How To Steal A Highlander

by Olivia Norem

  “Mister MacGuire, if you could, Seamus is about to waste away from hunger. Can we save the photo ops for later perhaps?”

  Hamish gave her a knowing smile and pushed back on the eager patrons. “For certs lass, here now, back away, Colin, and ye too, Tom. Can ye no’ see Seamus is hungry lads? Rebecca! Come this way, the finest table in the place. Rebecca!” Hamish boomed over his shoulder as he fussed and dusted the tabletop off with a cloth hanging from his apron pocket. Shaking his head as they slid into the booth, he clapped Simeon proudly on the shoulder once more. “I cannae hardly believe me own eyes, lad. I’ll start ye and yer lady here with a couple o’ pints and don’t be kenning yer money’s good here either ‘cause ‘tis no’.”

  Simeon bowed his head graciously at the exuberant Mr. MacGuire and thanked him heartily in Gaelic. The man bustled off to the kitchen where muted shouts and clanging pots could be heard. Simeon ran a hand over his amused face and the general din of the room returned.

  “Nae too much hae changed, lass,” Simeon’s lips crooked in a lazy smile, obviously smug with the attention.

  “Do you even know what rugby is?” Kat asked quietly as she powered on her iPhone and searched YouTube. She hid her phone under the table as a smiling Hamish returned with two glass mugs of ale.

  “Slàinte,” Simeon downed the contents in one pull under the waiting approval of the barkeep.

  “Now there’s a braw lad.” The old man rocked back on his heels proudly.

  “Yer ale is mighty fine, Hamish. The best I’ve tasted in years in fact.” Simeon’s eyes twinkled, and Kat shot him a warning look. Hamish beamed under the compliment and bustled off toward the kitchen.

  Nanoseconds later, a smiling and beautiful twenty-something girl approached their table carrying two more mugs of MacGuire’s hearty brew. She leaned close to place Simeon’s mug in front of him and gave him a breathy giggle.

  Kat stifled an eyeroll and wondered if the waitress had even noticed there was a plus one at the table.

  “Hamish says I’m tae take care of ye, Mister Campbell,” she fawned. Yup. Definitely unnoticed.

  “Are ye now?” Simeon’s voice dipped low and husky.

  Kat shivered at the innuendo and saw she wasn’t the only one affected. The poor waitress placed her palm flat on the table to steady herself. “Call me Seamus, lass. And whot’s yer name?”

  “Uh… uh, Rebecca.” The young woman stammered.

  Kat almost felt sorry for her. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands to watch the ‘politeness’ of this devastatingly handsome Laird unfold.

  “A bonny name, Rebecca,” Simeon drawled appreciatively and flashed a disarming smile. “Whot do ye recommend, lass? I’m a mon of large appetites.”

  Kat watched the young woman blush to her toes as she tried to stumble out a few suggestions. Kat jumped in and ordered for them. She raised a brow at Simeon as Rebecca rushed off to place their order.

  “I dinnae ken whot rugby is, lass, but it appears tae afford Seamus Campbell a warm welcome. Greeted much the same as any laird.” Simeon toasted her with his mug and drank deeply in pleasure.

  “Do women always have that reaction to you?” Kat asked clinically. She scrolled through the results of her Seamus Campbell search. The resemblance was uncanny.

  “Aye. Mostly.” Simeon shrugged nonchalantly. He reached for a piece of the piping hot bread, which had made it to their table in record time. He broke off a piece of the steaming loaf and set it on her plate.

  “Mostly?”

  “Ye dinnae,” Simeon teased. “As I recall, ye ran from me in horror.” Now it was Kat’s turn to blush.

  “I’m going to show you something. Do me a favor and don’t… freak out.” Kat said. Simeon had no idea what she was saying but eyed the strange, flat box she held in her hand. Kat touched the colorful side of the object and he saw tiny men running across a field. Simeon’s face turned to absolute horror as he watched the screen.

  “Whot is that thing?” He breathed cautiously. Of all his reactions, Kat wasn’t expecting this one. The fearless warrior seemed genuinely afraid of her iPhone. He had a wild look in his eyes and appeared poised for flight. Kat mentally slapped herself. Of course! The mirror! He thought the men were trapped inside, just as he had been. Kat paused the screen and quickly slid into the booth next to him. Of all the places for this to happen, inside a crowded pub was not the place to freak out.

  “It’s okay, Simeon,” she said softly, laying a hand on his steely bicep. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I should have explained it before I showed it to you.” He chafed at the cursed object Kat held in her hand. What made it worse was that his pride was tweaked by showing weakness in front of the lass.

  Heaping platters of food were set before them, and Kat welcomed the timely interruption. Earning a frown from Rebecca, Kat remained at Simeon’s side while the woman asked if there was anything else she could do for him. Simeon praised the fare heartily and when she left, Kat moved to take her seat.

  “Dinnae gae, lass. Stay by me side and show me that box again.” Simeon cut into the thick steak and moaned a low male appreciative growl in his throat. He made short work of the steak as Kat explained to him the concept of a phone.

  She picked delicately at the fish and the vegetables on her plate. The last thing she expected to be doing tonight was explaining the internet to a man who hadn’t even seen mass communications yet. Kat patiently answered his questions, and then looked at his plate in astonishment. “You really do have a large appetite.”

  “Nae reason to speak to ye false, lass.”

  “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” Kat looked up into his eyes. She felt a tug in her chest and quickly glanced away. Making sure he was taken care of was a foreign feeling and she couldn’t begin to fathom where it had come from.

  “Aye. That wee bit o’ meat was tasty, but nae filling,” Simeon admitted. Kat signaled Rebecca over and despite the busy pub, unsurprisingly, the woman immediately rushed to their table.

  “He’s going to need another one.” Kat pointed to his plate.

  “Och, Mister Campbell, Hamish’ll be happy ye like his food.” She bent lower than necessary to remove his empty plate.

  “Seamus, lass,” Simeon winked.

  “Seamus,” she giggled and hurried to the kitchen.

  “Pay attention,” Kat nudged him in the ribs. Simeon smiled and sipped his ale.

  “These are photographs,” Kat explained as she scrolled through the Instagram posts of the famous rugby player. “And this is Seamus Campbell.”

  “’Tis a wonder,” Simeon’s face turned to astonishment.

  “He looks just like you,” Kat breathed appreciatively. Then it dawned on her and she began to giggle.

  “Whot’s so funny, lass?”

  “I just thought of something. You’re probably his great, great, great, like way too many greats, grandfather.” Kat giggled again. Simeon frowned, his dark brows drawing together.

  “I’m nae anyone’s grandfather, lass.” His voice went low.

  “Oh, come on! You have to see the humor in this. I would,” Kat shrugged and shook her head, unable to stifle her smile.

  “I’m nae anyone’s grandfather,” he repeated strongly.

  “Well how do you know? He has the same last name and he looks just like you. Besides, you probably have really strong genes…” Kat waved her hand over him.

  “I dinnae hae the chance tae be married. I dinnae hae a wife nor bairns,” Simeon interrupted. His voice was bitter. “The witch cursed me to hell a’fore that could happen.”

  “Oh,” Kat’s face fell at the sobering thought. Simeon probably had some woman back in his time he had loved, planned to marry and have a family — then it was all ripped from him. She stared at the photographs of Seamus Campbell. Something wasn’t right. The resemblance was too strong for them not to be related. Doppelgangers didn’t have the same last names and they didn’t span centuries, or d
id they?

  “Was there a woman? I mean… were you going to get married and all — before that happened?” Kat’s lower lip caught in her teeth as she waited for his answer.

  “Och, lass, dinnae be askin’ me that.” Simeon shook his head and a deep look of sorrow crossed his face before he could mask it. How cruel was fate that he’d never taken a keen interest in one special lass long enough to consider marriage? And now, after decades of regret, he’d been given a second chance at shaping his destiny. Yet the jest was on him, as the first woman he envisioned falling in love with… having bairns with… and sharing a meal with him this very night, was already taken.

  Kat refused to let him dodge the question. Now she had to know, and for some inexplicable reason, a pang of jealousy stabbed her. She wanted to know all about the woman who had captured Simeon’s heart back in his time.

  “Was she pretty?” Kat encouraged.

  Simeon’s pride reared up. He wasn’t about to twist these already twisted circumstances with a confession of the heart. Thankfully, Rebecca had a knack for showing up at precisely the right moment to interrupt their flow. Setting another thick steak in front of him, she departed with a flirtatious smile.

  Simeon nodded at Kat’s hopeful gaze. Best to let her draw her own conclusions and be done with it.

  “Aye, lass. She was bonny.”

  Chapter 9

  Simeon retraced his path across the large living room for the two hundredth and thirty-third time. Centuries of imprisonment had him counting his steps by rote. He had tried sitting on the sofa and cleaning his nails with the pointed end of his dirk, telling himself Katherine would emerge from her room before he reached his pinky.

  But she did not.

  He remained alone. The car had been enough to adjust to with its high speeds and strange noises. The pub had been more familiar, but sitting here alone, clad in these clinging fabrics, he was overwhelmed. Katherine had given him a modest tour of the house before announcing she was off to bathe. Why she’d not bothered to heat water beforehand was peculiar, almost as much as the curious buttons on the walls, which flickered the lamps on and off, and the box in the kitchen, which piped out cold air…

  He was desperately trying to understand this time and the oddities of this place, but so much had changed. Only the fireplace remained a familiar acquaintance, a comforting link to his time.

  Welcoming a useful distraction, he’d light a fire in the cold hearth. Prove to Katherine he wasn’t completely at odds in this century. Simeon searched every nook and cranny of the house. He opened and eventually slammed shut every cupboard, closet, and door in search of firewood.

  What sort of dwelling was this that they did not keep a stack of firewood ready? And worse, he could not find a hint of an axe to allow him to make short work of the limbs hanging just outside the rear door.

  Retrieving his sword, Simeon hacked an armful of dead branches from the yard, venting his frustration. He started a small fire and stoked it carefully in the fireplace. He assured himself as he coaxed the sputtering limbs to a blaze that by the time the fire chased the chill from the room, Katherine would emerge from her ablutions.

  But she did not.

  That’s when the pacing resumed.

  Simeon traced and repeated his steps. He twirled the hilt of his dirk, the tip carefully poised against his left palm. His fingers moved deftly, corkscrewing the knife with just enough pressure to prick his ire, but not enough to break his skin.

  He had so many questions, and he needed answers. He needed to talk to the lass, gauge his options, and become familiar with the workings of this time so he could get by without sounding like a bloody idiot.

  On the two hundred and seventy-sixth pass across the soft carpeting, Simeon halted abruptly as the doorknob from Katherine’s room turned. The lass breezed into the room in complete nonchalance and paused to admire the fire.

  Whot the fook was she wearing?

  “Oh, that’s nice. It’s… cheery.” Kat favored him with a smile and crossed to the hearth.

  Simeon’s eyes widened as he tripped back a step. He had never seen, or ever imagined a garment like the one she wore. It molded to her every curve like a second skin, outlining her lush hips and the indent of her waist in a sinful black case.

  The firelight played upon the fabric as she moved, washing the swells of her breasts and touching the roundness of her hips in a glimmering sheen. Her legs were long and shapely as he’d glimpsed earlier, encased in her scandalous stockings, but this was more outrageous than bare flesh. It was wicked to see a woman so completely covered, and yet dripping in sin at the same time. If all the women in this century went about dressed as this, he was going to have a difficult time retaining any semblance of control.

  “Wh-whot manner o’ dress is this?” Simeon finally managed. His hand motioned up and down at Kat’s head-to-toe body suit.

  “I don’t expect you to understand all of this just yet, Simeon.” Kat faced him straight on and pulled back her hair, securing it at her nape. “It’s part of what I do.”

  “Do? Nae ‘tis… indecent! Parading aboot wearing that… that?” His hand still waved frantically.

  “What? The bodysuit? There’s nothing indecent about this.”

  “Does yer husband ken ye wear such a garment?” Simeon swallowed hard.

  “Trust me. He doesn’t care what I wear,” Kat returned flippantly and turned to study the fire. For some confounding reason, distorting these falsehoods with Simeon stung. As she pondered the flames, it occurred to her Simeon had actually lit a fire. While initially she bristled at his stupefying reaction to the bodysuit, Kat softened. He was from a different era, and so far, she hadn’t shown much sensitivity or done much to acclimate him to the surroundings. She’d stolen some clothes and fed him a meal, but seeing his eyes grow wide when she showed him the kitchen and the bathroom, Kat realized how much she took for granted in the way of conveniences and technology.

  Kat snorted silently. If she didn’t need to stay on schedule and plant this evidence at Brice’s flat, she’d relish curling up next to him by this fire to share wonders of the modern world on her tablet. And the television. His reactions to those should be priceless.

  Kat leaned forward and extended her hands to the licking flames. Her desires warred with her instincts. Every bit of training she’d had as a thief cried out that none of this was her problem. Simeon wasn’t her problem. She didn’t ask for a six-foot plus interruption to this heist. Her professional self said to leave him with a few thousand dollars and wish him well. Put some distance between them. Turn him away and never look back.

  Yet her heart said he was a marvel. And not simply in the fact that a Greek god wouldn’t compare to him sort of marvel, but the man underneath was… compelling.

  Ignoring the hardened warning in her gut, Kat swallowed the lump of guilt. Hadn’t she told Murray she planned to take a little ‘me’ time while in Europe anyway? Her heart reasoned if she personally tutored Simeon through the workings of the twentieth century, what could possibly go wrong?

  Simeon stood transfixed as Kat bent at a provocative angle to warm her hands. The firelight played and teased at the juncture between her legs and he lost all semblance of words. Whatever agitation he’d felt earlier, rapidly dissolved with each increasing hammer of his heart and was replaced with pure, primal lust.

  With her stance, tilted just so, reaching, stretching her hands to the fire, he could see the cleft of her buttocks and the sheen of that wicked garment amplifying her curves. Was the lass completely unaware of the effect she had on him?

  His mouth went dry. Blood rushed to his loins. The only movement he appeared to be capable of completing, was to run an astonished hand over his chin. If one of them didn’t remove themselves from the room, he was going to rip that skin-tight garment from her with his teeth and plunge straight into her like an untamed beast.

  Yet as he stood, rooted to the spot as he was, unable to speak or move or breathe, a lig
htning flare of truth struck as sure as if he’d been blasted with bolts from the heavens. This wasn’t a case of century’s-starved lust needing to be slaked like a man crossing the desert dying for water…

  This was every inch of fiery female who stirred his intellect and provoked his passion. This was all because of her.

  Katherine.

  “Look, I’m sorry I left you for so…” Kat’s mouth hung suspended, unable to finish. The hungry expression on Simeon’s face cracked all pretense of her detachment.

  His eyes simmered, magnetic and mesmerizing, and glittered almost pewter in the fire light. Kat swallowed hard. That hot gaze left her stripped and exposed, raw and wanting. Her nipples tightened to hard peaks, as if he’d already ripped away the body suit in a fit of passion and was devouring her — yet he hadn’t even touched her. This wasn’t lust, this was unnerving.

  Simeon inched closer.

  Kat stepped back. She was dangerously aware of the flare of his nostrils and the rise and fall of his chest as he drew each measured breath between those parted, lush lips.

  “Is this… common garb then?” His voice dropped to a husky murmur and a wild shower of sparks erupted in her lower belly.

  “Uhm… no.” Kat plucked the Lycra on her sleeve and laughed nervously as it sprung back into place. “I mean, well… no.”

  A dark brow winged up.

  Simeon stepped toward her, slowly, like a fluid feline who had drawn a bead on a cornered hare. Calculated and dangerous, yet vigilant so as not to startle his prey.

  She trembled, anxious. Oh, to be devoured by this dark Laird of sin and seduction. Would he? Would he consume her until there was nothing left?

  He extended a cautious fingertip, that molten gaze followed the path he traced down the length of her arm. Kat’s body pitched forward, drawn to his heat by some unseen force. His eyes lifted and held hers spellbound.

  “Why are you wearing this, Katherine?” The question oozed with the dark promise of sensuality.