The Highlander Next Door

by Janet Chapman

  Niall slipped the strap around her trembling body, tied it snugly, then slowly worked the knot around to just below her bosom. “There now, you’re tied to a sturdy tree, so even if ye slip you won’t fall. Let go of the jacket sleeve.” He looked up to see Reggie watching them, the boy’s face also pale except for the angry bruise and drying blood. “Birch, you can pull up the jacket now.” He grinned when her head popped over the side. “Do ye have any strength left to help Reggie?”

  “Oh yeah. I guess this means I have to take back every bad thing I’ve said about you,” she said over-brightly before turning her smile on Misty. “Let me and your big hero boyfriend do all the work, Misty, and you just concentrate on the kiss you’re going to give him.” She looked back at Niall. “Are we ready, people?”

  “When I say pull,” he said with a nod. He checked the strap around Misty then lowered his hand to her backside. “I’m not getting fresh,” he said when she gasped. “I’m going to steady you. See the crag we’re both holding on to?” he asked, nodding at their hands. “Use it as a toehold on your way up. But keep your elbows as close to your sides as ye can, so you don’t slip out of the strap.” He gently brushed some hair off her face. “You’re a brave young woman, Misty, and Reggie is a lucky young man.”

  “H-how can you say that? I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “I knew you were brave the moment ye said you didn’t want to die.” He gave her a wink, then looked up to see Birch smiling again and Reggie damn near close to tears. “Pull,” he said with a curt nod.

  Their heads disappeared. “It’s only a few feet, Mist,” Reggie said through gritted teeth as the strap tightened. “And then I’m expecting that kiss.”

  Hell, Niall was tempted to hire the kid as his final officer. It was rare to find such competence and composure in someone Reggie’s age, since seventeen-year-old boys were more known for chasing girls than risking their lives to save them.

  “Up ye go,” Niall said, steadying Misty as she slowly rose away from him, even as he wondered if Birch might feel inclined to give him a kiss.

  Niall dropped his hand from Misty’s backside to grab one of her flailing feet before she knocked him off the cliff, gave the girl one final push that sent her over the top, then leaned his forehead against the granite wall with a silent groan—not that anyone would have heard him over all the whooping and cheering.

  A rain of dirt fell on him again. “We’re sending the strap down just as soon as Reggie gets it untied,” Birch said. “Chief MacKeage? Are you okay?”

  Okay then; it didn’t appear he was getting that kiss. “I’m fine, Miss Callahan,” he said without lifting his head. “Don’t bother with the rope; I’ll just climb up.”

  “When?” she snapped when he still didn’t move.

  When I can feel my right arm again. “Soon,” he said, not even having the strength to grin. When his single word was met with silence, and worried she might decide to climb down and drag him over the top herself, Niall took a deep breath and tensed against the pain he knew was coming. “Get out of my way,” he growled so he wouldn’t shout, reaching for another handhold and hoisting himself over the top—only to be grabbed by the belt as Birch attempted to drag him away from the edge.

  “You idiot,” she said, giving up and rolling him over, then shoving Shep away when the dog started licking his face. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Not hurt. Just spent.” He cracked open his eyes to find her giving him a visual inspection. “Even hulking brutes need to catch our breaths occasionally.” When all that got him was a scowl, he lifted his head to see Reggie sitting on the ground cradling Misty, the two trembling teenagers hugging each other so tightly it was a wonder they could breathe. But knowing that if he didn’t keep moving he’d be crippled with muscle spasms, Niall sat up with another silent groan and rolled to his hands and knees.

  “Just lie still a minute,” Birch said, stopping him from standing.

  He lifted his head to look her directly in the eyes. “I need to go check the stream on the chance Sally Vaughn survived the fall,” he said quietly so only she could hear.

  Birch stood up with a gasp, then grabbed his sorely abused arm and tried hauling him to his feet. “I’ll help you look,” she said, giving another futile tug.

  “What the—Nicholas?” Reggie said in surprise.

  “Mama!” Misty cried, scrambling to her feet.

  Niall looked in the direction the teenagers were running to see Nicholas walking out of the woods carrying Sally Vaughn, both the mythical warrior and definitely alive woman soaking wet. When Birch raced after them with a cry of relief—Shep following with an excited bark—Niall flopped back spread-eagle on the ground with a loud groan, guessing he’d have to forgive the tardy bastard.

  Chapter Eight

  Birch sat in the dark on the porch steps with Mimi on her lap, both of them looking down across the lawn at the campfire on the beach. But as she watched Chief MacKeage, with Mimi presumably watching Shep, Birch thought about how many times in the last eight years she’d considered walking away from her job, preferably before she became another casualty in a war that already had too many.

  But then a day like today would inevitably come along.

  Ike Vaughn was dead and, judging by the shredded fingers on the body the game wardens had pulled from the water nearly a mile downstream, the son of a bitch hadn’t died instantly. And although that pleased her far more than it should, Birch was torn between being proud of and worrying over the fact that Sally had precipitated his demise. On the one hand there was nothing more empowering for a woman than to free herself from years of oppression, but perversely, it could be even more victimizing if people saw her as a murderer. Or worse, if she did.

  But there was a good chance Sally would make peace with her role in today’s tragedy, most likely the very first time she found herself staring into the eyes of her grandchild. And thanks to one man’s fearlessness, backed up by some pretty amazing muscles, that little miracle was going to happen five months from now.

  Birch watched Niall awkwardly place another piece of wood on the fire and decided she really couldn’t continue calling him Chief MacKeage, seeing how he’d saved her butt this morning—even if he had rewarded himself with a kiss. He’d also saved the girl, and had been on his way to go save the mother when Nicholas had suddenly appeared carrying Sally. Only there hadn’t been any visible means of how the quiet, towering man had gotten there, Birch had realized as she’d followed Niall’s truck back to town—with Nicholas driving the truck, Niall riding beside him and Shep in the backseat, and Sally and the two lovebirds riding with Birch in her car.

  She lifted Mimi off her lap and held the dog facing her. “I think it’s time we start being neighborly, Mims, which means I have to stop growling at Niall and you have to stop snapping at Shep. But here’s the thing; when we bring them our peace offering, try not to notice that Niall is hurt, okay? Because guys are funny about not wanting anyone to know they’re in pain. You remember the two weekends you spent hiding in Dad’s mudroom after he got shot and was so grumpy, don’t you, until I gave in and just left you home with Mom?”

  Niall had actually growled at her this afternoon when Birch had suggested—okay, insisted—that he let Dr. Bentley check him out when they’d taken Misty and Sally and Reggie to the clinic. But crumbling castle walls and saving young girls from falling to their deaths was apparently just an ordinary day for a Scot, and the one living next door could be a poster boy for stoicism.

  Yeah, well, considering she had spent four freaking years being brought down a peg by her paternal grandfather, Birch guessed it would take more than a growling mountain of testosterone to scare her off. And so she set Mimi on the step, picked up the still-warm peace offering she’d filched the moment Noreen had gone to bed, and headed down the stairs with all the confidence of a woman whom a really handsome man had a power
ful desire to kiss.

  Mon Dieu, she couldn’t believe he’d admitted that, and she sure as heck wished he hadn’t acted on that admission not ten minutes later, because now all she could think about was when—or even if—he would kiss her again.

  Because if he did, then by God she was kissing him back!

  Well, not if they were anywhere near the park.

  She didn’t even care that the guy strapped on a gun before he left for work every morning, because really, what were the chances someone in this backwater town would be stupid enough to shoot a cop? She was pretty sure Spellbound Falls didn’t even have any alleys, much less a couple of badass street gangs fighting over them.

  And anyway, it wasn’t like she was husband-hunting or anything; cops didn’t earn nearly enough money for her to consider ever marrying one. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a bit of smooching or even crawl into bed with those amazing muscles, seeing how sex was on her list of reasons why she didn’t hate men.

  Yes, she’d actually made a damned list.

  And she was pretty sure sex was right up there near the top.

  So having a discreet affair with a man who had admitted he was attracted to her might actually be doable. Heck, it might even be fun to get up close and personal with all that muscle, since the guys she usually dated probably wouldn’t even know which end of a pickax to hold. And as an added bonus, her having an affair with a real live highlander should also stop her mom from complaining about her nonexistent love life.

  That he lived right next door might be tricky, though. It was bad enough they’d be within eyesight of the shelter, but earshot, too? On the plus side, since she didn’t have her mom’s propensity to fall in love with every guy who kissed her, Niall wouldn’t have to worry about her getting all clinging and needy—something she should probably point out to him right after she kissed him back.

  Realizing she was walking alone, Birch stopped and turned to see her unfaithful canine companion standing by the door. She blew out a sigh and trudged back up the lawn. “So which is it; are you going to be Mighty Mimi tonight or Chicken Little?”

  Birch couldn’t help but smile when the dog’s lips rolled back at the mere mention of the name Claude had given the tiny white puffball the first time she’d showed up at his house with her new puppy. Apparently taking it as a personal affront that she hadn’t taken his suggestion to get a real dog, he’d started calling Mimi Chicken Little whenever they visited—which, now that she thought about it, was probably why her pet wasn’t all that enamored with men, either.

  But then, people couldn’t pick their parents, could they? Although, to be fair, her father had had to live with his parents for eighteen freaking years. Well, plus the four that he’d moved back home when he’d taken custody of her, because really, what did a single guy know about caring for a little girl? It still confounded Birch as to how a bubbly, quirky teenager could have lost her virginity to such a serious, emotionally clueless young man—Hazel having shouted that latter attribute at the elder St. Germaines the day she’d swooped in and ripped her daughter from their coldhearted talons.

  Hazel might be too trusting, but no one could ever accuse her of being a coward.

  “Come on, Mighty Mimi,” Birch urged, trying to sound excited. “Shep really is just an overgrown puppy.” With some pretty amazing muscles of his own, she silently added, and an equally fearless heart. The dog had a darn good nose, too.

  Mimi padded across the porch and down the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a canary going to a cat convention. “Just hop up on the log,” Birch offered as they headed down the lawn, “and that way you’ll be eye-level with Shep.” She stopped at the edge of the beach when she saw Niall click off his cell phone screen and say something in what she assumed was Gaelic when Shep tried to sit up. “Can we share your campfire if we come bearing gifts?” she asked, holding out the towel-wrapped dish for him to see.

  “Considering the day ye put in, I’d think you would long be in bed by now.”

  “I tried, but every time I close my eyes all I keep seeing is Ike Vaughn dragging his family over that cliff.” She peeled back the towel and tilted the pie. “It’s blueberry.”

  “Did Noreen make it?”

  “It’s nearly impossible to get food poisoning from a fruit pie. I brought forks.”

  He arched a brow. “Ye bring me a gift then expect me to share?”

  “It’s still warm from the oven.”

  He started to reach out with his right hand, but, without so much as a grimace, quickly changed to using his left hand to pat the ground beside him. “I’ll share on the condition you take the first bite.”

  “Noreen’s being extra careful these days,” Birch said dryly, walking around the log he was leaning against and handing him the pie, then sitting on the gravel beside him. She pulled a fistful of napkins out of her pocket and dug out the forks she’d wrapped inside them, handed one of each to Niall, then held her own fork poised over the dish and looked at him. “You really want me to take the first bite?”

  “Did Noreen make this for you to give to me or for the shelter residents?”

  “She made it and five more for the bake sale the grange is having tomorrow.”

  Up went that brow again. “Ye brought the police chief a stolen pie?”

  Since the smell of cooking blueberries had been driving her crazy for the last two hours, Birch drove her fork down through the center of the crust and dug out a forkful, shoved it in her mouth with a hum of pleasure, then chewed and moaned and drove her fork into it again. “See, it not pwoisoned,” she said around her second mouthful, using a finger to redirect an escaping blueberry when she caught Niall staring at her. “And it’s weally good.” Again she drove her fork into the dish that he was thoughtfully holding up to make the journey to her mouth shorter. Well, or else he was worried she might accidently stab his leg. “Noreen’s pies always take blue ribbons at the local fairs, and the grange ladies charge double for them.” She held the forkful of oozing, berry-laden crust level with his face, then shoved it in her mouth when he still didn’t move. “Fine, be swubbon.” She stopped chewing. “Wait, are you awergic to bwueberries? Or diabetic or sumfin?”

  When all that got her was a scowl, she went back to chewing.

  He set the pie down on his thighs and finally dug in. “Can I ask where Mrs. Vaughn and her daughter are?” he asked. “Once the state police finished questioning everyone, I assumed you would have brought them here.” He shrugged—but only his left shoulder, she pretended not to notice. “Hell, I’m not even sure their house is habitable anymore.”

  Birch wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Sally has a sister living in the next town past Turtleback, and the woman probably broke the sound barrier coming to get them.” She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. “Reggie wasn’t too happy about that, though. In fact, I was afraid he might try to run off with Misty after all.”

  “Nicholas is keeping an eye on the boy,” he said after politely swallowing.

  “Speaking of the giant, how did he get there so quickly? If he came directly up the mountain on an ATV like Reggie did, then why didn’t he drive it to the Vaughns’ house instead of leading the horse?”—which had been carrying Sally and Misty, while Birch had ridden on the back of Reggie’s ATV with the teenager. Niall had also walked, with Shep leading the entire procession.

  No one had mentioned going to look for Ike Vaughn.

  “He likely ran,” Niall said, just before filling his mouth with pie again.

  “Up a mountain in under an hour from the time you called him?”

  He shrugged while politely swallowing again. “Nicholas has really long legs.”

  “The guy doesn’t talk much, does he? Dinner at the Salohcins’ must be a real party.” When all that comment got her was another scowl, Birch set her fork in the dish and wiped her mouth again as she looked ar
ound.

  “She’s right behind you, wedged between the log and the lip of the lawn,” Niall said, obviously guessing she was looking for Mimi. He placed his own fork in the dish, then leaned across Birch—stoically pretending it didn’t nearly kill him—and set the massacred pie on a rock beside her. “Why don’t ye try handing her to me.”

  Birch had to get to her knees to reach Mimi, then had to throw herself across the log when the dog un-wedged herself and tried to bolt for the house. “Chicken Little,” she whispered, hoping to bolster her pet.

  “Nay, she’s no chicken,” Niall said with a chuckle as he took Mimi and held her facing him. “She’s wise enough to be cautious.”

  Birch also pretended not to notice he’d said that while looking at her.

  He lowered Mimi to his lap—the dog all but disappearing in his large hands—then spoke to Shep in Gaelic again, apparently releasing him. Shep simply raised his head and touched Mimi’s nose, but immediately jerked back when his gentle greeting was met by rolled lips and a warning growl—just before Mimi tried to bite Niall’s fingers.

  Which, of course, only made Mr. Stoic chuckle again.

  “How come you talk to Shep in Gaelic?” Birch asked instead of snatching up her trembling dog and running for the house before the poor thing peed herself.

  “So a perpetrator we’re trying to apprehend won’t know what command I’ve given. And when it’s given in Gaelic, Shep knows I mean business. Has Mimi not been handled by men very much?” he asked, his voice quiet and calm as he used his thumb to stroke Mimi’s neck, completely ignoring her warning growls.