Sadie's Highlander

by Maeve Greyson

  If her world hadn’t just fallen to pieces, Sadie would’ve laughed out loud. Miss Martha might be tiny, but she was just as feisty as her larger twin, Miss Lydia—and nobody in Brady crossed her.

  The weight of all she’d lost nearly crushing her, Sadie shuffled out of the cell and down to the window the officer had pointed out for her to pick up her belongings. She leaned against the steel shelf, staring down at the scratched dip under the window.

  Metal plunked against metal as the attendant droned out in a bored tone, “Keys, loose change equaling less than one dollar.”

  Oh God. Sadie bit her lip and held her breath.

  The attendant placed her beloved brooch at the edge of the bowl and slid it under the window toward her. “One item of costume jewelry. Pin with one stone intact.”

  Sadie reluctantly picked it up, cupping the precious keepsake in her hand and staring down at it as though it could somehow tell her how to make things right again. She sniffed and swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of unshed tears as she shoved her keys and money into the pocket of her jeans. Things will never be right again. Not ever. Just move on and accept it. She glanced back down at the pin as she walked along beside Miss Martha. Strange how the silver of the brooch seemed almost tarnished now and the colors of the stone looked sort of washed out and dull.

  How appropriate. She’d failed the oath the unique symbol stood for, so now its beauty had left her. “I don’t blame you,” she whispered to the bit of jewelry. “I know I threw everything away.”

  “What?” Miss Martha toddled faster and leaned in close, peering over at Sadie and concentrating so hard she squinted. She fluttered her fingers against the back of her ear and shook her head. “I think I need new batteries in my hearing aids. I can’t hear a damn thing lately.”

  “It wasn’t important.” Sadie forced the closest thing she had to a smile across her face and held it until her cheeks ached. Once they reached the parking lot, she held out the brooch to Miss Martha. “Here. Could I ask one more favor of you? Please?”

  Miss Martha frowned down at the pin in Sadie’s hand, then shifted her scowl up to Sadie’s face. “What?” Her tone dripped with wariness.

  “Could you see that this gets back to…its owner?” Sadie cleared her throat, struggling to keep her voice from cracking. One minute at a time. That’s how she’d have to get through this—survive one minute at a time. “It needs to be returned to the MacDaras.”

  Miss Martha puckered her mouth and kept her hands locked around the short handles of her black patent-leather purse with the faux-alligator-embossed trim.

  Sadie took a deep breath and tried again, shoving the pin closer to the old woman. “I don’t have the money right now to pay you back the bail money and the gas it took you to get here, but I should have it by the end of next week.” She swallowed hard, fighting the despair threatening to gag and suffocate her. “I’ve sold quite a few short stories. Serials. I’ve been uploading them to a fan-fiction website. I should get a deposit wired on the fifteenth.”

  The weight of the brooch seemed to grow heavier by the minute as Sadie waited for Miss Martha to reach out and take it. Please. Just take the damn pin. Please.

  Miss Martha didn’t say a word, just stared at her with a narrow-eyed, puckered look. The old lady’s knobby fingers tightened on the handles of her purse and she still didn’t move to take the brooch.

  Sadie barely nudged the edge of the gleaming keepsake against the side of Miss Martha’s hand. “Here. Please take it. There’s a shelter for the homeless behind the church. I’ll stay there until I go to court and see what they’re going to do. I’ll be easy to find, so you won’t have to worry about me skipping town and getting you in trouble. Depending on what my sentence is—if there’s any fines or…anything—I’ll be out of Brady and out of everyone’s hair as soon as legally possible. So…if you could just return this for me, I’d really appreciate it.” She gnawed the corner of her bottom lip, waiting for Miss Martha to take the damn pin and say something—anything to end the awkward silence.

  The elderly woman finally snatched the pin out of Sadie’s fingers and dropped it in her purse. “I’ll take care of it, but you’re makin’ a big mistake, girl. Big mistake.”

  “It’s complicated, Miss Martha. More than you’ll ever know.” She couldn’t explain it in any better detail to the old woman. Alec and his family—hell, the whole town—had to hate her by now and she wouldn’t blame any of them. Especially not Alec. But the least she could do to make amends was to keep the secret of his family’s oath and legacy close to her heart. She could do silent better than anybody. Alec’s secret would go with her to the grave. That’s the least she could do after all she’d destroyed.

  “Well…” Miss Martha snorted out an impatient huff and nodded with a stiff bob of her head. “I’ll do as you ask and return the brooch to the MacDaras—even though I think you’re makin’ a poor choice—but one thing I will not allow is your livin’ in a shelter. Not when Harold would be more than happy to share his room with you. Sounds like you won’t be needin’ a place for more than a few days—right? You can earn your keep by cleanin’ all the other rooms at the bed-and-breakfast and make sure Harold eats like he’s supposed to.”

  Harold? Who the hell is Harold? Miss Martha just stood looking at her. Sadie finally blew out a heavy breath. “I’d be grateful for the room and the job…but who is Harold?” Was he some decrepit old man who needed a caretaker?

  “My cat.” Miss Martha hissed out an impatient snort and glared at her as though she thought Sadie had lost a marble or two. “You met Harold. You sat there on the porch with him all afternoon the other day.”

  “The black cat with one ear?” Poor Harold was older than dirt and looked like he’d seen more alley-cat brawls than his nine lives could handle.

  “Of course.” Miss Martha gave Sadie the same perplexed look she’d given her earlier. The old woman clearly thought she was nuts. “Who did you think I was talking about? The goat?”

  Sadie remembered the goat Miss Martha kept in the fenced-in yard. That ill-natured animal was more territorial than any professionally trained guard dog. The goat was Miss Martha’s very effective security system. “No. I figured it wasn’t the goat. You wouldn’t keep him inside…uhm…would you?” The Higgins sisters were a tad quirky. Maybe the goat did have his own room. After all, due to Miss Martha’s benevolence, Sadie was now Harold the one-eared cat’s new roomie.

  “Of course not.” Miss Martha blew out a pert hissing sound that clearly reinforced her opinion that a goat inside was absolutely ludicrous. She yanked open the car door and motioned for Sadie to climb in. “Besides—the goat’s name is Walter. Who in the world would name a goat Harold?”

  Chapter 24

  “I went to the jail.” Alec leaned forward and thumped his knuckles on the desk. “She was no longer there and they wouldna tell me where she went nor who came t’fetch her.” He’d barely held his temper with the uniformed woman behind the desk of the county facility—especially when she’d threatened him with an inside tour of the men’s holding cell. He didna have time t’be jailed. He had to find Sadie. That thought alone had curbed his tongue.

  “Where the hell is she, Dwyn? Ye have yer ways and yer contacts, but I have mine as well. Ye best be tellin’ where my Sadie is and ye best be doin’ it now.” He would find her—even if he had to tear apart the entire county in the search.

  Dwyn remained silent.

  “Damn ye!” Alec funneled his frustration and pain into his fist and cleared the desktop of the neatly piled stacks of maps and blueprints.

  The explosion of paperwork launched into the air, then fluttered down to the floor like softly falling snow. How had life soured so quickly? One moment, he’d had a future with the woman he loved; the next, all that he’d e’er protected and cherished had been torn asunder. Alec jabbed a finger at Dwyn. “Where the hell is she, man? I ken that look on yer face well enough. What the devil d’ye play at?”
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  Dwyn meandered around the room, hands clasped to the small of his back as he paced. He didn’t speak, just occasionally heaved in a great intake of air, then slowly blew it out, each time giving Alec a sideways glance.

  “Ye might as well tell him. Especially, since we’re no’ certain of how much time we truly have to do all that we hope to accomplish.” Sarinda rose from the depths of a leather wingback chair beside the shuttered window of the office. She bent and squinted up into the wide bowl of the stained-glass lamp shade and dimmed the light of the antique floor lamp standing beside the chair. Approaching the desk with both hands tightly clasped in front of her waist, she watched her son with a look that twisted the knots in Alec’s stomach even tighter. She stopped a few paces in front of the desk, turned back to Dwyn, and nodded. “And ye may as well give it to him. That must be dealt with as well.”

  “Tell me what?” Alec dreaded hearing what Dwyn might have to say—especially since his mother had accompanied the demigod advisor to pass along whatever ill tidings had to be shared. Sarinda never allowed her children to face bad news alone. No matter what age they were, Sarinda swore that as long as she lived, she would protect her bairns, as she was still apt to call the lot of them.

  “What the hell are ye t’give me?” Alec forced himself up from the chair, looking over the top of his mother’s head at Dwyn. He’d not take ill tidings sitting down. ’Twas always best to face a battle on yer feet.

  Dwyn halted his pacing, shoved a hand deep in his coat pocket, then slowly drew it out. Cupping his fist palm down to hide whatever he held, he extended it to Alec and waited, staring down at the floor and not speaking a word.

  “If that’s what I think it is…” Alec glared at Dwyn. It couldna be. She couldna have sent it back—she’d sworn…promised even. Alec stared at the back of Dwyn’s hand. Sadie—how could ye do this, m’love? And without a word? They hadna even had a chance t’clear the air betwixt them. Alec lifted his chin and clenched his teeth. She could not do this. Not after the way they’d connected—not after all they’d shared. Alec shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “I willna accept it. Not from you.”

  “It is what ye think…” Dwyn waited a moment more, then gently placed the engagement brooch in the center of the desk. “And ye will accept it because it must be so—for now at least. Mistress Martha says the woman told her she canna bear t’face ye and begs ye t’do as she asks.”

  Alec’s eyes burned with the need to blink as he stared down at the pin. He leaned forward, fisting his hands on either side of the precious memento that symbolized so much. He slowly sank back into the chair, the sight of the returned brooch twisting all hope from his heart. He finally looked up, first at his mother, then over at Dwyn. “Why d’ye say it must be so? Explain it t’me. Now. I can make Sadie understand if I just have the chance t’talk with her.”

  “Mistress Martha has told me of the girl’s pain and suffering o’er what happened. And ye caught glimpses of Sadie’s troubles even though she tried t’hide them from ye. Ye saw the hurt in her eyes even when she scoffed at those people’s cruelty and did her best t’make ye believe she didna give a whit about how they treated her,” Sarinda said as she moved closer. “Dwyn has learned much about your lass—probably more than even she knows—or will admit. He’s learned her history and the mistreatment she’s endured from those who shouldha loved and protected her as caring foster parents would.” Sarinda stepped to Alec’s side and rested her arm across his shoulders. “Your woman has a sensitive soul—a softness and a vulnerability she hopes t’hide. D’ye no’ agree?”

  “Aye,” Alec said softly. “I’d say ’twas one of the many things about her that drew me close. She’s as fragile and lovely as the silvery moon shining in the darkest night. She’s ensnared me. I am the wolf teased and bewitched by her subtle lonely light.”

  Sarinda nodded. “And I’d also say your Sadie blames herself for all that happened on the mountain and is hell-bent on punishing herself for all her perceived wrongs of the past few days. We must help her get past all these things, son.”

  Alec swallowed hard, gut tightening as he kept his gaze locked on the brooch. Máthair was right. Sadie would blame herself for Delia’s atrocities. Alec closed his eyes and bowed his head. And her taking the blame was his own damn fault. One of the conditions he’d named for the filming was that Sadie would vouch for Realm Spinners Productions’ integrity and make sure her sister abided by the contract.

  He knew the woman he loved better than she knew herself. When she made an oath, she took it to heart and meant it. ’Twas yet another reason he loved her so. She was just like him when it came to keeping her word. Alec scrubbed a weary hand across his face and rubbed the corners of his burning eyes. He’d been a fool to make Sadie think she was her sister’s keeper.

  “Tell me where she is. I must go to her and explain.” He scooped up the pin and stood. “I will make her see. Make her understand.”

  “No. I told ye that now is no’ the time. There is still much to be done and verra little margin for error in the plan the ladies and I are pulling together. I advise ye stay clear of her—for just a while yet.” Dwyn reluctantly shuffled two steps back, bushy red brows arching to his nonexistent hairline. The slight, balding demigod widened his stance, obviously bracing himself for Alec’s rage.

  “I dinna give a rat’s arse what ye advise.” Alec stormed around the desk and headed for the door. Sarinda snagged his sleeve and yanked. Deeply ingrained respect for his mother kept him from snatching his arm away and charging onward. He came to a halt and jerked around to face her.

  “Listen to Dwyn. He’s workin’ on a fine way to help the girl overcome her past and guide her to forgivin’ herself. We’d planned on doin’ this for her before the explosion, but now we’ve got to ‘tweak it,’ as Esme would say.” Sarinda pulled at Alec’s sleeve again and shook a finger at him with her free hand. “ ’Tis essential this be done exactly right. Wooin’ and winnin’ are more complicated now after all that’s happened. Ye must let us help her…and you.”

  “I dinna need help from any of ye.” Did his mother think him completely incapable? Alec firmly but gently disengaged his sleeve from his mother’s grasp and turned back toward the door only to find Dwyn blocking his path. “Step aside, Dwyn. I mean to go get her and make her see sense. I’ll bring her back here and keep her locked in her rooms if that’s what it takes.”

  “They call that kidnapping in this time—and unlike in medieval Scotland, it’s no longer considered an appropriate way t’take a wife. ’Tis a felony, in fact.” Dwyn lifted his short, outspread arms higher and spread his feet wider apart. “Ye need t’calm down and listen to yer máthair. I’ve already put a fine plan into play, but Sarinda, Esme, and I have a few more details that must be put in place afore ye go chargin’ in and makin’ a mess of things.”

  The almost uncontrollable urge to snap Dwyn’s neck made Alec throw back his head and roar. Profanity-laced Gaelic burned free of his throat until both Sarinda and Dwyn squinted their eyes, covered their ears, and backed up a step. Chest heaving and the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his head, Alec finally stopped bellowing and shook a fist at both of them. “Yer killin’ me! The lot of ye are killin’ me!”

  Bloody rage still burning through him, Alec shoved Dwyn out of the way, then yanked the office door open. He jabbed a finger at the hallway, clenching his teeth to keep from shouting again. “Out. Now. The both of ye.”

  Dwyn yanked his suit coat straight and calmly held out his arm for Sarinda to take. “Perhaps it would be best if we gave him a bit of time to cool off and come to his senses.”

  “If ye were no’ immortal, I’d kill ye, ye redheaded bastard.” Alec yanked the door open wider and thumped it hard with his fist. “Get out now and leave my affairs t’me. The most important battle of m’life must be planned, and then I mean t’go and win her back.”

  “What are we to do?” Sarinda whispered to Dwyn as they hurried past
Alec.

  “Yer to leave me alone, Máthair, and allow me t’handle this as I see fit.”

  Dwyn ushered Sarinda farther into the hallway, then turned back and reached for the door. “I’m doin’ this for yer own good, lad. Remember—I was sent here to watch o’er ye during just such times as these.” Then he quickly pulled the door closed and the locking mechanism in the latch rattled with an ominous clatter.

  The realization of what Dwyn was up to came to Alec seconds too late. “Ye best not, ye son of a bitch!” He grabbed the brass door latch that had already taken on an eerie reddish glow, much like a burning ember pulled from a furnace. Scorching metal sizzled against his flesh.

  “Damn ye straight t’hell and back!” Alec jerked his hand away from the handle just as quickly as he’d grabbed it. A painful streak of red burned across his palm. “I’ll snap yer neck for ye, ye meddlin’ bastard!” Alec kicked the door, then stormed across the room to the panel of windows behind his desk.

  He yanked open the blinds and peered down, gauging the distance from the window ledge to the top of the porte cochere below. “I can make that easy.” He’d be damned if he’d let them lock him in his room like some unruly school lad sent t’bed without his supper. He halted his hand in midair, glaring at the window latch—the metal already radiating heat and glowing just as white hot as the handle of the office door.

  “I’ll be damned if that stops me.” Alec grabbed his heavy desk chair by the armrests. Heaving it to one side in an arcing swing, he lunged and threw it at the wall of windows. Instead of shattering the glass, the chair hit with a solid thunk, then bounced back to the floor. “That son of a bitch.” Whatever Dwyn had done to protect the windows, he’d done it well.