A Highlander's Home Read online

  Raine had to give herself a slight shake to keep her mind on the task at hand. This man had the power to throw her in the dungeon or possibly help her find a way back home.

  She started her story, staring more at her feet as she paced the room, trying to choose her words carefully so that he might be able to better associate this with his own understanding. She told him of the stones in the middle of the open field, of the professor and his rambling that night about special words, the blasting thunderstorm with its wild and wet sheets of rain, and eventually how she awoke within the confines of the camp belonging to his mean spirited cousin.

  When she had finished her explanation, she was sitting in front of the window but no longer seeing the beauty of the Scottish countryside. Rather, she stared into nothingness, speaking her thoughts aloud instead of actually telling a story. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to look at him, still seated on the massive bed.

  His brows were drawn together in consternation and he studied his fingernails. He leaned forward. “In your land, women are allowed to hold positions and earn money?” She nodded. “And this is considered respectable?” She nodded again.

  Now he was the one who paced the room in thought. “This professor,” he said. He pinned her with a stare. “He was your husband?”

  “No.”

  “Your lover then?”

  “No.” Her voice rose an octave, showing her irritation. She was trying to tell him her theory on possible time travel, and he was worried about her love life!

  “Your fiancé? Your man?” His frown deepened. “No!” She wanted to scream. He must have sensed it, or maybe it was the sudden redness of her lovely cheeks that gave it away.

  “I am trying to tell you that I was standing in front of some strange, oversized slabs of rocks during a raging storm while my friend rambled on about magic and spells, and the next thing I knew I was careening through empty air and woke up cold, naked, and lying in the midst of a group of potential murderers! And all you are worried about is my relationship to the Professor?!”

  She looked quite breath taking with her hands on her hips, chin out in defiance while her green eyes were bright with anger. She looked like she could have set the devil himself on fire. He might just keep her. He smiled in spite of himself.

  He did not know quite what to make of her tale other than that it was quite a tall one, but that she believed it to be true. The stones, however, had piqued his interest. He would have to make mention of them to Mac, the local priest and lifelong friend. He was always reading and playing with what he called, “experiments.”

  Leith sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Lass, do not get yerself worked into lather. While I do not fully believe you, I believe that you believe you. As long as you are a virgin when we wed, I do not mind that you had a male friend.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, or yell he thought, and wondered if he had ever seen a person purse their lips together so tight. He held up his hand to silence her.

  “Now, lass. I am not accusing ye of lying. I just do not know what to make of it all. I agree you are different and from a place not near here, but that is all. Perhaps you are not my intended bride,” he leaned closer to her, “but until proven otherwise, that is what you are now and will remain until I am persuaded otherwise. Do ye ken?”

  Chapter 4

  Leith made his way slowly through the compound. His brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes distant. His people knew to avoid him when he had that look about him. As he walked to the dwelling of the local priest, Father MacDonald, he mulled over the enticing, albeit strange, conversation he had had with his intended bride. She seemed so earnest in her explanation to him that he had a difficult time discounting it. But traveling to a different century? Bah. The next thing would be that people from her land could fly to the moon. Mac might be able to help sort this out.

  He walked through the heavy wooden doors that opened into the building that served as the church for townspeople. At the back of the building, off to the side, was a smaller door that led to the tiny apartments occupied by the priest. Leith did not knock, just strode in. Even as a child, he had always just barged in, never giving thought that the priest might enjoy some privacy. After all, Leith had thought, he was a priest and should be available to his people at all times. This was one of those times.

  Mac looked up from the book he was reading, and smiled. “Leith! How good of you to visit. Sit.” He made to get up and pour some ale, but Leith waved him back.

  “Do not trouble yourself, old friend. I need to discuss something with you.” He paused. If he did not trust the priest who had served not only him, but his father before him, he might give pause as to broaching the subject of his strange bride-to-be. “It is the woman.” He let out a deep breath.

  The priest smiled. “I was wondering about her.”

  He waved to the chair opposite him and Leith sank down in it. “I heard she is…different…than we might have expected.”

  Leith smiled. “Ye have no idea, Mac.”

  The two had known each other all of the Laird’s life. Father MacDonald had advised Leith’s father on many occasions including battles and war tactics, political dealings with the Queen, and had even dabbled in the knowledge of the stars. He was there to help with the healing of the townspeople as well attending the birth of Leith himself. They had a familiarity that was almost familial.

  “She claims that she is not my intended and that she comes from the future.” There…he said it. Damn the absurdity of it all. Even now to his own ears, it was beyond being sane. He met the astounded stare and open mouth of Mac without wavering. “I swear that is what she claims. Although she seems quite sane,” he added hastily. He did not want to put this woman out just because her faculties might be slightly disturbed.

  Mac looked out the small window he was sitting next to and was thoughtful for a long moment. Then he turned to Leith and said, “Tell me, in detail, all that she said.”

  When Leith had relayed everything to the old man he sighed. “And that is all. I left her in the castle and came here. What do ye make of it all, Mac? I know ye have read and reread all of these blasted books that you beseech me to purchase, because I know how ye are always thirsting for knowledge. Do ye have any thoughts about this?”

  The old man ran his hand through his shoulder length white and wiry hair. His bushy brows formed a frown. He suddenly raised himself out of his chair with the vigor of a much younger man and walked straight to a book that he pulled off the shelf and opened to a particular page. After scanning several pages, he exclaimed, “Ah ha!”

  Leith looked over his shoulder. Mac turned around and bounced off of him. “I hate it when you do that,” he said bluntly.

  Leith smiled. “What have ye found?”

  Mac pointed to a picture in the opened book. “Did she say the stones looked like this?” He was excited but tried to hide it. The woman may have found the missing stones! This odd woman may be here to fulfill the prophecy from long ago. He never did quite believe it, but his grandfather had. He had searched the world, he said, in the hopes of discovering these magical monoliths but had died without ever doing so.

  “Do you remember the legend, my boy? The story that I told you when you were a boy?” Leith shook his head. “The legend! The missing stones! I told you, as I told your father before you when he was a lad, the story of the stones that held such magic, such power as to be able to close the gap between future and the past. Surely you have not forgotten?” He laid a boney hand on Leith’s arm and squeezed.

  Leith realized that perhaps his old friend was probably more hurt that he did not quite remember the story than anything else. “I remember, but only vaguely.”

  Mac took his seat and motioned for Leith to retake his. He held the book to his chest as if someone might steal it from him. His watery blue eyes, much darker in his younger years, stared out the window but went beyond seeing the lush green hillside. “I will tell you the s
tory again. Pay attention, my dear boy. This woman may be the key to our destiny.”

  Leith had known about the legend since he was a child. It was nothing more than a simple myth told by elders to entertain little children. He had always known who his father was, that he had married Leith’s mother less than an hour after meeting her and loved her until the day he died, that he, being the eldest son of the laird, would follow in his footsteps. He put his faith in what he knew and could see and could feel. The legend was none of those things. He took a deep breath.

  Mac stared at Leith over the large book. “You know the prophecy.” He stated it in that tone that he used when he would catch Leith kissing a servant girl behind the castle walls.

  “I know the story. I do not think it is true, however. Life will not change for Hell’s Gate. It will remain as it always has.”

  Mac rolled his eyes. “Your father believed it as did your sweet mother. Things must change, my boy, or this place will die.” He lowered his eyes. “As will all those who inhabit it.”

  Leith raked his large tanned hand through his dark hair. He would humor the old man. “Och, ye old geezer. Fine, then. What do I do? She claims not to be my bride.”

  The priest laughed. “Well of course she isn’t! The legend says it is a woman of strange blood, unknown to us, who shall save this place! Wed her, and do it fast, m’boy.” He shrugged. “Besides, I hear tell she has hips for breeding.”

  Leith blinked. He snapped his jaw shut when he realized it had almost dropped. “A man of the cloth should not notice such things.” It was almost a growl.

  Laughter erupted from the older man, pure and rich, filled with the promise of knowledge and experience that only time can bring. “A man of the cloth, yes, by all means, and thank the dear Lord for it.” His eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “But a man all the same.” He winked and continued to smile.

  Leith begrudgingly joined in the smile which soon turned into laughter. “Alright, alright, ye old geezer. So you think I should marry the wench?”

  “Yes.”

  “And soon?”

  “By all means.”

  “And when my real fiancé comes to call in a fortnight?”

  The look that appeared on the priest’s face was, if nothing else, wicked as he smiled. “I am the appointed man of the cloth in this village. Appointed by the Laird himself and by God. Once I join said Laird to the woman whom the good Lord has chosen, no man may break that which binds them.” He looked away and smoothed his sleeve. “And if it happens to be to someone other than the uptight British woman with whom you entered into a betrothal without my blessing, well, then, so be it.” He sniffed and sat upright.

  “Still miffed about that are ye, Mac?” Leith bit his tongue to stop from smiling.

  Leith had decided to marry the daughter of the British lord without heading the advice of Mac, much to his chagrin later. Mac had insisted that he wait but Leith was almost thirty years old and needed an heir, which meant he needed a wife. “If I waited for ye to find the right woman for me, I would be a skeleton by the time she arrived.”

  “If you had waited, like I told you to, you would not be sittin’ here asking an old man to fix yer mess!” he snapped.

  Leith raised an eyebrow and resigned himself, still holding back a smile. “My apologies, old friend. Now, you will send the proper documents to Lord Brighton explaining the situation? Good,” he said, without waiting for an answer. “Then I shall take my leave.” He squeezed Mac’s shoulder and fairly ran out the door. That was a can of worms he did not want to open…again.

  Chapter 5 Raine woke up to a single candle burning in the corner of the room. For a moment she did not recognize her surroundings but then, like unwelcomed lightening, it all came crashing back. Every last horrible detail. Her head hurt from the effort, or maybe lack of sleep, or both. She rubbed her temples. What was she supposed to do now?

  The little servant girl had set up a wooden bathtub for her and a long line of other servants had carried buckets of water to fill it up. She was feeling rather guilty for enjoying it so much, but she was rather filthy and she welcomed the relief of the hot water soaking into her exhausted muscles.

  She sensed his presence before the door creaked. Her eyes remained glued to the door, and it was no surprise to her when he walked in. The small flicker of candlelight did little to illuminate his features, but she knew it was him. He crossed the room and stood at the foot of the bed. Her breath caught in her throat until she was forced to inhale sharply.

  Leith stood at the end of the bed, folding his arms across his chest as he contemplated this strange woman. He knew his true British fiancée, Lady Brighton, would be on his keep’s doorstep within a few short weeks. Should he tell this woman the truth? No, he thought almost wickedly, not just yet. Perhaps there is more to her than what meets the eye. It may be a grand adventure trying to find out more about her.

  “My lady, how was your rest?” He continued to stand there, his face shadowed from her view.

  She cleared her throat, but her voice was still husky. “Yes, um, fine, thank you.” She glanced around. “Is this to be my room while I’m here?” Hopefully he said no. Hopefully she would be given someplace to sleep that was as far away from this man as possible.

  “Yes.”

  Damn.

  She fidgeted. “Is everyone else in the house – I mean – um, castle, asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  Double damn. Now no one would hear her scream if this giant tried to harm her. “So, what are you doing here if it’s past bedtime?” Why wouldn’t he just leave?

  His laughter rumbled through the room. “Lass, I am the laird of this keep. I have not had a bedtime since I was a very small child.” He shifted his weight. “Do I frighten you?”

  She laughed an octave too high, waving her hand. “You? Frighten me? Of course not.”

  She walked around the other side of the bed, carefully skirting around him. “Where I come from, women are strong, independent. We do not frighten easily.”

  He leaned over the bed toward her, his eyes glowing in the sparse light looking like a giant cat prowling through the darkness. “You look frightened to me.”

  She thought she saw him smile.

  She harrumphed and said loftily, “You’re wrong.”

  He crouched there, half on the bed, reminding her of a large tiger stalking its prey. Suddenly, he lurched forward, and she squealed as she jumped and ran for the door. He caught her around the waist and laughed while she struggled. He had not meant to frighten her, but this game she was playing was fun.

  He leaned down to her ear. “Stop ye’re fussing, lass.”

  When she continued to struggle, he pulled her tighter against him. “Or ye can continue to wiggle that firm body of yers against all the right places on mine.”

  She stilled instantly, forgetting to breathe. A little voice in her head whispered that it might be fun to continue wiggling.

  She tilted her head to look at him. “What do you want from me?”

  He confused her. She just wanted his help to find another set of those magic stones, as he calls them, and get back home. To civilization. To her microwave, her television, and soap operas. Anywhere that was not here. She would be sure to give the Professor a piece of her mind.

  Leith’s eyes fairly glowed as he looked down at her. From his vantage point he could see her ample bosom and the little bead of sweat that had formed and was on the verge of trickling over what he could only describe as delicious mounds of flesh. He tightened his arm around her waist just slightly and smiled as it pushed her cleavage together and higher even more. “I want you, my lady.”

  Her breath caught. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She licked her lips. No one had ever talked to her the way this giant did.

  She gushed, “I am not your fiancé. You have to believe me. If you believe nothing else, at least believe that.”

  He released his hold on her and turned her around while keepin
g her firmly boxed in between him and the wall. He sighed dramatically. “I know. Lady Brighton will be here in a few short weeks so we best make haste and wed before she gets here.”

  She blinked. What? He knew? The bastard knew?! She punched an unmoving pectoral.

  “What?!”

  She hit him again because he just stood there with that cockeyed grin, looking down at her looking like a wolf who knew he was winning this particular game.

  He shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, lass. Do not anger yerself so. Although to see yer cheeks so bright pink is quite desirable, I have no wish to heighten yer…passion…this night.”

  He ran a finger slowly down her cheek, moving on to her neck, stopping only to feel her pulse as it jumped under his touch, and then slither tantalizingly over the upper most part of a breast.

  She shook herself. Then she swatted his hand. “You big oaf! What kind of man marries another woman before his true fiancé even knows what’s happening? Isn’t this the time of honor and chivalry and all that? I have taught classes that focused on how rules of society were strictly adhered to, where men protected their women, fought for them, loved them. And yet you are trying to dupe your future bride!”

  He gripped her arms and quite easily lifted her off the floor and above his head until she was looking down at him. How different he looked from this angle. Quite attractive really except for the vein throbbing in his forehead.

  His teeth were gritted together so tight, she barely made out his words but his meaning was unmistakable. “Because ye know not our customs here, and I truly believe ye hail from a land far from here, I will forgive yer words. This time only. Be aware, lady, I am an honorable man. More honorable than most, I might add. Things being as they are and the particular situation surrounding Lady Brighton, I have found a way to alter my promise of marriage made to her. She will understand.”