Tempting the Highlander (Pine Creek Highlanders #4)

Chapter Ten

C atherine woke up to the sound of whispering coming from the kitchen. She squinted at the clock by her bed and saw it was only four o’clock, still hours before sunrise.

She heard a soft, feminine giggle and quickly looked over to see that Nora was still in bed, still sound asleep.

So who was in the kitchen? She recognized Robbie’s voice, low and even-toned, whispering something about a she-devil, which was quickly followed by another quiet giggle.

Robbie had snuck a woman into the house!

Catherine could smell coffee. He’d made a pot of coffee, and now they were sharing a cup before he snuck her back out.

Of all the nerve. It was one thing to have a girlfriend, but to bring her home with four teenage boys sleeping just down the hall was irresponsible.

So, the condoms were his. The man had a lot of brass to ask his housekeeper to buy his birth control and then use it in the bedroom right above hers. The more she thought about Robbie’s indiscretion, the madder Catherine got. She was not living with, or working for, someone who didn’t have the decency to keep his love life private.

Catherine slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her children, and quietly tiptoed to the door. She pulled her robe off the back of it, shrugged it on, and cracked the door open just enough to peek in the kitchen.

The woman was sitting on his lap. And she was smiling up at Robbie MacBain as if he hung the moon.

Catherine frowned. She looked like a teenager, or maybe early twenties at best. She had thick, beautiful red hair that fell in tight waves down to her waist, a sprinkling of freckles across her porcelain button nose, huge baby-blue eyes that shone like sapphires, and a figure that would make a dead man groan.

Robbie had one arm wrapped protectively around her, his other hand resting on her knee as he leaned down to look her in the eyes and whisper something. He gently lifted his hand, cupped her hair, and kissed the top of her head.

The girl buried her face in Robbie’s broad chest, snuggling closer as he continued to whisper, his lips moving against her hair. He stroked down the length of her arm, his broad, powerful hand a salacious contrast to her tiny, feminine body.

Catherine closed the door and leaned against the wall beside it, covering her burning cheeks with her hands and shutting her eyes on a sigh.

“FOUR PLAY.” How perfect for a cradle-robbing womanizer. And how bold of him to advertise his favorite indoor sport to the public.

Catherine sighed again, loosening the front of her robe and fanning it to cool her body. Was she any better than that babe in the kitchen? Hadn’t she gotten all google-eyed when she had spent almost an hour cleaning and stitching him up? And didn’t she forget to breathe whenever he got close?

Darn it. This was not decent. There were young children in the house, four impressionable teens, and an outraged mother. No wonder the man had gone through three housekeepers. He was about to lose his fourth!

Catherine straightened away from the door, tightened the belt on her robe, opened the bedroom door, and boldly walked into the kitchen.

The girl didn’t even have the decency to get up but turned her smile on Catherine from the security of Robbie’s lap. Robbie MacBain didn’t move, either. But his eyes did widen when they landed on Catherine’s angry face, and he broke into an amused grin.

“You must be Cat,” the girl said to Catherine before turning to Robbie. “You’re right, she does look like she can handle the hoodlums.”

Catherine simply stared at her, nonplussed.

“And I’m thinking she’s about to handle us,” Robbie said with a chuckle, finally standing up and setting the woman on her feet. His arm still around her, he turned toward Catherine. “Cat, I’d like you to meet Winter MacKeage, my cousin. Winter, this is Catherine Daniels, the answer to my prayers.”

Catherine couldn’t even work up the sense to respond. His cousin? This tiny jewel of a girl was Robbie’s cousin?

They didn’t look at all related. Winter MacKeage barely came up to his chest, her eyes were a crystalline blue to his pewter gray, her hair was flaming red, and her delicate neck was tinier than Robbie’s wrist. For as rugged and intrinsically male as Robbie MacBain was, Winter MacKeage was utterly feminine, right down to her dainty socked feet.

“Winter came here looking for sympathy,” Robbie said to Catherine, his eyes still laughing. “Her cat died.”

If she didn’t gather her wits and say something soon, Winter MacKeage was going to think she was an idiot. “I—I’m sorry,” Catherine whispered. “It’s hard to lose a pet.”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Hessa was nineteen and should have died years ago.” He looked down at Winter. “Pure crankiness kept that ornery she-devil alive this long.”

Catherine gasped, and Winter pinched Robbie’s forearm and stepped away from him. “Hessa was not a devil,” Winter said, crossing her arms under her breasts and glaring up at him. “And you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Ah…how come I didn’t hear you knock?” Catherine asked, thinking to change the subject before their conversation turned into a fistfight.

Winter turned to her. “I didn’t want to wake anyone, so I threw pebbles at Robbie’s window.”

“More like rocks, you mean,” Robbie said with a snort. “I think you cracked the glass.”

Things were going from bad to worse. The two cousins were squared off against each other, Winter looking as if she wanted to smack Robbie, and Robbie’s eyes narrowed in laughter.

Catherine walked around the table and grabbed the frying pan out of the oven. “I’ll make us some breakfast,” she said, “while you tell me about Hessa, Winter.” She stopped and gave her a warm smile, deciding that if Robbie wouldn’t give his cousin any sympathy, then she would.

Winter sat down at the table, wrapped her hands around her cup of coffee, and sighed. “She was a birthday present when I turned three,” Winter told her. “From Robbie,” she said, lifting her chin and glaring at her cousin again.

Robbie held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t know that innocent-looking kitten was the spawn of the devil.”

“Hessa was a good cat. She only liked biting you to get a reaction.” Winter broke into a grin of her own. “She especially liked to hide when you came over and pounce on your toes because she knew you could never catch her.”

“I’m still having a hard time catching cats,” he said softly, glancing at Catherine, his eyes crinkling at her blush.

“How did she die?” Catherine asked, looking at Winter.

Winter looked from her to Robbie, then back at her, a speculative gleam in her eye. “In her sleep,” she said. “I woke up and found her snuggled against me in the middle of the night, appearing peaceful but very, very still. I think her heart simply stopped beating.”

Robbie walked over to Winter, lifted her chin with his finger, and smiled down at her. “There’s no greater blessing than dying happy, baby girl,” he said gently. “Celebrate your nineteen years of friendship.”

“Aye,” Winter whispered, turning her cheek into his palm. “I am. I just wanted you to be the first to know about Hessa.”

Robbie leaned down and kissed her head, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Don’t worry about breakfast for us, Cat. I’m going to walk Winter home, get Hessa, and take them up the mountain to bury our old friend.”

Catherine had a hard time swallowing the lump in her throat. This powerful, towering giant really did have a heart. And what Robbie had said to her last night, about watching over his entire family—she was seeing the proof that he hadn’t been boasting. Winter had come here first, needing his comfort and getting it.

And then it dawned on her what Robbie had said, and she shot a startled look at Winter. “Walk you home?” she repeated. “You walked here through the woods in the dark? All by yourself?”

Winter stepped into her boots with a laugh and pulled her coat from the pegs. “Of course,” she said. “I’m more at home in the woods than at Gu Bràth.”

“Gu Bràth?”

“That’s my home,” Winter explained, pointing out the porch door window. “At the ski resort. It’s a replica of a huge Scottish keep, made with stone from the mountain.” She stepped closer and took hold of Catherine’s hand. “You must come over for tea, and I’ll give you a tour.”

Catherine nodded, returning Winter’s contagious smile. “I’d like that very much.”

Winter nodded back. “And I’ll be your first friend in Pine Creek,” she announced. She leaned forward. “Do you want me to bring you a stout stick from the forest?” she whispered.

“Thank you, I think I would like to have one,” Catherine returned just as softly.

Winter stepped away with a laugh, opened the door, and walked onto the porch. “Good-bye,” she said. “I’ll be back later this week to show you the way to my house. Come on, Robbie, I want to be on the summit by sunrise,” she finished as she ran off the porch and disappeared into the darkness.

“You have a naughty mind, Catherine Daniels,” Robbie said, stopping in the doorway.

“For wanting a stout stick?”

“Nay. For that look on your face when you came striding out of the bedroom.”

“I…it was…I—”

He let out a bark of laughter, lightly tapped the tip of her nose with his finger, and quickly turned and disappeared into the darkness behind his cousin.

Catherine closed the door and stared through the window, her hand on her nose where he’d touched her.

Complete and utter chaos ruled the kitchen, and Catherine couldn’t do a darn thing about it. First she’d ruined a batch of muffins, then two dozen biscuits. Now she was cooking the old standby of eggs and toast, but even the toast was scorched.

It was all Robbie’s fault, of course. Oh, she knew his game. The man was methodically trying to tear down her defenses. Darn it, it had been a simple, fleeting touch on her nose. An unthreatening action, not even sexual in nature but a brotherly thing to do.

But if that wasn’t enough to start her day off with a bang, now she was standing in the middle of a kitchen full of hungry young men and two wide-eyed children who had just been told they were going to school today.

“Mommy, what if my teacher’s a man?” Nora whispered to Catherine’s shirt sleeve—a sleeve the girl had wiped her nose on three times already this morning. Catherine looked at the dry eggs, at the boys waiting for breakfast, then down at Nora. But Gunter, bless his intuitive soul, came to her rescue.

“All the teachers at your school are women,” he promised, carrying Nora to the table and setting her down in his lap. “And you’ll meet new friends. Some pretty little girls like yourself, who would love to have you for a pal. You went to school in Arkansas, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t you have fun? It’s more fun than hanging around this old farmhouse all day.”

“But who will help Mommy?” Nora frowned at Gunter. “She has to make a lot of food for you guys. She told me so. And she needs my help.”

Catherine smiled. Her poor daughter had washed potatoes, standing on a chair at the sink, until she had decided that she was going to be a nurse when she grew up and not a housekeeper.

“I want you to do something for me today,” Gunter told Nora. “I want you to come home after school and tell me the names of four new friends. And one of those friends has got to be a boy.”

“A boy!”

“Uh-huh,” Gunter said with a nod. “Boys make good friends. I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Nora returned, smiling now. “And I will. I’ll tell you the names tonight.”

“Good girl. Now, eat your breakfast so you won’t be late.”

“I can’t find my book bag,” Peter cried, frantically pawing through the group of them stashed by the door.

“It’s under the table,” Catherine calmly told him.

“Aw, hell. My favorite shirt’s got a tear in it,” Rick said with a groan. “And I don’t have any clean ones.”

“Yes, you do. They’re on hangers in the laundry room,” Catherine calmly told him.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s right. I forgot I left them there.”

“Mom, can I wear my boots to school?” Nathan asked, his mouth full of toast and peanut butter.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Catherine turned a motherly frown on her son. Those boots were rubber mud boots, and he was not wearing them to school. She told him so with her eyes.

He answered by shoving the rest of his toast in his mouth.

Despite her reservations, Catherine was taking Robbie’s advice and becoming committed. She would deal with Ron if he found her, and she would deal with these pesky womanly urges churning inside her. And maybe—just maybe—the next time he got too close, she would tap Robbie MacBain on the tip of his nose.

Robbie found two of his fingers being held by a tiny hand that had the grip of a quarterback. He and Nora were walking through the elementary school, just behind Nathan and Catherine, who was having to push the boy the whole way down the hall. Principal Dobbs was leading the procession, pointing out all the interesting artwork on the walls.

“You’ll like Mrs. Jones, Nathan. She does a lot of projects and is always taking her class on field trips. Third grade is such an exciting year,” Mrs. Dobbs continued, oblivious to the tension following her.

Robbie didn’t know who was more nervous, Nathan, Nora, Cat, or himself. He had promised to keep them safe, but could he really do that when they were at school? He’d talked to the principal, told her a little about the situation, and the woman and her staff would be on the lookout for Ron Daniels.

But Catherine’s claim that her ex-husband could find them through a paper trail made Robbie curious. He was going to have to use a few of his old military contacts to learn more about Ronald Daniels, so he would know exactly what he was up against if the bastard suddenly showed up in Pine Creek.

They came to Nathan’s room, introductions were made, and after a rather lengthy, shaky good-bye, they headed to Nora’s classroom.

Nora’s grip tightened on Robbie’s fingers, and he squeezed her back reassuringly, surprised that the little girl had taken his hand at all. Truth told, this was one situation he felt a little unsure of. He’d never been a frightened little girl, so he was simply letting his gut be his guide—and taking some cues from Cat, who had also been surprised when her daughter had taken his hand.

“Nora, this is Mrs. Peters,” Cat said, squatting down in front of her. “And she’s going to introduce you to your new classmates. So try to have some fun today, sweetie,” she softly crooned. “And remember to learn those names for Gunter. He expects to hear them tonight.”

“One boy,” Nora reminded her, nodding her head and slowly letting go of Robbie’s hand. The young girl finally peeked into her classroom. “Oh, Mommy, look! It’s just like back home. And they got a snake!”

Well, that was that, Robbie discovered. Snakes, apparently, were just the thing. Nora forgot all about being scared, and she forgot all about waiting for her teacher to introduce her. She ran into the room and right up to the startled young boy who was watching the snake.

“Hi. My name’s Nora. What’s yours?”

Robbie would have burst out laughing, except that Catherine was looking so lost, he merely tucked his hands behind his back and rubbed together the two fingers Nora had been holding.

He wanted to take Cat by the arm and lead her away, since it appeared she was going to plant herself here for the day, but he wasn’t up to causing a scene in the hall. So, smiling at Mrs. Peters and nodding at the principal, Robbie gently urged his housekeeper out the side door of the school.

“Can you get back in through that door?” Cat asked, eyeing it.

Robbie tried the knob. “No, why?”

“Just checking. Schools are supposed to keep all the doors locked except the one at the office, so strangers can’t come in during the day.”

“Cat, they’ll be safe here. The principal and staff won’t let anyone take them from school except you or me.”

She looked up, startled. “What did you tell them?”

“You’re not the first divorced mother they’ve seen, Catherine. For a noncustody parent to take any child, they need written permission from the custodial parent. Unfortunately, custody battles are not exactly an uncommon occurrence today.”

“Oh. I see. Yes. I know Nora and Nathan will be fine. And—and thank you for coming with me today. I think I’ll just go do some shopping before I head home.”

Robbie lifted a brow. “And just how are you planning on getting back? We rode in together, remember?”

“I’ll run.”

“From town?”

“You said it’s only six miles.”

He looked down at her clothes. “You’re not dressed for that kind of running.”

“Yes, I am,” she told him, moving her jacket aside and peeling back the waist of her pants. “I’m wearing running shorts under my jeans.”

“Cat,” Robbie said softly. “You can’t hang around town just to be near your kids.”

She immediately ducked her head, which told Robbie his guess had been right on the mark.

“But I still want to run back.” The smile she gave him was rather provoking. “I might even beat you home.”

“Do you carry mace?”

“What?”

“Do you usually carry protection when you run?”

“No.”

“Are you crazy?”

She widened her smile. “I can outrun just about anyone. If someone bothers me, I’ll just head for the woods.”

Well, okay. She had a point there. But he was still going to pick her up a canister of mace, one with a clip, so she could clip it to her waistband.

“So you’ll run straight home? You won’t get lost?”

“Now who’s being a worry wart?” she teased, walking over to the truck.

And that was when Robbie’s jaw dropped—right along with her pants. She shed her jacket, boldly unfastened her jeans, kicked off her shoes, and stripped down to her bare legs. She tossed the jeans and shoes in the truck, then pulled out her backpack, found her running shoes, and—dammit to hell!—bent over to put them on.

Holy mother of God! Those shorts were barely legal when she bent over! To hell with the mace, Robbie decided, wiping a shaky hand over his face. He was buying the lady a gun.

No, that would pull her shorts down!

Guessing she was only about half a mile from home and feeling that she’d managed to run off most of her anxiety over being separated from her children, Catherine slowed from a steady jog down to a walk. She set her hands on her hips, panting to cool her body, and smiled at the feel of her pounding heart and quivering muscles. It felt good to be running again, not from someone but toward something.

She had entered two marathons and over a dozen five-mile races in the last three years, even winning four of them. She was quite fast over short distances, but the twenty-six-mile marathons had nearly killed her.

But what hadn’t killed her had only made her stronger, she decided, watching her huffing breath puff ahead of her in the crisp spring air as she looked around. She liked this part of the country, she suddenly decided. It was rugged and stunningly beautiful, with its granite cliffs, towering spruce and pine trees, and misty-topped mountains.

It was also a six-mile uphill run from town.

Catherine finally caught sight of the driveway to her new home, not because she spotted the mailbox but because Robbie MacBain, mounted on horseback, was waiting at the end of it.

Had he truly been worried about her?

He’d certainly been startled when she had stripped off her jeans. The guy had looked positively dumbstruck, though Catherine wasn’t sure if it had been because she was going running or because he’d just discovered she had legs.

“I’m impressed,” he said as she approached. “You made good time, especially considering it’s all uphill.”

Catherine pulled her ponytail free and worked her fingers through her hair to reshape it, tying it back off her heated neck. “I hope there’s plenty of hot water, because I’m going to need a thirty-minute shower. I’m out of shape.”

“Really?” he hummed, turning his horse to walk beside her up the driveway. “I hadn’t noticed. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“For the most part,” she told him, looking up with a frown. “All except for those darn logging trucks. They kept blowing their air horns at me. There’s no reason they can’t share the road.”

He muttered something she couldn’t make out as he twisted in his saddle, pulled a jacket off the back, and tossed it down to her. “Why don’t you put this on?” he suggested. “Before you catch a chill.”

Catherine set the heavy wool coat over her shoulders, noticing that it came down to her knees. “Are you going back up the mountain to visit the priest?” she asked, nodding at his horse.

“Aye. That’s why I waited for you. To tell you I won’t be home tonight.”

“All night?”

“Aye. Daar’s not feeling well, and I thought I should stay with him. I’ll be back shortly after sunrise, though. Do you have a problem dealing with the boys on your own this evening?”

“No,” she said as she climbed the porch stairs. She stepped over to the porch rail and turned to him. “How do I get Nathan and Nora from school?”

“Take my truck. The keys are in it.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid your car can’t be saved, Cat. The engine seized. We could put in a new one, but that would only be throwing good money after bad. You should be able to get two hundred dollars for it, though, from the scrap yard.”

Catherine sighed, took off the coat he’d lent her, and held it over the rail to him. “I was afraid of that. Thank you for bringing it back. Ah, can you take the cost of the towing out of my pay?”

He urged his horse up to the rail and took the coat from her. “It didn’t cost us anything and was a good exercise for the boys.”

“Then I’ll thank them tonight by making a special dessert.”

“You’ll save me some?”

Catherine canted her head. “You have a bad sugar addiction, Mr. MacBain. Have you spoken to a doctor about it?”

He leaned over in his saddle, getting quite close, and Catherine forced herself to stand firm and not back away. And if he tapped her on the nose again, by God, she was going to tap him back.

“There are worse vices, Cat,” he said softly.

She was disappointed when he straightened away from her. Darn it. Just when she’d worked up the nerve, too.

“My father’s number is by the phone. His name is Michael. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call him, okay?”

Catherine nodded.

“My foreman’s name is Harley. His number is also posted. But Gunter can deal with him for you.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Catherine said, thinking of how the young man had distracted Nora this morning.

“Aye. If only he’d come to that conclusion himself,” Robbie said as his horse fidgeted away. “I’ll be back shortly after sunrise,” he added, giving the horse its head and breaking into a canter toward the woods. “Sleep well tonight, Cat,” he called over his shoulder.

And just like that, he was gone. Catherine stood at the rail, staring at the woods where he’d disappeared, and rubbed her right index finger against her thumb. What would he have done if she’d tapped his nose? Probably fallen off his horse!

But how would he have taken her gesture? As a pass? An invitation for something more? Maybe a kiss?

Oh, what would it be like to be kissed by Robbie MacBain?

She remembered Winter sitting in his lap this morning. The young woman had looked comfortable. Protected. Cherished.

Catherine knew all men were not like Ron Daniels. Some of them were actually nice.

Was Robbie MacBain?