My Highlander Cover Model (9 page)

Hours passed, and Cailin remained patient and cooperative throughout, even during the long breaks of changing the lighting or angles. No demands for lattes. She smiled. Guilt overrode her slight amusement. Poor Roderick.

Peter stood next to her. “Is there something going on between you two? I’ve caught the looks. Rod the Clod is as tame as a pussycat today.”

She laughed. “There have been some developments, yes.”

“Good for you. The both of you. Why the hell not?” Peter walked away and shouted instructions to the make-up girl to give Cailin’s forehead a touch-up.

Why the hell not was damned right.

***

“’Tis not as bad as I thought it would be,” Cailin offered as they sped along the I-95 back to New Rochelle.

“Good. Starting tomorrow, we’ll have to cut back on the hamburgers and other goodies we’ve been eating the last few days. A strict, well-balanced diet is standard procedure for a model.”

“As you say, Skye. How about letting me drive?”

Skye cast him a quick glance. “On the interstate? Oh no, you don’t. Look how fast we’re going.”

“You are a fine driver, Skye. Can’t we drive on a slower road?”

She’d let him drive three times in the last twenty-four hours, but had only been a short distance on the streets of the neighborhood. Seeing the exit for the Shore Road ahead, she flicked the blinker and slowed down to take the ramp.

“Okay, I must be nuts, but I’ll let you drive a bit on the Shore Road until we get closer to New Rochelle. When we get near heavier population, I’ll take back over. Agreed?”

Cailin gave her a dazzling smile. “Ah, you’re a bonnie lass. I agree.”

Skye pulled off onto the shoulder and they changed positions. Cailin buckled up like he’d been driving for years. First thing she knew, they were moving along the road.

“How am I doing, Skye? I’m keeping it at forty miles per hour, as the sign instructs.”

“You’re doing great. Keep your eyes forward.”

“Aye, my love.”

Skye’s heart squeezed in yearning. Damn, did he mean that, or was it a term of endearment only? The temptation to ask him nearly overrode her common sense, but she let the words die in her throat.
Don’t push him
.

Ten minutes later, Skye pointed to the shoulder. “You better pull off. Traffic’s getting heavier.”

Before she could say anymore, Cailin had skillfully parked the car on the narrow shoulder, turned off the motor, and opened the door and stepped outside.

“Wait! Don’t—”

The words dissolved with the sickening sound of a body making contact with a vehicle. Cailin tumbled over the hood of the MKS and landed in front of the car with a solid
thud
.

The driver of the car that hit him squealed his tires and sharply turned the small Kia to park in front of the Lincoln. Skye was frozen. Her limbs wouldn’t move. Her hearing faded and a buzzing sound vibrated in her brain. Cailin had been hit by a car. She couldn’t believe it.

Oh. My. God.

Her blood roared through her body, enough to thaw her shock. She tumbled out of the car and fell to her knees next to Cailin. One leg was twisted at a horrible angle, the bone visible and sticking out through his thigh.

The driver ran up to her.

“Jesus! Is he alive? I didn’t even see him! He just stepped out right into traffic!”

“Call 911!” she screamed.

The man turned and made the call on his cell, frantically shouting directions into the phone.

Cailin’s eyes fluttered; a trickle of blood ran out of one nostril.

“Cailin! Talk to me, say something! Stay with me! Help is coming!”

“Lass, Something…something…. ’Tis not right. Listen….”

Oh God, she should’ve warned him about the traffic. The shoulder was so narrow, but he’d just stepped out. Her heart throbbed in pain. She couldn’t lose him.

“Don’t you leave me, Cailin! You hear me?” The words came out on a wretched sob. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Listen…I love you, Skye. For always. Never forget you…never….”

As he spoke those words, she let out a long, deep sob. While his gaze did not shift from her, his eyes dimmed until they were lifeless.

His eyes closed. He was gone. In her heart, she knew he’d left her.

***

Before Cailin even opened his eyes, he knew he was back in 1814. Familiar odors filled his nostrils. The heather on the hill beyond, and the enticing scent of the herbs in his mother’s small garden outside his bedroom window, were as comforting as he remembered.

However, one odor overtook the others. The smell of rotting, putrid flesh told him he was dying.

He’d come home to die.

His eyes fluttered open and focused on the wooden beams above.

“By the saints! Is it you, Cailin?”

He turned his head to face the worried expression of his father.

“Da.”

His father took his hand and kissed it.

“I prayed you would return.”

Cailin lifted his head enough to glance down the length of his body. The left side of his torso was gangrenous. The stench enough to make him gag. His body was rotting before he was even dead.

“How long…what happened….”

His father kept a tight hold of his hand. “You were mortally injured during the battle, one week ago. I saw you knocked to the ground, then that Gunn bastard stabbed you with a sword before Iain cut him down. We beat them off, but barely.”

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“You only woke twice, and you were not yourself, lad. Even your voice sounded different. You said your name was Roderick.”

Cailin exhaled. The pain that shot through his body told him he did not have much time. So they had switched places, but Roderick’s time here had been spent in an injured and decaying body. Perhaps it was a blessing the lad had been unconscious the whole time. How could Cailin explain it all to his father?

“Listen, Da, take the family and follow the MacLellan to Nova Scotia. ’Tis pointless to stand and fight. We will be wiped out, I know—I saw. The sword….”

His father let go of his hand and reached beside his bed. He laid the sword in the curve of his arm. Cailin closed his eyes briefly, and ran his hand weakly along the blade. He hugged it tight to him. He opened his eyes and stared at his father.

“This sword, ’tis enchanted as you said, Da. I switched places with a descendant of Iain’s, two hundred years in the future. I’ve seen what will happen. Believe me and take all the family and anyone else in the village you can convince, and go.”

He coughed, and felt blood dribble down his chin. He was dying, sure as
shite
. His finger traced the jewel.

By the magic of this sword, return me to my love. I canna live without Skye. She means more to me than my life, the air I breathe, the honor I hold close to my heart. My love for her overrides it all. I pledge my soul and will do anything to hold her in my arms. Return me to her. Across the mists, across time. Restore her to me
.

“Da, I met a lass, as bonnie as you’d ever seen. I love her. She’s brave, funny, and passionate about all things. This sword…mayhap it can return me to her.”

His father stroked his fevered brow, soothing him. “My son, no one knows the power of this sword. I believe you when you say you switched places. ’Twas not you who woke before. The magic is ancient, and rewards all brave warriors, so ’tis possible.”

He could tell by the tone of his father’s voice he said the words to placate him more than anything. He felt ghostly fingers began to pull him down a long, dark tunnel. No! He was not ready for this final journey!

“Da, promise me you will go to Nova Scotia. ’Tis the only way the family survives. Do it. Give me your oath.”

Tears ran down his father’s cheeks. Suddenly his strong, brave father looked old; his broad shoulders slumped in sorrow and grief. The white hair that mixed with the Thorburn blond seemed to have increased since Cailin had seen him last. His father slid his palm along the blade of the sword. He took Cailin’s hand and clasped it tight. Blood oozed through their interlaced fingers.

“On my sworn, blood oath. I will do as you ask, lad. No more fighting. We’ll leave directly.”

He exhaled in blessed relief.
Thank Christ
.

Suddenly his body was wracked with horrible pain. Every muscle tightened, and he felt as if he’d been jolted with electrical currents. How was that possible? The shocks grew in intensity and darkness descended. The last thing he heard was his father’s sorrowful voice.

“Go to your lass, my son. Be at peace. Know your family loves you and will honor you always. Go on your journey—”

Then he heard no more.

Chapter Twelve

A few cars had pulled off the road. The drivers asked if they could assist, but all Skye wanted was for them to disappear. The driver of the Kia was telling anyone who would listen, “I didn’t see him, and he just stepped out in front of me! I think I only clipped him….”

She held Cailin’s hand tight. Her heart throbbed with pain; surely hairline cracks had appeared on it. He was still unconscious. His breathing seemed normal, but what did she know? Where was that damned ambulance?

Cailin’s eyes snapped open so suddenly, she started. “Where in hell am I?”

The cracks in her heart widened. The voice was not Cailin’s. Not even close. No deep, rumbling tones; no sexy, Scottish burr. He’d left her, and she knew she’d never be whole again.

“Skye? Is it you?”

Yeah, what’s left of me
.

“Roderick, an ambulance is coming.”

“Last I remember…the sword. Then I woke a few times…I think I was in a barn. A man with a Scottish accent kept calling me Cailin. What happened?”

Roderick’s voice was hoarse, confused, and maybe a little frightened, and she couldn’t blame him. How could she explain this? Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Cailin was gone. She kept repeating it silently, over and over, because her brain and most of all, her heart, couldn’t accept it.

“You changed places with an ancestor….” Her voice gave out, she couldn’t say anymore. The hurt sliced her in two.

“Jesus—Skye, I want to tell you I’m sorry I acted like an ass. When I’m attracted to a woman…I don’t handle it well.” He didn’t acknowledge her “switching with an ancestor” statement. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.

She couldn’t listen to this right now. The tears fell faster.
Please, Roderick, don’t be adorable, not now
. Skye clasped his hand tighter. He felt cold. That couldn’t be good. In the distance, the urgent wail of the sirens filled the early evening air.

Scenarios rushed through her brain. She couldn’t stay at Night Moon, or be around Roderick. It would be weird, heartbreaking, and devastating. She’d quit, go back to Maine. Become a statistic of a twenty-something living in her parents’ basement, waiting to get hired on to the night shift at Dunkin’ Donuts. She glanced down at Roderick, who looked paler by the minute. How utterly selfish to think only of how this would affect her.

“It’s all right, Roderick.”

“I guess this would be a bad time to ask you on a date.” He smiled crookedly.

“Hold that thought.”

“Were we in an accident…?” Roderick cried out. His body began to thrash about violently, as if he were having a seizure. The convulsions increased to one of exceptional intensity, and then he lay still.

“Roderick?”

She let go of his hand, and laid her head next to his heart. It wasn’t beating. He wasn’t breathing. His eyes were closed.
No, not Roderick as well
.

The sirens stopped and two paramedics carrying packs raced to her side.

“He’s not breathing! It just happened!” she cried.

The woman paramedic gently pulled her away, and then she rejoined her partner by Roderick’s side.

The man ripped open Roderick’s shirt and placed the electrodes from the defibrillator on his chest.

“Charging to two fifty. Clear!”

He gave Roderick a zap with the paddles, but there was no response.

“Three hundred! Clear!”

Another zap.

The woman cried out, “We have a sinus rhythm. The beat is strong.”

“Let’s transport!”

This had to be a terrible dream. She glanced up; the police had also arrived and were talking to the Kia driver, who was gesticulating wildly. Another policeman walked toward the paramedics. They exchanged a few words. The cop turned to face her.

“Miss, we’ll meet up with you at the hospital and get your statement there.”

Skye nodded and was grateful. She couldn’t have spoken a word right then if she’d tried.

She must be in shock. Everything felt hazy, like she was lost in a heavy mist. The female paramedic helped her into the back of the ambulance and she sat beside a still unconscious, but at least breathing, Roderick. Without thinking, she took his hand. The sirens wailed as the ambulance headed toward the hospital.

***

Three hours passed. She’d been examined by the doctors, had given her statement to the police, and now sat in the waiting room sipping tepid coffee.

Her hands shook. As the fog began to clear, Skye wasn’t sure how in hell she was going to explain their situation to Roderick.

A sexy highlander ancestor possessed your body for a week, and oh yeah, we had fun at your expense, made love in your bed, and by the way, I fell in love with him
.

She might as well head up to the psychiatric ward right now. A maniacal laugh burbled up her throat.

The attending emergency-room doctor stepped into the hallway. Skye stood, her knees knocking together in dread over what he had to say.

“Miss Bancroft? Mr. Thorburn is awake, but a little groggy. You can see him for a few minutes. He’ll be all right. He does have a compound fracture in his left leg and will be in a cast for several weeks. Internally, a few cracked ribs, but no damage to major organs. His leg took the brunt of the impact.”

Oh, thank God
. “Why did his heart stop?”

“The shock of the accident, perhaps. His heart checked out fine. I’ll give you both a few minutes.” The doctor smiled with a mechanic reassurance, then walked to the nurse’s station and wrote on a clipboard.