Highlander of Mine (9 page)

By the time Duncan was sixteen, his two younger stepbrothers lived with him in the barn. Then he joined the last few years of the now called Thirty-Years’ War, although it might have lasted longer. He’d gotten very good at the sword, but more than that, he’d gotten good at tactics, figuring out how to wheel around his enemy at whirlwind speeds, then break a line of men who fought with pikes, swords, or even poked holes into a cavalry line. His superiors had noticed, which had gotten him prestige and then jobs. How he’d landed in Sweden protecting the king was beyond him, but the money was good and in the summers it reminded him of home. At once, he missed Scotland so much it nearly broke his heart and then he’d hate it too. He didn’t understand the conflicting feelings. So he tended to avoid thinking much about those clashing sentiments.

But with Fleur here, his mother beside him, and feeling more stuck than ever before, all the while knowing he
wanted
to stay stuck, he kept thinking about his past and bitter resentments.

He really wanted to do the right thing by his ma. Hurting her would be the same as what Albert had done for so long. But the pain of the past haunted him at the worst of times. He took a quick breath and forced a smile on his face. “Really, Ma, spend the money how ye see fit. ‘Tis yers to deal with. I’m going to...I’m goin’ for a bit.”

He didn’t give her time to ask where he might be heading. He didn’t know. He just strolled away, feeling like a prodigal son. Jesus, why couldn’t he have more manners? Why was he so rough? He walked several hundred feet away from his mother’s house into an open green field. But he wasn’t checking the early autumn colors of the grass, the red purple of the heather, or the little white and yellow wild flowers that sprang up under the taller greenery. He hadn’t been watching where he was going at all, when he ran into a thicket of heather that thrashed at the skin above his hose. Stomping and muttering curses under his breath, he finally broke free from the bushes when he heard an altogether too close feminine and pretty chuckle.

Unsure how to react, feeling tenser than ever before, he decided to ignore the sound, turned, and kept marching, even if it was away from Fleur and her breathtaking visage. Damnation, those full luscious lips.

Suddenly, cold strong fingers gripped him around his wrist. He might have thought her digits delicate, but Fleur stopped him in his tracks. He pivoted, staring into black sparkling eyes.

“Rude much?”

Lord, he loved how she got to the point. Loved even more her fiery spirit. He knew he was being impolite, not talking, but he was so...God, when was the last time he’d spent time conversing with a person. Still, he did have something to say to her.

“I don’t brand fingers.”

Her arched brows knitted, forming that perfect little line above her nose. “What?”

“I don’t brand fingers or cut them off.”

She still looked perplexed, which made him think about kissing that line. But he swallowed.

“I—I’m not the sort of man who would cut off a lad’s fingers for stealin’ food. That’s the laird’s justice if he deems it so.”

“Oh.” She nodded, her eyebrows relaxing.

Lord, he started to dig a hole with his idiotic blathering tongue. “Not that I’d even enforce a law like that. I think it’s...barbaric, but the laird might...well Himself might think it justice to brand the lads for stealin’.”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes slightly narrowed. “I stole when I was ten. One of my cousins dared me to steal some candy, er, confections, so I did.”

“Were ye caught?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “My grandma caught me, had me spend the night in jail.”

Duncan felt his eyes narrow too.

“Oh, it wasn’t a real jail cell, but my Na, that’s what I called my grandmother, she was friends with the Chief of Police, and he had me sleep in his office. But I was scared nonetheless.”

Duncan shook his head. “I don’t think children should go to jail or dungeons or any of the like. Don’t see how it helps.” He realized then how disrespectful that might have sounded about her Na, so he added, “Sorry. I just don’t think—but what do I ken? I have no bairns of my own, so forget what I said.”

Fleur smiled though. “What would you have done with the ten year-old version of me?”

He nodded, thinking about Fleur as a little girl. “I’d—I’d have sat ye down.” But Duncan could see her only as woman, and he imagined her sitting on his lap and having to scold her. Well, his mind didn’t like that, so he erased the need to reprimand her with just sitting on his lap. Mayhap she could wear those trews she’d worn yesterday, but have on the shift and the upper portion of the kirtle she wore now, hidden under his coat, although the day was turning warm. Something about the image made his body too hot, too tight. “I’d—I’d have a stern talk with ye, I would.”

Her smile grew. “Did you ever do anything...naughty?”

He realized she still held his wrist, and his body wanted to do something that might be considered naughty. Nodding absentmindedly got himself an even larger grin and a chuckle from Fleur.

“Going to tell me about it?”

He shook his head.

She laughed once more.

God, he loved that.

Her smile waned though, and she took a step closer to him tentatively. “Are you all right? I mean, I saw you talking with your mom, then you stormed off, and I thought...it’s none of my business, and you can tell me to—”

“Are ye really from another time?” He didn’t know why he’d interrupted her. Lord, he knew it was ill-mannered, and he chided himself for it. He wouldn’t do it again. But suddenly he had to hear Fleur’s version of why she’d landed on the beach. He needed to hear why she was in his life at this very moment more than he needed to breathe.

She blinked, but then nodded. “I know it sounds crazy. If you don’t believe me, I understand, but I’m not from this time.”

“Why are ye here?”

She licked her lips. “Well, I finally got some clarity on that.” She looked down, he thought, at where she still clung to him. “I’m here to help someone. In so doing, it’s supposed to help me. And then I can go back to my time. I think.”

“That’s rather cryptic, eh?”

She glanced up with a rueful smile. “You think so too? But I think I’ve got it figured out.”

“Yeah?” He borrowed Fleur’s expression, liking it, especially since he’d heard it much in Prussia and Sweden.

She nodded. “I—I think I’m here to help your mom.”

He took a step away, breaking their connection. He didn’t mean to, but he had hoped...Aye, he’d hoped she was here for him.

Fleur continued. “I’m here—again, this is just what I think—to take care of your mom, because—well, I didn’t take as good of care with my Na as I should have when she—when she needed me. I mean, I tried, but I had...oh God, it’s so complicated.”

“Long story?”

She nodded.

“Goin’ to tell me about it?”

She smiled when he’d used her phrase.

He stepped closer to her, then took another step, realizing how she ducked her head, looking cold, although the sun showered down severe rays. Not being able to help himself he smoothed his hands along what should have been her arms, since she swam in his coat. Finally, he found an arm then the other and caressed her.

She looked up with a small smile. “All of this is so hard to wrap my head around. I can’t believe I’m here. It’s hard for me to believe that you’re real.”

“Why?”

She looked down again, pink radiating from her cheeks. “I—I guess because you’re so nice.”

At that he laughed. “Me?”

She started to chuckle too. “And you’re also awful. Why are you awful to me? Why do you not answer my questions sometimes? It drives me nuts. And by the way, don’t ever, ever walk away from me again, especially when I’m talking to you. That really drove me nuts.”

“Nuts?”

“Bonkers. Insane!”

“Ah,” he said while he nodded and still rubbed her arms. “I’m sorry I’ve been awful.” He took another step closer, letting her delicate floral scent invade his nose, then pour desire through his body. Everything tightened, seemed to sharpen his senses regarding her—how two long black strands of her hair reached out for him in the late summer’s breeze, how her cheeks glowed pink, similar to her luscious lips, how her dark eyes sparkled with life.

She shrugged. “Well, awful’s a strong word.”

“But applicable, I’m sorry to admit.”

She studied him taking in everything, he was sure. Could she see straight to his heart? Until yesterday, he wasn’t sure he even had one anymore.

He inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m out of practice. I’ve been alone a lot.”

“You’ve been a mercenary?”

He nodded. “Well, the last few years I’ve been a protector, a personal guard to a good man, a wealthy man, so—”

“You were around people in that time then. What do you mean you’re out of practice?”

“Well, aye, I was around people. And I told ‘em where I thought a suspected threat might be comin’ from. I planned with other men how best to protect our charge, but conversing...talking about anythin’ beyond my sword or someone else’s, I haven’ done in a while.”

She nodded. “That I can understand. I can understand that really well, actually. I’m a bit the same. I talk about my work a lot, my job, my career, my—does that translate?”

His hands stopped, but he nodded. “Ye have a job of work?”

She nodded with another rueful smile. “I—this might sound so crazy to you—but I’m a scientist. A—um, what would it be called here?—a philosopher of the material kind? Does that make sense?”

“Aye,” he said skeptically. He didn’t want to believe this part. But the more she talked, the more he did.

“I’m a genealogist, which basically means I study where people came from. Now, if you don’t believe me, what I’m about to say might lead to you wanting to burn me at a stake for witchcraft, but I figure out where people descended from, and my research goes back thousands and thousands of years.”

He was amazed at what she was telling him. “Oh,” was all he could blurt out. Remarkably, his knees felt weak, as if she’d hit him over the head. He saw a nearby patch of soft grass. “Mayhap we could sit for a spell. Let me work this over in my mind.”

“Yeah, sure.” She smiled and followed him closely, sitting less than a few inches from him.

She looked up at him expectantly, and that’s when he realized he could no longer hide from the truth. He believed her. He wished it wasn't so, because that would mean she would leave, go back from whence she had come.

“Ye like yer job?” His voice cracked more than usual.

She nodded. “It—it’s been the one thing in my life that has given me a sense of accomplishment and . . .” She seemed to be searching for words that Duncan knew too well.

“It gives yer life meanin’, eh? It makes it seem that while yer doing what ye do that all’s well. That things aren’t as bad as it might be.”

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.

He nodded and looked away from her. “I don’t mean to be awful, especially not to ye. I’m out of practice talkin’ and the like, but one reason why I’m not my best is that I hate bein’ here.” From his periphery, he caught her looking at him and continued. “’Tis the town I was born and raised, and I suppose I should love it, but I don’t ken how I feel. I hate it, but then I don’t. I love it and miss it terribly, especially my ma and brothers—” He couldn’t talk after he’d brought them up. By now he should have fetched them, brought them where they belonged. Here.

Fleur wrapped her long delicate fingers around one of his hands. Lord, she must have been a princess of science, for her hands looked so refined and elegant. He couldn’t stop himself, but placed his other hand over hers, ensuring she keep touching him.

“I think we have a lot in common.” She smiled. “Because I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s such an odd dichotomy, the love we have for our family and then the feelings that are...less than love. The utter loyalty we have towards a place, without understanding why.”

He smiled down at her, finding that she had discovered the exact words for what he’d been struggling for. Fleur scooted closer to him, settling her hip against his, one of her arms melding with his. Slowly she leaned her lovely head on his shoulder, her delicate floral scent wafting around him, making him hold his breath in the hopes she might never move again.

“My grandmother opted to send me away when I was fourteen. I know why she did it. I know she was trying to give me a better future, and I know many kids have life a lot worse than I did, and, hell, I met many kids in my same predicament. But the hurt and resentment was still there, and no matter how much I tried to circumnavigate it, it came back. Then, ten years later, my Na needed me because she was dying. I returned to my hometown, Porcupine, where I was born and raised, and hated it and loved it. Resented everyone around me and adored them. Through it all, I should have taken really good care of my Na, and I tried so hard, but I asked her why she’d done it, why she’d sent me away. She’d tried to tell me, and some part of me listened, but then...I should have done better for my Na. I lost her, and I can’t help but think that I’m here to help your ma.” She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide. “I mean—not that Helen’s—”