Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  Staring at her in the dim light, Jake laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Bull asked.

  How am I going to explain you to Bull and Jenny?

  Bull had mentioned having no plans for tonight. He’d tossed his backpack in the back of the Jeep. Jake didn’t want company tonight, but Bull was a good friend. They’d welcome Jenny, eat her pizzas, down a few beers, and Bull could sleep on the couch. Skye would get the medical attention she needed. Tomorrow was another problem.

  After facing front to guide Bull toward a back exit from the ski area, he turned again and checked on Skye. Much to his relief, she’d dozed off.

  He smiled, straightening in his seat.

  Bull glanced at him, then looked in the rearview mirror. “She’s kind of cute when she’s asleep.”

  “I hope she’s only sleeping, and not unconscious.”

  “Me too. Hope she gets fixed up, so we can get to know one another better.”

  Jake mumbled a few curses.

  “What did you say, Jake?”

  “Never you mind. I can’t assess her injuries until we get her some help.”

  “The woman you called?”

  “Jenny’s a friend. She’ll know what to do.”

  “She’s a doctor?”

  Jake coughed, and looked out the side window; “She’s a vet tech.”

  “Really? You think she can handle Skye’s injuries?”

  “Yes.” Jake hoped so, anyway.

  “What’s in the bag?” Bull pointed to the small sack at Jake’s feet.

  “Clothes.” Jake had seen the state of Skye’s dress the moment he wrapped her shaking body in the wool blanket. She’d have to lose the torn gown. He’d grabbed a small leather vest and matching trews from a display rack. Though meant for a 12 year old boy, they’d fit her tiny form.

  Recalling the fiery spirit and unbridled power in her fingertips, he cringed. A few mumbled words, a flick of a wrist, a flash of searing light, and she’d sent him from sixteenth-century Scotland to the future. He’d returned to the present without the chance to fight the sorcerer.

  Skye moaned.

  Jake unhooked his seatbelt and leaned into the back seat. He cupped her neck and checked her pulse. Her eyes flew open, and he couldn’t help the smile pulling at his mouth.

  She blinked, and slapped his hand away. When she struggled to push up into a sitting position, he reached out to assist her.

  She flinched.

  Not the reaction I was looking for.

  He faced the windshield. “Bull, turn at the next intersection.”

  “Where exactly are ye taking me?”

  “To my place. You need medical attention.”

  “Nay, doona’ worry about me. We have much to do. We have to save Alec!”

  Jake turned in his seat and glared at Skye. “Who the heck is Alec?”

  Skye’s right side burned, and her vision faltered. The fear filling her as she rode in Jake’s unusual conveyance threatened to throw her back into the black pit of lifelessness. She had no wish to go there again. To stay alert, she focused on Jake’s profile.

  She had slept fitfully, and had no idea how long she had dozed. Her wounds ached and needed attention, but she had traveled to the future without her healing herbs. Maybe she could find willow bark or yarrow root near Jake’s domicile. A medicinal poultice could sooth her hip.

  What was happening at home? Dorcas had planned to travel to Castle Ruadh, the Keith stronghold. Had she accompanied Ross Mackenzie back to Jake’s New England and the Highland games? The idea made sense since Ross was staying with his daughter, Iona. She and Cameron lived in Wick, near Fia and Marcus’ home, as well as Lethan’s castle.

  Her castle, now.

  She pushed the pain away, and stuck it deep inside her heart. A dead husband was not part of the problem they faced. Dorcas had told her that Ross wanted to tie up loose ends at home, whatever that means.

  Do they even know I am gone?

  What about her nephew? She had pushed him behind a barrel. The sorcerer had taken her in his stead. Now that she had escaped, had the bastard set his sights on her nephew once more?

  She settled into a slightly more comfortable position. Jake had asked a question.

  No, he had yelled at me.

  He had no idea who Alec was, and acted as if he was…jealous. Interesting. Unwanted heat sizzled in her belly, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her reaction was bewildering. She was in no mood for a relationship of any kind, especially not with a man who yelled at her. She glared at his frown, but could not catch her breath.

  Maybe I am dying.

  Jake reached toward her, twisting in his seat.

  She sat back into the corner, out of reach. “Never mind about Alec. I need a healer. Where are ye taking me?”

  Jake’s raised brow at her obvious change of subject was laughable. “I have a friend—”

  “A healer?”

  “In a way.”

  “I hope this friend has a fire burning,” she said, and shivered.

  “I also grabbed some dry duds for you.”

  “Duds?”

  Jake raised the bag, and tossed it into the empty spot beside her; “Clean, dry clothes. She’ll fix you up. You’ll bunk in my guest room.”

  Desperate to understand his strange words, she sighed as weariness threatened to pull her into darkness. The dragon had damaged her, hopefully, not irreparably. She would attend to her injuries, and dress in borrowed clothing. An uninterrupted sleep would do wonders.

  How could she sleep? Her nephew was in danger. Dorcas was far away. Her only hope was the dark-haired man who had touched her neck with gentle concern.

  Aye, then I snapped at him.

  If she kept him acting like an angry, jealous lover, she might get him to help. It might be best to keep Alec’s relationship to her a secret. She was not the best at keeping secrets, but she had lied to her brother and others, recently. No one had any idea what she planned to do.

  As the thought of murdering the sorcerer in cold blood ate at her insides, a wave of dizziness swept over her. Skye’s throat closed, and her lungs begged for air which was suddenly hard to come by.

  She blinked to clear her vision, but images wavered. Hallucinations filled with dead innocents and body-strewn fields took hold. There was no stopping what was to come. Floating into oblivion, Skye succumbed to the warm depth of blackness.

  “Hell’s fire! I think she fainted.” Jake fumbled for the flashlight, and shined it in her face. He probed her neck for a pulse, again. Her frigid skin gave him pause, especially since minutes earlier she’d felt warm. Blood pumped beneath the skin below her tiny right ear. Everything about her was small and perfect.

  “Is she breathing?” Bull asked, veering to the side of the road.

  “Yeah, she’s okay, but she’s freezing. Keep driving.” Jake tucked the blanket around her. She might have lost too much blood. He hoped she simply suffered from exhaustion. The purple rings beneath her feathered lashes troubled him.

  “We’re almost home. Turn right.”

  “Okay,” Bull added, pulling into the parking lot in back of Jake’s mountainside apartment building. He lived in an old New England farmhouse that the owner had divided into four apartments. Bull turned off the engine, then tossed the keys to Jake, “Lead on, oh warrior.”

  “Warrior? Where?” Skye’s eyes flickered open.

  Jake glared at Bull. Why had he called him warrior? He preferred to ignore that part of his heritage. There were too many holes in his ancestry, and the weirdest traits had come to light in the last five or six years.

  Skye had used one to blackmail me.

  Jake jumped from the Jeep, reached in, and lifted her into his arms.

  She squirmed.

  He growled.

  She settled against him, and her lack of scathing insults scared him, or maybe she remembered she was shoeless.

  “Grab the bag of clothes and your stuff, Bull. Let’s get inside where i
t’s warm.” Jake led his little party toward the back of the complex. His home stood at the edge of a forest. The small barn and its grassy paddock stood a few hundred feet away. A horse’s soft snicker heralded their arrival.

  “Bull, see to my horses.”

  “Me?”

  “You’ve fed them before. Make sure they have water. I have to get Skye inside and wait for Jenny. Leave the bags on the porch.”

  “I want to meet this Jenny.” Bull’s eyebrows wiggled.

  Jake laughed. The man was a really smart college professor, but a man whore when it came to hooking up with women. He should warn Jenny. He couldn’t afford to piss off his best vet tech.

  “This friend of yours…Jenny? She lives nearby?” Skye’s soft voice murmured in his ear. How could he forget that he held the little heathen so close?

  “She lives next door.” While Jake struggled with his arms full of small damp, woman, he fumbled with his keys. The wrought iron ring he’d made for his keys slipped from his hand.

  Thud; they hit the porch decking.

  “Set me down. I can walk,” Skye ordered.

  Her voice rose from the bundle in his arms, and the yellow tint of the porch light’s bug bulb washed over her delicate face. He’d better get her inside, cleaned up, and tended to. By Jenny.

  Not me.

  He set her on her feet on the welcome mat, and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.

  She swayed, then stared at the glowing bulb. “ ‘Tis pretty.”

  “Hold onto the sill,” he said. She glanced from him to the doorjamb then back at Jake. When she didn’t move, he placed her hand on the wooden door frame. He’d forgotten she was a stranger to modern buildings and their parts.

  Where her chilled skin met his overly heated hand, the sensation unnerved him. It was time to speed things along, so he pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed Jenny again. He unlocked the door as he listened to the rings.

  Skye stepped closer. He held the phone at an angle to allow her to listen to the conversation. He had nothing to hide, and her innocent curiosity filled her face with a youthful expression. Something about her eyes, reflected in the bulb overhead, tugged at him.

  “Hello?”

  Skye’s gaze flitted up at him, but Jake turned toward the phone.

  “Jenny? It’s Jake. We’re at the house. Come on over, and bring your supplies.”

  “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

  The phone clicked off at the other end. Skye’s eyes widened. He had a feeling it wasn’t the technology, but Jenny’s too-familiar signoff that made her back away.

  “Let’s get you inside.”

  He led Skye by the elbow to make sure she wouldn’t collapse until he got her to his bedroom.

  I mean the guest room.

  His master suite contained the largest bathroom, so they would start there. The separate garden tub was the best place to raise her temperature, as long as Jenny said a bath was okay. He assumed getting Skye warm was as important as tending her injuries.

  He pushed open the door to his room, and turned. She hadn’t followed him to the back of the apartment. Skye’s attention was on the modern kitchen and living area.

  “Sorry about the mess.” He wasn’t a pig, but he’d rushed to get to the games and left odd pieces of clothing and packing supplies here and there.

  She turned toward him, and he tried to see the seventeen-year-old girl he once knew. Though damp and dirty, she had flowered into petite womanly curves. Since they now stood in a well-lit room, her beauty and blue eyes captured his attention, until he saw the paleness of her skin.

  The last time they’d met, her cheeks were burnished by the Highland sun. Her tan had faded, but tiny freckles still peppered her nose. Her black hair was longer, and filthy from her ordeal, but her beauty hadn’t diminished.

  Her mention of a dragon, and a man named Alec confused and concerned him. Was she married? Betrothed? He doubted she was single after five years. She lived in the sixteenth century. Her brother, Kirk, was a Highland laird. He held the power to make her marry. He’d met her brother.

  The man tried to kill me.

  As he pulled her into his bedroom, the memory rose up and haunted him.

  “Hi. My name’s Jake Jamison. I’m a friend of Iona and Haven.”

  Kirk had roared, slashing his sword through the air. Before Iona could cry out a warning, Jake had grabbed a sword from the sheath of a nearby guard, and blocked the blow. Steel grated on steel, and sent sparks every which way. They’d traded blow after blow, but he hadn’t bowed beneath Kirk’s power.

  “Stop!” Marcus Mackenzie, another Highland warrior who had forced himself between them, said. “God's teeth, Kirk, ye doona’ attack a guest in my home.”

  He’d come out of the unprovoked attack uninjured, but winded.

  “Are ye okay?” Skye had asked as she had rushed to his side.

  He had ignored her. How could he have treated her so rudely? Skye showed him concern, but he’d brushed her off like an irritating gnat.

  He’d forgotten to thank Marcus Mackenzie for his assistance. Marcus had stolen Kirk’s former fiancé. There was a man he’d like to meet again. He could use his help dealing with Kirk’s sister, and the nightmare she intended to tangle him in.

  “Jake? Did ye hear me?”

  He shook memories from his head, and gazed down at Skye. She was small, wet, and more appealing than all the women he’d considered dating over the last five years.

  “I’ll explain everything after we get you warm and clean.”

  “This place ‘tis your domicile?” she asked as she followed him across the living room.

  He nodded.

  At his bedroom, he stood just inside the door as she walked past. If she noticed the king-sized bed, she didn’t show it. The urge to reassure Skye, and to get her to open up, made his hands itch and his fingers curl.

  With her back to him, she stopped inches away; close enough for him to reach out and brush dried seaweed from her hair, which he did. She spun, and raised her hands in a defensive move. A knock at the apartment’s front door startled them both.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jake pulled his attention away from Skye’s raised hands. He knew the destructive power they possessed. He’d felt it firsthand.

  He spun on his heel, and headed toward the front door. “That’s Jenny. I’ll be right back.”

  “Perhaps I should leave ye two alone?”

  He glanced at her, over his shoulder. Was Skye jealous about Jenny? He shouldn’t care, but he smiled anyway. Seconds passed, and he forced all emotion from his face. As much as it pleased him, it wasn’t nice to keep Skye in suspense.

  “Jenny is…a friend. She’s come to help.” Deep inside some twisted corner of his brain, he liked thinking that Skye might find him interesting to other women.

  When he swung open the door, and saw Jenny shaking hands with Bull, other more brotherly thoughts put his body on alert.

  “What—”

  “Hi, Jake,” Jenny said, without taking her eyes off Bull, “look what I found on your doorstep. A Highlander. In a kilt, no less. Yum.”

  “Jake, it isn’t polite to keep a lady waiting.”

  “Cut it out, Bull.”

  “Bull?” Jenny’s right eyebrow rose, as her gaze slid to the leather sporran hiding Bull’s assets.

  “My name is Bryce. Professor Bryce Buchanan, at your service.” Bull bowed at the waist.

  Jenny giggled. “A professor? You’re kidding.”

  Bull straightened to his full 6 foot 4 inch height. “I teach history at Falconscroft.”

  “Nice,” she said, her eyes wide and locked in Bull’s direction.

  Jake growled beneath his breath; “Bull, this is Jenny. She’s here to help Skye.”

  “Skye? What a lovely name.” Jenny said.

  He tugged her elbow, and she followed him to the bedroom. Skye was exactly where he left her, staring into space, or at the bed.

  “Skye?
Honey?”

  She turned when he called to her. She brushed straggly pieces of long hair off her face. Her eyes widened, as she took in the tall, slender woman with close-cropped hair and large, friendly brown eyes.

  Jenny must look odd to a woman of the sixteenth century. Make-up, and blond highlights in her brown hair, made her unusual in comparison. Jenny’s smoky eyes flitted toward Skye, then settled on Jake.

  She’s only a neighbor, but Skye can think what she wants.

  Jake crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded in Skye’s direction. Jenny sighed and turned back to Skye. Jenny’s quick assessment began with her tangled hair, slid down her bloody gown peeking from beneath a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and ended at Skye’s bare feet. He had to admit that Skye looked like something the cat dragged in.

  Wait until she hears what caused Skye’s injury.

  Bull leaned over Jenny’s shoulder and smiled at Skye and Jake.

  “Bull, how are my horses?”

  “Horses?” Skye asked.

  Jake turned to her and said, “What you’d call Highland ponies. I own three.”

  Bull straightened, and crossed his arms over his chest. His stance matched Jake’s, but Bull towered over everyone.

  “That old bastard tried to bite me. Why you keep him is beyond me. Jenny, do you bite?”

  Jake pushed him out of the room. “The ladies need alone time.”

  Bull growled, but let Jake push him toward the kitchen. “Have a beer. Turn on the TV. I’ll be right back.”

  Jake hurried back to the bedroom. Jenny had removed the blanket from around Skye’s shoulders. Skye winced, and Jake rushed to her side.

  “Easy, honey. Jenny has…medical training…she’s a healer.”

  “Jake, I work at an animal clinic. You want me to work on her?”

  “Animals?” Skye stared up at Jake.

  “I’ll explain later. Let’s look at her wound.”

  “She’s a bloody mess, and very pale,” Jenny added.

  “We need to rid her of this filthy gown. I’ll run a bath.” Without waiting for comments, Jake fled into the master bath and turned on the hot water. While poking through the linen closet for extra towels, he secretly watched from the corner of his eye, as Jenny helped Skye untie the laces down the back of her dress.