Highlander's Portrait

by C. A. Szarek

  After he’d fallen asleep, Ashlyn had cried. She’d cried so hard it was a wonder she’d not woken him, but her laird had lain peacefully beside her. When she’d drifted off, she’d dreamt of home—the far future where he wouldn’t be.

  She’d woken with a start. It was early, and she’d drawn the drapes back in anticipation of watching the sun rise, but it hadn’t just yet. Light was creeping slowly over the horizon as if afraid to make itself known. The in-between time, when it wasn’t light but wasn’t night anymore. Fat white clouds made the sky a murky dark gray, hinting at morning rain. It was dreary, but that fit her mood perfectly.

  Fiona’s marriage had confirmed something she’d been avoiding.

  It’s time.

  Ashlyn shivered. Probably should’ve put more clothing on than Eoin’s leine. It fell mid-thigh but wasn’t keeping her warm in the drafty castle. The fire had gone out sometime overnight. Her bare feet were already ice cubes on the stone floor, but she couldn’t talk herself into getting back into that big bed with the man who’d stolen her heart.

  “Ashlyn-lass?” Eoin called.

  His soft voice shouldn’t have startled her, but she jumped. Squeezed her eyes shut, too.

  “Why’re ye by the window? Arena ye cold?”

  The slap of his feet on the floor told her he’d gotten up.

  He padded to her, then Ashlyn was enveloped in warmth—he’d put the plaid from his bed around her shoulders. It still held his body heat, and she wanted to burrow into it, and into him.

  “It’s time for me to go.” She didn’t turn and look at him. Couldn’t. Should thank him for the blanket, but she couldn’t do that, either.

  “Go?”

  The rustling of fabric told her he was pulling on a garment. “Home. To my time.” She stared out the window hard, as if the imminent sun could save her. Her heart was a brick in her stomach, and her everything hurt.

  “Ashlyn—”

  “I can’t be here anymore.” She sucked in a breath and held it. Ashlyn couldn’t add that she couldn’t be there with him, kiss him, make love to him, and not be able to keep him.

  “I’ve been wantin’ ta talk ta abou’ tha’—”

  Alarm washed over her, and she finally whirled to him. It’d taken her all night to work up the nerve to face going home. He’d better not ruin it. She couldn’t stay. “What’s to talk about? You promised. When I was ready. My terms, remember?”

  “Aye.” Eoin nodded and came closer, but she slid away. He was only wearing shorts, so he had to be cold, too.

  If he touched her it’d be bad. “I know a lot of women in your family have come back in time and stayed…” Ashlyn’s voice cracked and she had to take another breath. “But I can’t be like those other women, Eoin.” Pain threatened to cripple her with the confession she’d never intended to say. It was the truth, which made it worse. She didn’t want to look at him and see the hurt in his eyes, but she had to make her gaze meet his. “I…have to go back. My life is writing. My career. I finally made it. I can’t live without it.”

  “I understand.”

  She blinked. “Wh-what?”

  He’d let her go like that? Without a fight?

  Isn’t that what you wanted? You already reminded him of his promise. Idiot.

  Wouldn’t it make it easier if he just agreed?

  No. Because it was already going to kill Ashlyn to walk away from him. It’d be worse if he was okay with the end of…them.

  Eoin slid forward and cupped her face, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs, wreaking havoc on her concentration. His sapphire eyes were impossibly soft.

  She couldn’t look away, or ask him to stop touching her for her own sanity. She was compelled, as if by magic, to stand there.

  “I’ll go wit’ ye.”

  Ashlyn startled, even in his gentle grip. “Wh-wh-what?”

  “I want ye fer keeps, Ashlyn George.”

  She fought the urge to close her eyes as her whole name in his brogue destroyed her resolve to stay strong. Tears were born and scalded her cheeks as they slid down. “I…”

  “I’ve alreada spoken ta my grandfa. He agrees.”

  “But you have responsibilities here. To Angus. Fiona, too. She adores you even if she’s married now. Your clan. You’re the laird.”

  His smile made her belly flutter. “I’m nothin’ wit’ou’ ye, lass.” This was low, but direct.

  “I can’t…let you walk away from your family.” Ashlyn’s voice wavered. She wanted to cling to him and demand his vow on what he was saying.

  That’s selfish.

  “Ash, mò gradh, I’m nothin’ wit’ou’ ye. No’ a laird worth a damn. No’ a man worth anathin’.”

  Mò gradh. It meant my love, and Eoin had never called her that before.

  Her heart stumbled, and she tried to smile, but guilt swarmed. She wasn’t willing to walk away from her career for him. A career, not a family. How could she let him leave his clan, his blood—not to mention he’d be stepping into the future, where he knew next to nothing about how to live.

  “I love ye, lass.”

  The declaration was everything she’d always wanted, so why did Ashlyn feel like shit?

  A sob rushed up and she covered her mouth. Perfect, ugly crying now, in front of the love of her life, when he’d confessed his feelings for the first time. “Eoin—” she choked out.

  He guided them to the big bed and whispered sweet nothings in Gaelic, then wiped her tears away, and gathered her in to his chest as they sat.

  She buried her face against Eoin’s neck, because she didn’t have the balls to look at him. She was going to have to tell him no, and leave him in 1755.

  Maybe even deny that she loved him, too.

  How could she watch him open the Faery Stones and step through the portal without him? She’d be weeping so hard she couldn’t stand, let alone walk.

  She had no delusions about herself. She was a huge baby. A wimp. A girl who lived with her head in books.

  Eoin rubbed her back and held her until she could get it together, because yeah, she needed a reminder of how awesome he was.

  “I love you, too!” Ashlyn blurted. Then cursed herself to hell and back.

  Why did you say that?

  It would just make things harder.

  “Look a’ me, mò gradh.”

  She couldn’t have disobeyed even if she’d wanted to. Tenderness and heat…and love swirled around in his gaze, and her heart shot into overdrive.

  “My fate is wit’ ye. My fate…‘tis tha future.”

  She swallowed. “I…I want to say yes. But, I don’t want you to resent me in a few years. What if—”

  Eoin put his fingertips to her lips. “I willna. I couldna ever begrudge ye.” He wiped more tears away and smiled so big her insides combusted. “Ye…love me, mò gradh?”

  “Well, of course, you big lug.” She slapped his chest.

  His chuckle washed over her and made Ashlyn smile through her tears.

  He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, then pressed a hard fast kiss to her mouth. “I’ve thought abou’ it, lass. My decision is final. I’ll go wit’ ye. I need ta. I want ta. Yer my fate.”

  “You’re my fate?” she whispered.

  “Aye.”

  “Angus really agreed?”

  Eoin nodded. “Aye, mò gradh. He said my place is wit’ ye, in tha future.”

  She sat up higher, but couldn’t break their physical contact. His bare skin was so warm against her, even through layers, the plaid and his leine. Ashlyn sighed.

  “Somethin’ wrong?” He continued to stroke her shoulders and back.

  “I just don’t know, Eoin—”

  “‘Tis settled, lass. Mò gradh.” His words were an order, but the delivery playful. He punctuated them with soft kisses all over her face. “Trust yer laird.”

  She grinned, she couldn’t help it. “Okay.”

  Ashlyn loved him. Eoin loved her.

  He trusted her enou
gh to jump centuries permanently, so she’d have to trust him, too.

  He was going to come home with her?

  To live?

  Her whole body leapt.

  Love was easy if it was with Eoin.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The bell sounded and roused him. It took Eoin time to orient. Ah, right. He was in the twenty-first century, with the most beautiful woman of all time, wrapped around him, gloriously naked. He was in a place called Dallas, Texas, which was most certainly different than Scotland.

  Not just the change of century would take getting used to, but it didn’t matter.

  As long as he was with Ashlyn.

  The repetition of the sound pushed him in to action, but he didn’t want to disturb his love. Blinking across the ocean had tired them both out, but it was better than having to brave what Ashlyn had called an airplane. She’d explained it would take hours upon hours, even though that was the preferred method of travel to her home state of Texas.

  Eoin hadn’t worn himself out with magic like he’d felt when he’d collapsed on her bed, since he’d been a wee lad. He’d even been too tired to take Ashlyn, though they’d ‘Christened her bed’—as she’d called it—in the middle of that first night.

  Nessie would faint if she heard the misuse of that term.

  He chuckled and dropped a kiss on Ashlyn’s honey locks.

  She groaned in her sleep, but he slipped out from under the arm she had across his chest without waking her.

  As promised, he’d returned her to when he’d taken her in Inverness—moments after, of course, so they didn’t run into themselves. Ashlyn had roused her best friend, and together they’d explained everything to Kate. Convincing her had taken a few hours, and Eoin couldn’t swear that the redheaded beauty believed them even now.

  They’d remained in modern-day Scotland for the rest of the trip the lasses were on. By the end of the second day, his Ashlyn’s friend had told him they had her blessing to be together. And that she liked him. Since it’d meant so much to his love, he’d thanked Kate.

  He’d even gotten to tour Dunvegan with them. Talk about surreal, seeing his home in a time so different from his own, but he was immensely proud the MacLeod stronghold still stood. The fake Faery Flag, along with his ancestor Rory Mor MacLeod’s horn, and the Dunvegan Cup were all on display, and the Flag looked very much like the real thing—thanks to the witch, Korinna. Eoin had left the real thing with his Grandfa, and he could only pray it stayed in the eighteenth century.

  Despite being a married woman, his little pest hadn’t taken to the idea of him leaving, likely permanently. Fiona had cried in his arms, then in Ashlyn’s. The poor lad she’d wed looked lost, as if he didn’t know what to do with a sobbing lass, but Kenneth had tried his best to comfort her, too. At least he was confident he’d left his sister in good hands. The lad loved her.

  He’d promised to visit if it was at all possible, but after blinking across the ocean after time traveling, he wasn’t keen to do it again, even to see his family. Time would tell. He’d probably get homesick and reevaluate. His Ashlyn wasn’t opposed to visiting; more research, she’d joked.

  Eoin tugged on what she’d called basketball shorts, and meandered to her front door. She’d told him she lived in a quiet neighborhood, in something that was called a duplex. He’d learn the terms sooner or later.

  One thing he liked about the twenty-first century was coffee. In Scotland, she’d taught him to make it, too, and he should do that for her. The machine in her home wasn’t so different he couldn’t manage it. He would, after he answered the incessant alarm.

  A man dressed in brown—complete to his boots and hat, was on Ashlyn’s porch, with a parcel of sorts in his hand. “Hi, can you sign this for me?” he asked, holding up some foreign object the likes of which Eoin had never seen.

  Of course, he didn’t want to admit that. “Aye. Where?”

  The man handed him a round thing that resembled a cigar. “On the dotted line.” He pointed with the object before handing it over.

  “I’ve got it,” Ashlyn said from behind him.

  He turned to see her clad in a light blue robe that stopped mid-thigh. Eoin wanted to growl for her to cover herself, especially when the man at the door perked up and wore a smile.

  His love kissed his cheek, and smiled as if she could read his mind, then took the square-like thing from the man, and the stick-like object, jotting her name with it.

  He tried not to gasp. It didn’t seem like ink. It was more like a computer screen. Something else she’d shown him. It wasn’t magic, but it appeared like it.

  Soon the door was closed, and the gold-colored fat square was in Ashlyn’s hands. “It’s okay; you’ll get the hang of everything. Hey, this is addressed to you.”

  “’Tis?”

  She nodded and his heart skipped at the love he read in her dark eyes.

  Eoin took the parcel. It was soft, as if padded on the inside. He could indeed see his name written in black, but with Ashlyn’s address. No one knew he was here. “What?”

  “I dunno, let’s open it.”

  All manner of small things fell onto the kitchen counter, out of what she called an envelope. One was a small card with his image on it.

  “What?” he sputtered. He hated to admit he had no idea what he was holding, and looked at his love.

  She gasped. Held a hand over her mouth.

  “Mò gradh?”

  “It’s identification. So you’re here legally, and…present in the, well, present.” Ashlyn indicated the date thirty years in the past, with the correct day and month of his birth. The year of course, was three hundred years wrong. “This is called a Green Card, and people who immigrate to the United States need one to be a citizen. They’re very hard to get. A real pain in the ass. They don’t give them to everyone who wants one.” She gestured to the whole pile of things he didn’t understand. “Even a Texas drivers’ license, though I’m not in a hurry to teach you to drive.” She flashed a watery smile.

  Eoin cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears away, couldn’t not touch her. “I love ye,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too. But…how is this possible?”

  “I’ve an idea.” He pushed through the items and found a piece of modern parchment. He’d never get used to its smooth feel or the way people discarded pieces of it as if it wasn’t the expensive item it should be.

  He unfolded the letter and read it…twice.

  Laird MacLeod,

  Glad you found when you’re supposed to be. Here’s everything you should ever need. Your lady love can explain it to you.

  We will meet again someday.

  Live your life with love and laughter.

  -K

  Eoin beamed, and handed the letter to Ashlyn.

  She gasped as she read it. “But…Eoin…”

  “I know it, mò gradh.”

  “Thank you, Korinna!” She threw herself into his arms and peppered kisses all over his face. “I love her! I love her, and I love you!”

  Eoin chuckled and caught her up, holding her tight and close. He kissed her mouth, darting his tongue inside so he could fully taste her. “We need ta go back ta tha’ big modern bed, lass,” he breathed against her lips.

  Ashlyn grinned, then broke in to a fit of giggles.

  “Somethin’ amusin’, mò gradh?”

  “Nothing and everything.” She shook her head, her brown eyes dancing. “I didn’t have to write a Happily Ever After this time. I finally got one of my own.”

  The end

  The Tartan MP3 Player

  Highland Secrets Trilogy Book One

  Chapter One

  She was dreaming. Again.

  Rock music blared from the earbuds in her ears, and Claire ran harder. Somehow the treadmill had more resistance than usual. Felt funny under her feet, too.

  Bare feet?

  No running shoes?

  When she looked down, she paused. Shock washed over her. Brought
her to a screeching halt from her dead run.

  She wasn’t on a treadmill. And she was—

  Naked?

  Claire didn’t have on a stitch of clothing.

  “What the hell?”

  She wiggled her toes and damp, gritty sand squished between them.

  “Where the hell am I?” Yanking the buds from her ears, she let them drape over her shoulders and searched her memory.

  Nada.

  Panic rose from her gut, and she started to shake all over. Claire sucked a breath and watched her bare breasts rise and fall.

  Frigid sea mist kissed her skin and she shivered.

  A beach? Seriously?

  What an odd dream.

  If she wasn’t naked and freezing, it might be pleasant to run on the beach…wherever the heck she was.

  She approached the water, but the moment the cold liquid touched her toes, she jumped back. The scent of salt in the sea spray shook her again.

  The ocean? Which one?

  She’d never been to the ocean before, so it was a tossup.

  Claire’s gaze shot skyward when two gulls called to each other. They flew overhead, crossed paths, and then one dove for the water.

  Weird, everything’s so vivid.

  No one was in sight, and neither was any sort of boat or shelter. But further from the water, the terrain became riddled with cliffs.

  She couldn’t see over the closest ridge, which sat about six or seven feet high.

  A screaming heavy metal song blared from her headphones, clashing with the peaceful morning around her.

  At least she thought it was morning.

  Clouds littered the sky, covering the sun, but it wasn’t dark out. Her gut said morning, even if she couldn’t tell what time it was.

  “Okay, Claire. It’s cold. Wake up.” She backed even further from the water, shaking out her long blond hair.

  Her hair tie was gone too.

  Claire winced. When her fingertips passed over a tangle, and she had to work it free. Her scalp throbbed.

  “Pain. Also feels real.”