Only With a Highlander by Janet Chapman

Table of Content

• 1. Winter suddenly stopped walking and looked up at Matt. “Do you always analyze your dates?” “Only when I’m trying to distract them.” “You’re trying to distract me? From what?” He smiled. “From realizing that I have every intention of kissing you tonight. Want to get it over with now, or would you like to spend the evening savoring the prospect?” Her mouth opened and closed, but not a sound emerged as she blinked up at him. Matt was quite pleased to see two flags of color darkening her cheeks. He’d intended to wait, and he would have followed through with his plan, but the tiny wood sprite nervously licked her lips. Matt let go of her hand and carefully cupped her exquisitely fine face. “Now, I think,” he whispered, bending down and gently pressing his lips to hers. Winter’s small, strong hands immediately wrapped around his wrists, but they didn’t push him away or pull back. Instead Winter went utterly still, as if testing his—or her own—intentions. She was hesitant at first, maybe even
• 2. Chapter One W inter MacKeage lost the thread of the conversation the moment the large male figure stepped into view. Rose continued talking, however, oblivious to the fact that the most gorgeous man ever to set foot in Pine Creek had just stopped to look at the painting hanging in the front window of Winter’s art gallery. “Tell her I’m right,” Rose demanded, nudging Winter’s arm. “Tell Megan that no one is whispering behind her back. Hey,” Rose said more loudly, grabbing Winter’s sleeve to draw her back into the conversation. “Your sister thinks everyone in town pities her.” Winter looked away from the divine apparition in the window and blinked at Rose and her sister, Megan, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Rose sighed. “Darn it, Winter, help me out here. Tell Megan she’s not the center of town gossip.” Winter finally looked into her sister’s tear-washed eyes. “Oh, but everyone is talking about you, Meg,” she said, nodding. “But only because you walk down the stree
• 3. Chapter One
• 4. Chapter Two “C urses on you, you stubborn old beast,” Winter growled as she tugged on the saddle cinch for the tenth time in as many minutes. A soft chuckle came from her left, and Winter looked over to see her papa striding along the row of stalls. “Cursing poor old Snowball hasn’t worked once for ye in twenty years,” Greylen MacKeage said as he crowded Winter out of the way, then patiently waited until the aging draft horse grew tired of his game and finally released his breath. Greylen quickly tightened the cinch, then lowered the stirrup into place. “And just where are ye sneaking off to so early this morning?” he asked, turning to face her. “It’s still an hour to sunrise.” Winter shot him a sheepish grin. “What gave me away? Was it that floorboard you refuse to fix? I was sure I missed it this morning.” Her papa gave an affectionate tug on a loose lock of hair that had escaped from the single thick braid hanging down her back. “I’m not needing a creaky floorboard to know when one
• 5. Chapter Two
• 6. Chapter Three “T om. Are you home?” Winter called out as she rode into the small clearing on the east shore of Pine Lake. “Tom!” She dismounted and led Snowball toward the one-story cabin nestled in the trees at the back of the clearing, where it sat safely out of reach of the powerful storms that sometimes blew in off the lake. The precariously leaning structure had to be over a century old, its vertical logs weathered to a shiny gray patina, its oversized roof eaves nearly touching the towering pines on either side. Every time she came here, Winter couldn’t help but smile. The cabin’s crooked stovepipe wafting smoke, two tiny front windows, and narrow wood door gave it a magical air, and she always expected to see a gnome come strolling out to greet her instead of Tom. She’d said as much to him once, and Tom had simply smiled his endearing old smile and told her to be careful what she imagined, as she might be surprised one day when something even more unbelievable greeted her. “Tom!
• 7. Chapter Three
• 8. Chapter Four W hile Winter was visiting with Talking Tom, Greylen MacKeage was standing in a cabin halfway up TarStone Mountain, trying very hard not to lose his temper and kill a priest. He knew damn well Grace would be mad at him if he did; but then again, if his wife could hear what Daar was telling him now, she just might offer to help. “Ye promised I would be long dead before Winter came into her powers,” Grey reminded Daar, his eyes sparking with anger as they bore into the old drùidh. “That she would have a normal life up until then, and be an old woman herself before ye started her schooling. She’s not even twenty-five years old. Ye can’t have her yet.” “But that was before,” Daar said, moving to put the tenuous safety of the table between them. “I miscalculated, Greylen. I thought I would have more time. But as I’ve been trying to explain, there’s terrible trouble brewing, and I need Winter to come into her powers now.” “Nay. I forbid it. Ye’ll not have my baby girl as long as
• 9. Chapter Four
• 10. Chapter Five I nstead of stopping at the barn upon returning from her visit with Tom, Winter continued on through the thick stand of evergreens that separated her family home from the TarStone Ski Resort. As she guided Snowball across the nearly full parking lot and headed toward the hotel, she noticed that most of the license plates were from states south of New England. “The leaf-peepers have arrived in full force,” she told Snowball, reining him around a car of tourists backing out of a parking slot. “I hope Megan got the gallery opened early.” As she rode under the stone and cedar canopy of the hotel entrance, she said, “Good morning, Paul. Only two more weeks of this craziness, then we’ll have a short break before the snows come and the skiers arrive.” “I like it when it’s busy,” the porter said as he took hold of Snowball’s bridle and smiled up at her. “The tourists can be entertaining at times.” Winter slid down off her horse and patted Paul’s arm as she headed inside. “No need
• 11. Chapter Five
• 12. Chapter Six “I still don’t see why I have to ride Butterball instead of Goose Down. Yesterday you said being pregnant isn’t a disease, but today you’re treating me like an invalid.” Winter frowned at her grumbling sister riding beside her. “Matt needs to ride your horse,” she explained yet again as they rode away from the barn, with Winter leading the riderless Goose Down behind her. “You haven’t exercised Goose in weeks, and I don’t want you getting thrown. And since we both know Butterball is too lazy to buck off a fly, he’s perfect for you.” Megan actually smiled. “But it’s okay if Goose bucks off your Mr. Gregor?” “He’s not my mister anything,” Winter said through gritted teeth, glaring at Megan. “And you behave yourself today and not make any sly remarks. This is a business venture we’re on.” Megan snorted and urged Butterball into a trot, but the aging draft horse only managed an extended ambling walk, completely ruining Megan’s offended act. Butterball really belonged to Camry,
• 13. Chapter Six
• 14. Chapter Seven W inter hadn’t been bluffing up on the mountain: if Matt told Tom he had to move out of his cabin, she wasn’t taking his commission. She’d be danged if she would work for a man who didn’t have a heart. Winter led the silent procession along the shoreline to the tiny clearing and stopped in front of Tom’s cabin. She quickly slid down off Snowball and headed out back to the workshop. “Tom,” she called as she rounded the side of the cabin. “I forgot my jacket this morning.” Tom emerged from the workshop, once again taking the time to wrestle the rickety door shut before he turned and greeted her with a crooked grin. “I’m glad your head is attached to your shoulders, or you probably would have forgotten that, too.” “Tom,” Winter said softly, rushing up to him. “The guy who bought Bear Mountain is here.” “Good. I’ve been looking forward to meeting your Mr. Gregor ever since you told me about him this morning,” Tom said calmly, using his finger under her chin to close her gapin
• 15. Chapter Seven
• 16. Chapter Eight M att stood on the drawbridge of Gù Brath and listened to the rushing water below as he contemplated the large, solid oak, windowless door in front of him. Damn if his little artist didn’t live in a castle. He felt like a knight trying to court a princess; he had the wealth and social standing, all he lacked was a suit of armor. That, and a kingdom to carry her off to. But then, Bear Mountain might fill that requirement, though he wished it wasn’t located quite so close to Winter’s army of tall uncles and male cousins. Robbie MacBain looked more like a warrior than a husband and father of four young children, and carried himself in a way that said he was prepared to back up his not-so-subtle warning this afternoon. But then, Matt never could resist a challenge. And Winter MacKeage was definitely a challenge. When he’d first seen Winter in her gallery, he couldn’t believe some starry-eyed young man hadn’t already snatched her up. But having spent the afternoon with her, Ma
• 17. Chapter Eight
• 18. Chapter Nine “T he only thing that scares me,” Winter said softly, watching his face in the dash lights, “is not being able to tell if what I’m feeling is real or just my imagination.” “You’re not imagining me, Winter MacKeage. I assure you, I’m very real.” Winter clasped her hands on her lap and stared out the windshield. “Then that does scare me,” she whispered. He said nothing to that, but sat with his own hands loosely holding the steering wheel as he also stared out the windshield. Then, still without saying anything, he finally began easing the truck down the rutted trail again, the stark, pregnant silence inside the cab making Winter’s heart pound with dread. Had she just blown it? Had she finally managed to do what Robbie and Father Daar hadn’t been able to? Had she just scared off Matt by letting him know she was attracted to him? She knew better! She knew men didn’t like being chased by infatuated, starry-eyed women; they wanted to be the pursuer. Men were like bears: run fro
• 19. Chapter Nine
• 20. Chapter Ten T he storm hit just after midnight, and Winter lay in bed listening to the rain beating on the windows, her scattered thoughts and still-humming emotions making sleep impossible. She reached down to where Gesader usually slept, felt only the quilt, and smiled. Her panther, obviously annoyed at her, had given Winter a throaty snarl when she’d let him in the house, then had padded off to bed with Megan. It never did take much to put Gesader’s nose out of joint, and apparently Winter’s being on the mountain with Matt had angered her pet. She knew Gesader had been up there. Heck, he’d probably been crouched in the bushes not twenty feet away. When Matt had all but dragged her back to his truck—in utter silence except for her heart screaming with joy—Winter had noticed several strands of black hair on the windshield when the interior lights had come on. Gesader had been letting her know that he’d been near them the whole time, and that he hadn’t liked being forced to stay hidden
• 21. Chapter Ten
• 22. Chapter Eleven D espite only getting about six hours of sleep, and waking up still worried about her parents, Winter did spend the morning doing as Robbie had suggested by going about her business as usual. The storm had quickly spent itself out overnight, giving way to a late September sun that was shining brightly through the sparkling clean, floor-to-ceiling windows of her art gallery. Megan, having survived her evening of practicing motherhood, seemed to be in a domestic mood this morning. By nine o’clock, she had already feather-dusted every painting and display in the gallery, and had gone outside to remove the street grime from the windows with a long-poled mop and squeegee. Having finished a good half hour ago, Megan had next turned her mop on the windows at Dolan’s Outfitter Store, and then shared tea with Rose by the potbelly stove in Rose’s store. Winter had spent her first hour at the gallery setting Tom’s newest figures out and getting caught up on her paperwork. She was n
• 23. Chapter Eleven
• 24. Chapter Twelve S itting opposite Grey beside the brightly burning hearth in the main living room of Gù Brath, Grace lifted her eyes from the book she’d been pretending to read to the clock on the mantel. It was twenty minutes to eight, and Grace knew her husband was also pretending to be so engrossed in his newspaper, one might think he’d forgotten all about his youngest daughter’s impending date. “Ye still haven’t addressed the fact that Winter is going to live for centuries and her husband will not,” Grey softly said into the silence. Grace looked over at him, not at all surprised he knew her thoughts, not after thirty-three years of marriage. “Would fifty years of happiness not be worth it, though?” she asked just as softly. “Or twenty years? Or even ten? Would you have Winter close her heart off completely?” Grace shut the book on her lap and leaned forward. “If I had died ten years ago, and you were sitting in this room right now with only your memories of me, would you be wishing
• 25. Chapter Twelve
• 26. Chapter Thirteen W inter finished brushing Snowball and started saddling him up as she thought about how she had known Matt Gregor for over two weeks now, and how the entire time she’d been in a state of giddy happiness. She had spent the last two weeks exploring Bear Mountain with Matt by day and going out to dinner with him almost every evening. Sometimes Megan would join them on their daytime rides, and sometimes they rode to Tom’s cabin and he hiked the mountain with them. And although they had found several suitable building sites, Matt always seemed to come back to the high meadow as his first choice. But after two weeks and four sketch pads full of ideas, Winter suspected Matt’s unwillingness to simply declare the meadow his favorite site had more to do with wanting to spend time with her than an inability to make a decision. Five days ago Matt had bought camping equipment from Dolan’s Outfitter Store, and even though he had kept his hotel suite, he was now living on Bear Mounta
• 27. Chapter Thirteen
• 28. Chapter Fourteen “G et out of my way,” Greylen growled, preparing to move Robbie from the door if need be. “Nay, Greylen,” Robbie said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Winter doesn’t need any of us right now. We’d only be filling her head with more questions. Trust me, Grey,” Robbie petitioned. “I had the same reaction she’s having when I came home from the army and my papa tried to explain my calling to me.” He smiled sadly. “I spent nearly a week alone in the forest before I was able to face anyone again, much less the man who had given me that calling.” Grey gave Robbie a good glare, then spun to face Daar. “Ye lied, priest. Ye told Winter it was safe to hold the staff, but it nearly killed her!” Daar held up his hands, backing away. “Nay, MacKeage, I didn’t lie. I just underestimated the strength of Winter’s gift. I didn’t know the staff would react so strongly.” Grey felt Robbie’s hand return to his shoulder in a calming gesture, yet he didn’t turn
• 29. Chapter Fourteen
• 30. Chapter Fifteen T he clouds had thickened and lowered by the time Winter crossed Bear Brook and entered the high meadow, the wind blowing at gale force and a wet snow falling with blinding intensity. Though she was wet to the skin and miserably cold, the closer Winter got to Matt’s cozy little cave the calmer she became. Despite all her questions and confusion, she was confident she could figure out a way to lure Cùram into the open for Robbie. But what was she going to do about Matt while she dealt with the magic? How could she keep such a powerful secret from him? She couldn’t say when it had happened exactly, but Winter now accepted the fact that she loved Matheson Gregor with every fiber of her being. Until she had pictured herself having to live without him, she hadn’t realized just how deeply he had become entrenched in her heart. As she rode across the meadow through the driving snow, Winter vowed that she would not allow Providence or the magic or some angry drùidh to mess with
• 31. Chapter Fifteen
• 32. Chapter Sixteen M att muttered yet another curse as he fought to keep his truck from sliding off the bumpy, snow-covered tote road that wound up the side of his mountain. One more mile, he estimated, before he reached the end of this trip from hell. Not six hours ago he’d been sitting in an office in his Utah factory, about to fire his quality control manager, when an overwhelming need to return to Maine had suddenly stopped him in midsentence. Unable to explain the urgency tightening his gut—to himself much less to his confused but very lucky manager—Matt had simply walked out, gotten into his jet, and headed east at one and a quarter times the speed of sound. He’d been forced to land at Bangor International Airport instead of Pine Creek because of the weather, since the small mountain airport didn’t have instruments to land a jet in a blinding snowstorm. Then he’d had to rent a car and drive to Pine Creek to pick up his truck. What should have been only a ninety minute ride from Bang
• 33. Chapter Sixteen
• 34. Chapter Seventeen W inter woke up with a smile, thinking she might have dreamt her night of passion but for the wonderful aches in every muscle she had and the very real taste of Matt Gregor still on her lips. She could tell she was alone without even opening her eyes, the cave’s stillness so absolute after being filled with an energy so volatile that her insides still quivered with remembered sensations. When her stomach rumbled, Winter remembered she hadn’t eaten anything yesterday and decided she should cook Matt a nice breakfast to impress him with her one and only domestic skill. She opened her eyes and sat up to discover she’d thrown off the sleeping bag sometime in her sleep. Good heavens, had she been lying here stark naked while Matt had dressed and gone outside? She snatched up the sleeping bag and belatedly held it over her body, a blush scorching her cheeks as she blinked at her surroundings. She suddenly gasped. The walls were glowing. Glowing! The granite was no longer a
• 35. Chapter Seventeen
• 36. Chapter Eighteen “O nce upon a very long time ago,” Matt began softly, “in a land far away, lived a young boy with dreams of becoming a mighty warrior. He lived with his mama and papa, and a younger brother and baby sister in a cottage high on a mountain.” Matt separated a thick lock of Winter’s hair and started brushing it out, working his way up from the end. “As a bairn, the boy didn’t think it strange that they lived so far from the village, or that he never got to play with other lads. Nay,” Matt said, his voice lowering, “he was quite content to run through the forest with his brother as they fought mock battles with their wooden swords. The boy was too young and carefree at first to even wonder why he’d been told to avoid people and never form bonds with anyone other than his brother and sister.” Winter wanted to speak, to ask why, but a lump had started to grow in her throat. “It wasn’t until the boy began to feel the first stirring of manhood that he questioned his papa’s refu
• 37. Chapter Eighteen
• 38. Chapter Nineteen W inter sat on the singed sleeping bag in front of a fire she didn’t really need because of the warmly glowing walls. While staring up at her pinewood staff, she chewed the last bite of a candy bar she’d found in her saddlebag. She’d had a moment’s guilt that Matt was probably hungry; the soup he’d eaten hours ago couldn’t have sustained him very long. But her guilt had lasted only as long as it had taken Winter to remember how mad she was at him. And she hoped Gesader—Kenzie—had a terrible hangover. She couldn’t believe she was pregnant. Didn’t believe it. She would know something that important, wouldn’t she? She’d always been able to sense the energy of spirits. Wouldn’t she know if a little one was growing inside her? They hadn’t used any protection last night. Winter hadn’t even considered the risk of pregnancy, much less been able to think about anything other than loving Matt so much her heart had near burst with wanting him. What was she going to tell her paren
• 39. Chapter Nineteen
• 40. Chapter Twenty F rom the copilot’s seat of Matt’s powerful jet, Winter looked out the side window, noting but not really seeing the weather observatory on top of Mount Washington as they flew northeast over the New Hampshire White Mountains. She lowered her gaze from the bright morning sun to her lap, replaying the last twenty-four hours in her mind as she studied the thick gold band on her left hand. She had no idea where Matt had gotten the beautiful ring, only that he had pulled a pair of matching gold bands from his pocket when the minister (she was using that term lightly if not skeptically) asked them to exchange rings during their simple wedding in Las Vegas yesterday. Winter remembered how her hand had warmed the moment Matt had slipped the ring onto her finger, and how when she’d slipped Matt’s ring onto his finger and he’d clasped their hands together, she had thought they might both burst into flames from the charge of electricity that had suddenly shot between them. It was
• 41. Chapter Twenty
• 42. Chapter Twenty-one “Y ou knew he was Cùram de Gairn, and you married him anyway?” Megan whispered, hugging Winter’s old rag doll as she leaned against the headboard of her sister’s bed, looking small and lost amid the pile of pillows. “But why? Why would you knowingly marry an evil drùidh?” Winter turned from her closet with a sweater in her hand and frowned at her pale and sincerely confused sister. “There’s not an evil bone in Matt’s body,” she softly scolded. “He’s just…he’s merely lost his way, is all.” “And you intend to help him find it again?” Grace asked, coming back into the room with a small cloth package in her hand. “Winter, since humans have lived in caves, women have been trying to help men find their way, and in all this time we still haven’t come close to civilizing them.” Grace set the small bundle on the end of the bed, walked up to Winter and took hold of her shoulders. “If you’ve entered this marriage with the notion you can change Matt, I’m afraid you’re in for a b
• 43. Chapter Twenty-one
• 44. Chapter Twenty-two I t didn’t happen very often, but every once in a while the universe somehow managed to surprise him. This time, however, Matt felt as if he’d been totally blind-sided. Pendaär’s heir wasn’t anything like he’d expected when he’d made his plans to seduce Winter MacKeage. To begin with, she was more beautiful than he was prepared to deal with, and vivacious and vexing and vibrantly sexy. She was also more stubborn than he cared for, and far more intelligent than he needed her to be. She was willful and spoiled and self-confident, and simply too damned optimistic for his liking. And then there was the fact that she had come up with her own way to help Kenzie, which Matt feared was headed on a collision course with his own carefully devised plans. She seemed far too confident that she could not only grant his brother’s wish, but somehow save mankind while she was at it. Oh yes, she was definitely more optimistic than Matt liked, and he was afraid that when she failed she
• 45. Chapter Twenty-two
• 46. Chapter Twenty-three W inter dipped her finger in the bowl of whipped potatoes, tasted her progress so far, and decided she needed to add more butter. She plopped in several more tablespoon’s worth and started the beater again, smiling as she listened to her mama and Megan arguing over how to get the lumps out of the gravy. It was hard for Winter to believe she had been married five whole weeks. She and Matt were living at Gù Brath because not four days into her marriage, Winter had lost her first real fight with her husband. She had been soundly defeated, though Matt’s getting her family, Robbie, and even old Tom involved in their little domestic dispute hadn’t been fighting fair. Winter had wanted to move into the cave while they built their home, arguing that it was cozy and warm and had everything she and Matt needed. Her parents and Megan had been appalled to think she would even consider living in a cave all winter, Robbie had flat out told her she was crazy, and Tom had laughed
• 47. Chapter Twenty-three
• 48. Chapter Twenty-four W inter stood insentient, unable to do more than stare in disbelief at her pine tree. Its bark was shriveled like mummified skin, its remaining branches drooping bonelessly, its needles turned brown and scattered over the pristine blanket of last night’s snowfall. Sometime between two days ago and this morning, somebody had dug a large, deep hole at the base of the pine, exposing its roots to the frigid air and ultimately delivering a fatal blow. Winter had made a point of visiting her pine tree every few days since Gesader had brought her to it nine weeks ago, so she could sit and hug it and share enough of her energy to keep it alive. But this morning, eager to greet the dawn of the winter solstice in the company of her magical white pine, she had arrived at sunrise to find only death and destruction. And since first hearing Matt’s heartbreaking story of despair, Winter finally understood the chilling definition of hopelessness. She’d lost. Without her tree of lif
• 49. Chapter Twenty-four
• 50. Chapter Twenty-five B y two-thirty that afternoon, Gù Brath could have been a case study in social chaos. Winter realized a newfound respect for the men who had been brave enough to marry MacKeage women. Oh, she didn’t admire them for surviving the scrutiny of both Greylen MacKeage and Robbie MacBain, nor even for winning over Grace MacKeage’s heart. Winter was instead impressed by the fact that the husbands possessed the courage to not only come here every winter solstice, but to actually enjoy themselves. But more than being a study in chaos, the MacKeage birthday party was also a discourse on filling up the most space with the most bodies, and on catering efficiency. No matter how huge Gù Brath was, there wasn’t a corner not taken up by a gaggle of children, their new toys or pets, and vigilant adults. And the food! A White House state dinner couldn’t be more elaborate. Winter still didn’t know how her mama managed to make it all come together each year, all within a few days before
• 51. Chapter Twenty-five
• 52. Chapter Twenty-six T he new road leading down beside the meadow could have been in Boston during rush hour, it became so clogged with vehicles. Then, getting everyone across Bear Brook without anyone drowning was a feat worthy of an engineer. Robbie ended up having to carry Daar through the deep snow, as the old priest had refused to stay at Gù Brath and miss all the excitement. There were less than five minutes remaining to the solstice by the time everyone was standing at the base of the cliff, though they could have been in church they were so quiet. Even the late-December weather was cooperating; the low-hanging sun was shining a weak but brilliant red, not a whisper of wind was blowing, and the air felt like Indian summer in October. Tom suddenly appeared, walking up from the meadow and silently moving to stand at the base of the cliff in front of everyone. At least Winter was pretty sure it was Tom. The man had Tom’s expressive eyes and features, but he was cleaned up quite nicel
• 53. Chapter Twenty-six
• 54. Letter from LakeWatch Dear Readers, I have found that sometimes Mother Nature simply refuses to be ignored, and that she’s not above screaming in our ears when she wants our attention. I was reminded of this early last fall, when I was writing my fifth Highlander book. A murder of crows (yes, that’s what they’re really called), nine to be exact, started screaming at me from the trees on my front lawn. One particular fellow (that I named Talking Tom) seemed to think it was his duty to sit outside my bedroom window and wake me up at 4:00 A.M., and he would caw, quite loudly and nonstop, until I got up, got dressed, and headed across the yard to my writing studio. It may have taken me the better part of three weeks, but I eventually realized that my crows wanted to be in my book. Or else the noisy buggers had been told I was a pushover, and they merely wanted free food. Now I don’t know many people who feed crows, but I can tell you that once you’ve started, you had better not stop with t