The Highlander Next Door

by Janet Chapman

  “But a stove like that has to cost a fortune,” Noreen whispered.

  Logan’s cheeks darkened as he shifted uncomfortably and dropped his gaze to his wallet again. “It’s, ah, it was recently brought to my attention that having high-quality equipment can turn a daily chore into a . . . labor of love.” He looked up, his faded hazel eyes filling with tenderness. “And remembering how you always insisted I buy the best and safest chainsaws back when I was logging, I got to thinking that a woman who loves cooking as much as you do deserves the best stove in that store.”

  Okay, Niall figured he’d have to concede that point to Silas French.

  Logan pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and a ten, closed his wallet and slipped it in his back pocket, then held the money out to Niall. “This is for the damages. And you have my word the first purchase I make when I sell my honey this fall will be a stove.”

  Niall pulled his hand back without taking the money and shook his head. “Your word to purchase it no later than Monday or the fine stands.”

  Logan’s jaw momentarily slackened, but then his entire face turned as dark as a thundercloud. “God dammit, I can’t! There’s barely enough money left in our savings to buy a cheap stove. I’d have to cash in one of our certificates of deposit to buy that fancy one now, and the bank’s gonna charge me an arm and a leg for early withdrawal.”

  “I’ll wait,” Noreen suddenly piped up. She rushed out of the holding cell—only a brute would have actually locked the door—and slid her arm through Logan’s as she smiled up at Niall—making Niall wonder if he’d ever seen the woman smile before. “Really, I don’t mind waiting until this fall if it means the difference between getting a regular stove or one with two ovens and a glass top and no knobs.” She melted into Logan when he protectively slipped his arm around her. “I’ll just get creative by making salads and sandwiches and using the gas grill.” She leaned slightly away. “Do we still have that tin reflector oven you made after we saw that one at the lumber camp museum? Then I can still bake pies and biscuits,” she said when Logan nodded. “That is, if you don’t mind building me a campfire,” she added in a . . . good Lord, the woman was all but purring.

  She took the money out of her husband’s hand when it seemed all Logan could do was nod again, and held it out to Niall. “And you have my word, Chief MacKeage, that I won’t incite any more riots. I’ll apologize to Vanetta, too,” she added when Niall hesitated before finally taking the money. She then turned away, turning Logan with her, and started toward the door—which Silas French was no longer standing in, apparently having realized he’d better start hunting for a new place to live.

  “You remember when we used to make bean-hole beans?” Noreen continued to Logan as the couple walked away. “If you dig me a pit, I can cook other meals in the ground, too, including your favorite—pot roast and turnips.”

  “I’ll dig you a pit,” Logan said thickly as he slid his arm around her again and gave her a squeeze. “And I’ll hang a tarp over the grill for when it rains. I can even give our old picnic table a paint job and set it up on the knoll under that big maple tree you love, and we can eat up there in the shade however often you want.”

  Noreen cuddled even closer to him with what sounded like a sigh of contentment. “So when are the bees coming?” Niall heard her ask when they reached the porch. “How many hives did you order? Oh, Logan, who would have thought we’d be producing our very own honey. Does that company sell those cute little bottles shaped like bears? We’re going to have to design a really nice label and come up with a catchy name for our new business.”

  Logan led her down the stairs to his rusty old truck and opened the passenger door, but stopped her from getting in. Even from where he stood, Niall could see the man’s cheeks darken. “I, ah . . . I was thinking the labels we put on the honey jars could say Norrie’s Golden Nectar.”

  Niall felt his own jaw slacken as Noreen also gaped at her husband, before the woman suddenly threw her arms around him. “Oh, Logi, that’s beautiful!” She leaned away just enough to finger his shaggy gray hair. “You look like a pirate, Mr. Kent.”

  “You could give me a haircut out on the porch tomorrow morning if you want. I fixed those two broken boards and painted the whole floor so everything matches.”

  “Mmmm, we’ll see,” she said, giving his unshaven cheek a kiss, then turning and climbing in the truck. She fastened her seat belt, folded her hands on her lap, and looked out the windshield with another sigh. “Take me home, husband.”

  Logan closed the door, did a stiff-jointed hustle around the front of the truck, and climbed in behind the wheel. The truck started with a loud rattling cough, made a six-point turn between the station and the shoreline, and disappeared up the lane.

  “What . . .” Birch cleared her throat. “What just happened?”

  Niall looked down at the two twenty – and one ten-dollar bills in his hand. “I believe we just witnessed a miracle.”

  “Um, how did you know Logan would come charging in here like an angry bear and pay Noreen’s fine, when he wouldn’t even buy her a cookstove before?”

  Niall looked up and shrugged. “It’s been my experience that no matter how out of sorts a man is with his wife, if he feels someone else is treating her badly, he will come out swinging—and not always just verbally.”

  “But you couldn’t know how Noreen would react.”

  He shrugged again. “I’ve seen many coldhearted women turn into giddy lasses when the husbands they were angry at not five minutes earlier came riding hell-bent for leather to their rescue.”

  Birch gestured at the money in his hand. “Can you really set fines?”

  “No.”

  “Would you really have pressed charges?”

  “No.”

  “What would you have done if Logan hadn’t showed up?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She took a step closer. “How long have you been hatching this little scheme?”

  “Since I visited Logan three weeks ago and realized the man was simply scared he might outlive his savings, although I didn’t come up with a way to knock some sense into him until I saw that flyer in the paper.” He grinned. “I was just about to create a situation when Noreen created it for me.”

  Another step closer. “And it never occurred to you to let me in on your plan?”

  Now there was a loaded question if he ever heard one. “So ye would have given me your blessing to arrest Noreen?”

  Birch opened her mouth but closed it without saying anything, then cocked her head and studied him in silence.

  Niall became so busy trying to hear the conversation going on in her beautiful head that he was a bit slow to notice the growing fire in her eyes, barely giving himself enough time to prepare for her pounce.

  He was not, however, prepared for such a . . . passionate explosion.

  “You drive me crazy,” she growled, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist when he caught her.

  “Then we’re—”

  Niall didn’t mind that she didn’t let him finish, since she seemed more interested in attacking his mouth than hearing what he had to say. So he dropped a hand to her luscious bottom and kissed her back, even as he glanced at the door trying to figure out how to close and lock it without her realizing what he was doing.

  “Five stupid days,” she rasped in a winded hiss when she came up for air. “Don’t ever make me mad at you again by turning into a caveman. That bed in the holding cell felt really sturdy,” she added, once again kissing him before he could respond.

  And why wasn’t he surprised she was two steps ahead of him? Niall settled her higher against his chest and started for the door—figuring he’d figure out how to lock it without setting her down when he got there—only to jerk to a halt at the sight of Claude St. Germaine standing on the porch, the man’s arms fold
ed over his chest and his expression unreadable.

  Birch leaned away, her expression totally readable. “Don’t you dare go all slow and quiet on me now. It’s been five freaking days and I’m—” Her eyes widened at the sound of a clearing throat, just before she dropped her forehead to Niall’s with a muttered curse—Niall now knowing merde meant shit—followed by a whispered Daddy.

  “Five days since what?” Claude asked.

  Birch wiggled to be lowered to the floor, then ran the back of a hand over her mouth, tugged down the hem of her blouse on a deep breath, and finally turned around. “Thanks for letting me know you were coming to visit,” she drawled, apparently deciding to go on the attack rather than answer.

  Claude sighed rather loudly. “I thought you wanted me to be more spontaneous.” He unfolded his arms, held them out from his sides, and grinned. “Surprise.” When Birch didn’t appear in any hurry to respond, Claude looked over the top of her head at Niall, his grin widening. “Am I going blind, or was that the woman you just arrested cuddled up to a man driving the beat-up old truck that nearly ran me down when I stepped around the corner?”

  “What are you doing here, Daddy?” Birch asked at the same time Niall nodded.

  “I found myself missing Mimi.”

  Niall was glad to see he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed baiting Birch, although he did wonder at Claude’s motivation. That is, unless the man was stalling because he didn’t want an audience when he broke the news that he wasn’t just visiting.

  Then again, maybe the guy was tired of being parented.

  Nay, that wasn’t it, as Claude had spoken fondly of Birch’s efforts to make him a tolerable father, beginning when she’d been six.

  “Oh maudit, come on,” Birch muttered, stepping onto the porch and slipping her arm through Claude’s. “If you’re going to insist on being annoying, you can do it while driving me home. Because unlike some people who take their vacations without telling anyone and just show up without calling first, I’m still on the clock.” She stopped them both at the top of the stairs and turned back to Niall. “Speaking of which, where’s Mom? Her cart’s still here.”

  “She and Sam went to Turtleback to check out station sites for me,” Niall said, stifling a grin at her gasp and Claude’s are you insane? wince.

  “Sam Waters from the Trading Post?” Birch squeaked. “You let her go to Turtleback with him? Just the two of them? Alone?”

  “I’m sorry,” Niall murmured, brushing a hand down over his thin leather vest—the weather having forced him to trade in his jacket. “I didn’t want to come across as a caveman by ordering Hazel not to go anywhere with Sam . . . alone.”

  “Oh, tu l’homme tannant!” she snapped, dragging her father down the stairs and heading up the lane. “I can only deal with one crisis at a time, and right now that would be the woman and her daughter waiting for me at the shelter. I just hope Macie and Cassandra thought to take the turkey out of the oven before it turned into a brick.”

  Thanks to Hazel’s list—which he’d made sure to memorize—Niall also now knew Birch had just called him a maddening man, which he figured beat hulking brute.

  Well hell, he seemed to be making progress.

  Birch suddenly stopped walking again, also pulling her father to a stop. “Dammit to hell and back,” she growled in good old English as she shot Niall a good old spitfire scowl. “I just lost my cook.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Even though he’d enjoyed the ride down Bottomless in Nicholas’s powerful fishing boat—winning the undeclared race with Duncan and Alec in Duncan’s boat—Niall hadn’t much cared for having to put ashore a good half mile from their destination, their subsequent hike through the woods providing swarms of mosquitoes plenty of fresh blood. Niall slapped his neck when his fine hairs stirred again, still not sure why a mythical warrior felt he needed to drag a modern magic-maker and two mere mortals along on his little spy mission. But rather than lying in his big comfortable bed hoping Birch’s passionate pounce today portended a soft knock on his door tonight, he would instead be staring through binoculars while getting eaten alive watching mostly well-intentioned people dancing and chanting and tossing perfectly good food into a bonfire.

  As Sebastian was apparently too focused on calling forth a new god to realize the bastard had manifested months ago, Dante had sent word that the colony’s leader was having another go at it tonight, the ritual once again taking place on a secluded island two-thirds down the inland sea just off the uninhabited eastern shoreline. And when Niall had asked why they needed to attend if they already knew the guest of honor would be a no-show, Nicholas had explained that if the colonists had managed to successfully bring forth one god, there was an equally good chance they could call forth another one.

  And wasn’t that a goddamned wonderful notion.

  “Well, this is new,” Nicholas murmured, his ancient spyglass trained on the island and his tone making Niall, Duncan, and Alec grab their binoculars and scramble over to the fallen log. “It appears we’re not the only ones interested in tonight’s ceremony.” He snorted. “Although I don’t find it very sporting to fly in and perch right in plain sight.”

  “Where?” Duncan asked.

  “He just landed in the taller pine slightly south of the center of the island, on the third branch down from the top.” The warrior chuckled. “Is that dried blueberries I see in his head feathers?”

  Niall finally found the tree and realized the he Nicholas was talking about was a fully-matured bald eagle. “The bird that gave Birch the hairclip was still immature.”

  “Over a week ago,” Nicholas reminded him. “Our new resident god appears to be coming into his powers amazingly fast.”

  “Telos,” Niall murmured when he zoomed in on the eagle watching the colonists below preparing tonight’s bonfire.

  There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Nicholas gave him a nudge. “Where did you hear that word?”

  Niall lowered his binoculars to find Alec and Duncan also looking at him. He turned to sit leaning against the log and fingered the hilt of his sword as he wondered how to tell the men—without breaking his promise by actually telling them—that the forest god had given Birch his name. “When ye airlifted Birch’s car off that gravel bar the day of her accident,” Niall said to Duncan as he and Alec also turned to settle against the log, “did ye notice that the air bags hadn’t deployed?”

  Duncan eyed him curiously, even as he shrugged. “I assumed she didn’t hit the water at a steep enough angle to set them off.”

  “Nay, she didn’t. That’s because when she left the road, Birch hit a large oak tree on the bank of the river first, which was the same tree the car was tangled in when I found it pinned up against the bridge.”

  “But the front of the vehicle didn’t have any damage,” Duncan said, now eyeing him suspiciously. “Expect for being soaked through, the car appeared untouched. Hell, I don’t remember even seeing any scratches.”

  Niall looked over at Nicholas. “Titus said he saw the new god change into an innocuous weed or bush to escape the demons the day it manifested, and we’re fairly certain the bird who found Rana’s hairclip was also the god.” Niall looked down and fingered his sword again. “Could he not also have been the oak that saved Birch’s life by gently breaking her fall, then holding her car against the bridge until help arrived?”

  “That doesn’t explain you just calling him Telos,” Nicholas said.

  “He actually spoke to her,” Alec apparently decided when Niall didn’t respond. “The forest god told Birch his name.”

  “What else did he tell her?” Duncan asked. He kicked Niall’s foot when Niall remained silent. “Did he happen to mention what his intentions are?”

  “I’m more interested,” Nicholas drawled, “in hearing Miss Callahan’s reaction to having a tree talk to her.”

  “Why a
ren’t you answering?” Duncan asked.

  Alec chuckled. “My guess is Birch made him promise not to tell anyone she had a conversation with a tree. The lass talked back to it, didn’t she?”

  Duncan kicked Niall’s foot again when he still said nothing. “Dammit, man, we’re not playing twenty questions here. Just tell us what the bastard told Birch.”

  “All I know,” Niall snapped, standing up before Duncan could kick him again, “is that an oak tree broke Birch’s fall, then kept her from sinking until I could get there.” He glared down at the three grinning men. “The water rushing through the branches made a lot of noise, so maybe I only thought I heard her say Telos. Hell, maybe the bastard said it to me, so I’d know who I was indebted to for saving Birch’s life.”

  “Okay, then,” Duncan said dryly. “Did the tree tell you why he’s here?”

  Finally; it had taken them long enough. “Nay,” Niall said on a sigh as he sat down again, this time leaning against a cedar out of foot-kicking reach. “But after thinking about his appearing to Birch as both an eagle and a tree, I believe Telos is deliberately showing us that unlike Titus and Mac, he intends to be more . . . personal when it comes to using the magic. More hands-on.”

  “Titus did mention he thought the new god had taken a personal interest in your Miss Callahan,” Nicholas drawled.

  “Aye,” Alec said. “Giving jewelry to a woman is definitely personal.”

  “So is saving her life,” Duncan added.

  Not being able to read their expressions since he was facing into the setting sun, Niall had no problem hearing the amusement in their voices. “Birch may not be the only person whose life he saved,” he said, deciding to turn the subject back to the matter at hand. “About a month ago I came upon a man walking along the road as I was driving up from Turtleback, and at first thought he might be drunk, since he was weaving more than walking. But as I drew near I could see he was hunched over holding his ribs, and what I thought was a red shirt turned out to be blood from a gash in his head.”