“Thanks again for doing this,” Cassie said.
“No prob.” He released the kickstand on his iPhone and held up the Next Generation manuscript, explaining, “This was left in your sister’s former bookstore, Leslie. I did a deeper search after the girls left. Not sure how it leaked onto the net but somehow a record of not only the Broun name but the existence of this manuscript is in a database for anyone searching out the Scottish Broun clan.” He kept flipping the pages. “Seems you can pull it up if you’re researching the MacLomain clan too. Leads right to my bookstore.”
Bradon made a strange sound but buried it in a shot of whisky.
Cassie watched both Leslie and Bradon’s reaction closely. Besides the weird grunt from Bradon, neither was overly responsive. If anything, Leslie was playing it too cool, her expression unwavering.
“Funny thing.” Sean set aside the manuscript. “You and your husband are mentioned in this…quite a bit.”
“My cousin, McKayla wrote that.” Leslie’s tone was fairly curt. “Not only is it copyrighted but under contract with a publishing house.”
Sean held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m not interested in cashing in on this thing.” His expression remained unreadable. “I showed you this to help out Cassie and Nicole. They’re interested in their heritage and I get that. Listen, now that I have confirmation that this belongs to you give me an address and I’ll mail you the manuscript.”
Leslie's eyes narrowed. “How do I know you won’t copy it first?”
“All right, lass.” Before Leslie could say another word, Bradon took the phone from her and left the room.
Leslie scowled. Brows knitted together, she put on black-rimmed chic eyeglasses and turned on her tablet. Fingers flitting over the surface, she peered at the screen. “Who is this guy Sean again?”
“He’s really nice. A fishing boat—” Nicole started.
“We just met him and he’s been nothing but helpful,” Cassie cut in, frowning at Leslie. “My apologies if all of this, us, and Sean, is too much. That wasn’t my intention when I sought you out. I just really wanted to make contact with more Brouns. Sean was an innocent and remarkably helpful bystander.”
“Innocent bystander,” Leslie murmured, eyes scanning the tablet. “Those don’t exist in my world.”
Cassie put a hand over Leslie’s wrist, stopping her short. “But they do in mine and I’m asking you to respect that.”
When Leslie’s incredulous eyes rose to hers, Cassie continued. “Please. History is everything to me. My family heritage more so.” She shook her head. “And you are part of my heritage. A person I’ve only just met but share blood with. That’s not only intense but very important to me.”
Leslie eyed her for a long, uncomfortable moment before she said, “You do realize that your blood is far removed from mine? And I can't imagine there's much Broun in you. But, as it turns out, I guess there's enough."
What a bizarre thing to say. Cassie banked her rising aggravation at Leslie's somewhat callous declaration. “How could you possibly know that?”
Leslie removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, whispering, “Because you couldn’t possibly be here otherwise.” She shook her head. “You’re just enough Broun to slip through the cracks. Like a sixth or seventh cousin removed.”
“Whatever.” Nicole stood and shook her head, eyes on Cassie. “Let’s scoot, girl. I love that you brought us Brouns together, and I’m all about what you have to offer.” She shot Leslie a less-than-impressed look. “But apparently she’s not. We don’t deserve this elitist bullshit.”
Leslie arched a disgruntled brow at Nicole. “Hell, we really are related, aren’t we.”
Bradon returned and handed the phone to Cassie. “Please dinnae leave. It’s been a while since Leslie has…reconnected with blood.”
“Too long,” Leslie muttered under her breath. Then she motioned with her hand at Nicole. “Sit. Bear with me. This is just a lot to take in is all.”
Sean hung up and Cassie couldn’t help but wonder what he and Bradon talked about.
“Yeah, all right.” Nicole sank back into her chair and took a swig of beer. As a general rule of thumb, her friend was quick to forgive unless she was truly pissed off.
“What is a lot to take in?” Cassie asked Leslie in response to her statement. “I’m a little unclear why us showing up and wanting to connect with our lineage is getting such a strong reaction.”
“I’m ordering take-out,” Bradon said, obviously trying to ease the tension. “What would you like?”
Leslie’s eyes caught Cassie’s, a little lost, before she snapped out of it and looked between her and Nicole. “Again, I’m sorry if I’ve been weird. Just overtired. What do you guys like? Chinese? Pizza? Name it, we’ll get it.”
“I’m fine with anything,” Cassie murmured.
“Total Chinese girl here,” Nicole volunteered, clearly moving past her previous discontent.
“Chinese it is then,” Bradon said.
Cassie grabbed her purse. “Let me give you some money.”
“It’s on us.” Bradon winked. “Anything for a Broun.” Then he left the room.
“So now that we’ve met,” Cassie continued, eyes on Leslie. “We’d love to know anything you might be able to share about our lineage.”
Leslie shut off the tablet and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know a whole lot save the history of this house and my connection to it.”
Cassie got the feeling that Leslie was being deliberately vague. Even so, this was more than she expected. “We’d love to hear anything at all.”
Leslie hesitated, eyes flickering between them before they landed on Nicole. “You too?”
“Yeah.” A strange look passed over Nicole’s face. “Definitely.”
A long bout of silence passed as Leslie considered them before she nodded and continued. “I can’t speak for the history of this house beforehand, but the first Brouns of importance lived here in the early eighteenth century. Rumor has it they were witches. After that, history is a little fuzzy until my cousin, Caitlin moved in. Since then this house has always welcomed Brouns.”
Cassie felt like she had been doused with ice water. Witches?
Nicole outright laughed. “You’re screwing with us about the witches part, right?”
“I’m not screwing with you in the least,” Leslie said dryly. Her eyes swung to Cassie. “You’re a historian right?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“And a bit more too, huh?”
Forget being doused with ice water, it shot straight through her veins. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Why are you so drawn to the Brouns when you’re at least ten other nationalities,” Leslie said.
“How do you know that?”
Leslie ignored her question. “You can’t stay away from Scottish history can you?”
“Actually, I’m drawn to all history out of the United Kingdom. English, Welsh, Irish.” When she tried to say Scottish, her throat closed and she shook her head.
Leslie leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “And Scottish. Most especially Scottish I'll bet.”
Cassie tried to swallow but ended up coughing instead. To clear her throat, she shot back the whisky and closed her eyes.
“Damn,” Leslie muttered.
“What’s going on?” Nicole said. “What am I missing?”
Cassie eyed Leslie, who now wore a speculative look. “Good question. What are we missing?”
“Well, I suppose we ought to find out.” Leslie stood. “C’mon, let me give you a tour of the house before the food gets here.”
This was getting odder and odder. How would a tour of the house further explain things? Yet the minute they entered the living room, her eyes went to the framed pictures on the mantle above the fireplace. One picture, in particular, drew her instantly.
“Oh my God,” Cassie murmured, chills racing through her as she walked over to it. “Wh
o is this?”
“That’s my cousin, Caitlin,” Leslie said softly.
“No, I mean who is the guy she’s with?” She shook her head. “He looks so much like…”
“So much like who?” Leslie said when Cassie trailed off.
Cassie frowned. “It was a long drive. I must be overtired.”
“While you might be overtired, I suspect whatever you were going to say has nothing to do with exhaustion.” Leslie held out the picture. “Here. Hold it.”
Suddenly wary, feeling like she was standing on the precipice of something larger than she could comprehend, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”
“You need to, Cassie,” Nicole murmured.
She glanced at her friend. Nicole’s eyes seemed a little distant, as though she was not quite here. “Why?”
Nicole cocked her head. “Why what?”
“You just said I need to hold the picture.”
“No, I didn’t.” Nicole’s eyes were clear again. She shook her head. “I think you’re definitely wiped, hon.”
Leslie kept holding it out. “Please. I insist.”
Not wanting to be rude when Leslie was gracious enough to invite them to stay, Cassie pushed past her uneasiness and took it. First her eyes locked on the man’s face but were soon ensnared by the young child sitting on his lap. For a split second, she could have sworn his eyes glowed. But she must have been mistaken because when she blinked there was no glow.
“The man in the picture is Caitlin’s husband, Ferchar,” Leslie said softly. “But I’ll bet you’re far more interested in the child.”
Her eyes shot to Leslie. “Why would you say that?”
“Because he’s a cute wee bairn, aye?” Bradon said as he entered and set down more drinks.
Nicole grinned as she eyed the picture. “He really is. Check out those blue eyes!” She shook her head. “Looks like he inherited them from his smokin’ hot dad, huh?”
“The child’s name is Logan.” Leslie urged them to sit as Bradon lit a fire. “He was born in this house.”
Cassie sipped her whisky and kept staring at the picture, whispering, “Logan.”
She was getting that same sense of familiarity she had when they pulled up in front of the house.
“Logan MacLomain,” Bradon said with pride. “A good lad. I miss him.”
“Me too,” Leslie murmured, eyes still on Cassie. “You recognized Ferchar though. Why is that?”
MacLomain? This was getting more and more crazy. Cassie managed to pull her eyes from Logan. “Like I said. Just overtired.”
“Humor me,” Leslie said. “Please.”
“Yeah, I’m curious too.” Nicole’s pale cedar eyes went from the picture to Cassie’s face.
“Okay, fine.” She glanced between Leslie and Bradon. “This is gonna sound totally out there but…well, when we first pulled into the driveway I didn’t see Bradon coming out of the woods on a horse but another guy entirely.”
Cassie explained his attire and features. How much he looked like Ferchar. “He could’ve stepped right out of Braveheart.” She shook her head. “Then there was the horse. Really beautiful.”
Silence settled over the room and she didn’t miss the strange look that passed between their hosts before Leslie said, “It sounds to me like you’ve got a touch of the Broun gift.”
“Broun gift?”
“Yup,” Leslie said matter-of-factly. “Witchcraft.”
Oh yay. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nay,” Bradon piped up. “My lass doesnae kid.”
“I do on occasion,” Leslie defended.
He grinned and shook his head. “Nay.”
Leslie’s eyes swung to Cassie. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“I’d rather hear about witchcraft,” Nicole interrupted.
“I’m all set with the witchcraft thing.” Cassie was just fine steering clear of that subject. “As to riding a horse? No, never.”
“Hmm.” Leslie considered her then looked at Bradon. “Looks like you better get busy teaching her.”
“I dinnae think there will be much time for that,” he murmured.
Leslie arched a brow. “That fast then?”
“Excuse me but what’re you two talking about?” Cassie asked, fairly alarmed at this point.
Leslie stood. “Join us, ladies. We want to show you something.”
“Okay.” Cassie and Nicole followed them. For some reason, the closer she got to the barn, the less and less concerned she became with the bizarre conversation they’d just had. The smell of fresh hay met them at the door. At least seven stalls lined either side.
Cassie and Nicole stopped short when yet another tall, gorgeous guy emerged from one of the stalls. Like Bradon, he had to be around six-foot-five. With shoulder length black hair streaked with dark mahogany highlights, his startling silver-hued blue eyes swept over them with interest.
Bradon nodded at him and made introductions. “This is Darach. He helps me with the horses on occasion.”
“Greetings, lasses.” Darach cracked a smile that had Nicole leaning against Cassie, no doubt trying to stay on her feet. “‘Tis a fine day to meet more wee bonnie Brouns.”
“Holy accent,” Nicole murmured as she gawked at him.
Cassie narrowed her eyes. Too thick of an accent. She was more than familiar with a Scottish brogue, but his was not only tricky to understand but…old fashioned sounding?
“Though he’s taken clan Hamilton’s name, like Ferchar and even Bradon, Darach is a MacLomain,” Leslie said.
“Really?” Cassie’s eyes went from Darach to Bradon. “Both of you are MacLomains then?”
“Aye.” Bradon urged them to follow him. “The Brouns and MacLomains cannae get enough of one another.”
“So it seems.” Cassie eyed the stalls. “You have quite a few horses, don't you?”
“They do.” Darach strolled alongside, eyes roaming over her with appreciation. “Four excluding Bradon’s. All save his are thoroughbred females we speculate were donated by family.”
Speculate? They didn’t know for sure? But it was none of her business so she left it alone.
If Cassie wasn't getting such an edgy feeling the closer they came to the last stall, she would probably be blushing like mad. It was pretty intense having a guy like this checking her out. And he was definitely making a project of it.
“Oh, look,” Nicole murmured, stopping at a stall.
Cassie eyed the chestnut horse with a dark auburn tail and mane Nicole was admiring. “She’s beautiful.” She glanced at her friend. “In fact, you’d look great on her.” A grin crept onto her face “Similar coloring.”
Nicole shook her head. “I don’t do horses but something about this one just, I dunno…draws me.”
“Erin would think she’d died and gone to Heaven here,” Cassie mentioned. Erin was the only one out of the four of them who actually owned a horse.
Darach rested a well-muscled arm on the stall, eyes torn between Cassie and the horse as he spoke to Nicole. “Her name is Vika. It means, ‘from the creek’ in Scotland.”
“Why was she named that?” Nicole said.
He shrugged. “‘Tis hard to know, but I’m sure there's a good story behind it.”
Bradon made another one of his indiscernible sounds and urged Cassie to keep following. As she continued, the feeling of trepidation only increased. By the time she got to the beginning of the last stall on the right, it was nearly impossible to put one foot in front of the other.
Somehow she just knew what she was going to see.
Darach wrapped a gentle but supportive hand around her upper arm. “Are you well, lass?”
A little lightheaded, she was grateful for the gesture as her eyes locked with those of the horse in the stall. Just as she thought.
It was the one she had seen the mystery Scotsman riding when they first arrived.
Chapter Two
“That horse is ca
lled Athdara,” Darach said. “It means, ‘from the oak ford’.”
“Wow, she’s beautiful.” Nicole’s eyes flickered between Athdara and Cassie. “And look at that, she has the same gorgeous strawberry blond hair as you!”
Tiny tingles raced over Cassie’s skin as she whispered, “Just like Vika had the same hair color as you.”
“Ceud mìle fàilte.”
Shivers raced up her spine and Cassie jumped at the masculine whisper in her ear. Yet when she looked over her shoulder, no one was nearly close enough to have said it. Jesus, was she losing it? Because if she wasn’t mistaken, the words were Scottish Gaelic.
“Athdara is the same horse you saw earlier, isn’t it Cassie?” Leslie said softly.
“Yeah,” she whispered and blinked several times when her vision blurred and dimmed. She’d had laser eye surgery a few weeks ago and she was starting to think they had done something wrong. “I need to go get my glasses.”
Nicole put a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Are you having problems with your eyes again, Cassie?”
“I guess,” she muttered and gripped the edge of the stall. “Or maybe the whisky’s just catching up with me.”
Cassie yelped with surprise when Darach scooped her up and headed for the exit.
“This is so not necessary,” she said, embarrassed. “I’m good.”
“Nay,” he said. “You are not.”
“I really am,” she argued. But he would hear none of it and the next thing she knew, he laid her down on the living room couch, propped a pillow beneath her head and covered her with a throw blanket.
In little time, Nicole was putting Cassie’s glasses on her and Leslie was urging her to drink some water. Bradon stoked the fire as Darach crouched, eying her with concern.
Cassie adjusted her glasses. “God, I hate these things.”
Darach cocked his head. “Nay, lass, ‘tis good when glass can make such bonnie eyes even bigger.”
Now that was a new take on the boggle-eyed affect her bifocals had. “Um, thanks…I guess. Not actually glass though but a form of plastic.”
“Cassie has advanced macular degeneration,” Nicole said. “And just had laser surgery so she could at least see clearly while she still has time…”
Quest of a Scottish Warrior Page 2
