All for the Heiress (13 page)

“I’ve become a shoe designer, which is every actress’s secret dream. Here, you can try them.” Lizzie jumped up and ran from the room, returning with a pair of similar boots in a much smaller size. She handed them to Piper, who slipped one on.

“Oh, wow. These are as comfy as my Uggs and way cuter,” she said, putting her weight into the shoe.

“Yes, they’ve got arch support, good padding, water resistant leather soles. There are nine women in the village who make them now, they’re in such high demand.” She beamed at Quinn, who gazed down at her proudly.

“She’s made us quite comfortable, Lach,” he said.

“Good, then. Ye’re sorted, now what about Catie?” He turned to his sister, who sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. Piper couldn’t help but laugh, as nothing had changed with her teenage attitude.

“Still unmarried, still driving me mad,” Quinn told him.

“Did the wee Englishman give up and go home?”

“Oliver would never!” Catie said.

“He’s about somewhere. He refused to go home, though I tried threatening, begging, reasoning. I finally agreed he could stay if he worked. He does whatever I say without complaint, which I’ll tell ye makes torturing the lad way less fun. It’s mainly Catie who tortures him now, by not marrying him.”

“I’ve told ye, and I’ve told Oliver, and now I’ll tell Lachlan, that I dinna want to get married.” She stood up, fists clenched, and turned to Lachlan. “Why did ye come here? Was it only to bedevil me?”

Frowning in dismay at Lachlan’s stormy glare, she turned to Piper for help. Piper smiled sympathetically at her, praying Daisy would never become such a brat.

Lachlan ignored her outburst, addressing Quinn. “I shall speak to the lad and get them settled before I leave,” he said.

“Ye’ll do no such thing,” Catie huffed, stomping from the room.

“Oh, dear, should I go talk to her?” Piper asked, surprised that Quinn and Lizzie could be so calm. Lachlan looked as if he’d been force fed a lemon, but he also made no move to go after his sister.

“She’ll be fine,” Lizzie said. “I only wish I knew where her heart was, for Oliver’s sake. He’s putting his life on hold while she figures things out.”

“I’ve done everything ye said,” Quinn hurried to assure Lachlan. “She’s got a tutor who comes almost every day, and when she learns the language better, I told her we’d journey to France. That’s where ye’re supposed to be, by the way. Most of the clan know ye’re not truly dead, which is why the guards only seemed mildly surprised to see ye.”

“Good thinking,” Lachlan said. “Ye get smarter when I’m not around, though Catie seems to have ye twisted around her finger, same as always.”

Piper grabbed his hand to shut him up, in case he accidentally said something even more insulting, and Lizzie stroked Quinn’s arm in case his feelings were hurt. He took it in stride, and even seemed to take it as a compliment.

“That’s wonderful about her studies,” Piper said, turning a hard look on Lachlan. “Don’t you always tell Daisy how important an education is, when she doesn’t want to go to school?”

“Daisy lives in different circumstances,” Lachlan sputtered. “Ah, I give up. I only hope she doesna miss out on a good lad like Oliver by making him wait too long.”

“If he doesn’t want to wait for her, she’s better off without him,” Piper and Lizzie said almost in unison.

Quinn and Lachlan looked at each other so sadly, the women burst out laughing. Piper could understand both sides of the story. While she truly wanted Catie to be happy and fulfilled, she didn’t want her to be disappointed if Oliver gave up and went back to England.

“But why are ye here?” Quinn asked. “Bedeviling Catie aside, of course. Dinna think I’m not glad to see ye, but surely this isna only a social call?”

Piper exchanged a worried glance with Lachlan, the glow of the reunion snuffed out by worry. Her stomach churned when she thought about Mellie possibly sending everything straight to hell, because of her crush on Oliver. Her guts twisted further at the possibility that it was more than a crush, of what might happen if those two ended up together.

She never thought she’d stand in anyone’s path to happiness, but if it meant everything changing from the point in time that Mellie had left, well, she’d be damned if she let that happen. Mellie had helped deliver Daisy, for goodness sake. What would become of them if she wasn’t there on that stormy night? She thought back further, of all the little things that Mellie had been involved in over the years, all the things that could change or never happen if they didn’t get her back where she belonged.

“Do you remember Mellie?” she asked. “We think she tried to come here, but it seems she hasn’t made it yet.”

“Aye, we were hoping to intercept her on the road, or that she might already be here,” Lachlan said.

“The kind lass who kept giving us food?” Quinn asked. “And took Oliver for a ride to make Catie jealous? Aye, I remember her well. But why would she want to come here?”

“Oh, no,” Lizzie said. “She didn’t come to visit Catie, did she?”

“No, we dinna think she did,” Lachlan said. “Not solely, anyway. Though I dinna know how she’ll face her at all, with what we think she has in mind.”

Quinn still looked completely lost, looking at each of them in turn. Piper took pity on him and explained how they thought Mellie had developed stronger feelings for Oliver after he left, and had come to this time to explore them. As she spoke, she wanted more than ever to wring her neck, still unable to believe such nefarious intentions could come from her dear, sweet Mellie.

“If ye’re certain she’s on her way, we should go after her at first light. Those men who waylaid ye on the road are not the first reports of bandits around these parts.”

Mellie stood glued to the spot as the boar looked them over curiously. Shane had a death grip on her hand and had shoved her behind him when it came out from its hiding place. Not ten yards separated them, and she thought she might scream from the tension as they stood locked in its little dark eyes. This was it, they were dead. She staggered back a step and a twig snapped under her foot. That small noise sealed their fate.

The boar’s bristles stood on end and it lowered its head and charged them, lightning fast, and she let out a full fledged scream, watching with fascinated horror as Shane turned to the side and kicked it in the face, while pushing her further away.

“Run,” he hollered, pointing away from the river.

She took a few steps, but terror froze her and she turned to see the kick had set the boar off course from its fierce charge at them, but instead of convincing it to get lost, it had only enraged it further. It veered in a half-circle to come at them again. She heard Shane swear, at her or the boar, she wasn’t sure. There was no way she could outrun that thing, and she looked around for something to throw at it, but in that small blink, it had already gained on her, knocking her off her feet with a brush of its bristly shoulder. It was so strong, it shocked her.

Scrambling to her hands and knees, she saw Shane chasing it and yelling, but once again it swung back, determined to finish them.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore, turning back to check on her, his eyes wild. The hateful monster shot right past him, determinedly running straight at her again.

“Knife,” she blurted, suddenly remembering the knife she had strapped to her ankle.

They’d been so proud of all their weapons and clever holsters and then completely forgot to use them. She grappled for it as she tried to get out of the trajectory of the boar, all the while bracing herself for it to slam into her again.

She almost closed her eyes to pray one last time, but right before impact, Shane flung himself through the air and landed on its back, giving Mellie time to get out of the way.

Shane bounced off its back and hit the ground hard, getting the wind knocked out of him. He coughed and had barely made it to his feet, when he got sideswiped. She screamed again when she saw he’d been gored in the leg, blood already flowed below the line of his kilt, staining his sock. Barely glancing at the shrill noise she made, the boar turned to finish Shane.

He dropped to his knees, and her throat closed up with horror, wondering if he’d been slashed in an artery. She couldn’t believe their delighted hubris of a only a few minutes before, so certain they’d made it, and now they were going to die. He shouted hoarsely for her to run, but she couldn’t leave him, she couldn’t get back to their own time without him. She wouldn’t go back without him.

Right before the boar lowered its head and slammed into him, Shane twisted to the side and rammed a knife into its neck, wrenching it upwards. As he got knocked backward by the force of the beast colliding with him, he kicked it, forcing the knife deeper until the animal crumpled half on top of him.

He rolled sideways as a geyser of blood sprayed out of the boar’s throat. It made nightmare noises as it still tried to drag itself forward to gore him. Shane wrenched the knife out, only to slam it into its neck again. The boar finally fell onto Shane and they lay there in a spreading pool of blood.

Before Mellie could scream, or think, or take a breath, he hauled himself up, completely drenched in blood. He was so horrifying, and she was so grateful he was alive, she started to cry, unable to take her eyes off him.

“Is it? Is it dead?” He staggered like a drunk, and kicked it to make sure. He turned to her, his wide grin glowing white in his bloody face. “It’s dead. I killed it.” He turned in a circle, raising his arms over his head and letting out a primal whoop. “The eighteenth century is my b—”

“Don’t say it,” she sobbed, sinking back onto her heels.

“Sorry, Mel.” He sat down near her and put his head in his hands. “Jesus. I killed that thing,” he said shakily.

“I saw.” She got her crying under control, glad he just sat there and let her get it out of her system, very glad he didn’t try to hug her whilst covered in pig blood. “Thank you,” she said, wiping away the last tears. “Oh my God, you saved my life.”

“Are ye kidding me?” he asked.

“It was quite impressive. Scary, but impressive.”

“Stop,” he said harshly, getting up to poke at it. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t accept her gratitude, but shrugged it off, too emotionally exhausted to delve into it. “We ought to do something with it,” he said.

“What?” she asked. “You can’t mean—”

“I would think ye’d be thrilled to have such fresh meat to cook.”

“Well, aye, if it’s handed to me neatly wrapped in paper. Do you even know how to butcher it?”

He looked at it with new distaste. “My grandfather made me go hunting once, and I had to help butcher the deer, so I think I probably could.” At her slight gagging noise, he hurriedly said, “I dinna want to, but do you know how long it’s been since I ate something?”

“A couple hours?” she asked, wanting nothing more than to leave the horrible corpse far behind them. She thought the memories of it almost killing Shane would sour the taste, anyway.

“I mean something other than those foul protein bars.” He wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood further and making him look worse than a horror movie. Glancing at his hands, he held out his drenched shirt, seeming to notice all the blood for the first time.

“Ah, Jesus, am I covered in it?” he asked, his eyes widening. “Ugh, so gross.” He tore his jacket off and flung it aside, then pulled his shirt over his head and crashed away.

“Where are you going?” she asked, racing to keep up, not wanting to be alone with the dead boar.

“River. I have to get this off,” he said in a clipped voice.

Before she could stop him, he’d splashed into the icy water, completely submerging himself. He came up a moment later with a shout, shaking out his hair.

“You’re going to freeze to death,” she called over the sound of the current rushing against rocks and his own splashing.

He either ignored her or didn’t hear, scrubbing furiously at his arms and trying to get his sodden undershirt off. With a sigh, she went back for their packs so he’d have something dry to put on when he got out. She also brought back his discarded jacket, thinking it was salvageable.

Coming up behind a tree, she stopped short, seeing he’d got all his layers off and stood waist deep in the current, wringing out his shirts one by one and tossing them onto the bank. She knew he was solid, having taken a whack at him more than once since they’d started this adventure, but she’d never imagined he’d be so ripply. He actually had abs like television actors did. She turned her head to the side, having all sorts of conflicted thoughts. And urges. Her fingers curled into the jacket she still held as she watched the water bead up and roll down his smooth, hard body.

“Enjoying the view?” he called, startling her into dropping the coat.

Oh, bugger, she’d been found out. She had to think fast or he’d be insufferable. More insufferable. Be normal, she told herself.

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt my eyes,” she said, surprised her voice came out at all, and sounded perfectly natural. She breathed a sigh of relief at his equally natural grin. Just two old friends being playful. “I guess I can see how you get the Majorca girls to give you the time of day,” she teased. She noticed him shivering as he stood there looking expectantly at her. She just kept drinking him in.