Highlander’s Curse (17 page)

“If we can find one of their campsites, I’m certain we’ll find their ceremonial stones,” he’d told her, his eyes glittering with excitement. “And once we’ve found that, all my theories will be confirmed.”

No stones such as he sought were in this area, she was sure of that, but she didn’t say anything to him. There was no way to explain how she knew it with such certainty and, anyway, there were plenty of bits and pieces left behind by the people who had passed through here. More than enough to justify her working this area today.

And now she’d found this lovely piece. The handle looked as if it had some sort of intricate carving, but it would be difficult to say for sure until she could free it completely.

The fine mist of rain that had begun at some point while she’d been engrossed in freeing this artifact complicated her work, but she didn’t want to stop now. She was too close to leave this little treasure exposed to the open elements.

The sound of a car motor in the distance jolted her from her concentration, and she sat back on her heels, realizing as she did that she’d once again spent much too long in one position.

Even as the first sound faded, a second started up and rapidly faded away, too.

What the heck?

She tipped her head, listening intently for any sound coming from the direction of the main dig activity. Why would someone take the vans and leave everyone stranded out here in the middle of the afternoon? Especially with the rain picking up again.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated to catch any sounds. The mist hitting the leaves of the trees and brush around her was all she could hear.

That made absolutely no sense at all. There was always some type of noise with a group the size of theirs. Unless the group was gone.

What a ridiculous thought. They wouldn’t leave without her. Even if no one else remembered her, Mackenzie’s ever-present clipboard would have prevented anyone’s being left behind.

She pulled off her vest and staged it across the ribbon surrounding her hole in an attempt to protect her find and then rose to her feet. Her legs tingled with lack of use and the blood rushed to her head in a dizzying
whoosh, forcing her to pause for a moment before starting off.

Pushing through the trees toward the main site, she moved as quietly as possible, listening for the normal noise she’d expect from the group.

Nothing. Not a single sound.

“Mackenzie?” She waited in uncomfortable silence for a response, picking up her speed when none came. “Anybody?”

Even before she’d made it all the way through the trees, she could see what her mind didn’t want to accept.

The site was empty. No vans, no people, nothing but rain peppering down on the canvas covers they’d left behind.

A lurch of disbelief tracked like a shot of nausea through her stomach. Disbelief and hunger. She’d skipped breakfast to avoid bumping into Jonathan, and she’d been so involved in following the vision in her head to the artifact underground, she’d completely forgotten lunch.

“I don’t freaking believe this.” Propping her hands on her hips, she scanned the area again for any sign of her group.

They’d abandoned her. Wet, dirty, hungry, “And pissed,” she announced emphatically to the empty site. “Totally pissed as hell!”

Just wait until she got her hands on Mackenzie and that piece of crap clipboard of hers.

“There you are.”

Abby barely avoided a full-scale scream when Jonathan emerged from the trees behind her.

“What the hell, Jonathan? Where did everyone go?” And, more to the point, why did they go without her?

“When the rain started to pick up, I sent them on ahead. I’d just checked on you and saw that you were immersed in your work so I thought you’d prefer having the extra time and riding back with me. Besides, we’ve barely had a moment alone together for the past week. My car is parked only a short walk down the road.”

Damn straight they hadn’t had a moment alone. She’d had to put a lot of effort into arranging it that way, too. All that careful maneuvering for nothing. No avoiding him now. Best laid plans and all that rubbish.

“Why don’t we secure your site before we go? I take it you found something? I saw you’d left your vest there.”

He raked a hand over his mouth and chin, his eyes fastening much lower than her face.

Oh, damn.

Only now did it occur to Abby what she must look like. A quick glance down confirmed the worst. The rain that had turned her hair to a thick soggy mat had rendered her silk shirt almost invisible. She might as well be standing here in nothing but her bra.

Leaving her vest to protect the artifact she’d found seemed a pretty stupid idea in retrospect.

Her face heated to the point she expected steam to begin rising any second as she headed into the trees. Jonathan was instantly at her side, pushing back branches to assist her, his free hand lingering at her lower back guiding her forward.

When they stepped into the little clearing where she’d been working, he hurried ahead, snatching up her vest and reaching down to run a finger over her find.

“A magnificent treasure, to be sure,” he said, his eyes
fastened on her. “Come, tell me, what do you think these markings might mean?”

Reluctantly eying the vest he’d tossed out of her reach, she dropped to her knees beside him, once again studying what appeared to be a design carved into the ancient wooden handle.

“I can’t be sure until we have it out and cleaned, but I’m thinking it might be some type of overlapping circles.”

Her thoughts were cut short with a gasp as Jonathan trailed a hand up her spine, his fingers tightening around the base of her neck, firmly urging her face toward his.

This wasn’t happening.

On reflex she jerked her arms up between them, pushing against his chest. “Look, Jonathan—”

“I have looked,” he interrupted, “and I very much like what I see, Abigail. I like it and I want it for my very own.”

To her surprise, he dragged her forward, crushing his mouth over hers, roughly catching up her bottom lip with his teeth as his free hand covered her breast.

“No!” she grunted, and shoved against his chest with all her strength, pushing away and scrambling backward across the muddy earth.

His hand was so quick, she hardly saw the movement, but his fingers caught her wrist and tightened in a viselike grip. She pulled against his hold in quick, useless jerky movements, as he drew her inexorably closer to him, dragging her to her feet as he stood.

“I’d hoped to do this the easy way, Abigail, but you thwart me at every turn. You’re leaving me no choice, love.”

He’d flipped out. Total off-the-wall bonkers. And she hadn’t a clue what he intended or what she should do. Except get away. She knew she had to get away.

She grasped at straws. “No, no. . . you have choices. There are lots of choices, Jonathan. We always have choices,” she babbled, her voice little more than a squeak in her desperation to escape him.

“We’ll see,” he answered, tightening his grip on her wrist as he reached his other hand into his pocket, pulling out his gold knife.

That couldn’t be good. “What? What do you think you’re doing? Jonathan? You’re frightening me. Let go of me right now.”

He drew her hand to his lips for a kiss, overpowering her struggles as if she were a child. Lowering the hand, he chuckled, a wicked light in his eyes as he sliced into the tip of her index finger with his knife.

A
s if the Fates themselves had intervened in his life this day, absolutely nothing had gone as Colin had planned. He felt as though he’d been blocked at every turn, from his arrival at Swan House only to learn Abby had already gone, right down to the lorry driver sitting beside him now.

Having missed Abby, he’d gone to the pub to ask after transportation out to the dig site. Though the village had no official taxi service, one of the older gents in the pub had offered to drive him. Though the walk to the man’s home was short in distance, it was far enough for Colin to realize the elderly man had already had far too much of the fine Scots whisky to be operating a vehicle of any sort. He could barely walk without stumbling.

He left the man at his front door, thanking him profusely for his offer but refusing, and headed back to the pub only to be stopped by Mrs. MacKee.

The memory of the feisty, white-haired woman perched on the top step of a tall ladder still had him shaking his head in disbelief. After he’d left her home this morning, she’d decided to take it upon herself to repair the top of her garden gate. The woman was an accident waiting to happen. Had he not chanced upon her when he did, he had no doubt she’d be in bed with broken bones at this very moment.

He’d had no choice but to offer his assistance. How could he not? One simply did not leave an elderly woman to fend for herself. At least not where he came from.

Four hours and a lovely lunch later—she’d insisted and would not take no for an answer—he was finally free to go find Abby.

Mrs. MacKee arranged for him to catch a ride with the lorry driver who’d stopped to deliver a package to her neighbor, and as he’d waved his farewell, he’d once again felt in control of his day. Until, that is, Big Mike had told him he could take him only part of the way to where he wanted to go.

“Here’s the crossroads, lad. You’ll but need to head down that wee lane a few kilometers to find yer friend. It’s sorry I am to be dropping you off in this weather, but it’s the rain itself that’s left it too muddy for me to risk taking this big lorry down there. It’s a heavy load I’m hauling today, and I dinna care to be calling my supervisor to report meself stuck.”

“Of course. My thanks to you again, Big Mike.”

Colin climbed down from the lorry and began his trek on the muddy lane as the old vehicle’s gears ground out a noisy farewell.

The silence had barely settled around him before his thoughts turned to Abby and how anxious he was to reach her. Perhaps the overriding anxiety he experienced was only natural now that he’d located her. Seeing her yesterday had confirmed for him how real his dreams of her had been. It was as if he’d seen her, touched her, every single day since they’d first met.

And yet he must remember that those encounters were only dreams.

She hadn’t really spent every night in his bed, in his arms. She didn’t feel the sense of intimacy he imagined existed between them. In fact, what had happened when he’d finally spoken to her outside the dreams? He’d wasted the moment by promptly driving her away.

Not a waste, he corrected himself. A learning experience. When he reached her this time, he’d use some self-restraint. He could do that. He’d successfully exercised a remarkable amount of self-restraint just last night at their parting. Instead of sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the nearest bed, he’d sent her to her rest at the inn. When he found her today, he’d draw once again on that same self-restraint. He’d explain the situation slowly, rationally, allowing her time to adjust to him and to the truth of what had happened.

Such an encounter would have to be easier than pushing her away had been last night.

His only regret was that he couldn’t remain in this time long enough to get to know her better in reality rather than in dreams. But she was not his fate. He’d
recognized from the first time he’d seen her that she’d already met the man fate intended for her, her Soulmate.

As for him, he was meant to return to his own time to save his friends. And his only connection to Abby was that she was meant to return him there.

The sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted his thoughts, and he stepped back from the lane to wait for the oncoming car to round the curve and pass him.

Not one vehicle but two appeared, both white, mud-splattered vans approaching slowly. The first passed him by, a few of the occupants lifting a hand in greeting to a stranger as they went. The second, wheels sliding on the slick lane, pulled to a stop and a young woman rolled down her window. The same young woman he’d noticed watching him after Abby had stormed out of the pub last night.

“You’re Abby Porter’s friend, aren’t you? Did you come out here looking for her?”

“I am,” he responded, moving closer to the van. “Is she in there with you?”