Katie's Highlander

by Maeve Greyson

  “I dinna wish t’lose her! Nor watch her suffer!” How could he make them understand? “I canna bear it!”

  “Ye don’t lose her, Ramsay. In the end, ’tis you who leave her behind.” Dwyn squeezed Ramsay’s hand and sent a stinging zap into it again to get his attention. “Look.”

  Memories flashed through his mind—no, not memories, because he’d never experienced these things before. These were scenes from a time that was many years from now. He knew this because he recognized Katie—barely. It was Katie as a verra old woman, bent and fragile but still beautiful in his eyes. She sat beside the bed of an old man who was still and pale as though not a drop of blood remained in his flesh. Head bowed, she held the man’s bony hand between both of hers as tears slid down her wrinkled cheeks. A spear was in the bed beside the man. Ramsay’s spear. Recognition startled Ramsay. The withered old man was him.

  Katie didna grieve alone. Three men, braw, strong, fine warriors and two lovely lasses with silver-blond hair clustered around Katie’s chair. Four wee bairns, three little boys and a tiny girl barely tall enough to see over the edge of the bed, stood at Katie’s knees, hugging their tousled heads into her lap.

  Eyes still tightly closed, Ramsay felt Katie squeeze his hand tighter. Children. Grandchildren. They lived. They all lived. Selfishly, relief flooded through him. He’d be the one to cross over first. She wouldna leave him behind. Alone—to suffer the world without her. He would brave the crossing first for the both of them but when he left her, their children and grandchildren would see to his dear one’s care.

  He opened his eyes and met Katie’s, complete release of his fears washing across him as he gave her a sheepish smile. “I admit it. I’m a coward and a selfish bastard.” He squeezed her hand, willing her to understand and find it in her heart to forgive him. “But ’tis only because I love ye so, m’dear one. I canna live without ye.”

  Katie gave him a trembling smile. “You die first and leave me behind to carry the pain.”

  “Aye, m’dearest love, but I dinna leave ye alone. I leave ye with our children and our grandchildren until such time as ye cross through the veil and join me.”

  The wind rattled the tiny croft’s door, shoved its way in through the cracks of the wood, and set the flames on the tapers to dancing. Dwyn released their hands and stood.

  “Good. ’Tis settled then. I leave the two of ye now but know this, I’ll be back t’check in on ye from time to time.”

  He shed the druid’s cloak and tattered clothing, revealing his favorite pin-striped suit and polished black dress shoes. He adjusted the silk handkerchief peeping out of his pocket and smoothed down his lapels. Smiling, he gave them both a polite nod. “And dinna be surprised when ye find yerselves back in North Carolina from time to time. The goddesses cherish family above all else and ye mustn’t lose contact with yer kin nor the opportunity t’show yer children the blessed stone—but know this: yer place in time is here. I’ll try t’warn ye when ye’ll be called forward in time but I canna make any guarantees. Depends on the druthers of the goddesses, ye ken?”

  “So, there is hope for coffee in my life again?” Katie asked with a mischievous hike of one brow.

  “Aye, for certain.” Dwyn chuckled. “Fare thee well, m’children. Go forth now and live yer lives without listenin’ to the wicked fear that nearly kept ye from knowin’ the richness life has t’offer. Teach yer children as well that fear tells ye lies to control and manipulate ye. Never listen to fear. Never.”

  Before Ramsay could respond, Dwyn was gone. The wind howled louder, banging the door once again before falling eerily silent. The air crackled, still filled with Dwyn’s residual energy. Ramsay rounded the table, swept Katie into his arms, and held on tight. Burying his face in her hair, he closed his eyes and breathed in the only scent in creation that had the power to soothe his troubled heart.

  “I love ye, dear one, more than ye’ll e’er be able t’ken.”

  Katie snuggled closer, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw.

  “I ‘ken’ more than you realize, my hardheaded Highlander,” she whispered against his throat as she tightened her arms around him and squeezed. “And I love you more.”

  Epilogue

  BRADY, NORTH CAROLINA

  HIGHLAND LIFE AND LEGENDS THEME PARK

  “Excuse me. My name is Adam Smithson and I’m here looking for information regarding Katie Jenson’s whereabouts. Would you be able to help me?”

  Esme looked up from her sketchbook. She’d been expecting people looking for Katie. They all had. Dwyn and Máthair had coached them on what to say. She gave the man a quick up-and-down look then bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud.

  This is the guy Ramsay was worried about? Seriously?

  “Katie Jenson,” the man repeated louder, enunciating more slowly as though he thought she hadn’t heard him—either that or he thought her too young, pretty, and stupid to catch the gist of what he’d said the first time around. Esme ran into that a lot thanks to the proliferation of dumb blond jokes and portrayals in the media. That was okay. Folks found out differently as soon as she opened her mouth.

  Adam Smithson, pale, extraordinarily tall and looking as though he’d missed entirely too many meals, pushed his thick black-framed glasses up his overly long narrow nose then stretched his hand out even with his bony shoulder. “Silvery-blond hair and about this tall. Athletic. Early thirties. She wrecked her car and called me for a ride but now nobody seems to know anything about her.”

  “Katie Jenson?” Esme repeated just to keep the guy talking and make him squirm. You were supposed to show up here over a month ago for Katie. Some friend you are.

  The gangly man greatly resembled a praying mantis—a sickly one that had been hit with a shot of bug spray. He quickly bobbed his head then swallowed so hard that his Adam’s apple raced up and down his long neck like a mouse skittering under the bedsheets. “Yes. Katie Jenson. I checked with the car repair shop first. They’ve still got her car but said they hadn’t seen her in quite a while. I was supposed to get here a few weeks ago, but a conflict came up and I couldn’t make it. I called Katie. Or tried to. Left a bunch of messages but never heard back from her. Now I’m worried. I can’t leave anymore voicemails. Her message box is full, and she doesn’t answer my texts.”

  Esme held up a finger as she hopped off the stool behind the counter. “Hold that thought.”

  Finally, she’d get to use Dwyn’s video message. Damn good video if she did say so herself, considering the fact that it came out of the tenth century. Of course, Katie and Ramsay had probably enjoyed helping Dwyn make it. Time to put it to use. She hurried through the employee-only door behind the counter of Highland Life and Legends’ costume shop, found her purse, and retrieved her phone.

  Ross pushed through the back entrance of the shop just as she was about to return to the showroom. “Dwyn sent me. He sensed a stir. What the hell are ye up to now?”

  “Come ‘ere.” She waved Ross forward, so they could both peep out the one-way window in the door leading back to the area behind the counter. “See that guy?”

  “Aye.”

  Ross sounded leery…and he should. If she had her way about it, Adam Smithson would wish he’d never heard of Highland Life and Legends by the time she was done with him. Abandoning Katie the way he did. What if Katie had been in serious trouble? This guy was a totally self-centered asshole—not showing up to look for Katie until she’d been missing for way over a month. Dwyn and Máthair had given strict instructions about what should be said and done should someone show up—but surely, they wound’t care if she messed with this jerk.

  Dwyn’s stern lecture replayed in her head and her mother’s warning look accompanied it. Esme’s conscience chimed in with a hard and familiar tap that gave her pause. Well…maybe I better not. I
could so yank this guy’s chain for hours and make him so miserable. Guess I’ll just have to settle for the video’s effect.

  “That guy…” Esme jabbed a finger at the man currently fidgeting nervously in front of the counter right where she’d left him. “That’s Adam Smithson. Katie’s supposed friend who was going to pick her up the Saturday after she wrecked her car but then never showed up until now.”

  Ross glared at the man. “What a bastard,” he observed with a disgusted snort.

  “Exactly.” Esme waved her phone in the air. “I’m gonna show him Dwyn’s text with the video. Wanna watch?”

  “Aye,” Ross agreed and shoved through the door first.

  Adam Smithson jumped a good six inches back from the counter and started stammering. “Th-the young lady that was j-just here. Sh-she was helping me.”

  “I’m sure she was.” Ross took up a foreboding stance in front of the cash register and glared at the man.

  “I found my phone,” Esme said, unable to contain her smile when the man wilted in obvious relief at her reappearance. “I’ll show you the last text I got from Katie.”

  She brought up the text that showed it had been sent from Katie’s phone—approximately three weeks prior and adjusted the volume to full blast. Holding out her phone for Adam to see, she tapped the arrow to play back the video.

  “Hey Esme! Guess what? We’re married!” Katie’s ecstatic voice echoed through the shop. “And we’ve decided to stay in Scotland.” Ramsay interjected, pure joy highlighting his words like a billboard flashing with blazing white LED lights.

  Esme propped her chin in her hand, enjoying the full effect of Adam Smithson’s reaction. Wow. So that’s what the saying his eyes popped out of his head looks like.

  As soon as the one-minute video ran its course, Adam Smithson hit play and watched it again, his Adam’s apple flittering up and down his throat so fast that Esme thought for sure the guy was about to puke. At the end of the second playing, he shook his head and took a step back, still staring at the phone as though it were a coiled snake about to strike.

  “Married?” he finally said, his eyes still locked on the phone. “Living in Scotland with some guy she just met?”

  Oh, if you only knew. Esme smiled as though such an occurrence was as normal as a summer rain. “To my brother Ramsay. The guy in the video. I’ve never seen him happier.”

  Adam turned away, his shaking fingers raking through his scruffy dark hair. “Katie would never do such a thing—not without telling me first.” He shook his head as he backed toward the door. “I can’t believe she’s married.” He swallowed hard. “She’d never…”

  “Never what?” Ross interjected. “Never fall in love? Never be brave enough to grab hold of happiness? Never dare kick ye to the curb because ye only bothered yerself with her when it was convenient to yer own personal schedule?”

  Adam grew still, staring down at the floor as he let his hand drop to his side. “Yes—to all the above.” He shook his head and lifted his gaze first to Esme then to Ross. “You’re absolutely right. I always ignored her until it was convenient. Even when we were kids.”

  Don’t do it. Don’t make me feel sorry for you. Esme rounded the counter and motioned toward a chair beside one of the changing rooms. “Do you need to sit for a bit? You look kind of pale. I’ve got bottled water in the back. Want some?”

  “No…thank you,” Adam said with another shake of his head. “I found out what I came here to learn. At least I know she’s okay—and happy.” He jerked open the door to the shop, paused a moment, then looked back at Ross. “Your brother’s a lucky man. Next time you see him, give him my congratulations.”

  Ross nodded but before he could speak, Esme butted in. “I’ll give Katie your best too. She’ll be glad to know you’re okay and up to date on all things Katie and Ramsay now.”

  “Thank you.” Adam teetered his way out the door and closed it firmly behind him.

  Esme locked the shop door and flipped the sign in the window to the closed side. A mix of emotions plucked at her heart as she watched the dejected Adam sag into his car and leave. “Dwyn said Ramsay and Katie would be back for visits sometimes. Special occasions. Family stuff. Do you think he meant we might be saying goodbye to Da soon?” She swallowed hard against the ache she always got in her throat whenever she held back tears.

  Da hadn’t been the same since the day he’d performed the rite and married Katie and Ramsay. He’d given up. Emrys Danann MacDara never emerged from his rooms anymore. Never rose from his bed. The man was spent and ready to die. He’d even said so this morning when she’d stopped in to see him. The way he’d looked up at her. The pain and weariness in his eyes. The suffering.

  Esme shook away the memory and looked at Ross. “Well?”

  Ross crossed the room in one broad stride and pulled her into a brotherly hug. “Bear in mind Máthair’s advice, little one: Dinna worry after tomorrow’s troubles and miss out on today’s joys.”

  “I know,” Esme whispered. “But it’s…Da.” She blinked hard and fast then cleared her throat. “It just won’t be the same.”

  “Things ne’er stay the same, lass.” Ross took her by the shoulders and squared her off in front of him. “I hate the changes as much as yerself but for the life of me, I dinna ken how t’stop them.”

  “At least we’ve got family and the clans.”

  Ross nodded. A thoughtful sad smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Aye, sister. Kith and kin will always hold us close and get us through anything.”

  Acknowledgments

  To my readers: Thank you for welcoming the MacDara brothers and their dearest loves into your hearts and homes.

  BY MAEVE GREYSON

  Highland Protectors

  Sadie’s Highlander

  Joanna’s Highlander

  Katie’s Highlander

  Highland Hearts

  My Highland Lover

  My Highland Bride

  My Tempting Highlander

  My Seductive Highlander

  MAEVE GREYSON and her hubby of nearly forty years traveled around the world while in the U.S. Air Force before returning to their five-acre wood in rural Kentucky where she writes about her beloved Highlanders and the sassy women who tame them.

  Her full-time day job at the steel mill is now a thing of the past so Maeve spends her time matching the sexy Highlanders in her head with women that are certain to drive them crazy. When she’s not plotting the perfect snare, she tinkers with new technology and computer programs where she knows just enough to be dangerous and never learns to stop saying, “I can do this without reading the directions.”

  maevegreyson.com

  Facebook.com/​AuthorMaeveGreyson

  Twitter: @maevegreyson

  Google+

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Illegally Yours

  A Laws of Attraction Novel

  by Kate Meader

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  Lucas

  Remember that song by Queen with the banging bass riff? Dindin-din-din-din, another one bites the dust…This is my life right now. I’m at the Library, a tasty little spot in the basement of the Gilt Bar, giving one of the crew a righteous send-off. James Henderson is a friend, and the brother of Max, a partner in our family law firm, Wright, Lincoln, and Henderson. He’s getting married in a couple of weeks, and to say it’s been a whirlwind is an understatement. I suspect his fiancée’s knocked up, but Jimbo’s keeping mum.

  Max has set up a whiskey tasting for the stag party. I’m more of an ale drinker, but I like to know all there is to know about everything, so I’m up for learning how to tell the difference between this glass of yellow shit and that glass of yellow shit.

  “So, what time do the strippers get here, mate?” I ask with my cheekiest
grin.

  Max flashes his perfect American teeth. “Get a couple of drinks in you and the stage is yours, Wright.”

  Up on my feet, I shake my most excellent arse. “I’ll fucking do it, too!”

  This makes the rest of them laugh, but turning to sit, I find a woman staring at me like I’m an idiot. More important, this woman is wearing a bloody catsuit.

  It clings to every curve—and she’s got a lot of ’em—and covers up all the body parts I’d usually be assessing. This cover-up is sexier than if she were naked.

  The only parts I can see are:

  Feet in strappy sandals that show a tease of skin and purple painted toes. This bodes well because purple denotes royalty (think the late, great Prince) as well as wisdom, dignity, independence, creativity, mystery, and magic.

  Arms that look toned and strong, one with a tattoo of some Asian symbol.

  Her face. Duh. Did you think she was wearing a mask like Catwoman?

  The suit is zipped up to her chin, but above her jawline is the best part: a face that launched a thousand ships.

  Or hard-ons.

  Okay, my hard-on.

  It’s more striking than pretty, this face. Regal, even. Almond-shaped eyes with melted chocolate drops for irises. Cheekbones that almost rival mine. Warm, brown skin with golden undertones. A sparkling stud in her nose that tells me she likes to go against the grain. And her hair…there’s tons of it, a mahogany wave ribboned with copper and red. I could go on, but she’s quickly recovered from the sight of my booty shake and is now passing out sheets of paper.

  “Hi, guys, I’m Trinity. Welcome to the Library and to your whiskey tasting.”