Highlander is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept Ebook Original

  Copyright © 2019 by Maeve Greyson

  Excerpt from Illegally Yours by Kate Meader copyright © 2019 by Kate Meader

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Illegally Yours by Kate Meader. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  Ebook ISBN 9780399594854

  Cover design: Carrie Divine/Seductive Designs

  Cover photographs: Period Images (couple), vivairina/Depositphotos.com (background)

  randomhousebooks.com

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Preface

  Author's Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  By Maeve Greyson

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Illegally Yours

  Preface

  Long ago, in ancient Scotland, there was a time of druids. Contrary to the god-like perceptions their closely guarded teachings and warlike prowess gave, these druids were not immortal. They lived. They loved. They died. But most of all, they honored the old ways, serving the mighty goddesses with endless dedication. These druids banded together, creating phenomenally powerful clans more willing than the average Scot to die for their beliefs.

  Their lore, the druid teachings, were sacred. The tenets were so safeguarded that recording the rites in leather-bound tomes destined to age into yellowed pages in history’s annals was strictly forbidden. Instead, the traditions were passed down orally. Father to son. Mother to daughter. Druid chief to chosen successor.

  Of all the druid clans, the strongest and most beloved of the goddesses was the MacDara bloodline. More devoted than any other and trained by the warrior goddess Scota herself, the MacDara chieftains and their sons mastered the goddesses’ four sacred weapons: sword, hammer, shield, and spear. No better archers than the MacDara daughters would ever be found.

  The MacDara clan became the goddesses’ mightiest champions. And with this honor came the task of guarding the goddesses’ most hallowed gift to all humanity: the blessed Heartstone—the ancient relic filled with the unexplainable energy that made every mortal life worth living. A stone rumored to be an extension of the goddesses themselves. A sentient being in its own right.

  The goddesses placed the Heartstone among men to fuel humankind’s most fundamental needs: to love, the courage to hope, and the drive to evolve to a higher level of enlightenment. Without the Heartstone’s subtle fueling of humanity’s desire to achieve a brighter future, civilizations would cease to flourish and improve. Progress among man would stagnate. Life would be nothing more than a dreary mediocrity until snuffed out by death.

  Humans can survive without many things, but love and hope—the urgent need to better one’s circumstances—are essential ingredients to living. The Heartstone guards these divine energies, protects humanity from the mortal weakness of complacency and surrender. The Heartstone keeps the bleak darkness of futility and hopelessness at bay.

  The blessed stone and its lore were revered by all the druid clans and followers of the old ways. It was the most precious gift from the goddesses. But as centuries passed and beliefs changed, the knowledge of the Heartstone and the legends of the Highland Protectors and the druid clans who served them faded away into barely remembered myths. Then the myths were forgotten, abandoned by mankind. Replaced by the intriguing wonders of technology and science.

  Except by those who knew the cost of forgetting the old ways: the druid clans and the Highland Protectors.

  Scattered across the world by history and walking among society as though the tales of their ancestors were never anything more than fanciful stories of a long-ago time, the descendants of the clans now live double lives, upholding their families’ ancient oath: protect those who protect the Heartstone. Their ancestors had failed the chosen MacDara clan once. They will not fail again. Not only for the sake of the MacDara clan—but for the sake of all humankind…even though those they protect are oblivious to the reality of the stone and its powers.

  The Heartstone—and humanity’s evolution—must be protected at all cost and the MacDara druid clan and their descendants are the only ones deemed worthy and strong enough to do so. Selected by the goddesses and the sacred stone itself, the MacDaras are the only bloodline fit for the task.

  The Heartstone will ensure the MacDaras do more than survive. They will thrive—for their bloodline must never die out…no matter where among the ripples of time the goddesses decide to drop them.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

  If you started the Highland Protectors series at the beginning, you read Sadie’s Highlander and learned that the goddesses brought the MacDara family forward in time from 900 A.D. Their beloved broch in the Highlands of Scotland was under attack and about to fall to a murderous horde from the north. The goddesses relocated the MacDaras to present day North Carolina to not only save their lives but also enable them to continue their legacy to protect the Heartstone.

  The four sons of the family had barely reached adulthood when they arrived in the future. Alec was twenty, Grant eighteen, Ramsay sixteen, and Ross fourteen. Their parents, Sarinda, pregnant with her prayed-for daughter, and Emrys, high chieftain of all the druid clans, also made the trip. Once the family was placed in the present, they aged naturally, as they would have had they remained in their original time. Sadie’s Highlander takes place after they’ve been in the future for fifteen years.

  Then came the second book of the series, Joanna’s Highlander, which picks up a year after Sadie’s Highlander and sixteen years after the MacDaras’ life-changing shift forward through the centuries. Alec and Sadie from Book One are now happily married and pregnant. Grant, the next brother in line and our hero in Joanna’s Highlander, is thirty-four and spent a year and a half plotting the best way to win Joanna’s heart—and after a few bumps and wrong turns, his plan worked.

  Now it’s Ramsay Danann MacDara’s turn. Third brother in the birthing order. Seventeen years after their shift in centuries. His two older brothers, Alec and Grant, are happily married and have become fathers of the next generation of MacDaras.
Ramsay thought he’d be married by now too but that was before his fiancée revealed that she loved the MacDara clan money a lot more than she loved Ramsay.

  A medieval Highlander transplanted into the twenty-first century, especially one who’s always been more comfortable around animals than people, isn’t exactly equipped with the skill set to identify, as well as deal with, a woman pretending to love him to get to his money. So now Ramsay spends most of his time alone, riding through the North Carolina woods with no other company than his horse, Dubh. But that’s before squealing wheels and a loud crashing sound shatter the peace and quiet of his nightly ride and he happens upon a very delectable looking pair of legs attached to the finest arse he’s ever seen sticking out of the moonroof of an extremely dented sports car.

  And now—I leave you to the story.

  Maeve

  Chapter 1

  BRADY, NORTH CAROLINA

  SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS

  MODERN DAY

  “Come on, you stubborn piece of crap! Give me a break—will you?”

  Hanging upside down through the moonroof of her wrecked car was not the way Katie Jenson had envisioned her scenic drive through North Carolina ending. A cute little bed-and-breakfast with a feather bed and a hand-quilted comforter? Yes. Wedged between a downed tree and a high embankment that led her to believe she’d managed to launch her poor sports car into a muddy creek bed? No.

  Her frustration vented loud and long in the form of a screeching guttural roar that only succeeded in making her throat feel even more raw than it already was. The choking dust from the deployed airbags had done a number on her lungs and all her growling did was make it worse.

  And while such venting really didn’t solve anything, it did manage to tap into another surge of adrenaline and fuel more frenzied poking with the crooked stick she’d found stuck in the earth wall on the driver’s side of her car. The strap of her backpack remained just out of reach and in the yellow-green haze of the phosphorescent glow sticks she’d snapped and scattered around the interior of the car, it looked like the sagging flap of the canvas bag was smiling at her—obviously mocking her and her efforts.

  I knew I should’ve seatbelted that damn thing in.

  Maybe then it wouldn’t have ended up on the floorboard when she’d overcorrected, hit her brakes, and shot into the ditch. My laptop’s got to be okay. Oh hell. Did I back it up to the cloud before I left? The end of the useless poking stick snapped off and bounced down to land beside her bag.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” She repositioned her hands and stretched as far as she could reach. If she’d had any sense, she would’ve grabbed the stupid thing before she’d climbed out of the car the first time.

  “But nooo.” Katie wiggled deeper into the car and swung the remainder of the stick at the elusive strap of the bag. “Why would I want to make things easier? Why would I actually think before I acted for a change? Damn, damn, dammit!”

  Story of her life. Nine times out of ten she was her own worst enemy. She propped an elbow atop the driver’s seat and swiped her other arm across her sweaty forehead. What a way to enjoy a moonlit night. At least she’d scattered enough of the emergency glow sticks both in and around the car so that freaking satellites could probably see her. Seeing the bag wasn’t a problem—snagging hold of the son of a bitch was.

  She sneezed hard, whacking her head against the roof of the car in the process. Dammit! She rubbed the back of her smarting skull then throttled up on the infuriating stick again. No way was she about to climb all the way back into the car and swim around in all that nasty powder from the airbags again. But she couldn’t leave the bag behind. Her laptop and journal were irreplaceable.

  “Ho, there! Down in the ditch! Are ye injured?”

  Katie froze, then cocked her head to one side and listened harder, attempting to block out the night noises of chirping crickets and buzzing katydids chi-chi’ing through the dark Carolina woods. Was that the sound of help on the way? Which direction had it come from?

  “Hello?” she cautiously called out, praying that the wonderfully deep voice she’d just heard had come from a real person and not her currently overactive imagination. “Hello?” she repeated louder, forcing her voice to sound a hell of a lot stronger and calmer than she felt.

  She curled to one side and tried to peer up through the debris-covered glass at her waist. Please hear me and answer. She contemplated screaming as loud as she could but how loud would that really be with a moonroof shoved against her gut and gravity sending everything else up against her lungs? She waited, holding her breath and blinking hard against the combination of powdery airbag dust and burning sweat trickling into her eyes.

  Still no response. Well shit. Had she really heard somebody or was it just wishful thinking? Surely, she wasn’t hallucinating. She wasn’t hurt. She was just pissed. She readjusted her hold on the back of the seat and inched her way closer to the driver’s side windows. Of course, she had been hanging upside down for quite a while trying to snag that damn bag. Her blood pounding in her ears had her feeling as though her head was about to pop off her neck. Maybe she had only thought she’d heard someone.

  She sucked in as deep a breath as she could manage, turned her face toward the cracked window in the driver’s door, and yelled louder. “I need help! Is somebody out there?” Please be a person. Please be real. She wiggled around, attempting to retreat out of the vehicle by scissoring both legs that were currently sprouting out of the roof.

  Struggling against the headrest, Katie walked her hands back across the narrow top of the driver’s seat. If she could worm her way back out of the car, maybe she could make them hear her and hopefully even spot her potential rescuer. She accidently bumped the moonroof button with her right elbow and the panel made a high-pitched whining sound as it snugged up tighter against her waist. Panic mounting, she banged her arm against the ceiling of the car, managed to hit the button again, and stopped the closing panel before it got even tighter. She sagged forward and rested both hands on the high headrest of the compact car’s sporty little driver’s seat. Can’t give up now. Inhaling deeply to make her waist smaller, she tried to push herself backward but came to a halt when her rib cage thumped against the glass. The moonroof opening was now too narrow to back out of or go through.

  “Oh God. I think I’m stuck.” A grunt escaped her as she bumped the button again to reopen the panel. The mechanism shot any hope of freedom when it let out a wheezing grind that gradually wound down to deathly silence.

  Shitfire! Can this night get any better? “Hello? Is somebody out there? Please really be somebody out there.” She sounded pathetic even to herself. Letting out a high-pitched frustrated growl, she beat her elbows against the ceiling and screamed as loud as she could. It might not do any good, but it made her feel a hell of lot better. From now on, only SUVs. Or Jeeps. No more little clown cars that look cute until they try to eat you.

  “Hold tight, mistress. I’m comin’ down t’ye. Hold tight. ’Tis a bit of a puzzle how best t’reach ye. But ne’er ye fear, I’ll get there and have ye safely out in no time.”

  Hold tight? Really? If she hadn’t been so frustrated with the situation, she would’ve laughed out loud. “At least it’s a real person.” She blew out a relieved breath, sneezed again from the airbag dust, then wiped the back of her hand across her tingling nose. “It’s gonna be okay,” she reassured herself under her breath. “Help is finally on the way.”

  Solid thuds hit the ground, sounding as though they came from somewhere near the back of the car. Leaves crunched. Sticks snapped. Something sounded like it was either sliding through the leaf mold covering the woodland floor or being dragged down into the ditch with her. She could’ve sworn she’d heard a horse snort or whatever it was that horses did to make that weird snot-blowing sound. She twisted and tried looking out the side windows and then the back but all s
he could see in the light of the full moon and the greenish-yellow glow rising all around her from the phosphorescent sticks was a hellatiously large downed tree trunk on one side of the car and the dirt embankment on the other.

  “Hello?” she called out. “You didn’t leave me hanging here, did you?”

  “Close yer eyes, mistress,” instructed the deliciously deep voice made all the richer with a lovely Scottish accent. “And keep them closed until I say, aye?”

  Mistress? Seriously? It was hard listening to what the man said because of the hypnotic way he said it. “Wait—what? Why?” Katie curled herself in half and strained to look out the back window of the car but all she could make out was the movement of a dark form.

  A hard thud and shattering glass answered her question and convinced her to close her eyes and turn away from the flying debris. The sound of more breaking glass and metal grating against metal filled the air as the vehicle rocked and groaned.

  A great deal of grunting ensued. Car debris rattled and screeched as it was shoved about. And then silence. Katie risked opening her eyes and found herself nose to nose, still upside down, but nose to nose with the sexiest looking rescuer she’d ever seen—even in the eerie yellow-green lighting. Relief flooded through her and she couldn’t help but smile.

  Papa always said there’s a bright side to everything. She reached out and cradled the man’s face between her hands. “I’m Katie and you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

  The man’s dark brows arched to his hairline. He gave her an incredulous look then slowly returned her smile. “Aye? Well then…’tis my pleasure t’meet ye as well. But tell me—are ye hurt then, Mistress Katie?”