Highland Sorcerer (17 page)

She felt her own tears wet her cheeks.
"I know. I felt it."

"Then ye know the depth of my
feelings." His voice came out strong like the force of the tide
that pulled Charity under with it.

"I—" But she didn't get to answer,
because Toren's mouth pressed over hers, showing exactly what he
felt, leaving no room for doubt. Heat buzzed through her. Her
senses exploded with it. Their magic flared, tangling together with
an ebb and flow uniquely their own, together as though their very
essences demanded to be forever entwined.

Toren pulled back, leaving her lungs
pulling in shallow breaths. Her lips felt swollen, thoroughly
kissed.

He set her back, seeming unnerved as
though to kiss her again just now would take away all reason and he
needed to remain in control. They had work to do.

"We will find Col, get him back," he
resumed. "And Shaw…"

Shaw was much more complicated. They'd
seen the broken defeat of his features. With the clan gone and the
darkness inside him…Charity feared the young man may have already
lost the will to resist Aldreth.

The fragile hope between them
plummeted. Charity lowered her head, once again giving into fear
and worry.

It was Toren who bolstered her courage.
He lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

"I will not leave my brother to the
witch." An unspoken question burned in his eyes. Was she with him
in this?

Charity smiled grimly and took his
hand. "Nor will I, Toren. Nor will I."

The End

From the Author:

I hope you enjoyed my little
romp back and forth through time. Please don’t worry about Shaw,
Edeen, and Col. They’ll each get their own adventure in time-travel
until they come back together for the conclusion. Find hints and
extra tidbits about the characters and how magic works within the
world of the Highland Sorcery novels at my blog,
http://www.clovercheryl.blogspot.com
Just what is a moon sifter anyway?

Next up is Edeen’s journey
when she finds herself awakened by a stunning vampire during the
war-torn years of WWII, with the great sure-to-become-a-classic
title:
The Vampire and the Highland
Empath
. Rolls right off the tongue,
right?

As a treat, included at the
end of this book is an excerpt from my other time-travel
short,
The Sweetheart
Tree
, involving Bree, a not-into-history
type, who gets transported back to the Civil War south, where she
falls for the hot lieutenant that history says perishes while
rallying his men at the Battle of Sunken Bridge. Why did that have
to be the only piece of history she remembers?

I have many people to thank
for
Highland Sorcerer
. First to my nine muses, my sisters: Heather, Bekie, Kim, J,
Charlie, Crystal, Alysha, Steph, and especially Mac who wouldn’t
let me take the easy path. And Alannah, my first reader who got
into the book before it was even finished. Also to great critique
partners with excellent eyes and encouragement: The Cowtown
Critiquers, Jen, Chrissy, Michelle, and Gina.

And Pat. Love you, baby.

Excerpt from
The Sweetheart Tree

His penetrating eyes widened in shock,
so realistically, Bree went stock-still again. His hand lifted from
her mouth, and skimmed along her cheek to tug at the ends of her
short hair.

“
You’re not a boy.” He said
it with such genuine horror, Bree didn’t know if she should be
relieved or offended.

“
They’ve crossed back over
the river, sir.” A young soldier slipped next to them. “Lieutenant,
Jonas and Tim are still on them.”

The lieutenant eased off. Taking full
advantage of the slight freedom, Bree shoved him hard in the chest.
“Get off!” she said with such venom, the young man scrambled back,
looking more and more horrified.

He tipped his flat hat. “Begging your
pardon...hey!”

Bree hadn’t waited to hear an apology,
but took off through the bushes. Since when was there a bush here?
She fully intended to get into the main museum building, the church
with the gift shop, and report these idiots. Then she’d get a tour
guide’s help in finding her sister. Del was probably down at the
reenactment site looking for her.

She ran fast, and was almost to the
blasted tree, when a hand latched onto her arm, hauling her around.
Furious, she let the momentum carry her, swinging her fist out,
which the idiot re-enactor blocked easily, capturing her other
arm.

“
Would you please stop doing
that? I’ve had enough. I’ve got to find my sister.”

“
There’s another lass lost
out here?” His features showed such concern, Bree nearly lost her
resolve.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to wrench
out of his grip. “No, she’s not lost. Neither am I. Geez, you guys
are taking this to the limit. Don’t you go home at
night?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I
haven’t seen home for four years…if it still even exists. Lem,
search the area,” he spoke to the other men, coming up behind him,
though his eyes never left Bree’s face. “There may be another girl
roaming alone out here.”

“
Oh, sugar,” a solider
re-enactor, a tall, slender one, cooed at her. “Did you think you’d
be safer dressin’ like a lad? Is that why you cut your
hair?”

“
Did a poor job of it, if
you ask me,” another said. “There’s no mistakin’ she’s a woman. You
need something much baggier, miss, if you don’t mind me pointing
out.” All eyes seemed to be taking in her jeans and T-shirt, which
seemed to gleam in the darkness.

“
I never saw attire like
that,” the tall one said. “Where you from?”

“
Montana,” she snarled
it.

“
Mont Anna? Is that in
Prince Edward County?”

Oh, please. She had to hand it to these
guys. They were sure staying in character, pretending they never
heard of Montana because it wasn’t even a territory before the
Civil War. They hadn’t missed a beat…none of them. What? Were they
required to attend reenactment school?

She’d wasted enough time with them.
“Please, let go of me.”

The young lieutenant frowned down at
her. “Ma’am, I can’t let a woman wander around out here alone. It’s
not safe. Sheridan’s army is burning everything. Don’t you know
what could happen to you?”

“
Gee, let me think. You mean
like being dragged into the bushes by several filthy men? Something
like that?”

At least he had the decency to wince,
while the others appeared to take some offense.

“
Now that’s unkind,” the
youngest said. “I was dunked in the river yesterday.”

“
Bite your tongue. At least
I don’t roll in the ashes.”

“
That’s so the yanks won’t
smell me. It’s a scouting trick, dimwit. Why d’you think the
lieutenant never sends you out?”

“
Oh, get off, you young
scamp.”

While the conversation ebbed around
her, Bree became acutely aware of something not right. Except for
the sliver of moon, there really wasn’t any light. She looked
overhead to where the black cables of electrical power should be.
There used to be lines, running from tree to building to building,
powering outdoor lights, and inside. No light shone from within.
Nor were there fancy little signs, directing tourists to the gift
shop or mill. The tiny hairs on Bree’s arms lifted in gooseflesh.
She glanced around at what should have been a manicured lawn with
flowered beds and those stupid little pebbled pathways. There was
gravel, wild flowers, and a circular, rutted dirt roadway that ran
alongside the dark buildings.

It was a good thing the lieutenant
still held her, because Bree’s knees turned to jelly and she sank
fast.

http://bit.ly/thesweethearttree