Moodie

by L. L. Muir

  She turned in her seat and waved to Ethan. “It’s okay. You can stand down. I can give him my full attention now.”

  The Scot nodded and stepped aside, then folded his arms like her personal guard, waiting to be needed again. Tom brushed off his clothes, lifted his nose in the air, and sat down like the second-hand chair was his throne.

  “Finally,” he muttered.

  “Sorry,” she told Tom. “Where were we?”

  He frowned. “We were talking about…” He glanced at Ethan, then bugged his eyes to make a point. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

  Ethan looked to her for an opinion.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to listen to this. We’re just going to…clean house.” Then she gave him a wink and didn’t care if Tom saw it or not.

  Ethan smiled like he understood what she’d meant, then his glower returned and he stepped up to Tom’s chair, put his large hands on the wooden arms, and leaned down. “If ye touch her, if you so much as bump into her, I will kill ye. And slowly at that.”

  Tom rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the fact that all the blood had drained from his face.

  Satisfied, Ethan gave a primeval grunt and straightened. Then he marched over to Penny, grabbed her hand, and lifted her to her feet. Before she could even guess what he was doing, he pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. It was the most territorial action she’d ever seen a human make. She felt a little like a plot of land with a flag driven into it—a Scottish flag.

  She was far too familiar with animal rituals to be offended. In fact, it did just the opposite—her face flushed hot, and when Ethan lifted his mouth from hers, she reached around his head and pulled him in for another kiss.

  “Very funny,” Tom said. But he was immediately forgotten again when Ethan returned her enthusiasm.

  Tom cleared his throat, she wished he would just go away. When he cleared it the second time, Ethan finally growled and straightened away from her. He looked into her eyes and promised, without saying a word, that they would resume their conversation later.

  Chills shot up her spine and exploded like fireworks over her shoulders. What surprised her, though, as she watched those shoulders and that swinging kilt go out the cottage door, was that she didn’t feel threatened. She wasn’t terrified of what might happen later, once Tom was gone. She wasn’t afraid Ethan would push her to do more than she wanted, once they were alone again.

  Ethan was an honorable man. Not like Tom, or her uncle, or a few frightening foster fathers. When Ethan kissed her, she felt…like she was right where she was supposed to be. And it had nothing to do with Stroma.

  “Really, Penny, you have to get rid of him, and you have to do it today. We should hail that captain while he’s still within range and make sure he stops on his way back again.”

  “I’ll do that right now, you know, so I don’t forget.” She pulled the radio closer and picked up the mic. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Tom grin while she once again asked Brian Mackenzie to stop at the pier.

  “Too crowded, I reckon,” Brian said, then he laughed, giving nothing away. “I’ll be sure to leave room for a passenger, then, shall I?”

  Two hours seemed like a lifetime, though, when the light at the end of the tunnel included a handsome Highlander…and maybe getting the man to reconsider his plans.

  “Pen?”

  “Mmn?” She blinked a few times to focus her attention on the man in front of her. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess we should talk about Beverly, huh?”

  “Beverly?”

  “And that email I just got from her. Looks like you lied about the grant money. So I’ll be expecting a reimbursement check from you. I’ll calculate all the personal money I put into the project, before you left, and send you the number. I don’t expect you to reimburse anything after you left the project.”

  Tom sat forward, thought carefully, then plastered an innocent look on his face. “Send me a number? Just where do you think I’ll be?”

  She laughed. “You’re going to ignore the fraud and complain about me kicking you off my island? Fine.”

  “Look—”

  “You read the email. I’m sure you understand that she is sending a new grant to me alone, right? It sounds like you lied when you said she wasn’t interested unless you were on board.”

  “I wanted to make sure we stayed together, that’s all.”

  “And we did, until the money ran out.”

  “It wasn’t about the money. I came back, didn’t I? And I came back because…I was jealous. I love you.”

  “You really had me fooled.” She shook her head and laughed again. “If you hadn’t taken off, I never would have figured you out. So really, I should thank you.”

  Tom was silent for a moment, as if considering his options. “I think maybe we didn’t know each other at all. But I’m willing to start over. We’ve got too much history to just walk away from it.”

  Penny raised her hand to stop him from speaking. “Wrong again. You won’t be walking away, you’ll be sailing away…in about two hours.”

  Moodie cursed the breeze soughing across his ears and preventing him from hearing the conversation taking place on the other side of the cottage door. No matter how he placed himself, the air whispered at him.

  Come away. Come away.

  It took a minute or two to realize it wasn’t the wind teasing him at all. It was Soncerae.

  With her black robes untouched by the weather, she stood thirty yards to the southwest. Her hands pushed down into her pockets, waiting silently as he strode toward her. When he was close enough to be heard, he began his protest.

  “Soni, lass. Ye cannot take me away just the now. Penny is in danger, as ye warned, and I must stand guard a wee while longer.”

  The witch’s brow puckered with pity. “Believe me when I say I could not be more sorry, but the time has come.”

  He shook his head and began backing away, reversing his steps. “Nay, lass. Ye do not understand. I’ve… I have kissed this woman. Do ye understand? I’ve kissed her twice, even. I owe her the courtesy of an explanation, and a farewell—”

  “The time has come,” Soni repeated, unmoved and unmoving. “Too late for goodbyes.” She lifted a hand from her pocket and with the slight wave of her fingers, he was drawn instantly to her side. It was a familiar feeling, and he sensed his form was already changing, that his temporary mortality was slipping through his fingers.

  Knowing there was no point to resisting Soni’s powers, his shoulders fell. “I’ve failed, then, just as I expected.”

  “Take my hand, Ethan Moodie. Ye have a pressing meeting—”

  “Charles Stuart means nothing to me. If there is time to meet with the prince, surely…” He pointed back to the cottage, but the cottage was gone. There was nothing to see but mist all around them and turf beneath—

  No. Not turf…

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I refuse to leave.” Tom banged his hand on the casing around the kitchen doorway and startled Penny. It was probably the most violent thing she’d ever seen him do. “Do you know how long it took me to get here? I left the second you hung up on me. The expense alone… Well, never mind that. But it took the better part of the day and I refuse to spend one more second en route to anywhere, especially when we have so much to discuss.”

  “You shouldn’t have assumed you could stay.”

  He waved away her argument. “You owe me—”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  “For going behind my back to approach my contact. I’m working my ass off going from one university to another—”

  “One party to another, you mean—”

  “Trying to drum up more funding for us—”

  “That’s not why you left, so don’t pretend it was.”

  He huffed out a breath and walked over to the front window, which was what he always did when he was losing an argument. It was all but over now. But she still had some shoes to d
rop.

  “Tom?” She only gave him a second to turn around, and when he didn’t, she said what she needed anyway. “Before you go, I want you to know that I did figure you out. You weren’t after sex. If you had been, it wouldn’t have taken a year for you to get around to demanding it. I realize now that you did it—you attacked me—so you’d have a fight on your hands, so you’d have a reason to leave me after the money ran out.”

  She got up and went to the kitchen. Since the threat of a gun was just a lie she’d told Ethan, she had to settle for the iron skillet, just in case. She might be brave enough to face the dirt bag alone, but she wasn’t stupid enough to do it with empty hands.

  Tom finally turned when she returned to the big room. He frowned at the pan until she held it up, over one shoulder. That’s when she finally had his attention.

  She let him know, with a look, how he disgusted her. “You bastard! You knew all the creeps in my life and how those memories tortured me, and you used it against me, knowing that all you had to do was manhandle me and I’d freak out. Too bad I didn’t actually break your nose.”

  Tom’s mouth gaped open. Being speechless was a nice excuse when he couldn’t defend his actions.

  “You never wanted me. You wanted a meal ticket. And you scurried right back here, like the rat you are, because Jess called our old phone number. You hurried up here the second you found out that Upper Bubble was going public.”

  He blinked, his eyes widened. “What? I mean, that’s great, isn’t it? But I didn’t know—”

  “Jess told me. That’s why you wanted me away from the computer, in case she’d sent word. You wanted to weasel your way in and get good and comfortable before I found out my investment is about to pay off big time. I guess I’m just not as stupid as you thought I was.”

  He held out his hands and stepped toward her but stopped when she held the pan higher.

  “You think Ethan’s not listening? Just a little scream and you’re dead. He’ll probably toss your body into The Gloup.” She let a smile spread slowly across her face. Having a loyal, jealous Highlander around was much better than a gun any day. “If I were you, I’d run, not walk, to the nearest pier.”

  Tom morphed, then, into a man she hardly recognized. All pretense of kindness was gone, and in its place, a cold, calculating creep she never would have imagined lurking beneath the surface. “I’m still in your will, you idiot. Sole beneficiary. I could just break your neck and bribe that cretin outside with a few million. Maybe it will be your body floating in The Gloup when that boat captain arrives.”

  Penny carefully shrugged a shoulder without lowering her weapon, though her arms wouldn’t hold up much longer. “It’s amazing how much legal stuff can be done through the internet nowadays. I learned a lot from my grandfather, and I cut you out of the will the day after you left. Everything I leave behind goes to non-profits and research.”

  She looked at the doorway and gasped. Tom fell for it and turned his head. She swung the iron pan like a baseball bat, like she’d been taught by a P.E. teacher long ago—keep your eye on the ball and follow through. It missed his head, but since he’d been turning back to face her again, it dragged from his ear forward and caught him on the chin with a little momentum still behind it. He jumped back and ended up on the floor at the bottom of the bed, gasping and in shock.

  She picked her way around his feet, hustled to the radio, and picked up the mic. “John O’ Groats, John O’ Groats, John O’ Groats, this is Stroma One on channel 16, over.”

  Waiting for a reply was torture while she watched Tom, prepared for anything. For the moment, he seemed content to stay on the floor.

  “Stroma One, this is John O’ Groats. Switch channel fiver fiver, over.”

  The use of channel fifty-five meant it was Angus. He knew the channel she usually used, just like Brian.

  “Switching channel fiver fiver, over.” She turned the knob and jumped back on. “John o’, John o’. This is Penny. Need a relay. Urgent, over.”

  “Stroma, this is Angus. Hope all is well. Go ahead with relay, over.”

  “Message for Pride o’ Caithness. Expecting passenger pickup of one Tom Lloyd, asap. Note that if passenger is not on Netherland pier, need police intervention, over.”

  “Affirmed, Penny on Stroma, will relay to Pride o’ Caithness asap, over.”

  “Be advised, Brian was headed to St. Margaret’s Hope.”

  “Affirmative. Are ye certain ye can wait, lass?”

  She thought about it for a second, then remembered that she was enough. She could handle whatever came at her. “I’m sure. Thanks, Angus. Stroma returning to standby channel 16.”

  Tom struggled to his feet and she watched his eyes to see which version of him she was dealing with now. But Scary Tom was gone and Pouting Tom was back, only this time, he finally had something to sulk about.

  “Geez, Penny.” He staggered toward the nearest chair. “I wouldn’t have actually hurt you.”

  She tapped the pan on the wall to get his attention, which it did. “Get out of my house.” She pointed at the door. “Every time you see a dog, I hope you hear that sound, to remind you that worse things will happen if you ever see me again.”

  Babying his jaw, he staggered to the door, hesitating like he always did, waiting for her to change her mind.

  She wasn’t changing her mind.

  He turned the knob slowly as if expecting Ethan to pounce on him next. Finally, he got brave enough to poke his head out and look around. “Looks like your Braveheart’s gone. Just like I thought. All hot air.”

  “You’d better hope he’s not listening,” she warned, then gave his back a push to get him out of the way so she could slam the door shut. A couple of seconds later, she shoved his precious box outside and slammed the door again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Moodie wished that his mortality would slip away faster so he might be spared the feel of his heart gasping, bruised and bloody in his chest. His brief time with Penny was over. She was lost to him forever. So what did he care where the witch might be taking him?

  The ground beneath his feet, however, demanded his attention, for it changed back and forth between hard earth and thick mud. One moment he felt sure-footed and in the next, mud would be sucking at his boots. He looked to Soni for some sort of explanation, but the lass looked calmly into the distance. He’d nearly convinced himself not to worry when a thick fog rolled around his ankles and, when it rolled away again, he found himself standing upon water like the Lord God Almighty.

  He gripped Soni’s hand harder, prepared to be submerged with her, but she squeezed his hand and nodded at something above their heads.

  A bridge. And at either end, a non-substantial bit of swamp that boasted huge gray tree trunks whose tops disappeared into the night.

  “You wouldn’t know where we are,” she stated. “This is Great Bridge, in Chesapeake, Virginia.”

  “Ye brought me to America? For what possible reason?”

  “Just watch.” She nodded at the bridge again just as a band of armed men came across from the far side. A skirmish ensued with an unseen enemy just overhead. He recognized the weapons from his own century. The uniforms of the first lot had been unmistakable, and the sight of them sent a cold chill up his spine.

  “Red Coats,” he murmured, then turned his head and spat.

  “Don’t be too hasty,” she warned, just as a British soldier fell off the side of the bridge to land in the mist-covered water before them. Since he landed on his back, Moodie could see the man’s face as he sank beneath the dark waves. Though his eyes were already closed in death, Moodie recognized his well-aged brother.

  With a cry, he lunged forward, determined not to lose Colin’s body, but Soni halted him with a tug. “No need,” she said. “Have patience.”

  Moodie huffed out a breath to let her know how hard-won that patience would be when every inch of him screamed to save his brother—even though the man had to be hundreds of years de
ad.

  Something surged up out of those same waves, and Moodie recoiled, trying to drag the lass back with him. But she held her ground, and by holding his hand firmly, she held him to the spot as well.

  Colin stood before them, his hated uniform dry and in place, his weapon slung over his shoulder. For the longest time, he stood perfectly still and stared at nothing whilst sadness weighed at his mouth and eyes. The hair that had once charmed lasses from Inverness to Loch Lomond was now more white than blond. And the creases around his features pegged his age at fifty or more.

  Moodie held his breath while he waited for his brother to notice him, and finally, Colin’s ghost turned. The once-younger man blinked, then blinked again. “Ah, Ethan,” he whispered. “Would that ye were truly here.”

  Moodie stepped closer. “I am here, brother. ‘Tis Ethan, yer brother. I swear it.”

  “Wheesht,” Colin hissed. “Wheesht! Battlefields are no place for swearing nor making vows, sir. I cursed my own brother in such a place, and I will never know peace unless I am forgiven for it.”

  Moodie shook his head in quick denial. “Again, I say I am that brother. And it is yer forgiveness I seek, not vengeance.”

  “Ethan? Ah, would that ye were truly my brother.”

  Many a times, upon the moor, Ethan had participated in such disjointed and repetitive exchanges with his fellow soldiers. The slow turning from idea to speech, the unhurried ruminations. Since he was still able to think in a linear fashion himself, instead of being caught in loops of thought, he supposed mortality still lingered. But for Colin’s sake, he had to keep at it. He had to make himself understood, especially if he was the source of his brother’s restless spirit.