Playboy's Challenge (Highlander's Series) (2 page)

She’d watched him change over the last few years, since her father’s death, drifting through life with no plans but the next thrill. A small grin slipped over her lips. He was so like his father at that age, but unfortunately he was also headed down the same dead end path.

Why? Her father hadn’t been that big an influence, had he? He loved Adam, and he did think highly of Ian, but why did her son wander so? Had her father done or said something to bring him to this?

Ian slipped up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Are you all right, love?”

She nodded, not quite sure how he would take her news.

“Where is Adam?” he asked. “Has he slipped off again?”

She heard the sadness in his voice and prayed he would understand why she did what she did. “Um, not exactly.”

He turned her into his arms and studied her face. “Why does that have an ominous ring to it?”

She studied the buttons on his jacket before lifting her gaze to his handsome face. “I sent him on a little trip.”

Ian nodded, then paused, his face losing most of its color as his gaze shifted to the rippling water behind her. “You mean you—”

“Yes, I did. He needs to learn a lesson or two and I couldn’t think of a better place or a better pair of friends to teach it to him.”

A slow crooked grin eased over his lips. “You little minx. Colin will pound that boy in the lists until he cannot so much as lift a sword.”

“Don’t count Tuck out. I have a feeling she’ll add her own unique touch to the situation.”

“Aye, she’ll help Colin rub his face in the dirt,” he said with a hearty chuckle.

She had a moment of worry, which must have shown as Ian held her closer.

“He will be fine, love. Time spent in the seventeenth century as a man will be vastly different than that of his youth, but our friends will watch over him.”

“I hope so. I truly hope so,” she said, curling in tighter in the arms of her husband, her gaze on the sparkling water, remembering their past and praying for their son’s future.

Chapter Two

Adam tried to catch himself, but there was little to grab onto other than his mother, and the last thing he needed was to drag her in with him. Dad really would beat him to a bloody pulp for that. So he landed in the water with a resounding splash and barely missed cracking his head on the centerpiece. He lay there a moment, staring up at the stars spinning wildly, then let out a grumbled curse. He must have had more to drink than he’d realized to be so dizzy.

He clamped his eyes closed and shook his head as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, stunned by the realization that his mother had actually pushed him into a fountain. With half a chuckle, he opened his eyes to ask her how she was going to explain his situation, when his breath left him in a whoosh. She was nowhere to be seen…nor was the fountain or even the castle. Instead of sitting in a large pool of cold water, he was in the middle of a small field edged by trees and a trickling brook and in the middle of the day.

Shaking his head again, he got to his feet. “What in the hell happened?”

He felt the back of his head, thinking maybe he had hit it and was delusional, but felt no lumps. Maybe he’d staggered off somewhere after his mother had pushed him.

No, that didn’t sound right either. She wouldn’t have let him do that no matter how angry she was. She would’ve made sure he was tucked in a bed somewhere safe and sound, regardless of how drunk or how big an ass he’d made of himself.

“I’m out cold, I bet,” he said to himself. “This has to be a dream. I bet Mom is right now slapping my face trying to wake me up.” Sure, that made sense, although he wasn’t feeling any real pain, just soaking wet clothes.

He slid his hand into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. So much for getting a signal on his location. No GPS, no connection, no anything, just a ruined piece of hardware. He shoved the useless device back into his pocket and headed for the opening in the trees by the brook. Be it a dream or reality, he may as well go with it. Sitting around and waiting for something to happen wasn’t his style.

With an overcast sky and no idea where he was, any direction would do, so he picked the path of least resistance and headed for the brook. He hadn’t gone far when he overheard voices. It took only a few extra strides to see a couple of people just beyond the stream along a small copse of trees.

The woman, a striking dark-haired beauty, sat upon a stone bench in an old dress. A reproduction of something out of the renaissance or a little later, if he wasn’t mistaken. But the expression on her face was not a happy one. Something to do with the man, also in period dress, who stood in front of her shouting and waving his arms.

Adam listened for a few minutes, translating the mix of English and Gaelic, a language his father and godfather had pounded into his brain since he was old enough to talk, but he hadn’t used it in years. The longer he listened, the more the hot conversation filtered through his muddled brain.

What kind of idiot tells a woman, and at the top of his lungs no less, that she had to marry
eventually
, and that he was her last best option?

“I will wed when I am ready and no’ another soul will tell me when,” she said through her teeth.

“And I say ye be ready now,” the man replied, then grabbed her by the arms and jerked her to her feet.

With a sigh, Adam strolled into the fray, and said, “I suggest you let her go.”

If his father had taught him anything, it was never to abuse women. And as his mother often said, “No means no.”

Both heads turned to him, first fury on the man’s face, then confusion as he studied him. The lady’s eyes, however, widened with what looked to be some sort of recognition, although he knew he’d never met her before. She was too arresting to forget, even loaded to the gills he’d remember her.

“Who are ye ta be tellin’ me anythin’?” her idiot boyfriend asked.

“I’m the man who intends to see that you think twice before handling a woman like that again.” He jerked the idiot away from the lady, breaking his hold on her.

The moron yanked his knife from its sheath with a curse. “Ye’ll no’ be handlin’ anythin’ again,” he said, and lunged.

It took very little effort to deflect the knife and send the cretin face down in the dirt. The man’s fighting skills were pathetic.

Planting his knee in the guy’s back, Adam snatched the knife from his hand. “Did no one ever teach you how to use this thing?” He tsked at the state of the knife. “I see they didn’t teach you how to take care of it either.”

“Get off, ye bastard!”

“Why? So I can let you assault the lady and myself again? I don’t think so.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you,” the woman said, her tone curt from where she stood behind him.

He looked up at her scowl and grinned. “Oh? Well, then in that case…” He stood and let the man get to his feet. “He’s all yours,” he said, motioning wide.

That made her pause for barely a second with an almost smile, but her wisp of a grin disappeared as the iciest stare he’d ever seen focused on her abuser.

“If you e’er touch me again, Bran, I’ll gladly castrate you and pin your pathetic stones to the north wall for all to see.”

“Ye bitch, ye’ll do as yer told. Yer da will see to it.”

In a move so swift, she snatched the dirk from Adam’s fingers and threw the blade, piercing the ground between the idiot’s feet. “Doona think I will do anyone’s bidding. Not even the laird’s, if it isna a decision of my own making.”

His gaze slid to Adam. “I’ll have yer head fer this.”

“Uh-huh. I think your best bet is to call it a day, buddy.” Adam took a menacing step forward.

The coward’s eyes widened, then he grabbed up his knife and disappeared into the trees.

Adam let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hell of a friend you’ve got there.”

“He isna my friend.”

He turned his grin to her. “Yeah, I kinda got that. You have a name, sweetheart?”

Her brow furrowed as she studied him, then a look of disbelief fell over her features.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a wispy rasp. A rasp he would love to hear under very different circumstances.

“I thought you knew. You looked like you recognized me before.”

She shook her head. “No. You canna be…Adam?”

He gave her his most charming smile as he moved closer. “Have we met before? Because I’m certain I’d remember a beauty like you.”

She blinked a moment, then looked over her shoulder at the brook, then back at him. “You are Adam Sutherland, are you no’?”

“You have my name, now may I have yours? ’Cause once I figure a few things out, I’d like to give you a call.”

“A call,” she said, her face blank.

“I thought we could go out to dinner, or catch a show.” He glanced down at his rumpled tux. “I clean up pretty good, trust me,” he said with a wink.

She almost smiled again, an enticing crooked grin, but it quickly vanished. “You doona recognize me then?”

“As I said, honey, you’d be hard to forget.”

He slid his arm around her waist and eased her into his embrace. His lips brushed against her temple as he took in her scent.

“Make that impossible,” he whispered, savoring her heady fragrance.

He felt a shudder run through her, and couldn’t contain his satisfied grin. Her ice queen act was pretty good, but under all that snow was a steamy hot woman, one who was attracted to him.

“Release her or die,” someone said, ruining what had the potential of being a very pleasant afternoon, even if it was just a dream. Then again, if it was a dream, he wouldn’t have any competition where the lady was concerned.

“Well, I’ll say this, you certainly are popular,” Adam said.

He looked at her flushed cheeks and dark eyes, their lips close enough for a kiss. But with the latest addition to their little party pointing a sword at his throat, and it looking less and less like a dream, he didn’t think he’d win this time. “But I’m hoping you’ll keep me at the top of your list, sweetheart,” he said, releasing her.

Her warm gaze caressed his lips as she stepped back. “Put down your sword, Erin. He’s no danger to me.”

“No danger? But Bran said—”

“Bran is a bloody idiot,” she snapped, then took a deep calming breath.

Her friend’s sword tipped down a bit, but Adam wasn’t convinced yet.

She placed her hands on her hips as she shot the newcomer a scowl. “Do you no’ recognize your favorite playmate?” She cut her eyes at Adam with a disgusted twist to her mouth. “And my worst tormentor?”

Tormentor? Where was the warm willing woman he held a moment ago?

“Your tormentor?” the new guy asked, then smiled wide. “You mean…Adam, is that really you?”

“Uh, yeah. So you know me too?” He rubbed his pained brow. “I really must have had one hell of a night, ’cause I would swear we’ve never met.”

The Scot dropped his sword to his side and lurched across the small space to take Adam into a gruff hug. “Damn, ’tis good to see you, mon. It’s been too long,” he said, slapping Adam’s back.

“He still doesna recognize you, Erin. Or me,” the beautiful temptress said.

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry, but the only Erin I know—is—Erin MacLean?”

“Aye, mon, ’tis me.”

Adam grabbed his old friend and pounded on his back with a hug. “How the hell are you? Christ, it’s been, what a dozen years or more?”

“Aye, that it has. What brings you to visit? Are your parents with you? Da would be happy to see them, and Mum as well.”

“Nope, sorry. Just me. But—” He paused for a moment and looked at the woman he’d like to get to know better and let out a hearty laugh. “Deidra? Is that really you?”

One of her slim dark brows arched sharply. “Aye, ’tis me.”

“God, you were just a skinny little thing, all arms and legs,” he said, unable to contain a chuckle. How he’d missed the resemblance between her and Erin could only be due to how her beauty had knocked him for a loop. It was that or the dunk in the fountain, but these were his childhood friends. Friends he’d missed sorely, he suddenly realized.

“Aye, and you tormented her to no end,” Erin said with a laugh.

“That I did. I don’t suppose you ever forgave me for it, either,” he said, looking at Deidra with new appreciation, and a good dose of disappointment.

He couldn’t get tangled up with her. She wouldn’t be the type of girl he spent his time with these days, the just-for-fun type. Oh, no. She was the daughter of his parents’ dearest friends, his godparents and surrogate aunt and uncle. You couldn’t paint a bigger “do not touch” sign on the woman if you tried. And they were friends. He had a clear rule about that, although he had few friends these days to apply it to.

“Hardly.” She turned her cool gaze to her brother. “What else did that idiot, Bran, say?”

Erin’s smile fell. “That he had caught you with a mon, and he could no longer consider you marriageable.”

“That lying bastard!” She snatched up her skirts and stormed around the corner.

“We’d best follow or she may kill the whoreson,” Erin said.

“Agreed, but I have to tell you, he deserves whatever she dishes out.”

Erin paused in midstride. “What did you interrupt?”

“Nothing like you’re thinking,” he said, urging them onward in Deidra’s wake. “He just thought he could have the upper hand. When he grabbed her by the arms, I stepped in. Now that I know it was Deidra, I don’t doubt she would’ve handled it,” he grinned, remembering what a little spitfire she was. “But he’s an ass of the first order.”

They caught up to her where she stood in the courtyard, and stopped beside her as she perused the area for Bran.

“Dare I ask what you intend to do with him when you find him?” Adam asked, remembering her earlier threat.

She shot him a look, then returned to her search. “His future will be bleak,” was all she said.

Just as Adam was about to suggest they ask around if anyone had seen him, the bastard came flying out of the hall, down the steps to land on his face in the dirt, not far from her feet. She rested her hands on her hips as she stared down at the man, animosity pouring from her in waves.