Tempting the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  Ian shouted as he tumbled into the woods. Robbie pulled something from his chest, shoved it into her lap, and took off after the old warrior. Catherine sat up and blinked at the squirming, hissing bundle in her hands. A tiny mouth with miniature fangs spit at her as the black kitten twisted to get free.

  But it was the thick piece of curling wood clutched in its sharp little claws that made Catherine smile. Robbie had found Cùram’s tree! She hugged the kitten to her chest, ignoring its spitting attempts to bite her.

  “Shhh,” she crooned, rubbing its neck. “You’re safe now. Robbie wouldn’t leave you to drown.”

  The wet little bundle trembled in her arms and finally settled down. She tried to pull the root from its claws, but it growled and hugged the wood tighter.

  “Okay, you can hold on to it for now,” she whispered, using her thumb to stroke its shivering body.

  She looked up when Robbie came striding through the water with Ian. He set him down on the ground beside her and cupped Ian’s sputtering face in his hands.

  “You’re okay, Uncle. Just get rid of what you swallowed.”

  Ian leaned over and coughed up a stomach full of water. He wiped his mouth, looked up at Robbie, and grinned. “I thank ya, MacBain.” But his smile disappeared when he looked over at Catherine. “What in hell is that?” he asked, pointing at her chest.

  “That,” Robbie said, taking the once again spitting kitten from her and holding it against his own chest, “is a piece of the tap root from Cùram’s tree,” he said, pulling the wood from the kitten’s claws and holding it up. “I found it,” he said, clutching his prize in his fist. He looked over his shoulder at the stream gushing from the crack beside them, then turned back. “But I’ve killed the old tree of wisdom,” he whispered, shaking his head. “It was in a deep crevice on the island, just its top branches exposed. When I dug at its base to get this root, I opened the flood-gates.”

  “But what in hell is that?” Ian asked again, pointing at the kitten.

  Robbie held the growling black ball up to face him. “A panther cub, I’m guessing,” he said, smiling when the kitten took a swat at him.

  Ian snorted. “We don’t have panthers in Scotland.”

  Robbie handed the cub back to Catherine and shrugged. “It was all alone in a tiny den not far from the entrance and was still there when I came running out. I couldn’t leave it to drown.”

  Catherine held out her hand to Robbie as the cub squirmed and growled in her arms. “It wants the root. It’s his security blanket.”

  Robbie hesitated, obviously reluctant to give his prize away, but then handed it over. The cub dug its tiny claws into the wood, clamping its teeth over the root before finally settling against Catherine’s chest.

  She pulled open the front of her shawl and tucked the kitten and root inside, tightened the knot securely, and patted it as she smiled at Robbie. “I promise not to let either of them out of my sight,” she said. “Ah…we chased the horses off so the MacBains wouldn’t find us. How are we going to get back to the village?”

  No sooner had she asked that than at least four dozen MacBain warriors emerged from the woods, swords drawn and pointed at them, each looking fierce enough to stop Catherine’s heart.

  Robbie stood up and pulled his own sword from its sheath, which caused several of the warriors to step forward.

  “Nay,” Ian said, scrambling to his feet. “Angus, ya old bastard, it’s me, Ian MacKeage.”

  “You would have better luck in Gaelic, Uncle,” Robbie whispered, not taking his eyes off the wall of warriors.

  “Aw, hell,” Ian muttered. He started speaking in Gaelic and walked toward them. Catherine watched as one of the warriors, a man nearly as old as Ian, took a step back, his face paling and his eyes widening in shock.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, getting to her feet to stand beside Robbie, clutching the kitten and tree root to her chest.

  “That’s Angus MacBain he’s talking to,” Robbie told her, still not taking his eyes off the threat. “He’s my grandfather. And he can’t believe he’s seeing Ian, as his son, Michael, was lost with Ian ten years ago.”

  “But what is Ian saying?”

  “That he was with Michael when they were captured by the English. He’s telling Angus how his son died and of Michael’s great love for his own daughter, Maura. That they were going to run away and get married when she died.”

  “Angus didn’t know about Maura?”

  “He knew Michael was hellbent on going to war over a MacKeage woman, but Angus didn’t know Maura had been pregnant with his grandchild at the time of her death.”

  Robbie darted a look at her, then back at the two older men. “Angus heard that Greylen and Ian and the others had disappeared with his son in a great storm, but he really thought the MacKeages had killed Michael and the five other MacBain warriors. There, Ian just told him that Michael died a hero by saving his life.”

  Angus scowled at Ian and pointed at Robbie and Catherine.

  “Ian is telling him…aw, hell,” Robbie growled, wiping his face with his free hand. “Ian just told him I’m a powerful drùidh named Cùram de Gairn and that if they don’t go home peacefully, I’m going to drown them all.” Ian pointed at the water spewing from the crack in the mountain, and Robbie groaned. “Now he’s telling them I can reroute the Snow River and that if they want it to flow through MacBain land again, they should bow to my benevolence instead of daring to point their swords at me and my wife.”

  “So I’m a wizard’s wife?” Catherine squeaked.

  Robbie snorted. “Ian does love to spin tales,” he said, shaking his head. He resheathed his sword and took a deep breath. “Well, I might as well give them a show, so my uncle won’t be a liar and they can go home and tell their own tales around the campfire.”

  “What?”

  He took hold of her hand and led her straight toward the wall of warriors. He stopped in front of Angus MacBain and said something to him in rapid, spitting Gaelic.

  Catherine leaned toward Ian.

  “He’s telling Angus that he knew his son and that Michael MacBain was a great warrior that any papa would be proud of,” Ian translated for her.

  Robbie pulled his dagger out of his belt and handed it to Angus. The old MacBain warrior clutched the dagger in his fist until blood ran through his fingers and snapped his gaze back to Robbie.

  “That’s Michael’s dagger,” Ian said in a whisper. “And now Robbie is turning so that Angus can see the hilt of his sword, that used to belong to Robert MacBain, Angus’s brother.”

  Angus was Robbie’s grandfather? Robbie certainly hadn’t inherited his height from him. Angus MacBain was only an inch taller than she was. “Is he going to give up his sword?” Catherine asked in a hushed voice, leaning closer to Ian even though Robbie still held her hand.

  “Nay,” Ian said. “Angus asked for it, but Robbie told him that Robert wanted him to have it, to remind him of his duties to the MacBains. They should know they have a powerful guardian looking out for their welfare and that he’s going to breach the dam so their livestock can drink from the Snow River again.”

  “C-Can he do that?” Catherine whispered.

  Ian shrugged. “The boy’s not one to give empty boasts.”

  Robbie then led Catherine right past the gaping warriors, speaking in Gaelic as they strode past, and Ian and Angus fell into step behind them. But instead of also following, the warriors suddenly scrambled down the hill toward the riverbed.

  “I’ve told them to move their horses to dry ground,” Robbie explained as he helped Catherine over a fallen log. “How’s your passenger doing?”

  “Fine,” she said, patting the lump on her chest. “I think he might even be sleeping. Can you really break the dam?”

  “Aye. It’s unstable and should only take a small effort.”

  The clamor of pounding hoofbeats rose from the other side of the lake. Catherine, Robbie, Ian, and Angus stepped out of the woods and o
nto the edge of the dam just in time to see Niall and an army of at least two hundred warriors come to a halt on the opposite shore.

  Robbie shouted to Niall and pointed to Ian and Angus, then spoke rapidly in Gaelic to the young laird for several minutes, until Niall finally dismounted and strode across the dam toward them.

  “It’s time for you to go home now, Uncle,” Robbie said in English, turning to him.

  He pulled Ian into a fierce embrace, holding him in his arms for several heartbeats before he kissed his cheek and used his thumb to wipe a tear from the old man’s cheek. He whispered something to him, clapped his shoulders rather soundly, smiled, and whispered something else.

  “Give Ian a hug good-bye, Cat,” Robbie said, pulling her over to them. “You won’t be seeing him again.”

  His words hit Catherine like a sharp blow to her heart. She hadn’t thought about never seeing Ian again. She’d never again hear his beautiful lilt, get one of his bear hugs, or gaze into his eyes that wrinkled at the corners.

  “Ah, Catherine,” Ian said with a sigh, pulling her into a bear hug. “Ya remember what I told ya about husbands needing time to adjust,” he whispered in her ear. “Just love my nephew and try to laugh more than ya scold, lass. And thank ya for sharing my journey home.”

  She was crying so hard she couldn’t see anything when Robbie dragged her away from Ian and tucked her back against his side. The kitten finally settled down again, now that it wasn’t getting squished by Ian’s hug, and Catherine had to use the edge of Robbie’s plaid to dry her own face.

  Niall walked up to Ian, stopped long enough to glare at Angus MacBain, and then put his arm around his father and started walking him back across the dam. He stopped, stared at Robbie for several seconds, then nodded and turned to help Ian onto his horse.

  Robbie led Catherine off the end of the dam and lifted her up onto a huge, flat boulder. “Stay put,” he said, his smile softening his command. “I’m just going to free the Snow River, and then I’ll be right back to get you.”

  He spoke briefly to Angus, then spun around and scrambled down through the woods, toward the base of the dam. Angus jumped up on the boulder beside her, standing not too close, giving her a grin that was more feral than friendly.

  That is, until her chest started wiggling. The old MacBain warrior stepped back, looking as if he thought she might explode. Her passenger popped its head out of her shawl and hissed at Angus. Angus took another step back and pulled the dagger Robbie had given him out of his belt. He held it down by his side in a guarded but unthreatening position.

  Catherine caught sight of Robbie just then, scrambling over the large boulders at the base of the dam, examining each one he came to and then scanning the mud and trees above it.

  Darn it, what was he doing? If the dam was broke, he would be washed away.

  He stopped suddenly, turned to face the dam, and set his hands on two large tree trunks sticking out of the wall of dirt. A collective murmur rose from across the lake, and Catherine looked up to see the MacKeage warriors, Niall with Ian mounted behind him, back their horse up a safe distance away. Angus also backed up with a gasp, taking hold of Catherine’s arm and pulling her with him.

  Catherine looked at Robbie and couldn’t stifle her own gasp. The trees were starting to glow like burning embers, whiffs of smoke puffing into the air around them. Robbie suddenly straightened, brushed his hands together, looked up at her, and smiled.

  “Get out of there!” she shouted. “You’re going to drown!”

  He jumped from boulder to boulder and disappeared into the forest, only to emerge suddenly on the rock beside her. Angus scrambled away, his wide hazel eyes filled with awe and a healthy dose of horror. Robbie spoke to him in Gaelic, and the old man gaped, then slowly nodded and ran into the forest.

  “What did you say to him?”

  Robbie turned and took her in his arms, locking his hands around her back and leaning his chest away so he wouldn’t squish her passenger. “I told Angus that if he doesn’t quit warring against the MacKeages, I’m going to come back and melt every MacBain sword into a rake or shovel.”

  He leaned over the kitten and kissed Catherine’s nose, then straightened and grinned. “Are you ready to wake up from your dream now?”

  She blinked at him, then looked across the lake at the army of MacKeages. She let her gaze travel to the MacBain warriors sitting on their horses on a distant ledge overlooking the dry Snow River, then down at the flaming logs in the dam, and then up at the scarred side of Snow Mountain.

  She stiffened and pointed toward the summit. “Wh-Who is that?” she whispered.

  Robbie looked where she was pointing, and Catherine felt him stiffen as well as they stared up at the silhouette of a tall man standing on a point of ledge high above them, a sword in one hand and his long, dark hair blowing in the breeze.

  “Cùram.”

  “The wizard? What’s he going to do?”

  “Nothing,” Robbie said softly, looking down at her. “There’s nothing he can do. His tree of spells is destroyed.”

  “He’s lost his power, then?”

  “Nay, only his ability to plague us,” he said, taking one last look at Cùram before bringing his gaze back to her and smiling. “Are you ready to go home?”

  The boulder they stood on suddenly started to vibrate, and the earth began to rumble with gentle vibrations. A tiny trickle of water started near the logs, sputtering the flames into steam, until geysers suddenly spewed in a dozen different directions, shooting the logs free, breaching the dam with an ever widening wall of water.

  Catherine nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to go home.”

  Robbie gathered her in his fierce embrace, leaving only enough room between them for the kitten and tree root. “Then hold on tight, wife!” he shouted above the wind howling down the mountain, covering her head as the air sizzled around them. “And finally decide that you love me!”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The only thing Robbie had to decide during their violent journey home was how he was going to explain to his wife that it didn’t matter if they had stood in front of a priest in modern or medieval times, they were still married in the eyes of God.

  The ever tightening vortex exploded with a deafening boom, the winds quieted to a gentle breeze, and the storm disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. Robbie sat up and loosened his grip on Catherine enough to brush the hair from her face so she could look around.

  Her eyes swimming with confusion, she stared at his plaid-covered chest, dropped her gaze down to her own clothes, and then lifted her trembling left hand and stared at the ring on her finger. “We’re back on TarStone, but I didn’t wake up,” she whispered.

  “But you are awake, Catherine,” he assured her. “See, the sun’s just risen, and that’s the trail of a jetliner making that streak in the sky. And there’s Pine Creek. See the lights in the homes? You’re back in modern time, but you didn’t dream all that’s happened, because you lived it.”

  “But…it’s not…I can’t…”

  He covered her lips with his finger. “It’s okay, Catherine. You don’t need to understand how the magic works, only accept it. Embrace the journey we shared, and know that you helped reunite an old man with his family and saved my father and uncles from a great tragedy.”

  She couldn’t quit staring at her hand.

  “It won’t come off, wife,” he told her. “Not while there’s still breath in my lungs.”

  She snapped her troubled eyes to his, her face as pale as the snow-covered summit of TarStone Mountain. “But I don’t want to be married.”

  “You’ve decided you no longer think you love me?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” She took a shuddering breath and looked down. “I just don’t…I can’t…can we discuss this later?”

  “Aye,” he agreed, lifting her chin. “Until you’re ready to accept our marriage, we will continue as we were before.” He reached out and tugged on the knot of
her shawl. “I wonder if our stowaway is ready to give up his security blanket?”

  She gasped and looked down at her chest, undoing the knot and pulling out the shivering kitten. “Oh, it’s scared to death.”

  Robbie took the cub from her and held it against his own chest, ignoring its attempts to bite him as he worked the tap root from its tiny claws. “Our fierce little friend left its teeth marks in the wood.”

  “Should we have brought it back with us? Was that wise?”

  Robbie shrugged and handed the kitten back to her, keeping the root. “Why not? Its mother likely drowned.” He canted his head and smiled. “We’ll give it to Winter. She’ll be thrilled to have another spitting hellcat to keep her company.”

  “Oh, yes,” Catherine said, scrambling to her feet. “That’s perfect.” She suddenly looked worried again. “But what about Mary? She didn’t come back with us.”

  Robbie stood up and tucked the root in his belt. “She’ll be along when she’s ready. She probably stayed behind to see if Angus keeps his promise to stop warring.” He looked around them. “We’re not far from where our clothes should be,” he said, taking her hand and leading her up the ridge toward the summit.

  “Can I keep these beautiful clothes?” she asked, looking down at herself, only to gasp suddenly. “My stick! It didn’t come back with us.”

  “I’ll make you a new one.” He smiled at her crestfallen face. “Unless you’d like a sword instead. I have a small one my father made for me when I was four.”

  “No. No more swords. But I would like a new stick.”

  She let go of his hand because she needed both of hers to control the kitten. “We should probably let Winter name it,” she said, laughing as it gnawed on her finger.

  Robbie snatched it from her, held it up, then gave it back with a smile. “It’s a him,” he said.

  “Winter could call him Snowball, since he came from Snow Mou—ow!” she yelped, sucking her thumb. “He bit me!”