Kilty Pack One

by Amy Vansant

  “Funny.”

  After an hour of struggling, the forest gave way and Broch and Catriona found themselves staring into a shallow valley, illuminated by a nearly full moon. On the opposite side of the notch sat a house atop the ridge, a single light glowing in its window.

  “That must be Thorn’s place,” said Catriona.

  “It’s a good spot. Hard tae creep up on them perched on the hill lik’ that.”

  “I guess we’ll cross through the…what did Rusty call it? The holler?”

  Broch rubbed his chin, his gaze dancing across the landscape. He dropped the bag from his shoulder, unzipped it, and pulled his kilt from inside. Flipping it out, he laid it on the flattest available area. No sooner did he drop it, than both dogs flopped on top.

  “Are we having a picnic?” asked Catriona.

  “We’ll go na closer tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Fer one, ye tellt me he wouldn’t be there until tomorrow at the earliest.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Fer two, ah need tae think.”

  He pulled bottle after bottle of water from the bag and lined them up like soldiers at the edge of the kilt. Cupping his hands he nodded to the bottles.

  “Fer the dogs.”

  She cracked one open and poured it into his makeshift palm-bowl as the dogs took turns drinking.

  “I was wondering why that bag felt heavier. Did you take every bottle of water on the plane?”

  “Aye. All the whiskey and some a these bags that smell good.”

  He tossed a bag of peanuts at her.

  When the dogs had had their fill of water, she cracked one for herself and handed one to him. He handed her a tiny whiskey.

  “I’ll drink one of these if you hydrate. You’re like a camel.” She thrust a bottle of water at him.

  “Fine.”

  He opened a few packets of peanuts and fed them to the dogs while they drank and stared at Thorn’s hideout.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t keep going? Maybe it would be good to get there under cover of darkness?”

  He shook his head. “Lassie, ah ken nothing aboot this land and they live here. They’ll see us coming afore we can lay eyes on them. I’m here tae help, not tae watch ye run tae yer death.”

  She sighed. “If you say so. You’re the outdoorsy guy, I guess.”

  “Aye. At light ah’ll creep about and see what we’re up against.”

  She nodded and a shiver ran through her. “I didn’t realize how chilly it would be.”

  “We should get some sleep. We can squeeze between these two fur balls and work up some warmth.”

  He pushed his way between the poodles and motioned to her to join him.

  Catriona stared down at the man, her arms wrapped around her chest. It seemed odd to lie beside him. She still didn’t know him well, but he hadn’t done anything to betray her trust. Quite the contrary. He’d helped her with Jaxson, been kind during her panic attack and he’d come with her to Tennessee to save Sean. He hadn’t even complained about the two enormous—now filthy—standard poodles flanking him like columns on his freshly washed kilt-blanket.

  “Fine,” she dropped to her knees and slid in beside him, pushing hard against the poodle to her left to make room. The poodle grunted.

  Tucked like a hot dog in a bun, with one arm against the poodle and one against Broch, she sighed. “I suppose this would be a very elaborate stunt to get me alone in the woods. Especially since most of this was my idea.”

  He turned his head and squinted one eye at her, as if he didn’t understand.

  “I mean, it feels a little like you’re trying to set a romantic scene here.”

  He raised himself on his elbow. “Ye think ah’m going tae try tae kiss ye?”

  “I…” She realized how conceited the comment had sounded. He hadn’t made any real play for her affections. In fact, he’d called her plain. She’d forgotten about that.

  Apparently she wasn’t his type. Sure, he had a thing for being naked, but that might have nothing to do with her. “Sorry. I’m just chattering. It’s just that we’re out here alone—”

  He chuckled. “Lassie, if ah wanted tae kiss ye, ah’d just ask ye tae press yer lips on mine.”

  “And you’re so certain I’d say yes?”

  He nodded and made that face that reminded her of a rudimentary DeNiro impersonation. “Aye.”

  “Oh? And why is that? Because you’re so devastatingly handsome?”

  “Na. Because ye want tae.”

  She raised on her elbow to look him in the eye. “Wait. You think I want to kiss you?”

  “Aye.”

  “Oh? And who told you that?”

  He shrugged. “Ye.”

  “Me? Funny, I don’t remember saying that.”

  He grinned. “Yer eyes say it every time ye look at me.”

  “Ha. And how exactly do I look at you?”

  “Like this.” He glanced away and then snapped back, his eyes a little wider, his gaze sweeping down her body and back again, clearly pantomiming a flirty leer.

  She scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I do not look at you like that.”

  “You dae, but—”

  “But what?”

  “Yer scared of me.”

  “Scared? Why would I be scared?”

  “I dinnae ken. Look at me, am lik’ a wee puppy.”

  She smirked, but behind the smile her brain whirred, mulling his comment.

  Am I scared of him? He seems so...manly. A different sort of creature from the men she was used to meeting. More raw. More like the men she’d known as a child, before Sean saved her. Those men who scared her.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just…well…you know… You are from a time when men could do whatever they wanted with little consequence—”

  Broch sat up, and she could see by the look on his face that she’d made him angry. He thrust an index finger toward her and her stomach tightened with nerves.

  “Ye listen tae me, lassie. Ah would never take a woman that didn’t ask tae be taken.” His tone implied the disgust he held for the idea.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “There’s na pleasure tae be had if the woman takes na pleasure. Any man that would dae such a thing—”

  “I’m sorry. I, I was projecting. I had no reason—”

  He huffed and flopped back down, crossing his burly arms across his chest.

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “Broch, I’m sorry. I really am. It was a terrible, insulting thing to say to you, who’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

  His lips, pressed tight, released. He looked away.

  “I forgive ye. And ah apologize for saying ye were giving me the eye. Ah was only teasing ye.”

  “Thank you.” She laid back down beside him and stared up at the stars as an uncomfortable silence grew between them.

  “I’m glad we got that worked out,” she said, when the quiet became deafening.

  He grunted.

  “But I wasn’t eyeing you. Let’s be clear about that.”

  “Of course nae.”

  She scowled. Had she detected a hint of sarcasm?

  “Right. That’s what I said. I wasn’t.”

  “Aye. That’s what ye said.”

  She hadn’t imagined it. He was definitely being sarcastic.

  She pulled up on her elbow and poked his pec with her index finger. The muscle tight and springy, like she remembered from the night she found him.

  She felt her face flush with the memory.

  Oh sweet baby jane. I felt him up when he was unconscious. I’m the predator.

  “Did ye just poke me?”

  She snapped back to the present. “Huh? Oh. Yes. Yes. You’re making it sound like you don’t believe me.”

  He peered down his nose at her hand, drawing her attention to it. She’d relaxed it and now her palm was resting on his chest. She jerked it away.

  “Oh. You think that was an excuse
to touch you?”

  He shrugged. “Ye said it. Not me.”

  “Ooh!” She lie back down. “You’re infuriating. You’re lucky we only have one blanket or I’d move.”

  “It’s not a blanket,” he muttered.

  “Sorry, kilt. No. You know what? Blanket. I’ll call it a kilt when you say told instead of tellt and know instead of ken. How do you like that?”

  “I lik’ it just fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  She lay on her back, scowling into the night sky. It made her crazy to think he thought she wanted him.

  “We should get some sleep,” he said.

  She grunted in response and pulled the end of the bag they were using for a pillow beneath her neck. Somewhere nearby an owl hooted. She’d never heard a real owl. If she hadn’t been in her exact circumstances, she’d think it was a joke.

  She traced the imaginary lines of the big dipper with her eyes and resisted the urge to continue the argument.

  He still thinks I want him. I know it.

  The poodle beside her began to snore.

  Perfect.

  “Is that ye?” he asked.

  “No. It’s the dog.”

  “Still awake?”

  “No. I’m talking in my sleep.”

  You’re not the only one who can be sarcastic, you plaid-wearing pain in the—

  Broch rolled to his side and she turned her head to face him. She could see the moon reflected in his eyes, the light shadowing beneath the curve of his cheekbone. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, and the shadows spilled into the dimple created there.

  He still smelled like soap. He must have lathered up and then sat there for hours.

  “What?” she asked, unnerved by his gaze.

  “I think I’d lik’ tae kiss ye noo.”

  She jerked up to her elbow. “What?”

  “I’d lik’ tae put mah lips on yers. Mibbe smoosh them aroond a bit.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I thought I was too plain.”

  “Whit?”

  “Back at the apartment. You said I was plain.”

  He laughed. “Och. Na. Ah only said that tae bother ye. And—”

  “And what?”

  She saw him blush as he returned his gaze to her.

  “My Mother Rose told me if I wanted a lassie, the best way tae dae it was to pretend ah dinnae want her.”

  “She told you to play hard to get.”

  “Aye.”

  “Smart lady.”

  “Aye.”

  “So that’s how you get all the girls?”

  Now she was sure the color had risen in his cheeks. He licked his lips and placed his finger tips on her hand.

  “Na. I never wanted tae try it before noo.”

  Probably another well practiced line...but why does he have to be so adorable?

  She slid her hand out from under his and placed her fingers on top. “And now you want to kiss me.”

  “Aye.”

  “Because you asked.”

  “Aye.”

  “And you think I’ll say yes because I want to kiss you, too.”

  He shrugged. “I dinnae ken why you’d say yes if ye didn’t.”

  Fair point.

  “Okay.”

  He reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb, and then paused. “Okay means aye, aye?”

  “Aye.”

  He dropped his hand to her waist. Closing her eyes, she felt the heat of his lips brush by her own and a shiver of expectation ran through her body.

  No kiss came.

  Grazing her skin, his lips moved across her cheek to her neck. He paused there, his breath warm against her skin.

  Mouth moving towards her ear, she heard him whisper.

  “I told ye, ye wanted to kiss me.”

  She gasped.

  He rolled back laughing, body shaking with mirth.

  Rage and embarrassment devoured the titillation her body had roiled with a moment before.

  “You son of a—”

  Before she could finish the sentence he rose to his side again. His lips pressed hard against hers and he kissed her, her lips, her cheek, her neck. His arms encircled her and pressed her body tighter to his.

  She forgot to breathe and gasped to recover as his lips moved to beneath her ear.

  A tiny voice in her head urged her to pay him back, to tell him she didn’t want his attentions, to roll away laughing at him—

  She stomped that tiny voice until all she could hear was the sound of their breathing and threw back her head to allow him easier access to her throat.

  He dragged his tongue from the V of her throat to her jaw with the fervor of a starving vampire.

  She could feel the want in him, a man possessed. Was it such a stretch that he might be a demon, when he’d already traveled through time?

  At that moment, she found it hard to care.

  His tongue traced her jaw until their mouths found each other again and her hands reached down to cup his backside, demanding his hips move closer to hers. She could feel his excitement and his hands moved to cradle her breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple and she heard a moan. It took a moment for her to realize it was her own.

  It’s been so long.

  He knelt and fumbled with his jeans as she ached with the need for him to master the art of unbuttoning modern apparel.

  That’s when the poodle on his side stretched her leg with a jerk, donkey-kicking him in the crotch.

  She gasped and slapped her hand across her mouth.

  His eyes widened, lips puckering into an ‘O’ of pain as he flopped sideways, cupping himself, eyes squinted tight.

  “Oh no,” she said, knowing the statement was more for her own frustrations, but hoping he’d take it as sympathy. “That looked like it hurt.”

  He opened one eye. “Ye have na idea.”

  Broch leaned on one elbow and glared at the dog, who had already gone back to sleep.

  “Where did Lulu git these creatures? Did she agree tae watch the devil’s own in exchange fae some gift?”

  Catriona giggled. “That would explain a lot.”

  “What are ye laughing aboot? It isn’t funny.”

  She tried to force down the corners of her mouth, but seeing an embarrassed grin creep across his face she abandoned the effort and burst into laughter.

  Sitting up, she put her hand on his long fingers, splayed against the tartan as they supported his weight. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded and held her gaze. “I’m braw.”

  As she leaned forward to kiss him, she saw his gaze shift toward the ridge of the hollow. Only then did she realize the sun had begun to rise. A subtle glow filled the sky.

  “What do you see?”

  He kissed her on the tip of her nose and rolled back to sit on his heels.

  “Ah think ah have an idea.”

  She grimaced.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Broch stood and strode a few feet into the forest, adjusting his jeans as he walked. The poodles opened their eyes and sat up to watch him with some interest.

  “There are marks here,” he said pointing beside a stump.

  Catriona followed. As soon as she arrived beside him, she could see the stump itself did appear suspicious. Leaves seemed glued to the side of it. Scrape marks marred the dirt beside it. Rapping her knuckles on the wood, it returned with a hollow thud.

  “It isn’t real.”

  He squatted down and fingered what looked like moss on the side of the tree. “Tis on the wrong side. Should be tae the north. I could see that from our bed.”

  They caught each other’s eyes and then each looked away.

  “Our bed,” she muttered, chuckling.

  He jerked the stump toward the scrape marks and it slid easily on rails, revealing a hole and a metal ladder leading into the depths. Peering down into the hole, Catriona saw lights.

&
nbsp; “There are working lights, so it isn’t old. I bet it leads to Thorn’s house. He must use it to move drugs from the airport without being seen.”

  “Then we’ve found our way intae his castle.”

  Catriona twisted her mouth to the side. “But don’t you think it will be guarded?”

  “Ye said he shouldn’t be home yet.”

  “True. But the lights were on last night.”

  “Still are. Could be they always are,” he said, standing and peering across the valley.

  One of the dogs bumped up against her in her quest to sniff the hole. Catriona sighed. “What are we going to do with you two?”

  Broch tapped a mud stain on top of one dog’s head. “At least ah can tell them apart noo. Muddy and Nae Sae Muddy.”

  Broch stepped onto the ladder and shimmied down. Catriona ran back to where they’d attempted to sleep, balled up the kilt, stuffed it in her bag and returned. A moment later Broch called up.

  “It looks clear the length as ah can see.”

  She dropped the bag down the hole and he caught it. A moment later he climbed back up and grabbed one of the struggling dogs to transport it into the tunnel. He returned to grab the next and Catriona followed.

  At the bottom of the ladder, she saw the tunnel seemed to follow the curve of the ridge toward the house. There were tracks on the ground and a string of lights that lit the way every fifteen feet or so.

  “Ye stay back and let me forge ahead,” said Broch.

  No sooner did he finish his sentence than both dogs tore down the tunnel after each other, weaving back and forth.

  Catriona put her hands on her hips. “Looks like you were out-voted.”

  They walked with the dogs in the lead, falling back to check on them and then racing forward again for over a half an hour before reaching the end of the line. A mine cart sat at the bottom of another metal-runged ladder.

  “You think this leads to the house?” whispered Catriona.

  Broch nodded. “Feels right.”

  He climbed to the top and placed his ear against the wooden door there. After listening for a minute, he pushed open the door, peeked around, and then crawled topside.

  Catriona crouched, a dog under each arm, her stomach in knots. Just as she feared Broch would never return, his face appeared at the top of the ladder.

  “Empty.”

  Catriona peered down at the dogs, who both stood staring up the ladder, tongues lolling.