How To Steal A Highlander

by Olivia Norem

  “Good thing Mr. Nike made such a bonny running shoe. Indeed.” Kat’s eyes narrowed.

  Kat’s world plummeted. A cold column of dread seeped down her throat and congealed in her gut with icy talons. Of their own volition, Kat’s hands gripped the rough stone wall as her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

  Is this what heartbreak felt like?

  No, it couldn’t be. Even witnessing the scene before her, Kat refused to believe everything Simeon had said, everything he made her feel had been duplicitous. And when did she become so sensitive she could barely draw a breath? She wasn’t jealous over anyone. Ever. Maybe traveling through time had left her physically intact, but her emotions were out of sync.

  Simeon held the woman tightly; a sudden wave of anger consumed Kat. She’d violated every Goldman rule since she met Simeon. Granted, her current situation wasn’t conducive to the rules in the first place, but those rules had served her well over the years. They had kept her distant, cold, and alive. Now, she was a teary mess, standing helpless in a castle embrasure, hundreds of years in the past, and feeling inferior to another woman. Kat never felt inferior.

  Well, she was a world-class thief, with enviable talents. Looking down at the dirty and tattered state of her clothes, her pride pricked. No matter what Simeon confessed his feelings to be, for her or for that woman in the bailey, she’d never overcome her competition in this state of dishevelment. She’d remedy this situation immediately, with her wits, her skills, and a little aid from her new friend Angel.

  As if sensing her newfound resolve, the dog uttered a soft yip and disappeared around the corner of the enclosure. Kat followed closely, impressed the dog had given her a signal that the coast was clear. The hallway widened as they passed several closed doors. Turning at the end of the passage, the dog loped up a short, circular staircase and paused in front of a massive door that stood slightly ajar. He scratched the portal with his heavy nails. Judging from the grooves etched into the wood, it was a well-practiced move.

  Gaining entrance, the dog bumped his head to widen the opening. Kat inhaled sharply. “Oh my, this must be the Laird’s chamber.”

  She turned a full circle taking in the lavishness of the room. Like the rest of the castle, this was almost too much to comprehend. Soaring ceilings decorated with stone arches topped the octagonal room. Almost every wall had a window overlooking the expanse of the castle yard and the lands beyond. Luxurious patterned carpets covered the floors, and while the furniture was minimal (not much more than a writing desk and heavy-carved chair placed in front of one of the windows) the bed dominated the room. And what a bed it was.

  Soaring at least twenty feet high, the canopies were draped in burgundy velvet tied to the posts with silken cords. On top were carved wood figures from some sort of mythology, Kat was certain. Every inch of the room, from the carved wood panels and tapestries hung near the ceiling to the embroidered velvet coverings on the bed, screamed wealth and power. A woman could easily swoon in a room such as this.

  Angel, turned three times in front of the roaring fire and settled into one of the rugs with a deep exhale of pleasure. Near the hearth, a tub had been placed. Steam rose off the surface, evidence of the young boys who had labored to carry the water. The firelight shone on the surface of the water, beckoning Kat with its steamy promise. The tub was too compelling, and if nothing else, a quick cleanse might just take the dust from the back of her throat. Besides she didn’t want to think about what slimy creatures were clinging to her from her stint in the dungeon.

  “What do you think, Angel? Think I can steal a quick bath before your Laird returns?”

  She guessed the giant beast decided his assistance was spent, as he answered her with a few half-hearted thumps of his stringy tail, and then stretched and groaned. The dog then blinked himself to sleep in front of the fireplace.

  What could it hurt? She’d get cleaned up in this inviting bath, and then set about stealing some clothes. Kat wandered to the window, ensuring herself Sim would be sufficiently occupied for a while.

  Kat squinted at the scene in the yard. It appeared the men who had thrown her into the dungeon were facing Simeon’s wrath. She gasped as she saw him strike the big red-haired one and fell him to the ground. Ian summarily dismounted and both her brother and the woman in red looked as if they were trying to placate the enraged Laird. But Simeon wasn’t quieting. He was waving his hands wildly, spinning and shouting as the people around him began to scatter.

  Weird.

  Whatever chaos was happening outside sifted from her thoughts as Kat spun around. She gasped at her reflection in the standing mirror. Her hair was sticking out in wild directions, her face and neck were grimy, and the gown…

  She couldn’t shed the thing fast enough.

  Kat eased into the tub with a grateful sigh. The water was pleasantly hot, and she submerged all the way under, holding her breath and gently massaging her scalp. A primitive Jacuzzi without the bubbles? Honestly, a body could get used to this.

  She languished in the heat, letting the tension and knots ease from her muscles. There was even a pillow to rest on in decadent comfort, and Kat drifted off to a dreamy state of relaxation. Angel had the right idea, curling up to the fire.

  Kat had no idea how much time had passed, but she needed to break this reverie and confront Simeon and her brother. Sniffing the bar of soap thoughtfully placed near the tub, a stab of longing lanced through her. A touch of sandalwood and lemon mixed with something else was reminiscent of Simeon. Soaping her shoulders generously, Kat almost dropped the washcloth as angry shouts erupted somewhere beyond the door. Contrary to her notions, thinking the thick, stone walls would be practically soundproof, these old castles sure did carry echoes. Her hands paused mid-scrub, and she locked eyes with Angel.

  There was no mistaking Simeon’s voice. He was roaring orders below in the hall — almost as loudly as when he broke through the window of the SUV — only this time it wasn’t a shout of victorious release. Though the words weren’t discernible, there was no mistaking the tone.

  He was pissed.

  She was almost too relaxed to concern herself with Simeon’s state or the cause. Then she did hear his words. Quite clearly too.

  “Lorg i! A-nis! Find her!”

  His voice was fuming mad, but also held a note of desperation. He was looking for her, and from the sounds reverberating to the top of the coiffured ceiling, he had the entire clan looking for her as well. Considering the tumult of bodies tripping over themselves to prepare for his arrival, Kat imagined the scramble in the hall below was probably worse than a four-a.m. crowd at the mall gathered for a television give away on black Friday.

  He was angry? Good.

  She was angry as well. After all, she was the one who had been drugged, abandoned, and imprisoned by his own men. Let him work himself into a rage wondering where she was. Angel glanced over with a curious eye, and seeing Kat unfazed by the external scuffling, expelled a long, bored sigh and drifted off to sleep.

  Kat laughed aloud at the irony. She was currently settled quite comfortably in the very last place Simeon would think to look.

  Chapter 21

  Seeing people run past the fence calling and shouting, Donnell stopped the mare he was working on the long line and unfastened the rope from her halter. Apparently, he was too hurried to unfasten the gate; he hooked his leg up and over the fence. As he jumped down to the outside of the paddock, he called out toward the stable over his shoulder. “Liam, Tav. The Laird is returned.”

  A small boy with a tousled mop of red hair darted out from the shadowed doorway. A wide smile broke the boy’s face as he saw the men approach. Tavish appeared soon after, a wide grin splitting his face. Two older boys darted past him, racing to be the first to take the Laird’s horse.

  Simeon called out greetings to the swelling crowd as Ian pulled up beside him.

  “My God! What do you feed that one?” Ian couldn’t hide his astonishment when he saw the
red-haired giant emerge from the stables.

  “Anythin’ he wants,” Simeon laughed, “That’s Tavish and his son, Liam. Tav is no’ but gentle, unless he’s had a bit o’ drink, but there’s nae finer mon with horses in the entire Campbell clan.”

  “A trainer?” Ian snorted, “I guess it makes it easy to train a horse when you’re the same size as one.”

  Simeon chortled at Ian’s dry wit and immediately thought of Katherine. Ah, Katherine. How he missed her. He missed her wit, her laugh, and the feel of her in his arms. Stifling the sudden stab of longing, Simeon reined his Percheron to a halt as the boy Liam, ran up without a care.

  The boy barely cleared the horse’s underbelly. Liam bounced excitedly on his toes, holding his hands above his head and wiggling his fingers. He was completely undisturbed that Simeon’s horse side-stepped and tossed his head. Ian’s brows raised at the fearlessness of the child.

  “Please Laird, please,” he whined so sweetly, Simeon couldn’t help but smile at the wee lad.

  “Liam,” Donnell chided gently as he moved to take Ian’s bridle. “Ye cannae see they’ve ridden hard the past few days?” He moved to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but Simeon shook his head.

  “’Tis all right, Donnell. Come, lad.” Simeon beckoned, and Liam’s tiny fingers closed over his. He plucked the boy from the ground and swung him up in the saddle, roughing his hair affectionately. The grinning imp buried his hands into the horse’s mane.

  “Are ye ready, lad?” Simeon asked.

  “Aye!” Liam squirmed with excitement and turned an eager face up to Simeon. Ian’s heart clenched at the sight, and for the first time in his life he knew precisely what he wanted. He wanted a son.

  Simeon kicked Fergus forward. The horse surged in a half-rear, churning clods of earth in their wake. Liam’s squeal of delight was barely audible over the thundering hooves.

  “Haud tight lad, and sit up straight,” Tavish’s voice boomed from the stable door. Ian didn’t miss the look of pride on the giant man’s face as he watched his son. Yes, Ian wanted that.

  Simeon galloped to the end of the bailey, and then slowed to an easy canter, twice around the yard. The boy was breathless and beaming from the ride. Simeon held him in one arm, balancing the boy against his waist. Liam wrapped his arms affectionately around Simeon’s neck. “Och, Liam, soon ye’ll be ridin’ Fergus on yer own.”

  “Do ye think so?” His eyes sparkled beneath the praise, and then immediately frowned into a pout. “Me da says I can ride only ponies. ‘Til I’m ten,” he whined and lurched backward in an arch of frustration.

  Simeon tickled the boy until he snapped upright, crouching in peals of laughter. Ian shook his head at the precocious nature of this child. Were all kids this expressive? And adorable? He was consumed by the thought of raising a pack of Liam-esque little Ians. After all, he was no longer subject to anyone’s whims but his own.

  Donnell plucked Liam from the saddle and set him on the ground. He crossed his arms and looked down at Liam with a raised brow.

  “Ten, eh? How many years must ye wait then?” Donnell asked.

  Liam snickered and rolled his eyes. He held up four fingers.

  “I willnae gae against yer da’s wishes, lad. But whot he does nae ken willnae hurt him, aye?” Simeon winked at the boy, who immediately smiled and bounced excitedly again.

  “Our secret, Laird?”

  “Aye, our secret, lad. Now get up tae the kitchens. Tell Maeve I said tae feed ye somethin’ tae put more meat on yer wee bones.”

  “I think ‘tis good tae be the Laird.” Liam took off running like a shot. His knees flying and his arms pumping, as he headed toward the kitchen. Ian tamped down a strange pang of remorse at the child’s departure. Was a paternal clock somehow tripped with time travel?

  “Like Tav, ye dinnae need tae tell him twice tae eat,” Donnell laughed, as he walked between their horses. “The lad missed ye awful. He near drove me and Tavish tae madness, askin’ when ye’d return.”

  “He’s a fine lad. We’ve much tae discuss, Donnell, Tav.” Simeon acknowledged the pair, as well as others who rushes forward to greet them. Skimming over the faces of the crowd, Ian couldn’t help but smile at the warm welcomes.

  Simeon and Ian hadn’t taken half a dozen steps toward the stable when Liam skidded to halt. The boy seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then turned back to them at a dead run. Simeon was just explaining to Ian that Tavish was really Liam’s uncle. The boy had lost both his parents to smallpox the year before.

  Simeon halted any further explanation of Liam’s story as the boy practically skidded to a halt in front of him. Ian pushed down the dread.

  Smallpox? Well there was one factor he hadn’t considered about stepping back in time. At worst, he figured he’d probably suffer a cut or two in a clan skirmish, a few stitches, the occasional cold… but smallpox? His mind raced. Had he been vaccinated against that?

  Suddenly, as if the swelling ranks cracked along a fault line, he saw her. His smile faded.

  She was a vision. A vision clad in a crimson gown raced forward through the parted crowd. Ian’s hands dropped to the front of his saddle as he sat riveted.

  Simeon caught the gaze of the woman and broke into a hearty laugh. He tossed the reins to Donnell, vaulted from his horse, and sprinted toward her. When the dark-haired beauty jumped into his arms and smothered Simeon with kisses, Ian’s heart dropped.

  “Och, Sim, ye’ve finally returned, ye great brute. Running off with that braw mon yonder and nary a word of when ye’d return,” she scolded and waved a hand at Ian.

  “Sophie, lass. As if I’d leave this keep subject tae yer unchecked ways for long,” Simeon chided as he swung her in a wide circle, making the woman shriek with delight.

  “Put me down. Are ye nae gaun tae introduce me then?”

  “Cheeky, lass.” Simeon laughed and flicked the tip of her nose with his finger as he pulled her tightly to his side. Ian frowned in confusion as the pair swung around to face him.

  “Ian Goldman, I present Sofia Mae Campbell, or as I like to call her, me wee imp o’ a sister.”

  “Wee imp, indeed.” Her hand slapped Simeon lightly on his chest. Her voice was lyrical and wove a strange spell in Ian’s head.

  His horse took an unexpected side-step forward and Ian tilted precariously in his saddle.

  “Your sister?” Ian said dumbly, clutching the horse’s mane to right himself.

  “Aye.”

  “Welcome, Ian Goldman. Apologies for my brother’s rudeness. I did nae greet ye upon yer arrival. The pair o’ ye left with nary a word.” The goddess extended a hand.

  Ian dismounted without taking his eyes off her and with all the gallantry he could muster, took her hand and raised it to his lips. This new life was looking better and better.

  “Your sister?” He managed a sidelong glance at Simeon and noted with pride how Sophia blushed.

  “Aye,” Simeon said hotly, made a deliberate show of removing Sophia’s hand from Ian’s grasp. “And she’s no’ for ye.”

  Sophia took a demure step back as Simeon growled low in his throat.

  “I’ll consider myself warned.” Ian laughed brightly and raised his palms in a show of surrender. “Besides, you do have a hell of a left hook.”

  Simeon’s retort was interrupted as Liam popped back into view. The boy’s face was serious as he plunked his hands on his hips.

  “I want tae offer ye a trade, Laird.”

  “Aye? And whot are we tradin’ for, laddie?”

  “Fergus for this. ‘Tis no’ much tae look at, but it works most curious. Like a puzzle, me da says.” Liam flipped the small, red object in the air and caught it in one hand. Then he proudly extended up to Simeon.

  Ian froze when he saw the white cross of the Swiss Army brand. All thoughts he had of Simeon’s sister or ancient diseases extinguished immediately. Cold fingers of dread uncoiled in his stomach. That knife could mean only one thing. One impossible thi
ng...

  “Where did you get that?” Ian barked out harshly. His tone was so unexpected, Liam stumbled backward and tripped, landing on his backside in the dirt. The child’s eyes went wide in terror and his lips began to quiver, too frightened to speak. Ian instantly regretted his tone. He hadn’t meant to scare the boy, especially since he had yet to exchange a word with him. Damn, he was going to make a horrible parent.

  Simeon’s head snapped in his direction. “Ian?”

  “It’s Kat’s.” Ian pointed.

  “Whot!” Simeon bellowed. His eyes flared in alarm. “Are ye certs, mon?”

  Liam shuffled backward harder. The lad’s eyes were glassy with tears, and he couldn’t seem to find his feet.

  “Unfortunately, I am,” Ian nodded.

  Donnell paused and glanced back at the outburst. Simeon was yelling something and waving his arms. Liam was on the ground and looked as if he were about to expire from fright. He felt Tavish draw near, who inclined his head with a frown.

  “Whot’s amiss?” Tavish grumbled, dusting his hands on his kilt as he surveyed the scene.

  “I dinnae ken,” Donnell shrugged his shoulders.

  “Who gave this tae ye, lad?” Simeon took the knife from Liam’s hand and tried to temper his growl.

  “D-Donnell…” Liam managed to squeak out.

  “Donnell?” Simeon howled and spun around. Surely if his daft cousin had run into Katherine, he would have said something upon their arrival. The fact Donnell hadn’t mentioned anything did not bode well. Simeon instantly pierced Donnell with a deadly stare.

  “Aw, shite!” Donnell groaned. He’d seen that black look on Simeon’s face before. It was usually followed by intense pain and probably a broken jaw, but at the very least a black eye.

  “Donnell?” Tavish shuffled nervously at his side.