by L. L. Muir
Oh, finally.
He took a deep breath of chilled air that proved he was still, as yet, a living man. He glanced at Harper’s waiting lips, then back at Soni. The witch’s attention was on the lass as well.
“She’s lovely,” she said.
He took advantage of the excuse to look his fill. “Aye. She is. And braver than ye would ever guess. She tried to keep me away, as a matter of fact—”
“Yes. I know. Very brave.” Soni sighed and turned her attention back to him. “So, are ye ready? Would ye prefer I allow ye that kiss before we go? Seems as though Harper thinks ye’ve earned it.”
The lass’s lips still waited.
“And then we simply…go?”
“Aye. But dinna fash. She will remember little. Naught more than a dream.”
If he set aside the fact he didn’t necessarily wish to be forgotten, it seemed wrong to leave her as she was. “She’s still in grave danger, Soni.”
The witch’s brows rose. “Oh, aye. But she’s a resourceful lass. And moving away from the danger even as we speak. I wouldn’t worry about her.”
Not worry about her? Soni, please. I’ve not had a whole day yet. Can ye not give me two? I’m certain I can see her safe, in truth, if I am given the time. And I’m not asking for more than ye promised.
Soni shook her head and the action was like a fist to his guts. “Nay, Lachlan. I said ye’d be given enough time for a brave deed, and ye’ve had that. And more. I might have come for ye just after ye tried to pull the wee lassie from the train tracks, aye?”
Gazing as Harper caused him pain, then, but he couldn’t look away. “So I was never meant to save her?”
“What?” Soni shook her head. “No, my friend. Just a brave deed. And for no one in particular.
The disappointment he felt surprised him. There was nothing special here, just as there was nothing special about him being chosen to die at Culloden. And the randomness of it all made his middle feel as empty and sullen as Culloden Moor itself.
“So, do ye want yer kiss then? Or shall we just be on our way?”
Those waiting lips beckoned. But when those eyes opened, he knew the loneliness they would hold, and it broke his all-too-feeling heart.
“What’s it to be?” Soni prodded again. Would she give him not a moment of peace?
Bereft, he shook his head. If Harper wouldn’t remember his kiss he had no business taking it from her. But his head took up shaking again before he realized what he meant to say.
“I won’t leave her,” he said, and the words themselves stirred his sad blood back to life again. “Tell me the cost and I’ll pay it. There must be something ye can undo here, with yer obviously substantial powers.”
Soni shook her head to mirror his denial. “Nay, Lachlan. I’ve but borrowed these powers from my great uncle Wickham. I’ve made bargains too. And the only way for me to allow ye more time is to break the first bargain we made. It would mean giving up the revenge ye’ve waited centuries for. And Bonnie Prince Charlie is waitin’.”
“I care not,” he lied, though it sounded strangely true. He stepped close to Harper, wrapped an arm around her waist, and faced his wee witch. “I want no more of yer bargain, Soncerae.”
The lass quickly swallowed her surprise and nodded once. And truly, a burdensome weight was lifted from his chest, perhaps from his soul. His ease fled, however, when he noted the regret on Soni’s face.
“I’m sorry, Lachlan. There is still a reckoning to be made. And we cannot rob justice, aye?”
“Justice?”
She nodded slowly. “I’ve already paid to have ye brought back to life, and kept alive, while ye did yer noble deed. But I was only able to pay for a day, ye ken? A day for each of the 79, or two if the deed is not yet done. I can give ye until the moon rises perhaps, but that is all the time ye can have. I’m sorry.” She watched him closely for a moment. “And now, knowing that, would ye rather take yer boon and meet with the prince? It can’t be an easy exchange—years of revenge for a handful of hours at most.”
She was right. It was a hard exchange to make. But he wouldn’t take back the weight he’d just lost from his chest when he surrendered his need for revenge on the prince. And he would not be haunted by the sight of his brave lass standing with her eyes closed, waiting for a kiss that never came.
He faced Harper again, taking the same position he’d been in when Soni had interrupted. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll see this evening, then.”
Soni’s gasp of surprise pleased him. But he was even more pleased when the green glow of her mist left him in peace with his sweet lass. The rumble beneath his feet resumed. The skin on his arms rose again to welcome the chilled air of the refrigerated lorry.
It was his cue.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lachlan pressed his mouth against the warmth of Harper’s waiting lips. A chaste kiss filled with all the emotion of a conversation she hadn’t witnessed. “A priceless kiss,” he whispered, when it was over.
Her hands released the cold wall behind her and she slid them up his chest and around his neck. He pulled her against him and held tight, absorbing her trembling.
“Are ye cold?”
She nodded her head against his chest and he hurried to get her settled on the seat of the sleigh with the velvet blanket over her once more. He sat beside her and heard the hushed impact of half a dozen decorations falling to the floor. No doubt they’d become brittle from the cold transportation.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her expression was impossible to see so far away from the cracks of light, but her voice conveyed the rest.
“No need.” He stroked her hair absently. “Ye already explained—”
“If Bart finds us, he’ll kill you now. And I will really end up in a psych ward if that happens, you know? I can’t live with it. And he knows that. He’ll use you against me, and then he’ll kill you anyway.”
“Hush now. We’re miles away. And I’d like to forget about everyone but ye, do ye ken?”
The chilled air swirled between them and he finally admitted that he was shivering too. But it was a grand excuse to pull her against him and hold her closer. The feel of her, crushed in his embrace, left his body and his soul swimming in the sweetest sense of belonging, though that belonging was temporary. Even the soft down of her wee black jacket was a bliss he would never forget.
Had Simon felt such joy when he’d been able to pull Soni to him and kiss her? Perhaps, if the wee witch had felt the same, she wasn’t too surprised at Lachlan’s sacrifice.
Harper sniffed and he didn’t have to feel her face to know it would be wet with tears. “They killed another man that tried to protect me. His name was Milton.” Her body jerked against him and he realized she was greetin’ in earnest. And sometimes, a body needed to greet, so he didn’t interrupt for a good five minutes.
“Did ye…love this Milton?” It was ridiculous for him to feel any kind of jealousy toward a poor man who had met his end at the hands of another, as he and the fallen of Culloden had. But he was jealous. He had a charming image in his head of Harper gazing up into his eyes with true adoration on her face and the idea that she’d been in love with another man interfered with that image.
“No. I didn’t love him. I hired him to be my bodyguard. I thought that was all I needed to keep my stepfather from messing with me until July.”
“Bodyguard?” Well, then, the pretty image in his head could remain intact for a while. “How did they kill him?”
“Poison. I’m sure of it. But the doctor said it was the flu. I’m sure he was paid off.”
“Poison!” Lachlan grunted. “A woman’s weapon.”
The lass nodded. “A monster’s weapon.”
He had to agree. Any woman that poisoned another was a monster indeed.
“I’m sorry, lass.”
She took a deep breath and eased away from him a bit. “I’m going to be twenty-one in July and I will have my trust fund. So St. Clair needs to
get control of me before then. Everything he’s tried has failed so far. So I’m sure he plans to have me committed to a mental hospital, where he can control me with medication. After he empties the fund, he’ll probably…make it look like an overdose. He’s made sure there is a record, at least with the psychiatrist, a history of drug abuse.”
Lachlan had watched the better part of many a movie—enough to know the scenario she suggested was a plausible one. But it was the inevitability in her voice that frightened him.
“Harper, sweeting, doona fash so. Do ye suppose I would let such a thing happen to ye?”
She eased farther back, nearly out of his arms. “Oh, really? Are you going to run and hide with me for another month?”
His gut twisted. He only had a few hours. If he’d failed to see her safe before nightfall, he would simply disappear, forced to move on and leave her to fend for herself. Would she know she’d been abandoned? Would she reach for him and find him gone? Or would he dissolve from her memories and leave gaps she couldn’t explain?
“We’ll find a solution today, lass. I vow it.”
She sighed softly. “I didn’t think so.” When she pressed her back against the seat again, she left a great deal of cold space between them. Apparently her ire was enough to warm her.
While he tried to devise a plan, they sat in silence except for the sound of the fan blowing that cold air about. It also smelled a bit like rotting flowers—another sense for which he was grateful, even though the smell was none so pleasant. But with all his senses alert, it was difficult for him to think clearly.
She was the one to speak first. “Look. Buddy. Just get out when the truck stops again.”
“I’m not Buddy. I’m Lachlan. And I’m going to prove myself to ye. I’m just not certain how…as yet.”
“Just be honest with me. Is that so hard? Admit that there’s nothing you can do to help me, that you’ve already saved my butt enough times to earn yourself a Boy Scout badge, and you need to look out for yourself now. Which you do. I’m serious. I don’t want you coming back to haunt me. And I’ll be able to figure something out just fine on my own, and I’ll live a good long time, so you’d really regret the whole haunting thing.”
Haunting? “Of course!” He was so excited he had to force himself to stay seated. “That’s how I can stay with ye until July!”
“Sorry?”
“I’ll haunt ye!”
The lass was as silent as the clan stones on the moor. He couldn’t resist reaching out for her, to make sure she hadn’t disappeared on him. She tried to avoid his grasp, but he got a hold on her shoulders and forced her to face him, even though they couldn’t see each other well.
“Harper,” he began, but couldn’t think of how to continue.
“Lachlan…”
The hairs on the back of his head tingled at the sound of his name on her lips, but he didn’t have the luxury to ask her to repeat herself.
“Harper, my name is Lachlan McLean of the Clan McLean.”
“What is this, a Highlander sequel?”
“Nay, lass. That’s McLeod.” He wished he didn’t know to what she was referring, but he did. “I fought on the field of Culloden on April 16, in the year of our Lord, 1746. And I died there.”
She tried to wiggle free, but he held tight to her shoulders.
“Oh my gosh! You’re a Highlander nut just like St. Clair. What will you tell me next, that you can’t be kill—” The choked silence was telling. He could easily imagine the look on her face.
She slammed up against him and wrapped her arms around him. While he enjoyed the contact, he wondered at the way her hands dug beneath his plaid at his back. Then he realized she was looking for the gunshot wound that had never been.
He pushed her arms wider, then took a hold of them, keeping them still.
“Harper, please—”
“Don’t you dare!” She jerked her shoulders and backed away though she remained inside the sleigh. The lorry made a sharp turn just then, but he didn’t reach out to her. There was enough she needed to deal with without worrying where he was touching her.
“I didna intend to tell ye I was a ghostie brought back to life, though temporarily invincible… It would be much easier if the witch were here to explain. But I pray I won’t see her again for a long while.”
“Swear to me you’re not working for St. Clair! Tell me Bart didn’t have blanks in his gun, that you weren’t willing to take a bullet for me because you knew about it.”
“The bullets were real enough. I felt them…though vaguely. But forgive me if I canna produce them at the moment for yer inspection.” He couldn’t help the rise of his temper. The lass’s thoughts had taken a bad turn, and he was more than a little disappointed she could suspect him of such betrayal. Though, to be fair, she would have to take his word on faith alone.
“It wasn’t just the kilt,” she said. “It was the whole Highlander package. What’s he going to do, have you cut off my head when the farce is over?” Her voice had risen with the sound of the engine as the vehicle sped up, likely entering the thoroughfare. But he believed she would have shouted at him anyway. Adrenaline is a hard thing to control when one believes they are facing an enemy.
“I do not know or work for yer stepfather,” he said firmly. “What I told ye about myself is true. I fell at Culloden. I have haunted that place for two hundred and seventy years, and now a witch has released me with a charge to perform some heroic deed. I only have until the moon rises to help ye find true safety. I wish I had more time, but—”
“What happens when the moon rises? You become a ghost again? Go back to Scotland?”
“Nay. My time at Culloden is over. I agreed to move on, and so I must.”
“Move on? Like, into the light?”
“Wherever I deserve to go, I suppose.” If she heard the last, he didn’t know, but he no longer felt like shouting. Perhaps his own adrenaline was spent. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to think about Heaven or Hell or his worthiness of either.
He made out her face in the shadows. She frowned as fiercely as he did, obviously no more happy with him than he was with her at the moment.
“Ask me something,” he said. “Anything that might help ye believe I am not in league with yer villains.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she lifted her shoulders while holding her hands out, as if to prove her powerlessness. “I have no idea what you could say to make me believe you. I mean, it’s not like I can put my hand through you or anything, right?”
He nodded. “As I said, I am flesh and blood for the moment.”
She nodded too. “Yeah. Sure.”
He looked up and said a quick prayer for inspiration.
“You know what I think?”
He was but happy she was still speaking to him. “What is that?”
“I think, if St. Clair planned this, you were his cruelest joke of all, getting me to believe I actually had someone on my side, willing to defend me like Milton was. I think your job was to make me believe I was going crazy. Or else he wanted me to catch on, just about now, to pull the rug out from under me.”
“Ah, lass—” He so wanted to gather her to him and prove through his touch alone that he was, indeed, on her side. She was far too wary, too shell-shocked to trust him now. He’d just have to put more effort into thinking of a solution. But what did a ghost—tethered to a moor, 78 comrades, and a wee witch—know that might impress a girl from—
“Where are we?”
She gave him an unkind look, even if he couldn’t see her clearly.
“Just tell me. What city is this?”
“Salt Lake. Salt Lake City, Utah. Don’t tell me you can’t read signs.”
Salt Lake? He had a memory attached to the place. And when he recalled it, he suddenly had his inspiration.
“We need to find a lawyer,” he said.
She gasped. “Oh, really? Jeez. I hadn’t thought of that. All this time I’ve been runn
ing around, trying to keep St. Clair from putting me in jail or an institution, I never thought once to hire a lawyer! Duh!”
He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, but he would overlook it. “I know a lawyer from Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“Hey. For a Scottish ghost, you get around. But it doesn’t matter when no lawyer will talk to me without a parent or a retainer. And I’ve barely got enough money to get by for the next month, if I live that long. And lawyers demand thousands just to listen to me. I tried to convince this secretary, once, that I was going to inherit millions in another month, but apparently desperate people have already used that line on her. And I got the same answer from the next, and the next. There’s no way I can get their attention long enough to explain anything.”
She scowled at him harder and he thought better than to interrupt.
“But you probably already know that, don’t you? Did you and St. Clair have a good laugh when he explained what was going on? When he was hiring you to act as my personal tracking device?” Her gaze looked him over, to his toes and up again. “And the next move was supposed to be what, to seduce me? Will someone be on hand with a camera?”
If she’d been a man, he would have struck her for suggesting it. But he couldn’t do that. And even if she was a man, a little violence would only convince her that he had no true interest in protecting her.
So what did you do with a woman who needed a good shock?
Lachlan shrugged inwardly and convinced himself there was no real choice in the matter. He needed to kiss her again.
So he did.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The truck began to slow—or maybe it was just her brain function. What other explanation was there for kissing a guy who was either out of his mind, or her enemy?
He certainly didn’t feel like the enemy, though. He didn’t taste like an enemy either. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she really couldn’t believe, deep down, that the guy wasn’t 100% on her side.
