CursedLaird (10 page)

“Caledonia, why don’t you explain the situation to your
poppa?” Aileen poured four cups of tea, set one in front of each then took a
seat beside Fin with hers in hand.

She took a breath and prayed Poppa listened. Sometimes he
had a tendency to be difficult, especially when it came to spirits and such.
And boy did this fall under the
and such
category. When she finished
with the tale, he sat back, looked Struan up and down.

“So what you’re saying, is if’n I go out to the shed, the
statue won’t be there because he’s sitting here.”

“Aye.” Caledonia felt small under his unwavering stare, but
remained vigilant in her attempt to make him understand she spoke the truth.

He stood without a word and walked out the back door.
Caledonia rose to follow but her momma clasped her wrist. “Let him see with his
own eyes. It’ll sink in better.”

Aileen rose from her chair and took a container from the
refrigerator. She opened it and Struan’s eyes widened. “Help yourself to
shortbread. Baked fresh this morning. It’ll go great with your second cup o’
tea.” She turned to fetch the still-hot kettle and tea bags. By the time she
poured, Fin returned.

He flopped into his seat, lifted his untouched shot and
nodded at Struan. “If’n I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have
believed it. Here’s to your freedom.” He downed his whiskey.

Struan lifted the glass of amber liquid, nodded at Fin then
tossed his back as well. “Aye, a mighty fine whiskey, Kavanagh.”

“You may call me Fin.”

“Poppa, Struan wants to return to his home at Castle
MacKinnon in Lochsbury. I’m going to search my laptop for directions and drive
him home tonight.”

Poppa made a face. “That’s not possible tonight, lass. I
loaned the van to the O’Reilly boys. They took it down to Glassboro. Won’t be
back until in the morning.”

Great, neither of the O’Reillys believed in carrying a cell
phone so she had no way to reach them. “Why didn’t they take that antique Land
Rover they drive?”

“Blew a head gasket. That’s why they borrowed the van in the
first place, to drive down and pick one up. Then they decided they’d stay over
and try out the nightlife.” Fin nodded at Struan. “Another shot,
m’caraid
?
Seems you’re going to be here for another night.”

Though he nodded, his smile was thin and Caledonia sensed
his displeasure.

“Take it this way, Struan,” Caledonia said. “It’ll give you
a night to acclimate to your new era.”

“I do not understand this O’Reillys van thing. What does it
have to do with mi? I travel tonight, on foot, alone. I know the way.”

“It’s not necessary for you to walk,” Caledonia interjected.
“If you wait until the van is returned, I’ll drive you there and it will only
take a matter of hours instead of days.”

“What is this van?” His head shook adamantly. “Is it a fast
horse? Even so, I have never heard o’ a horse that could make the trip from
Loch Tay to Castle MacKinnon in less than two days o’ steady travel.”

Caledonia stifled the giggle that threatened, cleared her
throat then smiled. “It’s faster than a horse. Tomorrow, I will show it to you
and explain its uses more clearly. I promise. Where exactly is Lochsbury?”

His face lightened and pride filled his words as he spoke of
his home. “Lochsbury lies in the heart o’ the Grampian Mountains. Castle
MacKinnon is the jewel o’ its center and provides for all o’ the people loyal
to Clan MacKinnon. Mi
brathairs
,
piuthar
and I strive to make
sure not one soul perishes under our guidance.”

The way his chest puffed and his chin tilted made him even
more handsome in Caledonia’s eyes. He placed much pride and honor in family and
that ranked top on her list of priorities in life. Unlike Kip. She mentally
shook the self-absorbed jerk from her thoughts. Across from her sat a true man,
one who understood the meaning of family.

Why hadn’t she been born during his time?
Then you would
have missed out on him now
, whispered through her head and she realized she
would have lost him to a curse. Fate had a way of dealing cruel blows
sometimes. His life. His family. All were taken from him. Until now. Now it was
up to her to get him home safely. Then what? Would she see him again? Would it
end there? God, she hoped not. But she wouldn’t dwell on that, if it were meant
to be between them, then it would be. She sighed softly, setting her resolve to
help right things in Struan’s topsy-turvy world.

“I look forward to seeing your home,” Caledonia stated. She
poured four shots of whiskey, set the bottle down then lifted her glass.
“Here’s to a new beginning in a new world.”

* * * * *

Struan walked to the end of the dock and sat. His head
ached. So much to learn in this new era, his thoughts tangled together with
information that crowded his brain. New things flashed behind his eyes. Lights
without flame, cooking with magic fire, so many devices he needed to learn to
operate if he wanted to fit in. His hand dropped to the hilt of his claymore at
the memory of Caledonia suggesting he not carry it.

A man without a weapon, the thought was inconceivable. How
did one protect his family and himself if attacked? His brows bunched. He
pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave the onslaught of confusion from
beating its way through his head. The throb increased. He breathed in deep and
tried to relax. Eyes closed, he focused on his surroundings.

Peaceful sounds of the early morning were a welcome harmony
after years of silence. A breeze rustled the leaves of the tree to his left.
Crickets chirped a lovely tune, which made him smile as he soaked it all in. He
opened his eyes in time to see that roughly ten feet in front of him a
monstrous fish breached the surface of the moonlit loch. If only he were
prepared to fish. He sighed as he watched it disappear. He removed his boots,
laid his
sgian dubh
, knife, at his side and lowered his feet into the
soothing coolness of the loch.

The water called to him. It was his weakness. Where others
shied from a swim, he thrived in it. Struan shucked off his claymore and shirt
then stood and dropped his kilt. A night swim would refresh his mind. A swim
always did. Unsure of the depth, he stepped off the end instead of diving
headfirst as his heart longed to do. It came to the top of his shoulders.

He swam toward the middle. Cutting the surface in solid
strokes loosened his stiff muscles. Lack o’ use was the reason behind his
body’s tender state. But he refused to let his mind dwell on the curse and that
bastard MacGillivray. He was in the water, relaxing, letting it wash over him,
taking away the sordid past events. Struan filled his lungs to capacity and
dove. Though it was dark, he loved the sensation of the underworld enveloping
him in its glorious folds. Being beneath the water’s surface gave him peace.

Memories from the past controlled his direction. He knew
this loch well. Many times he’d swam above and below as far as his strength and
air would carry him. Though he could not see, images from his treasure chest of
memories floated behind his eyes. Plants, rocks and sunken crannogs appeared as
if he were seeing them at that very moment. The sensation of fish swimming
around him made him pause. Was it real or simply a figment of his imagination?
Nothing brushed against him so he chose the latter. Imagination.

When he breached the surface for air, he swiped his hair
from his eyes and floated on his back. Utter peacefulness whispered through his
core. Water spurred his soul to life. It always had and this time was no
different. It helped soothe his inner worries and untangled the knot of
overwhelming information inside his head.

Had it truly been over two hundred years? Struan sorted
through his thoughts. The loch appeared to have changed little, but the houses,
people and things were definitely not the same. The Kavanaghs were good people.
They’d sat for hours, talking and teaching him things they thought he needed to
know. The beautiful Caledonia took the forefront of his thoughts. She stood at
the sink doing dishes when he left the kitchen. He claimed he needed air and a
moment to think. Her understanding touched him. Yet she made him promise not to
attempt to walk home.

A smile crossed his lips. Her concern warmed his insides and
brought a renewed vigor to his shaft. Caledonia was a woman any man would be
proud to have at his side. Struan did a strong backstroke, guiding his course
toward the dock. So many things had changed, even the people and especially the
women. If things were different, he’d take his time savoring every inch of
Caledonia. His mouth watered for want of a taste of her lips, her breasts and
the heaven between her thighs, which he imagined would be a delightful blend of
woman and roses.

Struan paused mid-stroke. Never had he been so bold with his
thoughts of a woman he did not know. With Mary, he’d not so much as kissed her
in all their years as friends. Why? Because she was betrothed to another and it
went against society’s rules. Still, he had loved her. But it was a love that
could never be and just as he had accepted it as unchangeable then, he accepted
it now. He closed his eyes and issued a silent prayer for her soul’s final
entrance into the Garden of Angels and a peaceful rest.

Through the fog of his thoughts, Caledonia stepped forward
to reign supreme in her beautiful image behind his closed lids. He imagined
perfect breasts, womanly curves and a channel warm and wet, which beckoned to
his natural instinct to mate. Something about her ignited his lust and
triggered an undeniable need. Though he tried to control it, his shaft reacted.
Wonderful.
He snorted, thankful it was still dark though the time for
the sun’s rise neared. If not, all would see his rendition of a ship with its
staff held high for the raising o’ the flag.

With little splash, he rolled over and dove, hoping the
colder water would ease his erection. As he swam, he plotted his course. He
needed to return to Castle MacKinnon and his family. They needed him. Two
others were found. He was free. Four remained lost. He lingered on those still
lost. Padon. Aiden. And the twins, Donnell and Dour. Need of a different sort
barreled through him, forcing him to surface. Home called to his heart and
gnawed at his soul.

Deep in his gut he knew he wasn’t ready to return home even
though his heart weighed heavy with the desire to seek refuge in his family’s
arms. Something bound him here to Loch Tay. A haunting ache tugged at his soul.
The sense that a small part of his spirit still lay upon the bottom gripped his
thoughts, refusing to allow him peace. Maybe once he was away from this place the
annoying sensation would cease and he would be free to live his life as a man
again.

Struan broke the water and wasted no time closing the
distance to the dock. Though the water invigorated and renewed his strength,
loyalty beckoned him home to Castle MacKinnon. Without much effort, he lifted
onto the dock and stood, coming upright to face Caledonia. How long had she
been there?

The nervous dart of her tongue across her bottom lip issued
an invitation he hungered to accept, but refused. She stood, hands at her
sides, silent, gaze leveled on his. Those beautiful, full breasts pressed taut
against her shirt, tempting his tongue to lave them with affection. Lust
battled loyalty. Desire hardened his cock and tightened his ball sac. Now was
not the time for personal pleasure. These sudden urges and uncontrollable
desires had to be some sort o’ aftereffect o’ the curse, Struan decided. But he
would resist. Caledonia deserved his respect, not his shaft.

Though nudity bothered him none, he whisked his kilt into position
low upon his hips then tugged on his tunic. If he didn’t, he knew he’d act upon
his lust and fuck her on the dock. Caledonia deserved more than to be treated
like one of the bawdy wanton slappers he’d visited for mindless pleasure in his
time. She deserved to be treated like a lady and from this moment forth, he
intended to treat her as such, no matter how much it hurt his balls. Her
strained voice broke through his aggravated train of thought and he sensed she
struggled just as he with the ravages of unrequited desire.

Seeing him cut the water like a fish took her breath away.
Did he love the water as much as she? The moon brightened his muscular backside
with each stroke and when he dove out of sight, her heart dropped. Endless
seconds passed before he surfaced and Caledonia released the breath she
inadvertently held until she caught sight of him again. It appeared as if he
enjoyed it. Did he do it as a form of a bath or out of the simple joy of the
swim? She ached to know.

Caledonia struggled with the sudden desire to join him. The
water was her second home, a natural place for her to relax. Should she strip
and dive in? Watching him float had her torn with indecision. He had asked for
a moment alone, to think and gather his thoughts. So much challenged him, his
past, his present and the unknown of his future. True, they’d bombarded him
with information to the point she’d sensed he’d overloaded and became inwardly
distraught.

God, if she were in his shoes. She wrung her hands, fighting
the desire to go to him and share in the joy and freedom the loch provided the
soul. Though it excited her to see he sought solace from the loch such as she,
she remained vigilant in her oath to help him find his way. She tried to look
away from the graceful litheness of his movements but couldn’t. He belonged as
if the water and he were one.

A heavy, contented sigh escaped and she knew a little piece
of her heart had been lost to the hot, sexy laird swimming the loch. Caledonia
couldn’t move when he reached the dock. With a fluidity and style all his own,
Struan rose from the water and lifted to his feet in front of her as if it were
as natural as breathing. She swallowed against the sudden need to kiss his lips
and plow her hands through his wet hair. The fact he had a hard-on didn’t help
her resistance strategy any.