My Seductive Highlander (18 page)

S
COTLAND

T
HIRTEENTH
C
ENTURY

Lilia tucked and rolled around the boxy bag belted at her waist before she made full contact with the hillside rushing up to meet her. She didn't care if she broke her neck; Eliza's remains weren't going to get busted into a pile of dust and wood chips on her watch.

A deep throaty growl and a string of hissed Gaelic that was more than likely terms Granny would never approve of sounded off to her left. A strangled shout and profanity she completely understood echoed to her right. A hard thud, shaking leaves, and snapping branches all around signaled Angus's and Graham's completed landings. Hopefully, they had survived as well as she had.

“Are you all right?” She hitched forward a few steps, trying to roll the soreness out of one shoulder as she walked. She'd whacked the ground pretty hard on the final roll that had brought her to a stop. She didn't think the joint was dislocated, but from the feel of it, her muscles weren't going to let her forget she'd had a rough landing. “Graham. Angus. Are you both okay?”

Graham barked out a strained “Aye!” The dense shrubbery rattled and snapped as he forced his way through the tangle of branches and crawled free of the brush. “God a'mighty. I dinna ken how yer family ever gets used t'such madness.”

“Practice.” Lilia brushed dust and dirt from her jeans as she looked around. “Granny says the more we jump the better we'll get at landing, but I don't know…” She shook her head, still rubbing and rolling her throbbing shoulder. “The girls and I have never been able to break free of the time cloud with Granny's finesse and grace.”

“Sons a bitches, I'll ne'er do that again.” Angus staggered out of a ragged growth of saplings and brambles, ripping a thorny vine free of his plaid.

Graham squinted up at the quickly clearing sky then looked about the craggy jut of land covered with wind-twisted saplings, ragged bushes, and low-growing ground cover hearty enough to withstand the harsh gusts coming in from the sea. “ 'Tis a far sight higher than I expected.” He walked over to a steep precipice and looked out over the land. He studied their location then turned to his left and nodded to a gentler bit of slope shearing downward. “We'll have to travel west a bit. 'Tis too severe a climb t'go straight down.”

Angus huffed his way over to Graham, still limping and pulling thistles from the rear of his plaid. Gingerly stepping close to the edge, he scowled down at the sheer drop. “Aye. That drop would try the sure-footedness of a wee Highland goat.”

Rebuckling the bag holding Eliza's remains, Lilia joined the men standing at the edge of the cliff. “I was afraid to shoot any closer to the sea. I didn't want to land us in the water.” A cool breeze blew against her face as the first glimmering rays of the rising sun broke across the waves rippling to the horizon.

The savage land unfolded before her like a jagged tartan of shadowed greens, muted blues, and grays. Swatches of purple and pink winked up through the early morning mist swirling about the base of the mountainside. Heather—next to her pink roses, heather was Eliza's favorite flower. How fitting it should be blooming now.

Lilia inhaled a deep breath of the briny air, a sense of calm settling across her. This place was beautiful but at the same time rugged and strong. The shushing whispers of the wind stroking down the sides of the mountain brought a smile to her face. The land here was endless and stubborn and proud of its beauty. Just like Eliza. “We should reach the sea well before sunset—don't you think so?”

Graham shrugged his pack more evenly across his back with a nod. “Aye. 'Tis no' verra far and downhill all the way. Come,
mo nighean bhan,
let us be on our way.” He motioned Angus forward. “Take the lead, man. Yer better than most at findin' the surest footing.”

Falling in step behind Angus on the narrow way down the mountainside, Lilia hooked her thumbs through the straps of the backpack, alternately watching her footing and glancing about the land. It was so untouched here, so pristine, as though humans had yet to discover this magical part of the world.

Then it hit her. Just as she was about to shimmy around a good-sized boulder.
Greed. Excitement. Revenge. Bloodlust.
Waves of cold dark emotions rushed across her like the skin-tingling energy of a building storm.

“Graham?” Lilia backed toward him while glancing about. Where was the source of those deadly emotions?

“What is it, sweetling?” Graham hurried to her, concern knotting his brows. “Ye sound alarmed. What fashes ye, lass?”

“Is there ill afoot?” Angus scrambled back around the curve of the path, sword already drawn.

Lilia covered Graham's hand with hers and concentrated.
Unease. Caring. Worry. Love.
Those were Graham's emotions—not the ones she'd felt just moments ago. Angus pinged out waves of alarm and no small amount of thirst for battle like a high-tech satellite.

Lilia squeezed Graham's hand, struggling not to let her fear quiver into her voice. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
Gotta stay calm. Must focus.
“Someone else is here that shouldn't be. I feel it.”

Graham drew her close, snugging her back against the mountain. He placed himself in front of her like a human shield. “Where? What did ye see?” He unsheathed his sword, his narrow-eyed gaze searching the area.

“I didn't
see
them.” Lilia closed her eyes and concentrated, emotionally scanning the area.
Dammit. Where are you?
She held her breath, straining to recapture the negativity that only moments ago had slammed into her.
Dammit.
She blew out the breath and opened her eyes. “I've lost them. The feelings are gone. But someone was here. I'm sure of it.”

“I dinna care for this. Not a soul kens we're here.” Graham's knuckles whitened as he moved his sword in a slow warning arc, glaring all around them.

I know I didn't imagine it. Someone was here.
Lilia shook her head and smoothed her hand down Graham's rock-hard arm. “They're gone now. I'm positive. If they come close enough I'll feel them again and I'll warn you.” She glanced up at the sky. “It's getting lighter. If we want to reach the outcropping Eliza told me about by this afternoon, we need to get moving.”

“Yer certain we're alone now?” Graham waited, sword still lifted, ready to cut down any that threatened them.

Lilia's own tension eased a bit and she relaxed enough to exhale. A part of her—on a very primal level—warmed at being protected. She had no doubt; he'd keep her safe or die in the trying. “I promise they're gone. It's okay. Let's go.”

“Hmph.” Graham jammed his sword back in the sheath, scowled one last searching glance around the area, then looked past her to Angus. “Take to the high ground whilst we descend to the sea. Find them. Ye ken what t'do.”

“Aye.” Angus jerked his head down in a single nod. “I ken it well. Take Mistress Eliza to the sea. There'll be none threatenin' ye on my watch, I grant ye that.” He sheathed his sword then carefully worked his way back around them. Before continuing up the hillside, he tossed a smile and a wink back over one shoulder. “I'd ruther be huntin' a goat-swivin' knave than traipsin' about with a pair of lovers any day. I leave ye to yer honorable task, Mistress Lilia, and I'll no' return until I'm certain ye both are safe, I swear t'ye.”

“Thank you, Angus.” Lilia's heart warmed. He might be a crude and clumsy pain in the ass, but Angus was a true friend. “Be careful. I don't want you hurt either.”

Angus waved her words away, scratching his ass with one hand as he trudged back up the trail.

Lilia and Graham plodded along in companionable silence for what seemed like hours, thankfully, with no recurrence of the upsetting emotions Lilia had sensed at the beginning of their journey. They briefly paused during their descent for Graham to hack off a pair of stray saplings growing alongside the path. He quickly fashioned them into walking sticks for himself and Lilia. At first she'd argued, thinking she didn't need it, but then she'd grudgingly realized that walking down the steep incline was much easier with the staff to help steady her balance.

“ 'Twould no' hurt ye t'admit when I'm right, ye ken?” Graham swatted her rump with an affectionate smack as they reached a level shelf of rock wide enough to sit upon and take a rest.

“Don't hold your breath.” Lilia wagged a finger in his face, then twisted open the straw to the water bottle swinging at her waist. “It's a wise man that knows when to celebrate his victories in silence.”

Graham snorted out a laugh and leaned back against the sheer rock cliff at their backs. His face grew serious as his meandering gaze settled on the squawking terns, following their slow graceful circles across the cloudless sky. The birds dropped, one by one, in targeted dives into the sparkling waves, then burst back up through the surface with their glistening lunch wiggling in their beaks. Graham reached over and gently squeezed her knee. “Ye ne'er said. Shall we be returnin' to the future tonight? Or will we be staying here 'til the morrow?”

Lilia shrugged. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I guess it doesn't matter. Angus probably wouldn't care either way. He seemed excited to go off exploring on his own. What would you like to do?”

If Graham wanted to stay another day or so, other than the fact they'd run a little skimpy on supplies, it really wouldn't be a problem. All she'd been concerned about when they'd finally agreed on this plan was following Eliza's last wishes.

Hunger burned in Graham's gaze as he slowly trailed a finger down her arm. “If ye wouldna be against the thought, I'd rather we stayed on here a wee bit. Just another day or so, mind ye. We'd be alone—and uninterrupted. If Angus fails t'find whoever ye sensed, the man will find somethin' else t'hunt or fashion a spear for fishin', ye can be sure of that. He'll no' be a bother to us.”

Then his gaze dropped and his brow knitted into a frustrated scowl. Graham pulled his hand away, his mouth twitching into a deeper frown beneath his moustache. “Forgive me,
mo nighean bhan.
Ye must surely think me a selfish man t'hunger for ye whilst yer grievin'.”

Lilia snugged up beside him on the ledge, leaning her head against the hard muscles of his shoulder. “It's okay.”

And it was. Since they'd met, they'd never really been alone—not really. There had always been either friends, phone calls, text messages, or the weight of Eliza's impending passing right there with them. She understood completely what he felt and not just because she was an empath. There was a serene isolation to this place—as though the world had paused in its spinning and told them,
“Tarry awhile. Learn of one another. Breathe.”

“I only wish…” Graham stopped and blew out a heavy breath. He fisted a hand against his chest. “Ye fill my heart, love. My soul is at last sated and I burn wi' the wantin' of ye.” He shook his head. “I canna help m'self,
mo nighean bhan.
I was put here t'be with ye. I can no' imagine life without ye.”

A contented smile warmed Lilia's face. She looped her arm through his and hugged him to her. “I love you too.”

The sun rose high overhead, nearly at its zenith. They were close enough to the glistening sea to hear the waves alternately crashing then shushing against the rocks of the shore below. Lilia shifted sideways and stood. “We need to go now. We're almost there.”

She felt the pull of Eliza's place calling—the large outcropping of stone Eliza had described so many times, Lilia felt as though she'd sat there with her, staring out across the water. Even with the cancer tormenting her with excruciating pain, when Eliza had spoken of where she'd often played as a young girl, her face had lost the deeply etched lines of suffering and illness. She'd smiled as she'd gazed off into space, her weary eyes shining with the memories of her youth.

As they descended the last bit of the incline, Lilia pointed a bit farther down the shoreline. “There. That's Eliza's place.”

Graham nodded as he rested his hands atop the rough staff he'd carved for himself. He leaned forward, propping his chin atop his hands. “Aye. 'Tis a fine place. I feel the peace of it m'self.”

Climbing carefully across the wet boulders, slippery and treacherous with the wearing of the sea and the leavings of seaweed and foam, Lilia wedged her walking stick between her back and the handles of her backpack then stretched with hands, knees, and feet to scale the stair-step layers and wrinkles of Eliza's rock. When she finally stood upon the dry, sun-bleached summit of the flat-topped boulder, the refreshing wind and salt spray greeted her as though they'd been awaiting her arrival.

Love. Gratitude. Joy.
The powerful emotions embraced her, lifted her up, and filled her heart with the certainty that all was as it should be. Eliza was well now—and happy. And Eliza would never really be gone.

“She's here.” Tears welled up, then overflowed and streamed down her face. She closed her eyes and allowed the gentle breeze to kiss them away. “She's here,” she whispered again as she held her arms open wide, her hands lifted to the warm caress of the sun.

Graham gently pulled her backpack away from her body, set it at their feet, and steadied her back against his chest, his arms loosely wrapped about her waist. “Aye, love.” He shifted against her with a deep intake of breath then a satisfied sigh. “Her spirit smiles here.”

It was time. With trembling fingers, Lilia opened the canvas bag at her waist and carefully worked free the wooden box. The rich honey sheen of the oak grain shimmered like gold in the sunlight. How proper and fitting, because Eliza's heart had been pure gold.