Highlander's Heart (Clan Matheson Book 2) (3 page)

She’d never forget their first meeting either. The cook had bid her to take refreshments to Tor and his brother, Tavish, upon their arrival through one of Cherub’s portals into their time. All the lasses in the keep had been so curious about the future and the place where these warrior shifters from the twenty-first century had come from. “You sniffed me that day too.”

“Your scent is the most tantalizing one I’ve ever taken in. You smell delicious, like sweet, wild cherries.” He lifted his gaze to the canopy high above and the heady scent of the ripening fruit. “Gregor told me about this tree, that his wife planted it here.”

“I was also born here.”

“Is that why I find you out here so often?”

“Aye, I can sense my mother’s presence in this place and that comforts me as naught else can.”

“I’m so sorry you lost her the way you did, that she died before either of you ever had the chance to know each other.” He motioned toward the second cherry tree, slightly smaller than her mother’s but still of a towering height. “Who planted the other tree?”

“When I was seven, my mother’s tree bloomed with its first crop and Father picked me a cherry and after I ate it, I planted the stone.” She wandered to her tree, reverently touched the rough bark. “A sapling sprouted the following spring and grew strong and tall. This is my tree.”

“I’m glad you have this special place to come to, to spend time with your mother and remember her.” He caught one trailing end of her white shawl and draped it back over her shoulder.

“At times, when I visit this place, the pain of losing her roars to the surface and becomes stronger. It grips my heart and crushes it, even as it opens my heart wider and revels in my mother’s love. I certainly dinnae know how Father has dealt with his loss all these years. They were soul bound and so in love. He would have perished too if it weren’t for me.”

“The last thing I would want is to lose my soul bound mate, that’s once I find her.” He brushed his fingers against hers, his thumb stroking fleetingly over the inside of her palm. Tingles radiated out from that tiny spot and sizzled through her, just as they always did when he touched her.

“Tonight is the night you shall find her, your chosen one. You must keep the faith that you will.” A part of her heart, deep down inside where she kept her greatest secrets, heaved at the thought of losing him to another, of never having any more of these special moments which they’d had a great deal of together since his arrival. So close, they’d become, and far closer than she should have allowed, only turning away from him had been impossible. Still was. With a soft sigh, she stepped away from him, walked back to her mother’s tree and the woven basket she’d brought from the kitchens underneath. She’d promised the cook she’d pick some cherries for a cherry pie, and so she would.

“Tavish said the same thing to me before I came out here in search of you and Cherub, that I needed to keep the faith, that I’d find her. In only a matter of a few hours the sun will descend and the moon rise. Then I will know exactly who she is.” Tavish, his twin brother, had recently completed the bond with Julia, one of her closest friends and Nessa’s granddaughter. She and Julia had been raised together and she adored seeing how her friend had now found such love with Tavish.

“You should go now, and prepare for the night to come.” She grabbed ahold of the cherry tree’s lowest limb and with her skill, boosted herself up. From branch to branch, she clambered until she reached the wide bow a good ten feet from the ground and with her deep red skirts bunched around her, plopped into the curved hollow she’d spent many an hour within.

“There’s no rush. Do you need a hand?” He nabbed the lowest branch, swung himself agilely up then settled in the bow beside her.

“Nay.” She giggled and tapped his nose.

“Oh well, I’m here now.” He leaned back, rested his head against the trunk and crossed his wide arms. “I hear you’ve only got five days left until you wed Donnan MacDonald.”

“The MacDonalds are due to arrive from Skye soon. Mayhap on the morrow, or even the day after.” Five more days of freedom, five more days of being here amongst her clan, and five more days to bundle a lifetime of memories into with Father and her clan. Wedding Donnan would take her far from Father’s side, the one thing about agreeing to the betrothal that she detested with all her heart, not that Skye was too far away. She could return for visits, and she surely would.

“I can see what you’re thinking.” The wind lifted his silky black hair and tousled it, his gaze filled with concern. “You don’t want to go.”

“I would dearly love to remain, but my future was set the day my father aided the MacDonald in a battle on the very night of my birth, then cemented further when I came of age and remained alone, without a soul bound mate. Three years Father has waited to see if I shall be bound to another.” She tucked a lock of his tousled hair behind his ear. “Glad I am though that I am without such a soul bond. I would hate to go through the heartache and pain my father did when he lost my mother, should I ever lose the one I was bound to.”

“There is also heartache and pain in never finding one’s soul bound mate. That I know well.” A ripe cherry dangled just above his head and he plucked it free, removed the stalk. “All I long for is to find my chosen one, complete the bond and never let her go.”

“You dinnae even know her yet. What happens if she is a witch of a woman?”

“She holds the other half of my soul, so witch or not, I can’t wait to track her down. She has certainly already bespelled me. Here, take a bite.” He nudged the cherry he’d picked against her lips, one of his fingers and his thumb on her chin as he did so. “Open up, Layla. Let me feed you.”

“You are one very pushy bear.” She gave into him, bit into the cherry then moaned with delight as the sweet juices danced over her tongue.

“Oh goodness, so good. You have to try a cherry too.” She searched the closest branches and smiled as she found the largest cherry of the crop. With her mind alone, she tugged the succulent fruit free then brought it bobbing through the air toward her. She settled it on her palm. “There is a tradition surrounding this tree. The stone from the first fruit you eat here must be planted nearby, and since this is your first fruit, you too must do so.”

“Does everyone follow this tradition?” He motioned toward her tree. “I only see one other tree.”

“Aye, mine is the only stone to sink its roots into the soil and take. Mayhap yours will be the second. You never know.” She raised a brow. “Do you wish to take a bite and accept this fruit and the tradition it demands you partake in?”

“Once, when I was a lad, I tossed a plum stone over the curtain wall of Ivanson Castle and it took root. Each summer, that plum tree holds the largest crop of plums I’ve ever seen, so aye, I’ll accept your offering and the tradition.” With his golden gaze capturing hers, he opened his mouth, caught her hand and drew the cherry closer. He bit into the fruit, licked a drop of trickling juice from her palm and moaned. “Can you swim, Layla?”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve a few hours to kill before the sun sets and the moon rises. Join me for a dip after we’ve picked these cherries.” He bit the other half of the cherry still in her hand then greedily eyed the juice seeping between her fingers.

She wanted to snatch her hand back, ensure he didn’t touch her in such an intimate way again only she didn’t move an inch, had always secretly loved his little touches. Instead, she gave him a warning. “No licking is permitted.”

“I love how you taste, just as I love how you smell.” He plucked the stone from her hand, slipped it into his pocket. “Higher in the hills, only a short walk from here, I discovered a hidden underground pool behind a waterfall, one filled with steamy, hot water.”

“I know the waterfall you speak of but there’s no underground pool behind it.” She tried desperately hard not to sweep her gaze over him, to take in his magnificently muscled legs encased in black leather, only ’twas a losing battle to do so. The soft fabric molded itself to every single exquisite inch of him. Oh dear. Betrothed to another man and here she was ogling the one man who was already taken by another. Or at least would be soon.

She sighed. Time to pick the cherries and get on with the job she’d come out here to do.

She flicked her fingers, lifted the woven cane basket from the ground below and sent it gliding underneath the branch holding the heaviest number of fruit. Working her way along the limb, she tugged the cherries free with her skill, one after the other until her basket overflowed.

“That was fast.” He rubbed his shoulder against hers, his heady, wild scent surrounding her.

“My skill comes in very handy at times.” Gently, she swept the basket back down onto the grass, scrambled over him then with her ability, lifted herself away from the tree and drifted down to the ground.

“Wait up.” He swung his legs over the side and in one single bound, jumped and landed with a soft thump beside her. “You haven’t said if you’ll come with me to the pool I found.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannae.” She motioned toward the pocket he’d tucked his stone within. “You should plant your stone now afore you leave.”

“You choose the spot and I will.”

“Plant it close to my tree. The soil there is rich and dark.” She walked toward her tree and crouched near it, separated the lush grass and touched one finger to the earth underneath. “This will be the perfect spot.”

He dug the stone from his pocket and handed it to her. “While I dig a small hole, you kiss my stone. It’s said a fair lass’s kiss always brings good luck.”

“It does?” She’d never heard that saying afore.

“Aye, my father says so to my mother all the time and he gets kisses aplenty from her.” He slid his dirk free of his wrist sheath, knelt next to her and with his arm touching hers, dug a small hole then with a challenging look in his eye, murmured, “Kiss the stone, Layla.”

“I hope my kiss brings you all the good luck you wish for.” She kissed the stone and held it out to him.

“Perfect.” He snuck the stone from her hand, carefully set it in the hole then smoothed the dirt back over the top. “It’s also said that a fair lass’s ribbon also brings good luck. I’ll have the one in your hair, if you don’t mind.” He extended a hand. “I need all the good luck I can get at the moment, and particularly for the night ahead.”

“Of course, but I have a feeling you are making up these sayings just as you please.” She unbound the length of red silk loosely woven through her hair and passed it to him. The wind lifted and whipped her golden tresses about her face, the mass of spiral curls bouncing about.

“Maybe, or maybe not, either way you have my thanks.” He rose to his feet, tugged her to hers then brought the ribbon to his nose and breathed deep before tucking the ribbon into his pocket. “It smells of you, like fresh air, sunshine, and wild cherries. It’s also time for that swim.”

“I dinnae have time for a swim. I already told you I cannae come.”

“I won’t take no for an answer. You’re coming whether you like it or not.” He scooped her into his arms and strode with her into the trees.

“Tor, wait.” She struggled in his arms, but he held her tight and she couldn’t get down. “Set me back on my feet. I have much to do this day and swimming with you isnae one of those things.”

“I’m not setting you back down. You also might want to grab your basket of cherries before you lose sight of them.” With a determined step, he marched along the pine-needle covered trail, the canopy a thick leafy green high above.

“Are you always this unreasonable?” She hooked her arms around his neck and struck a look over his shoulder so she could catch the basket up with her skill. With one thought from her mind, she lifted it and sent it swishing through the air and bobbing along beside them. She huffed then nipped his ear. Actually nipped him. She’d never done such a thing to a man before.

He growled, deep in his chest, and fur rippled across his arms, there one moment and gone the next. His golden shifter eyes blazed and his lips lifted in a challenging smile. “I see you wish to tangle with a bear.”

“And I see you wish to tangle with one who holds the ‘power of thought.’ I can tell you now who’ll win the battle.”

* * * *

“Me.” Tor had no intention of losing any battle with her. From the day he’d arrived through one of Cherub’s portals into this time, Layla had intrigued him. He’d been awed by both her and her ability, his bear always rolling around under his skin whenever she was close and for the past three days while he’d been at the fae village farther along the loch, searching amongst the lasses for his chosen one, something within him had niggled at the distance he’d instilled between himself and the very woman in his arms. That niggle had grown in strength the moment he’d returned and heard from her father that a missive from Nessa had arrived for her. A prophecy, Gregor had told him, and one he’d find of the utmost interest. Holding the woman in his arms closer against his chest, his bear once again surging to the surface, he sensed only a deep need to never let her go. “Are you hiding something from me, Layla? Because if you are, I’m going to find out exactly what it is before this night is done.”

“And what would I possibly have to hide from you?” She crossed her arms with a slap, all while directing the basket of cherries that bobbed along beside them through the air. “Donnan will also be furious to learn I’ve allowed another man to cart me about like this. I am nearly a married woman, which means your behavior right now is totally unacceptable and inappropriate.”