Highlander's Beloved 02 - A Highlander's Passion

by Vonnie Davis

  Effie laughed and patted her curls. “Why, yes. Yes, it is. Miss Clairol and I are close relatives, of a sort. I buy a box every month.”

  “Oh, ye mean hair dye? The product comes in colors like pinks?” Imagine the oddity of that?

  “My natural hair turned pure white about eight years ago, after some health issues, which didn’t go at all with my youthful nature, so I dyed it. I used to use a warm brown tone. ‘Medium Mocha,’ I think it was. But the night before our trip here I thought I’d choose a deep red like it was when I was a young girl. I never realized white hair didn’t take the full color of brighter dye, so instead of getting ‘Ravishing Ruby,’ I got this bright pink.” She brushed a curl from her forehead. “But I love it. Pink’s always been my favorite color. Just to be sure I never run out, I order it in by the caseload.”

  Purple was Kenzie’s favorite color, but there was no way she’d tell this woman that: Effie was liable to dye it while Kenzie was asleep. There were a lot of strange stories circulating around Mathe Bay about this American.

  “Tell me about Bryce, Sparrow.” Effie bit into a cookie and aimed blue eyes her way.

  She shrugged. “What’s to tell? He’s the youngest of the Matheson brothers, but then maybe ye ken that since yer granddaughter is married to the eldest.”

  “No. Tell me about your relationship with him and how you ended up with his muddy handprints on your boobs. I’m betting that story is a barn burner.” The corners of her lips quivered as if she wanted to laugh.

  Kenzie yanked on the hem of her blouse, pulling it away from her body to get a better view. Sure enough, there were huge handprints. “I will murder the feckin’ bastard. He knew I was on me way here for a job interview. How could he humiliate me like this?”

  Effie snorted. “He’s a man. Who knows how they think. Or even if they think. But don’t they have their fine points?”

  “Where he’s concerned, I can’t think of a one.” She sipped the chamomile, its soothing properties seeping into her system. Effie was right: She did need it strong today. “I dinna wanna talk about the man—about any man fer that matter.” There was just too much pain. Too many memories she tried so hard to suppress.

  “Just as I thought.” Effie set her cup down and settled back against a pile of cushions. “You need me as much as I need you. I’m going to help you to stop blaming yourself for your husband’s death.”

  “ ’Tis craziness. I was in the hospital when Duncan was killed. I’d just miscarried.”

  “True, but his abuse toward you had caused you to miscarry and you wanted him to pay. So you recited a chant you’d heard growing up with a witch, a spell your aunt Una often used.”

  Kenzie swallowed. A buzzing started in her ears and numbness tingled in her hands. “How…how could ye ken that?”

  “What I’m about to show you involves a great deal of trust. Yet I’ve been told you possess excellent qualities.” She shook a bony finger at Kenzie. “Don’t you disappoint me.” She placed her thumb and index finger against one of her eyes and popped a contact lens onto the finger of her other hand. “Look at me, Sparrow.”

  The American had one blue eye and one brown eye, just like Kenzie.

  A startled gasp escaped her lips. It canna be. In an almost unconscious gesture, her left hand trembled as it extended so her fingertips touched Effie’s. In unison, they recited an ancient rhyme.

  “With one blue eye to rule the sky,

  An eye of brown controls the ground;

  Magic swirls within our souls,

  Cryptic, mystic, spiritualistic.

  To protect the weak from evil’s effect,

  Elements guide us, ever bind us.

  A band of witches scattered wide

  From Warlock Morpheus we must hide.”

  Chapter 2

  Effie kissed Kenzie’s cheek. “Sparrow, my little sister. The elements have brought us together. I’m not sure why yet, but the reasons will be revealed when the timing’s right.” She popped the contact back into her eye and blinked it into place. “I’ve been directed to lead you on the journey into your calling. To enlighten you by sharing what I know.”

  Kenzie pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I need a few minutes to absorb this. Believe me, yer being Wiccan was the verra last thing I expected.”

  Effie held her teacup to her lips, ready to sip its contents. “Take your time, dear. I was almost your age when I floated into otherworldly consciousness, although it was more of a slamming than a gentle drift. We’d just gotten home from Woodstock and everything was groovy, until I realized the responsibilities that came with my powers. Sometimes I was called to heal, and at others to protect. I recall it as being damn scary.”

  Kenzie stood, her mind swirling as her feet propelled her to the bank of windows overlooking the wooded hills behind the house. She needed some distance. The pink-haired American—the one everyone laughingly called a “bit teched in the head”—was a witch just like her, from the same coven. The Protectors. Guardians chosen to protect and serve those too young or weak to care for themselves.

  Hadna she spent a good deal of the previous night at the hospital guarding a little asthmatic boy, Paden? The four-year-old could barely catch his next breath, his thin cheeks hollowing with each labored effort. His lips tinging blue like the sky on a spring morn. How her heart had gone out to him. Once visiting hours were over, she’d used the back stairs to reach Paden’s room again, telling him Scottish tales and sifting her fingers through his dark hair until he’d fallen asleep. Using her powers, she’d touched his frail lungs, healing them with strength harvested from her own until his lungs normalized. The gift of her powers always astounded her…and now this.

  The fingertips that had touched Effie’s seconds earlier still tingled from the arc of electricity that zigged and zagged between the two women as they recited the aged words. She rubbed her fingers together to ease the heat pulsing within. Kenzie glanced over her shoulder at Effie sipping her tea. A witch. The old woman, with her sweet, wide-eyed goodness, didna look any more like one than…than…Hell, just how was a witch supposed to look? Like her aunt Una with her straggly gray hair and snaggletooth? Kenzie smiled and rubbed her arms in a self-hugging caress. Evidently all witches didna have the same clichéd appearance. She hoped she didna resemble a witch other than possessing eyes that didna match.

  Sudden movement caught her attention, and she looked out of the windows again. A large spotted cat with a short, dark-tipped tail formed in front of the thicket behind the house. Heavens, the tan-and-silver-speckled animal had practically materialized in front of her as if from thin air. Kenzie swallowed a nervous lump in her throat and struggled to control the internal trembling that was causing her organs to bandy about.

  The lynx stared at her with piercing, haunting blue eyes. Elusive, sometimes invisible, and always mysterious—or so Scottish lore proclaimed—the vanishing cats were believed keepers of deep secrets and hidden knowledge. Legends of the animal, whispered to children at bedtime, were vague and murky depending on who told the story. Yet here she was looking at a lynx this verra minute.

  Its heavily tufted ears tipped in Kenzie’s direction. Look deep within yourself, young witch, to see what is hidden. There is much kindness in your heart. Infinite power.

  Kenzie wheezed air into lungs paralyzed with astonishment and weakened from last night’s curing of Paden’s asthma.

  “I just heard you gasp, Sparrow. Is Paws out there? He seems to appear this time of day.”

  Her gaze was locked on the creature who’d just spoken to her. Spoken, as if he had the power of speech, just like a human. “Did…did ye say ‘Paws’?”

  Effie cleared her throat. “The lynx. I call him Paws for lack of a better name. His feet are terribly big compared to Mittens’—that’s the gray and white kitten who likes to hide upstairs in my bedroom.” China clattered when she set her cup and saucer on the table and stood. “Welcome the being’s presence, my young Wiccan sister. Ac
cept him.”

  The smell of baby powder grew stronger as Effie stood next to her. “The lynx can help nurture your Wiccan abilities and center your psychic senses. For our coven, these unusual cats can also be guardians. I have one back in Virginia, who hides in the woods on my little farm. She protects me on my long walks. I call her Bluebell because of her striking eyes.” The pink-haired woman linked her skinny arm with Kenzie’s. “The shifters have their white owls. We have the lynx.”

  Lynxes. Witches. Psychic abilities. God help me. Have I lost me senses?

  How was she to handle all the peculiar changes in her life? Fer one, a new job with an American who was a witch. Kenzie had barely gotten used to the fact she herself was Wiccan. While she’d been raised by Una, weaver of the Matheson plaid and a sorceress, she’d never imagined she possessed powers too. Not until the day after she miscarried, when she’d learned her abusive husband, whom she’d cursed with a chant, had died a violent death.

  A shudder racked her body. I killed me husband.

  “You did not cause Duncan’s passing, Sparrow. His choice of associates did. I was with him when he was shot. We were both held captive by evil, money-hungry men. They wanted to silence him for what he knew about their drug organization. You must stop blaming yourself.”

  Great, an American witch who can read minds.

  “I can’t read your mind. Not really. Only in regards to your powers, which you feel you used in an irresponsible way to harm Duncan. It’s a guilt you carry. An unnecessary guilt. Part of my job as a Wiccan is to rid you of it. By the way, you’ll be pleased to know little Paden went home from the hospital around noontime. He had a healthy glow to his skin and his breathing was completely normal.” Effie chuckled. “The doctors are still trying to figure out how his diseased lungs healed overnight. You did well, Sparrow. You protected his health, assured he’d have an active, normal future.”

  “He has a dream of playing ball. I asked him to share his deepest secret with me last night and he whispered it in me ear.”

  “Thanks to you, he’ll have the health to do it. Which brings me to Chrissie. I’m proud of you for talking to Beileag about the proper way to discipline the little girl. You were stern, yet educational. You told her what things would work with Chrissie and what things wouldn’t because they were abusive. Beileag’s been trying a few of your suggestions, with some positive results, and from what I gather is feeling better about herself as a mother.”

  Effie shook her crooked finger at Kenzie. “I think you may have averted a crisis there. Keep working with the young mother. You have a knack for that. It’s part of your power. Now, come and sit so I can tend to your skinned knees. We still have much to discuss about your new job as my assistant.”

  How does she ken about me sitting with Paden last night? Or me talking to Beileag about her tendency to abuse her little girl?

  Her gaze shifted from Effie to the lynx, and her heart bounded into her throat. Now he stood on the other side of the glass, mere inches away, his azure eyes beseeching her to pay attention to him. Trust your instincts about the witch with strange hair. Learn from her. Protect her. She is your new charge. A shimmer of iridescent waves, and he was gone.

  A few deep breaths and tranquility settled, erasing her earlier alarm. Aye, she would trust her instincts. If she was meant to protect Effie, then so be it. She’d do her best.

  Kenzie sat and slipped her skirt above her knees so Effie could clean them. “Does Paisley ken ye are Wiccan?”

  “I sense she suspects, but it’s not something we discuss. She was sent to me by the powers to protect and raise.” Effie made a noise of annoyance in the back of her throat. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but my son—my own flesh and blood—and his wife turned on the poor girl once she began hearing animals’ thoughts.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “They refused to accept the child’s uniqueness.”

  Protectiveness toward Paisley sprouted within Kenzie. If her wee bairn had lived to be born, she would have accepted him or her no matter what differences the child possessed. “It was good Paisley had ye.”

  “Yes.” Effie reached for disinfectant to spray on Kenzie’s scraped knees. “They took my Sweet Pea to psychiatrists for analysis as if she were disturbed.” She shook her head in disgust. “The medicines those quacks put that child on were scandalous. Poor thing went through life as a zombie until I convinced her parents to send her to me. I put her on a natural diet, foods I grew myself. Lots of herbal teas. Once I got her off those meds, she was like a different person.”

  She applied Band-Aids to where Kenzie’s scrapes had bled. “My biggest job was getting Paisley to accept herself. Her parents had convinced her she was a freak. She was thirteen at the time, and I felt she had enough to deal with as a young teenager without knowing I was a witch. So I masked some of my powers by chattering on about interpreting auras. Bless her heart, she soon came to accept the aura readings as part of my eccentric nature. But—” Her head tilted to the side and she sighed.

  “But?”

  “But, I catch my Sweet Pea watching me in certain situations. Almost as if she’s waiting for me to conjure up a spell or snap my fingers to make something disappear.” She leaned in. “Which of course I can’t do…or my sour-assed housekeeper would be a puff of black smoke by now.”

  Kenzie laughed fer the first time in months. This woman touched her in places she’d shut off after Bryce turned away from her. No doubt she’d enjoy working fer the kind witch.

  “After Creighton was shot in bear form by the same criminals who killed your husband, I was allowed by the elements to aid Paisley. They helped me guide her fingers in the semidarkness of the cave and to slow Creighton’s blood flow while she operated on him to remove the bullet lodged near his heart. We never spoke during the process. I just focused my powers on both her and Creighton.”

  Effie gathered the soiled gauze pads and Band-Aid wrappers and threw them away. “My Sweet Pea trusts me. She has no clue how I’ve gently channeled her in certain directions to keep her safe. As witches, we don’t harm. We protect. That’s our duty, our charge.”

  “I have so many questions, me head is spinning. Shouldna I have kent about these powers growing up? Why didna they appear until I was twenty-two?”

  “After you’re moved in, we’ll discuss all that. I’ll tutor you in your place in the mystical realm. I promise I’ll tell you all I know, which is considerable, for I am the high priestess in our coven. I will be inducting you once you are ready. One of our first steps will be the naming, when I give you a Wiccan name.” She slipped a key ring from the pocket of her pink capris and handed it to Kenzie. “Here’re your keys to the house and your suite of rooms. My home is yours now. I’d like for you to move in as quickly as you can. I need your presence.” Her hand fluttered to her crepy neck. “Although I can’t put my finger on why, which is odd, isn’t it? I’m just weighed down by this strong perception of something sinister.” Her voice trailed off and she glanced outside.

  Effie’s pinched features concerned Kenzie. If having her under this roof would relax the old woman, surely she could oblige. “I can move some things tonight if I can get me car to run. Tomorrow, I’ll get the rest. There’s really not much.”

  Effie slipped her pink cell phone from her pocket and thumbed a number. “Bryce, darlin’, could you drive Kenzie to her place and help her pack? I’d ask Hamish, but I need him to drive me to Matheson Lodge to have dinner with Paisley and Creighton. Have a look at Kenzie’s car, too. She says it won’t run.” Her pink curls bobbed, and she smiled. “Oh, I just love ya to bits. Ten minutes will be fine.”

  Mischief twinkled from Effie’s eyes while she glanced at her bright pink fingernail polish. “I’m also a little concerned about Kenzie missing dinner. Maybe the two of you could stop somewhere to eat?” The crafty woman chuckled and shot Kenzie a wink. “Oh, I understand. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She ended the call and shoved her cell back into her pocket.


  “He’s going home to shower and change clothes before he comes to pick you up. When a man wants to impress a woman, he likes to put his best foot forward. Oh, I bet he’ll look and smell delicious when he gets here.”

  “Since when is a witch a matchmaker?” The last person she wanted in her run-down apartment or to share a meal with was Bryce Matheson.

  The old woman chuckled. “I don’t mind being Cupid’s helper. Since Bryce won’t be here for a while, I’ll have plenty of time to show you your part of the house. I had the suite of rooms redecorated for Paisley, but she never really stayed there. She couldn’t bear to be away from Creighton.

  “Now, stop scowling. Your face will freeze like that.” She cupped Kenzie’s cheek with her cool hand. “You ought to be smiling. After all, you’re going to dinner with six feet of hard muscle. My Morris, bless his heavy-hung manhood, was a muscular man too.”

  Bloody hell, is she talking about her dead husband’s manly parts? His tadger?

  Effie stood and extended her hand to clasp Kenzie’s. “I think if Bryce stood between you and the sun, his broad shoulders would block the sunlight. Oh, I wish I were young enough to get in his shadow just one time.” She puffed an exaggerated sigh and sashayed for the door.

  Kenzie rolled her eyes. Her new boss would take some getting used to. As fer Bryce and his hard body, she’d been rolling around in the grass with him a little over an hour ago. She kent for herself how hard he was—everywhere.

  “I do love Bryce’s aura. Earthy. Honest. Sensual…very sensual.” Effie tossed the words over one narrow shoulder before she and her bouquet of baby powder floated into the hallway.

  Huh. Aura, indeed.

  —

  Bryce, still damp from his quick shower, tugged on a pair of clean jeans and reached fer a bottle of cologne. He wanted to make a good impression on Kenzie tonight. Driving her to her apartment to help her pack would be his pleasure, but he doubted she’d look on it in the same light. Not after he’d put the brakes on their budding romance fourteen months ago.