Tempting the Highlander (Pine Creek Highlanders #4)

Chapter Seventeen

I t was Friday afternoon, Mary was perched on the front porch railing watching Robbie give Catherine her lesson in stick fighting, and Catherine was trying to knock her sweet-kissing boss’s head off again.

But Robbie wasn’t letting himself get distracted today, and Catherine was only beating herself up. She’d lost her grip on the stick twice already, and once it had hit the ground and bounced back up and smacked her in the thigh. Then, not five minutes later, she’d tripped over her own feet and ended up with a mouthful of dead grass.

Not even trying to stifle his laughter, Robbie had picked her up and given her another lecture on physics.

But for the last twenty minutes, Catherine had noticed him checking his watch, and she even managed to catch the edge of his foot with her stick because he had glanced toward TarStone.

Darn it. He was going back up there! And he would come limping home tomorrow morning all beat up again.

“That’s enough for me,” she said, leaning against her stick and brushing her hair out of her face. “I feel as if I’ve run a marathon.”

Robbie straightened from his crouched position. “But it was just starting to get fun,” he said, breaking into a wide grin. “It’s not every day I get to watch someone beat themselves up.”

“Which is why we’re stopping,” she said, walking toward the house. “I’m not providing entertainment for you and your bird.”

Robbie fell into step beside her. “Mary wasn’t laughing at you. She was cheering you on.”

Catherine glanced at the bird. She had hopped down off the rail and was standing at the kitchen door, waiting for them to open it for her. Robbie held the door, and Catherine followed the owl inside. She went over and leaned her stick next to the clock as Mary flew up to her rocking-chair perch.

Catherine turned to Robbie. “Do you want me to pack you some food?”

“What for?”

“To take with you. You’re going back up the mountain this afternoon, aren’t you?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and faced her. “You’re very perceptive.”

“No, I’m angry. You’ll come dragging in here tomorrow morning, looking like hell, and expect me to patch you up again.”

“Aye,” he said, walking to her. “And you’ll do it, won’t you?” he whispered. “Because, like me, you have no choice.” He ran a finger down the side of her face. “We each do what’s required of us, little Cat. I must go up the mountain, and you must let me. And tomorrow morning, if I do come dragging in, you’ll take care of me, not ask any questions, and not tell my family. That’s how trust works. I trust you to be here when I come back, and you trust that I will come back.”

“Maybe,” she hissed, stepping away from him. “Maybe you’ll come back, and maybe I’ll be here.”

He lowered his hand and crossed his arms over his chest, saying nothing, just staring at her with his dark, penetrating eyes.

Catherine turned, walked into her bedroom, and softly shut the door. She leaned against it and closed her eyes with a disheartened sigh.

Why did she care so much? What should it matter to her that Robbie MacBain was a stubborn idiot? If the man wanted to go get himself beat up, she had no right to stop him.

But what in heck was he doing up on that mountain?

Catherine pushed away from the door, went to her closet, and found her backpack. She stuffed it with a heavy sweater, an extra pair of socks, her hat and mittens, a flashlight, and the small utility knife she’d carried from Arkansas.

People do what is required of them, he had told her. Well, by God, she was required to watch Robbie’s back, since he didn’t seem capable of doing it himself.

Because that’s how trust works, darn it.

Catherine set her loaded pack by the door, then went over to the bureau and started brushing out her hair as she thought about how she was going to follow him up the mountain.

The boys could watch Nathan and Nora, she decided. They could take them to the ice cream shop tonight, just as they’d planned, and babysit them for the evening. Yeah. The six of them would be perfectly fine, and she’d be back before they woke up tomorrow morning.

Catherine waited another ten minutes, until she heard the porch door bang shut. She opened her bedroom door, peeked in the kitchen, then walked over to the sink window just in time to see Robbie go into the barn.

Mary was sitting on one of the paddock fence rails.

Catherine looked at the clock. It was almost two; Nora and Nathan’s bus would be here soon, and the boys should be home at about the same time.

Catherine kept herself busy, adding some herbs to the stew she had cooking in the huge crockpot and finishing a salad to put in the fridge, all the time watching out the window.

Robbie finally came out of the barn, leading his horse, and stopped and looked toward the house. Catherine started for the door but stopped and stood at the window until he finally mounted up. But again, he waited another minute, staring toward the house, before turning his horse toward the pasture.

Catherine ran out the door and down the porch stairs. “Robbie!”

He stopped, and she ran up and touched his knee. “You…you be careful,” she whispered.

He dropped the reins, leaned down, grabbed her under the arms, and lifted her onto his lap before she could gasp.

He held her in a fierce embrace. “Aye, little Cat,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “I will. And I’ll try very hard to make this my last trip.” He tipped her face up to his. “Thank you for not letting me leave with anger between us. That’s a bad habit to get into.”

“So is sewing you back up.”

He ran his hand over her hair until he came to the cloth-covered band she used to tie it back. He worked it off, freeing her hair to fall down to her shoulders.

“It’s tradition that a knight going into battle carries a token from his lady,” he told her, tucking the band inside his jacket, in his shirt pocket. “Will you give me a kiss as well, if I promise to be back just after sunrise?”

“I’d prefer to give you a gun,” she said, reaching her arms around his neck. “So you won’t have to get close enough to need stitches again.”

“Aye. But where’s the sport in that?” he whispered, leaning down to capture her mouth as she reached up to kiss him.

Their meeting was gentle, more sweet than needy. Catherine savored the soft, warm taste of his lips, only to realize that kissing Robbie MacBain was becoming as much of a habit as sewing him up was.

But oh, what a pleasant habit.

The man felt like granite covered with flannel, as solid as a mountain cloaked in sensuous heat. She tightened her arms around his neck, canting her head to get more of his taste, pressing her breasts against him until she could feel the strong beat of his heart.

It was happening again, the magic of his touch wooing her into wanting more. It had been years since she’d truly thought to want a man, to feel her fingers dig into hard, warm flesh and make him respond. Catherine’s insides clenched as images danced through her mind of them naked, in bed, exploring each other’s body.

He broke the kiss and tucked her head under his chin, holding her tightly as he took a shuddering breath. “Aye,” he whispered. “This is much better than leaving with anger between us.” He kissed the top of her head. “But as I’m tempted to stay and see just how brave you’ve become, little Cat, I have to go now.”

He lifted her chin and gave her another quick, chaste kiss, then slowly pulled her arms from around his neck, lifted her off his lap, and stood her back on the ground.

“If you have any problems with the boys or anything else you can’t handle, call my father,” he told her. “And if it should happen that I’m not back by noon tomorrow, tell him to go find the priest.”

He leaned down and covered her mouth with his finger before she could speak. “Don’t worry, Catherine. I will be back.” He straightened, gave her a sassy wink, and spurred his horse toward the pasture. “Sleep well, little Cat,” he called over his shoulder with a wave.

Mary lifted off the fence rail and followed.

Catherine stood staring after them, her finger covering her lips where his had been, the breeze blowing her loose hair across her face.

How foolishly romantic that he wanted to take a token from her into battle. How…how crazy. The guy spoke of duty and calling and ancient traditions, and owned a sword and dressed in a Scottish plaid. Either Robbie MacBain was weird, or she was, because she was beginning to accept his strange behavior as almost normal.

It certainly didn’t stop her from wanting to kiss him.

But that didn’t mean her trust was blind. Robbie finally rode out of sight, and Catherine ran into the barn and down the length of the aisle, looking in each of the stalls.

One stall door had a note pinned to it, for Davis, the man who came every morning and evening to tend the horses, that said the horse in this stall, named Boots, had a loose shoe.

Catherine moved on to the next stall and found the horse Gunter had been riding the night she’d been rescued off the mountain. The plate on the door said his name was Sprocket.

She hooked Sprocket in the cross-ties, went into the tack room, chose one of the saddles, pulled Sprocket’s bridle off the peg, and headed back down the aisle.

In ten minutes, Catherine had him saddled up. She ran to the house, got her backpack, brought it out and tied it to the saddle. She was doing a final check of her equipment when she heard the boys arrive home.

She ran out to greet them just as the school bus stopped at the end of the driveway.

“Gunter,” she called as the four boys started down the driveway to meet Nathan and Nora.

Gunter walked back to her while the others continued on.

“Can you watch Nathan and Nora for me tonight?” she asked when he stopped in front of her. “I’m going out for the evening and wondered if you could babysit.”

“Out?” he asked, clearly surprised. “Where?”

“Ah…I’m going up to the old cabin where you found us,” she told him, waving toward TarStone.

That surprised him even more. “What for?”

“For a night off,” she said, realizing she hadn’t completely thought out her excuse. “I…ah…I asked Robbie if I could use the cabin. I’m bringing a book to read as a little vacation from cooking and cleaning.”

Gunter frowned. “But why the cabin? It’s a drafty old place, and you shouldn’t be up there alone.” He suddenly stiffened and got the strangest look in his eye, turning toward Robbie’s Suburban and then looking back at her. “Where’s the boss man?”

“Ah…he’s gone out for the night. That’s why I need you to watch the kids. They can get themselves ready for bed, if I’m not back in time. And you can still take them out for ice cream tonight. I left some money on the table.”

That strange look turned into a gleam, and Gunter canted his head at her. “O-kay,” he said slowly, breaking into a smile. “We’ll watch Nathan and Nora. You just go on up to the cabin, and don’t worry about anything here. We’ll take good care of the squirts.”

“And you’ll all stay out of trouble,” Catherine added, fighting the blush she felt rising up her neck. Lord, Gunter thought she was going to meet Robbie!

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Gunter assured her, walking with her to meet her children.

“Mommy, Cody told me Gunter’s going to teach him how to defend himself,” Nathan said, leaving Cody behind to run up to her. “Can I learn, too?”

Catherine looked at Gunter, only to have the young man shrug in response and tuck his hands in his pockets. She looked back at her son. “Gunter’s going to wait until Mr. MacBain gives his approval first, Nathan,” she said, ruffling his hair.

“When are we going for ice cream, Mommy?” Nora asked. “Now?”

“No, sweetie. After supper,” Catherine told her, squatting down to her level. “And Gunter and the boys are going to babysit you guys tonight,” she added. She looked over to include Nathan. “So I want you to be good for them and do what they tell you.”

“But where are you going?” Nathan asked.

“Up to the cabin we stayed at. I probably won’t be back by the time you go to bed, but I’ll be right here in the morning when you wake up.”

Nora clutched Catherine’s hand. “I want to go with you.”

“No, sweetie. I’ll just be sitting around and reading the whole time. It wouldn’t be any fun for you. Certainly not as much fun as going for ice cream and hanging out with the boys for the evening.”

Nathan tugged on Nora’s sleeve to get her attention. “Come on, sis. It’ll be fun,” he told her, obviously eager to be rid of his mother and be one of the boys. “Remember when Rita used to babysit us? We made popcorn and always got to stay up late.”

Gunter reached down and swept Nora into his arms. “We’ll rent a movie,” he offered. “Ever see The Little Mermaid?”

Peter’s groan quickly turned into a smile when Gunter glared at him over Nora’s shoulder. “I love The Little Mermaid,” Peter gritted through clenched teeth.

Catherine straightened and started to the house. “Supper’s in the crockpot, and there’s salad in the fridge. Nora, you can sleep in Nathan’s room tonight, if you don’t want to go to bed alone in our room.”

“Yeah, squirt,” Rick interjected, holding the door open as Gunter carried Nora inside. “I’ll make the popcorn.”

Nora was suddenly done with her worry. “I like it with lots of melted butter,” she told Rick over Gunter’s shoulder, smiling now. She looked at her mom. “I’m gonna sleep upstairs with the big kids,” she proclaimed.

And that was that, Catherine realized. These four hoodlums, as everyone kept wrongly calling them, were more than mere guardian angels—they were miracle workers. Her babies were turning into happy children right before her eyes.

Catherine slipped into her jacket, went to the clock and grabbed her stick, and headed toward the door. “I’ll be here to cook breakfast,” she told them, stopping and then walking back to Gunter. She leaned up and kissed Nora on the cheek. “You be a good girl,” she whispered before going over to Nathan. She gave her son a kiss on the cheek, despite his obvious embarrassment at being kissed in front of the boys. “You be good, too,” she told him, heading for the door.

Gunter set Nora down and followed Catherine out to the barn. “You’re riding up?” he asked.

Catherine slid her stick into the rifle sheath on the saddle, unhooked Sprocket, and led him out of the barn. “I’m certainly not walking,” she told him.

“Are you an experienced rider?”

Catherine mounted up and smiled down at him. “Careful, Gunter. You’re beginning to sound like an old mother hen. I’ve been riding since I could walk. I grew up on a ranch in Idaho.”

Gunter chuckled. “When you see the boss, tell him he needs to come to school tomorrow and sign a progress report for my work-study class, would you?”

“You’ll probably see him before I will.”

“Yeah, right. I forgot,” he chuckled, turning toward the house and waving over his shoulder. “You’re going up to the cabin to read. See you tomorrow.”

Catherine opened her mouth to say something but sighed instead and urged her horse toward the pasture. Some things just weren’t worth arguing over. She spurred Sprocket into a trot, following the fence line, and finally entered the woods, keeping her eyes on the tracks in the muddy trail.

But not far into the woods, the tracks veered to the right, up a tote road that led across the mountain instead of toward the summit.

Robbie was headed to the ski resort?

Once on the tote road, Catherine moved Sprocket into a slow canter, trying to make up for the time she’d lost. She rode for about ten minutes but pulled to a stop at the sound of voices.

Darn it, he was heading back toward her. And he had someone with him.

Catherine scrambled off the tote road and into the thick forest, urging Sprocket down a steep knoll to hide behind a large boulder. She waited, breath suspended, as Robbie came riding by with a man mounted up behind him, and she immediately recognized Ian MacKeage’s voice.

“Will Daar be at the summit?” Ian asked.

“Aye,” Robbie said. “But he’ll be of little help. Have you noticed how smooth his cane has become lately?”

“I did notice that,” Ian agreed. “When he came to supper last night. Grey noticed, too, and seemed pleased. What if Grey hears the storm? He’ll know, won’t he? It’s a sound none of us can ever forget.”

“Aye. But there will be nothing he can do by the time he realizes what’s happening. And tomorrow I’ll call a meeting of both clans and explain that…”

Darn. They had moved too far away for Catherine to hear what Robbie was going to explain to the clans. What clans? Was he talking about the MacKeages and his father’s family?

Why was he taking Ian up the mountain, especially if whatever he did up there was so dangerous?

Catherine waited another minute or so, then slowly inched Sprocket out of their hiding place, thankful the horse hadn’t nickered to its stable mate when Robbie rode past. Returning to the tote road, Catherine kept her pace to a walk, stopping whenever she came to a straight section so they wouldn’t see her if either of them happened to look back.

What storm had Ian been talking about? She had heard a loud crack of thunder the morning she’d found Robbie, and the night before, just around sunset, she’d heard the same sound. But there hadn’t been any clouds or rain. Could it have been a gunshot? It had sounded more like a cannon, though, loud and powerful enough to shake the mountain.

Catherine tried to shrug off the nagging voice in her head that kept saying curiosity had killed the cat. She was just worried about Robbie, is all. She wasn’t being curious, she decided, but watching his back.

She and Sprocket slowly rose in elevation, following the winding path up through the dense forest, and Catherine had to keep reining in her horse, who kept trying to catch up to his stable mate.

The trees became shorter and more gnarled the closer they got to the summit, until Catherine had to stop for fear of being seen. She took off Sprocket’s bridle and tied him to one of the trees by his halter, leaving the rope long enough for him to graze. She slid her stick out of the rifle sheath and continued after Robbie and Ian on foot, keeping hidden behind the short trees and large boulders, until they finally stopped.

She continued up and to the side, making her way to a ledge just above them, and lay down on her stomach and watched. They’d dismounted, and Ian was taking off his jacket and unwrapping a length of cloth from around his waist.

It was the same pattern as one of Robbie’s plaids.

Daar came trudging up to them from the opposite direction. “Ya better have given yar word to Robbie,” the priest said, waggling his finger as he approached Ian. “Ya mess things up, and there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I won’t mess anything up, old man,” Ian muttered, turning his back on the priest and unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve given Robbie my word.”

Both Ian and Robbie were taking off their clothes!

Robbie suddenly stopped and looked up. Catherine flattened herself to the ground and held her breath, not daring to move again until she heard Robbie speak.

“We only have a few minutes to sunset,” he said. “Do you still want to do this, Uncle?” he asked, his voice more tender than questioning.

Catherine lifted her head and peered down, thoroughly confused. Sunset…sunset, she repeated to herself, looking off to the southwest. The bottom of the sun was nearly touching the horizon. She looked back at the men and saw Ian, completely naked now, wrapping the plaid around himself with sure, deft movements, as if he’d done it a thousand times.

Robbie was also totally, beautifully naked and was wrapping a plaid around himself that was the same color as the one Ian was wearing. Both men secured the cloths with wide leather belts, and Catherine saw Ian tuck a small dagger—similar to the one Robbie had shown her—into a sheath on his belt.

Robbie reached down to one of his discarded boots, pulled his own dagger out, and tucked it in his belt, then picked up his sword and the second, different-colored plaid she’d washed and mended over a week ago.

What in heck were they doing? Was this some sort of ritual that Scotsmen did at sunset in the spring? Was it something for Ian, maybe, relating to his age?

What in heck was going on?

Father Daar looked at the sun, which was already halfway hidden behind the horizon now, and turned and pointed his cane at Robbie and Ian. “Ya must go,” he said.

Catherine inched forward to the edge of the cliff just as Robbie settled his sheathed sword over his shoulders. He then wrapped his arms around Ian and curtly nod to the priest.

Father Daar held his cane up, and the wood appeared to glow as the last rays of sunlight touched it. A harsh wind suddenly rose with a howling scream, and dark, boiling clouds swept down from the summit.

“Lend me yar own power, MacBain!” Daar shouted, lowering his cane to point at Robbie and Ian. “Godspeed to the two of ya!”

Catherine used one hand to protect her face from the wind and blinding light, leaning further over the ledge to see a storm of crackling, sparking clouds tighten around Robbie and Ian.

A loud, piercing shriek came from above her, and Catherine rolled over, holding up her stick to ward off Mary’s sharp talons. The owl dove toward her, snatching at Catherine’s coat sleeve just as Robbie shouted.

No, not shouted. The man roared!

Catherine twisted and clawed at the moss-covered ledge, but the wind and Mary and her momentum made it impossible for her to hold on. She suddenly felt nothing but air beneath her, then hit the ground so hard, it knocked the breath—and a startled scream right out of her.

Hard, powerful hands picked her up, and Robbie again roared over the howl of the roiling tempest. “Dammit, Cat!” he shouted, pulling her tightly against his chest, squishing her against Ian, and wrapping his arms around them both. “Hold on to my belt!”

She struggled against him, only wanting to get away from the violently raging storm and these crazy men as fast as she could. The air sizzled and popped and crackled around them, and the ground pitched and rolled with rumbling shudders.

Robbie’s arms tightened until it felt as if her bones were being crushed. “Too late!” he growled next to her ear, covering her head as the fierce wind sucked the air from her lungs. “You’re coming with us!”