Highland Rogue

by Mallory, Tess

  His mouth quirked up only slightly as he thought about her note. Fun. She had explained the concept to him once before. In his time, he was not sure the word existed.

  “Penny for your thoughts. Sorry, I meant, a shilling? A pound? I always get Scottish and English money mixed up.”

  Quinn turned, and there she was just a few feet away, his Maggie, smiling at him, her blue eyes filled with the concernthat had been there ever since they had arrived in her time.

  “Och,” he said, “my thoughts are worth far less, and I refuse to take advantage of yer innocence.”

  Maggie moved easily into his arms. “After what you did to me last night, I don’t know how you can ever think me innocent again.” Her smile faded a bit. “Quinn, we need to talk.”

  “I thought we were going to do something ’fun,’ ” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, hoping to bring back her smile.

  She did smile, but the gesture was feeble at best. “We will,” she said, “but first—”

  He nodded. “Aye. We need to talk. Shall we go for a walk?”

  “I was thinking we’d go for a drive. There are some things I want to show you.”

  A drive. In that crazy horseless carriage. Quinn swallowedhard and then berated himself. He was a man, a Scottish warrior; surely he could overcome his fear of this foolish vehicle.

  “Fine,” he said, forcing his own smile.

  She backed away from him and held out her hand. “Then come with me, laddie. I have a surprise for you.”

  Quinn was thrilled when Maggie took him to a quaint little bookstore in Drymen filled with books on Scotland, followedby a trip to the local library. The bookstore had colorfulbooks filled with what Maggie called photographs of Scotland. He was so mesmerized by them that she finally bought one just to get him out of the shop. At the library they poured over books on Scottish history, and used something called a com-poo-ter and the In-Ter-Net—which Maggie said she would not, under any circumstance, try to explain to him—looking for a mention of Ian MacGregor’s untimely death.

  Maggie did explain during the drive to the library that if there wasn’t a mention of his death in these places of record, or if there was a record of Ian living on to a ripe old age, it would mean Ian had not been killed by the duke, and there would be no need for Quinn to go back to the past.

  Unless he wanted to go back.

  Maggie always added that last in her impassioned diatribes, but he knew how much she wanted him to stay. Could he? As he sat in the library and gazed at book after book filled with more of what Maggie called photos, he had gained more respect for her time, and more curiosity. And though he had some problems at first deciphering the type and the spelling of these modern books, by the afternoonhe had begun to adapt.

  In spite of all the wonders he was beginning to experience,did he want to turn his back on his own time—and Ian—and stay with Maggie?

  “Find anything?” Maggie whispered, sliding next to him on the curved sofa, her finger marking a place in the book she held.

  Quinn shook his head, discouraged. So far he’d found no record whatsoever of Ian MacGregor, son of Owen MacGregor, grandson of Angus MacGregor, aside from a brief mention that he had attended MacCrimmons School of Piping.

  “Nay.”

  She sighed. “Me either. But I found a bunch of books that were written by different clan historians, full of legends and little-known historical facts, so I’m going to check them out and read them back at the cottage. You hungry?”

  Quinn stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Aye.” He lowered his arms and glanced down at her. She looked tired. “Come, lass, let’s go back to the cottage. We can read in bed.”

  Maggie shot him a knowing look. “Right. That’ll happen.”

  He sat back down, for once not taking her up on her teasing innuendo. “I did find out something important,” he said.

  “You did?” She sat down beside him, her blue eyes hopeful.

  “I found out that Scotland and her clans finally find peace.”

  She nodded. “So how do you feel, knowing Scotland is finally at peace?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I am not sure. Relieved. Gladdened. Wondering if I go back, after I save Ian, what I will do with the rest of my life, now that I know all of our fighting and struggling is pointless.” He hadn’t meant to say those last words, but he was tired, and his defenses low. “We are still absorbed by almighty England. The United Kingdom.” Quinn laughed shortly. “Every Scotsman’s biggest fear.”

  Maggie sat up, her back rigid. “All that fighting and strugglingis what led to Scotland’s peace, and yes, they became part of the United Kingdom, but they still retained a great deal of their sovereignty. But if you go back, there is also a lot of senselessness ahead, too.” She sighed. “Jacobites. Culloden.The clearances. It ends well, but getting there—”

  “We get there. I suppose that is the important part.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I am tired of whispering. Is there a place near here, outdoors, where we can sit and talk?” Maggie stood and tugged on the hem of the loose-fitting blouse she wore, called a T-shirt. It had a picture of a huge lizardlike monster on it and the words “I Love Nessie.” The twenty-first century was vastly confusing.

  “Sure,” she said. “Just give me the books you want to check out, and I’ll lead you to it.” He handed her one book on Scottish history, still reading the book he held. “Just one?”

  Quinn looked up from the book—a fascinating tome on the ancient Celts. He had just gotten to the section on how the Picts had painted their faces and engraved tattoos into their bodies to symbolize spiritual beliefs, or to gear up for war. He pointed to a huge stack on the floor, and Maggie grinned.

  “I fear t’will be too extravagant,” he said. “Do ye have the coin for such things?”

  “Don’t worry. This isn’t a bookstore, it’s a library,” she said. “You can borrow as many books as you like, and just as long as you return them, they’re free.”

  “Free?” He stared at her, feeling an unfamiliar surge of joy. Quinn loved books. Loved the feel of them, loved readingthem. At the bookstore, when Maggie wasn’t looking, he’d wandered over to the music department and flipped through books on the history of different instruments, books on making instruments, books on musical theory, books on bagpipes, and wished he had the coin with which to buy them.

  “Aye, laddie,” she said, putting on a brogue. “Free. As in ‘They will never take—our freedom!’ ” She lifted her arms above her head and shook them as Quinn stared. She loweredher arms and shrugged. “You’ll get it when I show you Braveheart. Maybe we could rent it tonight.”

  “Er, that’s grand,” he said, without a clue as to what she was talking about. He had more important things on his mind. “Do they have a section on music?”

  “Oh, boy, I’m never going to get you out of here, am I?” He smiled. “Och, lass, I’m a man with a love for knowledge.For instance, I’m verra interested in finding out what color yer bindings are today.”

  Maggie laughed. One night after Quinn’s release from the hospital she had come to bed modeling a hot pink bra and panties. Quinn had loved the frilly things, but insisted on calling her bras her “bindings.”

  “Okay, ten more minutes, and then if we go home soon, I might let you find out if I’m wearing black or green today,” she teased.

  Exactly ten minutes later, he watched as the librarian slid each book across a metal plate and then handed it to him. She was down to the last two books when she stopped and glanced up, the expression in her brown eyes changing from bored to interested as she really looked at him for the first time.

  “Is this yer book, too?” she asked, turning the book towardhim. “The Kama Sutra?”

  Maggie’s mouth dropped open, and Quinn truly blushed, perhaps for the first time in his life.

  “Er, aye, I thought it looked, er, interesting.”

  “Verra interesting,” the woman said, lowering her lashes and
gazing up at him through them. “And this one?” She held up the last book. “How to Please a Woman in One Hundred Different Ways?” Her gaze swept over him, and he sensed, rather than saw, Maggie stiffen beside him.

  “Aye,” he said.

  “We’re sort of in a hurry,” Maggie said pointedly. “So if you don’t mind . . .”

  “Och, I dinna mind at all,” the librarian said. She reached into her conservative blouse and pulled out a card. She handed it to Quinn. “I’m Elizabeth. Give me a call sometime. We’ll do”—she paused—“lunch.”

  Quinn frowned and took the card, then encircled her wrist with his hand. Maggie blinked as he cradled her hand between his, staring down at it as if he’d never seen one before.

  “What is this marking?” he asked.

  Maggie moved closer and saw the librarian had a word tattooed around her wrist.

  “A tattoo, luv,” she said. “Where have ye been living? Under a rock?”

  “Something like that,” he murmured. “Is it permanent?”

  Maggie peered down at the woman’s wrist. The word was Gordon.

  The librarian made a face. “Unfortunately. It was supposedto be a symbol of my undying love for my boyfriend. He left before the ink was dry, so to speak.” She batted her lashes at him. “So that means I am available. Very available.”

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed, and Quinn grabbed her by the arm before she could launch herself across the countertop. He thanked the librarian and then pushed Maggie in the general direction of the door, while he gathered up the stack of books that temporarily belonged to him.

  “Damn!” he said once they were outside. “Are all the lassies in your time that bold?”

  She walked very quickly, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “Just the skanks and hos,” she said, her disgust obvious.

  “Ah, Maggie, she canna hold a candle to ye.” His arms were full of books, so he bumped her with his hip. She glanced up at him and smiled, bringing sunlight back into his day.

  “Ready to go home and read?” she asked.

  “Aye. And perhaps have a cuddle?”

  Maggie put her arm around his waist and pushed him toward the horseless carriage. “Aye, laddie. Perhaps.”

  Back at the cottage, they spent the evening with Maggie’s sisters and Rachel, and she’d watched as Quinn charmed the three women with his smile and wit and humor. He does belong here, the little voice in her head kept saying. He does!

  When they finally went to bed, very late, Maggie emerged from the bathroom to find Quinn sitting up in bed waiting for her, looking so amazingly sexy that she had to force herself not to pounce on him.

  “I need to tell ye something, lass,” Quinn said softly.

  “All right,” she said tentatively, sitting down on the far side of the bed. She feared she knew what he wanted to tell her. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, reminding her how easily it could be broken.

  He patted a spot beside him. “Come here, lass.”

  Maggie hesitated, but he cocked his dark head toward her, and she sighed and slid across the bed to snuggle next to him, her head on his shoulder. “Okay, go ahead. Talk.”

  “Verra well then. Here it is.” He took a deep breath. “Ye know that I must return. Every day that goes by makes me tremble with fear over what Pembroke may be doing to Ian.”

  “I know, Quinn,” Maggie said faintly. “I was just hoping we’d find something in one of these books to prove that Ian made it without your help. But why would you want to stay here anyway? I understand that your life is in the past. I really do.” She slid him a furtive glance. Quinn’s ruggedly handsomeface split with a smile that lit his eyes from within.

  “Och, darling.” He hugged her tightly against him. Maggie threw her arms around his waist and clung to him. “I do want to stay with ye. I find this century quite amazing,along with ye yerself. I must go back to save Ian, but that doesna mean that I must remain there. What is to stop me from returning to ye through the magic spirals?”

  Maggie turned in his arms and climbed into his lap. She took his face between her hands and kissed him as tears of relief slid down her face.

  “Oh, Quinn,” she said, and he folded her into his arms.

  Much later, when Quinn was asleep, Maggie got up and turned on the standing lamp beside the pale green overstuffedchair in the corner of the room. She moved her stack of library books beside it, and began to search through them for any mention of Ian MacGregor.

  While Quinn’s decision to come back to her was wonderful,she was still filled with fear. What if he got killed trying to save Ian? What if he got put in prison? What if the spirals took him to another time? She shuddered at the memory of the two times she’d traveled through time, how she’d felt as though her mind and body were being wrenched apart. What if he couldn’t come back?

  There were too many “what ifs,” all of which could be avoided if they could just find out Ian’s fate. Two hours later, when the books failed to yield any information, Maggiegot on the Internet. By dawn, she was exhausted and ready to admit that it might take a lot longer than she’d expectedto dig up any history about Ian. And in spite of havingaccess to a time travel “device,” time was of the essence.

  Her head throbbed as she crawled back in bed with Quinn and snuggled up against him. He turned in his sleep and welcomedher into his arms, but even in the warmth of their bed, with her head on Quinn’s shoulder, Maggie couldn’t stop thinking.

  She believed that God was a logical deity, and in spite of the deaths of her parents, she believed that everything happened for a reason. It was inconceivable that she had been allowed to travel back in time to meet Quinn, only to be separated from him forever. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t.

  fifteen

  “I’m thinking about staying in Scotland.”

  Maggie watched Rachel’s face, anxious to see her reactionto this news. She knew her friend had to return to the States soon, and the girls as well, but she wasn’t going anywhere.Her decision felt selfish in the extreme.

  The girls survived without me for a month, she thought. They can make it a little bit longer. It was a radical thought.

  She and Quinn had gone into the village that morning together, but when it was time to go home, Quinn wanted to stay a bit longer. Maggie had dropped him off at the libraryand told him she’d pick him up there later, then headed back to the cottage to join Rachel for some long overdue girlfriend time. The twins had driven into Edinburghto meet some friends.

  Now the two women sat on the flowered couch in the cottage “parlor.” Rachel had her legs stretched out on the couch, her feet almost touching Maggie where she sat at the other end. Her friend hadn’t changed a bit since Maggie had been gone—except for her hair color. Today she wore a bright red dress with yellow leggings underneathand purple tennis shoes. The effect was a little dazzling.Rachel pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees as she smiled at Maggie.

  “So you think this thing with you and Quinn is going to work out, huh?” Rachel asked.

  Maggie looked around at the beautiful room, and the perfect kitchen leading off of it, and really saw it for the first time. This was a nice place. A really nice place. As in an expensive place. How had they paid the rent? For over a month? She had a sneaking suspicion she knew how.

  “Yes, I think Quinn and I are going to, er, work out,” she said vaguely. “Uh, by the way, Rach, you didn’t dip into the old trust fund did you, to finance this little trip for you and the girls?”

  “Um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Rachel said, her voice hesitant. “You know, when you went missing, the girls were frantic.”

  “Ra-chel,” Maggie said, drawing out her name, “you know our agreement.”

  “But this was an emergency, Mags, and you’ve always said if it was an emergency, that was different.” Her friend’s eyes softened as she gazed at her. “I was so terrified. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

  “I know,” Maggie said, f
eeling a pang of guilt. “I feel terrible that I put you all through so much and cost you so much money. You know I’ll pay you back.”

  “Maggie, please, for once let me do this.” She hurried on before Maggie could answer. “I wanted to do it. And I want to continue to pay for you and the girls to stay here as long as you want. It’s important to me.” She smiled a very vulnerable smile, and it touched Maggie’s heart to the core. “You’re my family.”

  Maggie smiled. “I love you, Rach.”

  Rachel leaned back and visibly relaxed. “Okay, now! While the girls are out—tell me everything about Quinn, especially the ‘in bed’ parts, and don’t you dare leave out one little detail!”

  “Rachel!” Maggie said, pretending outrage, laughing at the eagerness on Rachel’s face. It was so good to be back.

  “Hey,” Rachel reminded her, “I’m not getting laid anytimesoon so I have to live vicariously. “So, is he great in bed? Is he really, really great?”

  Maggie leaned her head back on the sofa and smiled. “Oh, Rach, great doesn’t even begin to describe him.”

  Quinn’s arm hurt like the devil, but he didn’t regret his decision.This would show Maggie just how serious he was about returning to her once he had rescued Ian. He had gone into the library when Maggie dropped him off, but as soon as she drove away, he had hurried out to do his real errand.

  Mission accomplished. He’d heard that phrase on the amazing and magical tell-e-vision the night before. Strange, new world in which he had landed. Maggie had said she would pick him up at the library at six o’clock, and he had returned to the stone building, planning to do more research, but found he couldn’t wait. He was anxious to see her, to see the look on her face. He could walk back to the cottage. It was only a matter of five miles or so.

  Having made up his mind, Quinn strode from the historysection toward the door, then paused at the front desk and stared at the telephone sitting there.

  Maggie had explained what a “phone” was and had given him the number of the cottage on a small piece of paperthat he had tucked into the new “wallet” she’d bought him. He frowned. He felt like a kept man. If he could make it back to Maggie’s time, after saving Ian, what would he do to earn a living?