Highlander's Beloved 02 - A Highlander's Passion (7 page)

Strong winds and pelting rain began. Effie stood at the open door, her arms outstretched as if to embrace the elements. “God, I love a good storm.” The gale-force winds blew through the screen door, plastering Effie’s clothes to her thin body. “Something about it cleanses me as well as the air. Blow, Eurus! Give us all you’ve got!” She laughed, then turned her head, a tinge of wildness in her eyes. “Just in case the power goes out, there are kerosene lanterns on the top shelf of the pantry. Could you take down four, and two packs of matches? It never hurts to be prepared.” She turned toward the table again. “Let’s clean up our mess in case the lights go out. I promised Mary Kate.” Effie carried their glasses to the sink to empty. “I’ve been thinking she needs a good man. Who shall we fix her up with?”

Kenzie loaded the dishwasher. “God save us all from a matchmaking witch.”

Effie hip-bumped her. “Either you grab Bryce or I’ll pick out a man for you.” She winked. “And you know how I like the heavy-hung variety.”

“Bloody hell, Bryce is big enough!” She snapped her jaws closed and scowled at Effie, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Ye tricked me.” She snapped the giggling old woman’s skinny arse with a dish towel. They leaned into each other and laughed.

Upstairs in Effie’s sitting room, she turned to Kenzie. “Tell me what you saw downstairs tonight. Why did you chase it away with such a strong mephitic warning?”

“When I came here fer my job interview, I noticed a gray vapor following ye. Yer aura was clear, yet five or six meters behind trailed this ominous shadow, or specter.”

“Is it always there? I don’t see it. Since you can, it’s meant for my harm.”

“Nay,
ʼ
tis not always there. But, tonight, fer the first, there were tentacles about the length of yer arm extending from the vapor. The tentacles waved over ye as if to grab ye or harm ye in some way. Once I issued the warning, the tentacles receded and the gray apparition was acting mad as hell.”

“Sometimes specters have different meanings.” Effie tapped a finger on her chin. “Were the tips of its tentacles rounded or pointy? A different color, perhaps?”

“Pointy—mostly. The pointy tips were a dark orange, while the rest of the force was gray. Tonight three of the tips were black and round with what looked like sharp-toothed little heads.”

“It’s all coming together now. I’ve felt it for a couple of months, ever since I made my move to Scotland. Just an uneasy feeling at first, as if someone was watching me. You know how you get a creepy feeling at the base of your neck, that intuition, that someone’s got his or her eye on you? It’s been growing stronger. Week by week. Day by day.”

Effie went to her bookshelves and removed a thick volume covered in burgundy leather, its spine cracked with age. Hugging the old tome to her, she lugged it to her desk, and sat. “Pull a chair over, Sparrow, while I look for the right page. I couldn’t quite grasp the reason for my growing fear. I’m not one to spook easily, but I wanted you here not only for company, but for some protection.” Her arthritic fingers flipped to a special section in the book. She slowly flipped the pages. “Stop me when you see a drawing similar to what you’ve seen behind me.”

The vellum pages were yellowed with age, similar to books her aunt Una kept. As a child she’d gotten her fair share of paddlings fer looking through them. The intricate inked drawings within the volumes were like works of art. “There.” Kenzie pointed to a drawing almost identical in shape and color to what she’d seen behind Effie. “See the small heads with sharp teeth? They were on the tips of the black tentacles. Bloody hell, they were gruesome-looking. I’ll probably have nightmares about them tonight.”

“Minions. Warlock Morpheus’s minions.” Effie leaned back in her chair and covered her eyes with her wrinkled hands. “Leaders of our coven warned me against moving here, that my relocation from one side of the Atlantic to another would disturb the order of things—and piss Morpheus off.”

“So now he knows where yer at? Or has he always known and is just being pissy because ye’ve moved?”

“He senses where Wiccan spirits are and prefers to keep us separate or balanced over the earth. My move here upset the balance he prefers, especially since I carry more power than most, being a high priestess.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders in an I-could-give-a-damn gesture. “Sparrow, you should know, I am a willful person—a product of the sixties and a survivor of Woodstock. I tend to do what I damn well please, when it suits me, and handle the fallout later. Now that I know what I’m dealing with, I’ll make a few calls to the band of high priestesses. I’ll get some input from them. We’ll talk more about all this once I’ve gathered more information.”

The storm raged harder, and after a sharp crack of lightning, the power went out. Kenzie lit the lanterns.

“Put one on the vanity in my bathroom, Sparrow, and the other on my nightstand. That way I can still see to make some of my calls and later read more of my romance.” She hugged Kenzie. “Good night, my sweet one. And remember, not all housekeepers will be as sour and grumpy as Isobel, just like all men won’t be abusive like Duncan. We’re all different. Don’t judge all men by one sick son of a bitch.”

The generator at the lodge rumbled to life in the midst of the violent summer storm. Bryce lit candles and lanterns to augment what few appliances the generator ran, like those in the kitchen and the main lights. He took the steps two at a time to reach his wing of the building. When he checked on Colleen, she was sleeping and felt only slightly warmer than normal. The antibiotics were starting to work. He left her door ajar in case she needed him during the night.

Minutes later, still damp from his shower, he stretched out in his bed and called Kenzie. He hoped cell reception was working in this storm, fer he needed to hear her voice.

“Hello.”

He smiled and snuggled into his pillow. “Is this the voice mail of the beautiful Kenzie Denune or the real thing?”

“Well, Highlander, ye just happen to be in luck tonight.”

He wanted to tell her if he was in luck, he’d be inside her right now, but that would only chase her off. If he was to win her back, he had to keep his cheeky humor in check. “Do ye have power at Iverson Hall?”

“Nay. It went out a few minutes ago, but we had lanterns ready, just in case.”

“Och, I love a smart woman. We’ve lost power too, and the generator’s running. I’ve given guests lanterns.”

“How’s Colleen? Have the antibiotics started to work yet?”

“Aye. I ken they have, or maybe
ʼ
tis me wishful thinking. Since she was born premature, she gets ill easily. Right now, she’s sleeping away. Mum gave her chicken broth fer dinner. After I tucked her in bed, I snuck her a brownie as a treat and read to her until she fell asleep.”

“Ye are a spoiler, ye are.”

“I’d like the chance to spoil
ye
, Kenzie.” There was silence on her end, and he feared he’d gone too far too fast. “Remember the day we skipped school in the sixth grade and got soaking wet in a big storm like this?”

To his pleasure, she chuckled. “Yes. How could I ever forget? What an adventure we had, exploring and fighting imaginary Vikings. At least until the skies opened and the rains poured. We couldna go home to change into dry clothes or everyone would ken we’d skipped. So we crawled into a deserted castle, half torn down with no roof, and shivered.”

“Until I found enough wood to build a fire.”

“Aye, wet wood that smoldered, smoked, and made us cough. Someone reported smoke coming from the old castle and the fire company rolled in, sirens blaring.” She chuckled softly, and he smiled at the beauty of it. “We both ended up getting our arses smacked that day.”

“Every time we walked into a classroom or down the halls, the kids imitated the sirens of fire trucks.” He laughed at the memory.

“
ʼ
Twas the last day we skipped school.”

“We have a lot of good memories, luv.”

Her deep sigh drifted over the cell. “Aye, and a lot of bad too.”

“But more good than bad.” The static from the storm grew worse, making further conversation almost impossible. “Good night, me luv.” With crackling silence on the other end, he wasna sure if she’d heard him or not.

The next morning, Kenzie decided to help Hamish clean up the debris of the storm. Although the sky was a dense gray, streaked as if a child had taken a piece of chalk to it, the air was fresh. She offered to clear the area around the loch and on the gazebo. First she raked around the water’s edge, gathering broken twigs and branches. Soon she had large piles amassed at each end of the loch fer Hamish to pick up with his heavier equipment.

She was sweeping off the gazebo when a car’s tinny motor snagged her attention as it bounced over the road to the house. The welcome sound made her smile: Bryce had gotten her car to run.

She turned, and couldna believe her eyes. Her car had been washed and waxed. Were those new tires, and had Bryce replaced the side-view mirror Duncan had ripped off a week before his death? How was she to pay him for all that work? Because of all the holes in the walls of the apartment, she’d not get a pence of her security deposit back. How soon would her pay start from her job here? With room and board included as part of her recompense, her cash earnings weren’t going to be much. She hated owing people, especially handsome men with a more-than-healthy dose of macho arrogance.

Bryce sauntered toward her as if he owned the world, two white flowers in one hand and the ring of her key chain swinging from the index finger of his other. The jeans hung low on his hips, the muscles in his powerful thighs bunching and stretching with every step he took. He did have the most alluring legs, both in and out of a kilt. A rip in the denim just above his knee, ringed by smeared grease, indicated a man who didna hesitate to lean into his work. The black T-shirt that stretched over his developed chest and hugged huge biceps only added to his magnetic aura.

She leaned her broom against one of the supporting poles of the gazebo’s roof and nervously wiped her hands on her jean shorts.
ʼ
Twould be best to start out with a word of gratitude. First, though, she needed a drink, and she snatched her bottle of water. By all that was holy, the sight of him made her mouth go dry and her panties damp. She guzzled until the last drop moistened her tongue and hoped words would pass from her mouth, because just his nearness sent her systems haywire.

“How’s Colleen today?” She fiddled nervously with the empty water bottle as he neared the gazebo.

“Better. Her fever’s gone and she ate a little porridge and half a slice of toast. From here on, keeping her rested will be a chore.”

“I’m sure.” Now would come the hard part: asking how much she owed him fer car repairs. She’d have to come up with funds she didna have for the tires and restoration parts. She set the bottle on the wooden railing. “Thank ye for fixing me car. Was it a hard job? What did ye find wrong with it?”

He suddenly turned silent, his gaze locked on hers while the steps of the gazebo squeaked beneath his scuffed work boots. Her keys clinked when he dropped them on an empty chair, and her heartbeat did a bit of clanging of its own at his closeness. His dark eyes blinked several times as he backed Kenzie to the waist-high railing. “Here. Hold these for a minute, please.” He handed her two white rosebuds. His fingers forked into the curls at her temples.

Even in the shade, the hairs brushed back from his forehead before his braids began near his ears highlighted chestnut amid the dark brown. His head lowered, and when his lips were a whisper from hers, the shock of seeing tears glistening in his dark eyes tore at her soul. He’d never opened himself like this before, at least not to her.

“I canna apologize enough fer turning ye away over a year ago, fer being too scared to claim ye as mine. Somehow, I had it in me confused mind that to love another would erase the love I felt with Miranda.” His lips brushed against hers as briefly as a butterfly lands on a blossom. “Such asinine thoughts. What damn stupidity to turn ye away, fer ye are a woman to be loved well and true. Will ye walk with me so we can talk?
ʼ
Tis time we stopped skirting around the past and faced it head-on. Otherwise we’ll never be able to move forward with our lives.”

With her empty hand, she grasped at the rough railing behind her. He had her completely off balance, even though she was trapped between the wooden barrier and his warm, solid body. “Walk?”

“Aye.” His head jerked toward the loch. “I thought we could walk around the water and air our differences. As physically close as we are right now, I feel a far-flung distance between our hearts. Perhaps a few steps together will start our journey toward each other again.”

Exactly what was he about? She leaned her head back to stare into his chocolate eyes. “I dinna ken what we have to say to each other. Will we argue or grow closer? Ye ken how fearful I am of men and relationships.”

He kissed her below one ear and a shudder went through her body. When his lips journeyed along her jawline to her other ear, warmth spread to her core. Her legs wobbled a bit, and his arm tightened around her waist to hold her to him. “Sometimes by arguing, the air clears like it does after a strong summer storm. Did I mention how fetching ye look in those denim shorts and paint-dappled T-shirt?”

Och, he was a charmer, he was. He kent all too well how to attract, but he never seemed to show the depth of his emotions, which was why his reaction to the news of the bairn surprised her so. Fer with him, it appeared all surface and fun.

“Walk with me, my bonnie luv.” Stepping back, he extended his hand fer her to take. “Which way shall we start? To the left or the right?”

“Let’s walk on the side opposite of the swans so we dinna disturb them.”

“Do ye remember all the strolls we used to take?” He squeezed her hand. The two of them had taken many walks when they were seeing each other. Walks that often ended with their making mad love in the woods, against a tree, or on a bed of leaves or warm grass.

“Aye. I guess I always will. I learned a valuable lesson.”

He brought their clasped hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “We both did. Sex on a bed of pine needles is a sure way to break a condom. I remember finding it empty when I pulled it off. That was when we created our bairn, wasna it?”

I canna talk about this with him.

She watched a bird flying overhead, but Bryce had evidently chosen to ignore her avoidance. He gently squeezed her hand. “I have to ken. The night I sent ye away. The night I said those heartless things to ye. Did ye suspect then ye were pregnant?” He lifted her over some bushes of briers and took her hand again before they started walking some more.

She shook her head. “Nay. It wasna until after I’d fainted that Una read me fortune with tea leaves. I didna believe her. Not at first. I mean, who believes her foolish mumbo-jumbo?”

“Ye do, if ye’d be honest. I recall yer talking about her abilities when we were teens, wondering.”

She ignored the remark, because it wasna until after her first miscarriage that she began to sense her own Wiccan powers. “Then I checked the calendar and remembered the time the condom broke. So, the next day I drove two towns over to buy two pregnancy tests. Both were positive.”

“Did ye see a doctor?”

“Aye, in the town beyond where I’d bought the tests.” Someplace far enough away where she hoped she wouldna see someone she knew. “I drove to Ringgold, where I saw a Dr. Campbell.”

“When was yer due date?” He reached overhead to snap off a dead twig from a tree, then began breaking it into smaller pieces. “I figure about seven months ago, if me memory serves me right.”

“Look, I’ve never spoken of the pregnancy. Of the child.”

Bryce rounded on her. “Ye did with the man who murdered him.” Golden flecks in his dark eyes glowed, and a growl surfaced.

Her palm cupped his cheek, and he glared at her. She’d hurt him deeper than she’d thought. Perhaps telling him was a mistake, fer right now he appeared jealous as well as wounded. On a self-protective instinct, she took a step away from him. By now Duncan would have backhanded her.

Bryce’s long arm snaked out and brought her to him so that they gazed into each other’s eyes. “Nay, me luv, dinna fear me. Ye shall tell me everything about the bairn, and there will be no violence.” He folded his arms around her waist and looked toward the loch, his chin resting on top of her head. His mood sounded calmer when he spoke again. “Today, we shall talk about all that happened. Come, let’s walk some more.” He wrapped her hand in the warmth and strength of his. “No matter how painful. It was our bairn. Our loss.
ʼ
Tis time we grieved together.” They continued meandering along the water’s edge.

Could she make Bryce comprehend the complexity of her emotions? “I’ve kept all the pain inside me fer so long, I dinna ken if I can talk about it like one does the weather or a famous ancestor.
ʼ
Tis hard to reveal the details of an agonizing secret wrapped in the folds of yer heart.”

“Open those folds, Kenzie, and pull out that secret. Tell me all about our wee bairn. Then we’ll speak of the second child, that shouldna been conceived. If I hadna been so confused over loving completely the way a real man does, ye woulda still been pregnant with our child. Both were innocent little angels. Both deserve a loving send-off.”

She began talking about her fainting and morning sickness. He asked her questions about her visit with Dr. Campbell. She told him about the naps she required every afternoon after work. When she shared telling Duncan she was pregnant, they fell into a strained silence, interrupted only by a frog plopping into the water and two graylag geese honking as they flew in to settle on the loch, their orange beaks a contrast to their gray-brown plumage. Several stonechats chirped overhead in trees.

Kenzie’s gaze dropped to the two white rosebuds in her hand. She brought them to her cheek and rubbed the softness of their petals over it. “Well, I’m certainly slow at making the connection, aren’t I? You gift me with two flowers and now we’re talking about two little ones.”

Bryce stopped and cupped her elbows, revolving her to face him. “Aye. Two rosebuds fer our two little bairns, neither of which got a chance to open and bloom. We canna deny them any longer. We canna pretend these angels never existed.” He inclined his head so that the roses brushed his cheek as well. “Do ye ken their skin woulda been as soft as these petals?”

The pain in his voice nearly cleaved her soul in two. Tears burned the back of her throat and stung her eyes. “Aye. Soft and fragile as these petals.”

He blinked several times, and cleared his throat. “Did ye ever name them?”

“Name? No. I didna ken of their sex.”

Warmth and trembling vibrated against her as Bryce enveloped her in his arms. Was he treading as near emotion’s edge as she? “Then, today we give them names. We canna keep talking about them as bairn number one and bairn number two. Or as my child and Duncan’s. In me mind, they are both mine. One created by me sperm. The other by me stupidity in breaking off our relationship. They deserve their own names.”

“Ye mean like unisex names?”

He nodded, his face buried against her neck. “Good, strong Scottish names,” he answered, his voice muffled against her skin.

She tightened her hold on him, her arms around his shoulders. Naming the children she’d lost had never occurred to her. “What about Blaine Matheson? That would work for a boy or a girl.”

“Aye. I like it. Blaine for the first bairn. Now name the second one, Mumma.”

All emotional control snapped. Mumma. No one had ever called her that. In fact, she’d never felt she deserved the title. She sobbed against his chest, her soul slowly emptying itself of pain long imprisoned by bars of responsibility and shame. Wasna a mother to care for her bairns? To protect them against anyone or anything potentially harmful?

He rocked her from side to side, never once mentioning how wet she was making him. “Me luv, I have caused ye so much pain.
ʼ
Tis time to let some of it go. I hope that one day ye shall forgive me. Maybe we’ll label it as part of me maturing process.”

She nodded against his wet shirt. “I forgive ye, Bry.” A band of ice encircling her heart shattered and melted, yet more remained. There’d been so much pain these last few years.

“I’m partial to the name McKenna.” He sniffed and jerked a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his eyes. “McKenna Matheson. Will that do for our second wee bairn?”

She slipped the hankie from his large hands and used it herself. “Blaine and McKenna.” She nodded in confirmation. “Yes, I think I like those names. Now when one or both of them come to mind, I can refer to the child by name.”

“We can say good night to our angels every night. With names, they’ll stay more real in our hearts.” Bryce took one rosebud and stepped to the muddy edge of the loch. “Come, luv, help me send off little Blaine’s rose.” Both stooped, the pure flower held in both their hands.

“Fer ye, little Blaine, from Mum and Da.” Scalding tears moistened Kenzie’s face as both of their hands dipped into the cool water to release the rose. She pivoted to Bryce and kissed both of his moist cheeks.

“Now, for little McKenna.” Bryce held Kenzie close and kissed her forehead as she placed the flower in the water. “From Mum and Da.”

They sat entwined, watching. Blaine’s rose floated a meter or so away and then, almost as if it had been waiting, didna move until McKenna’s bloom bobbed next to it. Both parents cried, with no shame, as the two little white rosebuds floated off, side by side, across the loch, until they were out of sight.