by L. L. Muir
He hurried closer, and was as shocked as could be when the little one threw her arms up and jumped off the high roof.
He ran the last few steps and caught her before she broke her bones upon the ground.
Astonished, he swung her up in his arms and away from the danger, eliciting a gleeful giggle from the child. An answering smile bloomed on his own face. Was this to be his test? Had he passed it so soon? “Weel, now, what have we here?”
The child, a beautiful, dark-haired lass, giggled once more. “Do it again!”
He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. The child was light as a kitten. Fluffy dark hair and a cape that was as red as anything he’d ever seen tangled about her neck.
The little girl giggled again and he couldn’t help but laugh as his chest bowed forward. He’d done himself proud, hadn’t he? “Where did ye come from then, my wee little lass?”
“I was flying.”
“Best not try that again. I might not be here next time to catch ye and ye’d splat on the ground like a bug.”
He glanced around to look for Soni. Had she seen his feat? Had she seen him catch the girl?
Hearing an agonized cry, he glanced up to see a woman, white as rare Scottish heather, clinging to the roof as she looked down at them. Her expression was at once terrified and relieved.
He quickly set the child upon the ground, wondering if the woman was to jump as well. When he turned back and lifted his arms, the woman was gone.
He glanced around once more, not sure what else was required of him.
Little fingers latched onto one of his large ones and tenderness bloomed within his chest as he met the innocent, green-eyed gaze of the little sprite looking up at him.
He huffed out a breath, feeling at a loss.
Obviously, he’d already saved the life of the little one. But whatever chore he was responsible for was to take a couple of days. Mayhap there was something else that needed doing?
With wee girls falling from rooftops, he’d certainly better keep alert.
Chapter 2
Lilith scrambled across the roof, back through the window—the one she’d jerry-rigged when the latch had broken—and back into the attic.
How could she have done something like that? How could she have endangered her child in such a way? Even now, as she struggled to grasp the reality of the situation, she could hardly breathe around the lump of panic that had settled in her throat. She had to see again for herself that her daughter had been caught. Lilith had to make sure she wasn’t suffering from some sort of a temporary insanity from seeing her child broken on the ground below.
A trickle of blood ran down her leg where she’d cut her knee at some point during her mad dash through the window, across the roof, and back again. She ignored it and raced down the huge staircase like the hounds of hell nipped at her heels.
“Lilith?”
Lilith registered Grandma’s startled expression, but threw open the front door and ran across the porch and down the stairs in record time. She was limping and bleeding as she rounded Herrick House to see her daughter holding hands with a giant of a man. A man wearing a Highlander costume, of all things.
Again, she wondered if her brain simply couldn’t accept the death of her daughter.
She ran forward and threw herself on the ground and grabbed her daughter close. Warm, smelling of baby shampoo and freshness, safe.
Olivia giggled against her throat and wiggled as Lilith hugged her tight. “Mama?”
She leaned back to grip her five-year-old daughter by the shoulders, scanning her from the top of her fluffy dark head, down to the tap shoes on her feet. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
Olivia ’s face twisted from happy and cheerful to scared. “Mama?” Her lower lip quivered.
Lilith sucked in much needed air. “Olivia! Why would you do that? Why would you jump from the roof? You could have been killed!”
Lilith realized she was crying when Olivia burst into tears as well.
A big hand landed awkwardly on her shoulder and patted her twice. “There, there.”
She glanced up at the man who appeared even bigger now that she was on her knees. “Who are you?” she asked, her throat tight. “You must be an angel.”
The man cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as heat bloomed in his cheeks. “Never been called such before.” He took a breath, and released it slowly. “Number 53, at yer service, m’lady.”
He bowed slightly, and his appearance, his accent, the fact that he was there all seemed so surreal that she had to bite back a burst of inappropriate laughter. “Number 53?” She wondered if it were a sports number, a favorite player perhaps.
“Err … that is to say, Alan MacBean.”
She drew in a breath. “Mr. MacBean. I’m Lilith Clarke. I cannot thank you enough. I can’t believe you were there, at exactly the right moment, to save my daughter.” More tears filled her eyes. “You saved her life. You saved my life.”
He glanced down and lifted a shoulder awkwardly. “Glad to be of help, mum.”
“What happened? Lilith? What’s going on?”
At the sound of Grandma’s voice, Lilith stood and brushed tears from her eyes. “Olivia jumped off the roof.”
Grandma gasped, her face a mask of shock as her hand flew to her heart.
Lilith raised a hand to indicate the man before them. “This man saved her. Mr. MacBean was here and he saved her. He caught her.”
Lilith’s gratitude for the man before her grew with every moment.
Wide-eyed, Grandma came forward and clutched one of his massive hands in both of hers. “Thank you, Mr. MacBean, though that isn’t enough to express how grateful we are.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Ach, ’twas naught.”
Lilith gazed up at the man, feeling something verging on pure love. “No, it wasn’t. It was everything! Everything to me.”
The man took a deep breath and glanced about as if looking for an escape.
Grandma moved forward and put her hand on his elbow. “I’m Celia Clarke. Please, you must come in. How did you come to be here? Are you staying in the area?”
“I’ve nae a place to stay as yet.”
“You’ll stay with us tonight. Please, I insist. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Lifting her daughter into her arms and hugging her tight, Lilith followed as they made their way to the house.
As far as she was concerned, the man could stay for the rest of his life if he wanted to.
Or at least until they were kicked out of the house.
Feeling nervous, tense, and awkward, Alan followed the matronly woman, unsure what to think or do.
He was ill at ease around the three females. His entire life, and also in death, he’d been surrounded by men. Lilith Clarke was truly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her features were soft and her green, long-lashed eyes seemed slightly exotic to one such as him.
And the heady way she looked at him … all sparkling eyes and adoration. ’Twas weakening his insides.
Other than wee Soni, he couldn’t remember a time he’d been this close to a female, let alone three of them.
After his parents died, his grandda raised him to adulthood before passing on. Alan’s only friends had been boys, young men, and finally men in the military. He knew how to act around other males. Crude and vulgar they might be at times, but he was comfortable with them.
He suddenly missed the moor with an aching heart.
The three fussed over him, patting him, petting him, smiling up at him, and treating him like a hero. Understandable, given the circumstances, but still, he was not used to lasses welcoming him with smiles rather than ducking heads to avoid his attention.
He’d seen warriors leave women behind, women with babes. He knew he was destined for war and hadn’t wished to bring children into the world in case they’d ended up fatherless. If he’d survived, he could have courted and settled upon a lass. As he hadn�
��t, the decision had proved a sound one.
He waited for the beautiful female to come to her senses as the horror she’d felt lessened. He waited for her to flinch away as he’d seen females do in the past. He wasn’t the best-looking man in the world. He knew he was harsh of feature, with a nose broken several times, giving him an even more sinister appearance. Lasses never went out of their way to speak with him.
But here she was, talking to him, touching him, and looking at him like he was a … a bloomin’ hero. He didn’t know how to react, or what to think.
He was sure when she recovered from the fright, she’d recognize him as a threat, and revert to acting in the fashion that he was accustomed to.
“You will stay a day or two, Mr. MacBean?” The elder woman, Miss Celia, looked at him, and he had to admit he was a bit afraid of her, too. She looked fragile, vulnerable, and his protective instincts surged to the fore.
His shoulders hunched as he glanced around the mansion, very much aware he’d never set foot in so fine a place before. Sweat broke out on his back for the first time in centuries.
He didn’t belong here and he’d not try and fool himself otherwise.
But he’d saved the little girl, hadn’t he? He knew deep down he’d been meant to … that Soni had place him there to do exactly that. So perhaps he was to stay?
“Mr. MacBean? You’ll stay?” Miss Celia turned to the younger woman. “Lilith, convince him.”
“Please, stay, Mr. MacBean.” She sounded so sincere that her voice tugged at his heartstrings. “You’d be most welcome.”
He found that, even after years on the moor, he still had his pride. “I’ll insist upon giving ye payment.” He pulled a gold coin from his sporran.
Miss Celia protested, but when she saw the bit of gold, seemed entranced. “Treasure!” She glanced at the young woman. “Lilith, it’s a sign!”
Lilith seemed surprised as well. Had she thought him a beggar?
Miss Celia waved the payment away. “Of course, we can’t take money from you. Are you hungry? Can we get you something to eat?” She smiled at him again.
He was hungry. Another first after years of disinterest. He nodded. “That would be fine, then.”
Miss Celia rushed away as Lilith held her daughter close. The beautiful picture the two of them made, with the sun splashing across them through a big window, went straight to his heart.
Should he stay? Accept their hospitality? Was that what Soni wanted?
It would only be a short while, after all. Afterward he’d be back on the moor, watching out for his men.
That thought gave him pause.
These three ladies were more vulnerable than even one of his brothers. They were tough, hardened men, who could be depended upon in a fight. Men who could take care of themselves.
Surely these three needed him more?
But only if he could pull his own weight. He’d not sit about with his thumb up is arse while the three of them stared and fussed at him.
Besides, never let it be said he took advantage of women and children. “Where’s yer husband, lass?”
She shook her head. “I’m unmarried.”
Pity filled him. Her man had passed on, leaving them all alone an unprotected?
“You’ll stay?” Lilith asked again.
He was spared having to decide right that moment by the return of the older woman.
“Here we go!” Miss Celia came through the doors again holding a plate of food such as Alan had never seen. “These are the hors d’oeuvres for tonight. My granddaughter, Lilith,” she indicated the young woman, “has made plenty. If these aren’t to your liking, I’m sure we can find something else.”
Alan looked at the strange offerings. He’d not eaten in centuries, had hoped for something more appealing, but he’d cut his tongue out before rejecting the food and possibly hurting feelings.
Was this what ladies ate?
He’d no idea.
The three of them watched him closely, waiting for him to take his first bite. He lifted one of the tiny bits of food, and carefully placed it in his mouth and chewed.
Flavor exploded against his tongue.
Not half bad. He tasted another. “Delicious!”
They nodded happily.
The feeling he’d had earlier returned. The excitement of being alive again, of breathing air, of seeing the brilliant colors and smelling the breeze. Now he could add enjoying food again to the growing list of things to remember and savor.
If the witch were in front of him at that moment, he’d thank her profusely. He’d thought he’d not wished this opportunity, but found that he was grateful for it, indeed.
These three females were obviously in need of his care.
He swallowed the last bit of food and made his decision. “In truth,” he looked at Lilith once again, then away, “I’d be glad of a place to lay my head for a night or two, but only if I’m put to work.”
Lilith looked hesitant, glanced at the older woman, and then pulled her daughter close to kiss the top of her head. “Well … I do need the window latch in the attic repaired.”
He rose to his feet, glad of a chore to occupy himself. “Then I’m yer man.”
At Lilith’s startled gaze, the softening of her lips, his breath caught as the more intimate interpretation of his words struck him and, by her reaction, he guessed she caught the double meaning as well.
Her man? Sudden and unexpected yearning washed over him from nowhere.
He was an idiot.
Lilith still held Olivia.
The gratitude she felt toward Alan MacBean—she couldn’t even express it. She was so overwhelmed with emotion that she’d barely spoken two words to the man since he’d come into the house.
In fact, she felt inexplicably shy in his presence, something that hadn’t happened in a long while.
She’d gladly take him upstairs, though it seemed rude to put him right to work, so she showed him to a spare bedroom on the first floor next to the ballroom.
She opened the door and waved him inside.
He looked around, eyes wide with wonder. “’Tis a fine place to stay. I thank ye.”
She glanced around the room that held so many memories. It had two bunk beds and a queen-sized four-poster as well. Two large windows looked out over the grounds, shelves were lined with games, and a large, furry carpet lay on the floor. She knew the closet was full of sleeping bags, because she’d spent many a summer here with her cousins. “Yes. I love this old house. It has a lot of history, a lot of memories for my family. We’ll be sorry to leave it.”
“Leave it?”
She nodded. “We’ll be moving soon.”
She studied him as he walked across the room and looked out one of the windows. The kilt, boots, stockings, and the white shirt he wore all looked completely authentic. She wondered if he had any more clothes with him, but decided not to ask. Grandma would still have men’s clothing from her grandfather, but, there was no way the clothes would fit this behemoth of a man.
Since she couldn’t help him, she didn’t say anything at all.
“Where’s the window that needs fixing?”
“It’s up in the attic. Follow me.”
She led the way up to the second floor, then up a narrow staircase, and when they reached the attic, he gazed around in wonder. As well he might. The place was pretty darned magical. There was furniture, clothing, and decorations galore from generations past. The place had been a fabulous playground for her, her cousins, and now her daughter.
She noted that the man seemed happy, standing still and taking it all in.
Lilith realized she was attracted to him. It had been easy enough to stay away from men while raising her daughter these last years. But Mr. MacBean, Alan, was making her heart thrum in her chest.
“We used to come here every summer. My grandparents would watch me and my cousins for two weeks every year. This attic was a favorite place for all of us. I have great memories from that
time.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Feeling slightly embarrassed that she’d over-shared, she crossed to the window. “This is how Olivia climbed onto the roof.” She fiddled with the latch to show him it didn’t work. When he moved closer to her, she could feel the heat from his body, and was once again surprised by the instant attraction.
It struck her that inviting a strange man into their home wasn’t the smartest thing women with a child could do. In fact, it was a downright odd thing for her to do, and completely out of character.
She glanced at the man beside her and, rather than feeling unsure, she was comforted by his huge presence. He radiated strength and honor. Inviting him in felt right.
She turned away to find the toolbox and, one-handed, opened the lid for him. “There are a ton of tools in here, and all types of hardware in that cupboard.” She indicated the tall wood pantry against one wall. “If you need to go into town for a latch or anything, I’ll be glad to go with you.”
And she realized she would. She truly was attracted to Alan.
Because he’d saved her child? She took another good look at him. Maybe so, but there was a lot to be attracted to. He was big, bulging with muscles, and his dark hair was on the longer side. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and, while he didn’t have a pretty face, it was an overtly masculine one, even with the scar marring one cheek.
She’d love to lean into him, feel his arms wrapped around her.
She glanced at her daughter, who’d fallen asleep in her arms. She couldn’t remember being attracted to a man since she was eighteen years old. Even then, it had been a boy rather than a man.
She savored the sensation.
She wasn’t dead and she wasn’t a nun or a dried up old maid. She felt like a woman again!
Delight flowed through her. Alan was one good surprise after another.
He looked through the tools and headed back to the window. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her so she could savor her moment of joy.
“Are you married?” The words flew out of her mouth before she even realized she’d thought them.
He glanced at her sharply. “Nae. Are ye, then?”
