Sword of the Highlander (2 page)

He crossed his powerful arms across his broad chest. “Aye.”

She had a strange inclination to giggle hysterically, but he looked so serious. If he were delusional, he would be dangerous. “So, do you lead battles too?”

“Aye. But I am loyal to the MacBheatha. He will make a better king than Duncan. Duncan had us near killed at Durham.”

MacBheatha. What was the English translation? She closed her eyes and then snapped them open. MacBeth.

“I must return, lass. The MacBheatha will need me.”

Dear, sweet Lord. Niall MacChumail thought he fought with MacBeth. But…he knew his history. Maybe…maybe he wasn’t an actor. Because, in 1040, MacBeth was about to meet King Duncan at Dunsinane.

He could
not
have come from 1040. Time-travel didn’t happen. Did it?

Two

Niall stared at the slender woman who’d suddenly gone so pale it made her reddish hair look like it was afire. He wasn’t feeling too good himself, if he thought about it. Why was he here? Being a descendent of the Great Féinn, he’d heard countless tales of how his ancestor appeared throughout troubled times in both Eire and Alba history. Legend even said his ancestor was an Immortal. That the magical sword, dipped in faerie blood, kept him so.

He narrowed his eyes. The sword had been missing for centuries. Had it been found? It was the one thing that could have brought him forward in Time. He turned suddenly and stomped toward the wall that held an assortment of swords and knives. Most of them were poorly made and he doubted any would hold up in a real battle. Hearing a noise behind him, he whirled around. The woman had run to the counter and reached for a small, metal object. In three strides he was beside her, his hand closing roughly over hers.

“What is this?” he demanded.

Her eyes, nearly as green as the Eire hills he’d once seen, widened in fright. Loosening his grip, he realized how soft and delicate her fingers were. He could crush them easily, but she didn’t know he wouldn’t hurt a woman. “Ye dinna need to fear me, lass,” he said in a softer voice and pried the object from her hand. “What is this?”

“A cell phone.”

“I dinna ken ‘phone.’” He turned the object over and lifted its lid. Magical light shot out and he almost dropped it. Little numbers appeared in the light and there were buttons below. “Is it a weapon?”

“No. I…I can press numbers and talk to someone who isn’t here.”

“Why would ye…?” Niall stopped as comprehension dawned. “Ye wanted to summon soldiers to help ye? I told ye nae to be afraid of me.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that? You barge in here—I don’t even know how—you fight a battle with empty armor like a madman—”

“Ye think me daft?” he asked incredulously.

She took a deep breath. “I hope not. But I have no other explanation except maybe I’m crazy—daft—too.” She eyed his claymore lying on the floor a few feet away. “That looks real, though, not like one of our replicas.”

“’Tis been bloodied enough in battle.” He dropped the cell phone into his sporran and moved to pick up the sword, swinging it over his head to slide into the scabbard on his back. “But ne’er has it struck a woman. Have ye a name, lass?”

She was eyeing his sporran. A hot jolt shot to his groin and his shaft stirred at her intense scrutiny. But then he realized she wasn’t interested in his assets behind the sporran at all. She wanted that…
cell phone.

Her gaze lifted and she looked into his eyes. “Cassidy Gordan.”

“Are ye of Clan Gordan then? To the southeast of Moray?”

“I was born here, but my great-great grandparents came from Scotland.”

Niall nodded. “Ye are part of us then.” He looked around the room again. “Have ye any other weapons?”

Cassidy’s face became guarded. “Why?”

From her expression, he knew there were, but she was still skittish as a kitten in front of a wolfhound and he had no wish to frighten her further. “Do ye have a sword with a gold handle in which sits a ruby?”

Her eyes widened and shaded to forest green. Niall found himself fascinated. Women’s eyes often darkened like that while he bedded them…and then he chided himself. More like, she was still fearful of him. “If ye have such a sword, my lady, I must see it.”

She glanced quickly at the open back room and then away. “Why would such a sword interest you? Your own is good.”

“Aye, it is. But
this
sword could send me back.” He looked over her head. “Be it in that cabinet there?”

“I can’t let you have it. The man who owns it would be very angry with me.”

“Where is this man? I will make verra sure he understands.”

She shook her head. “He’s out of the country right now. I would have to wait for him to return.”

Niall raised a brow. “Then I guess ye have me for a guest. Do we sleep here? I see nae bed.”

Rosy-pink flushed her face and Niall almost smiled. He loved how fair-skinned women so easily blushed. ‘Twas most becoming. And, now that he thought about it, pleasuring the lass in bed might be the way to persuade her to show him the sword. ‘Twas his duty, after all, to return to the MacBheatha.

He smiled at Cassidy. “'Tis yer choice, lass. Show me the sword or have me spend the night in yer bed. I nae would mind a tumble with ye.”

The blood drained from her face as she stared at him, her pupils dilated to make her eyes look black. Slowly, color returned as she tilted her head to consider him. And then, she laughed.

Frowning, he widened his stance and squared his shoulders. “Ye think I jest?”

“Oh, no,” she managed to say as she slid to the floor amidst uncontrollable bursts of near-hysterical laughter. “It’s just…funny.” And she giggled some more.

It wasn’t quite the response he had hoped for. Was she addle-brained?

~ * ~

Carlotta. It
had
to be Carlotta. Somehow, she had hired an actor… Cassidy really did
not
have a medieval Highlander standing in her store who’d just propositioned her. She glanced up through a curtain of hair. He certainly looked irate…and definitely all alpha male. She hiccupped, her laughter beginning to turn into a sob.

He reached down, his large hands closing on her arms and lifted her up, setting her against the counter. “Are ye ill?”

She shook her head and took a deep breath. As normalcy returned, she became aware of the warm tingle spreading through her from his touch as well as the very real fact that he had her backed up against the counter, trapping her with his body.

“Okay,” she said shakily, “the game is over. Carlotta set me up for this, didn’t she? She doesn’t think I need to be faithful to Aubrey.”

“Who is Aubrey?”

“My fiancé. The man I plan to marry.”

The Highlander stepped back. “Ye are betrothed?”

“Yes. Just a few weeks ago.” Warily, she moved along the counter away from him. “So, you see, I cannot have sex—go to bed—with you. Carlotta loves practical jokes. You know, I almost believed you for a moment earlier. Just tell me the truth and we’ll laugh about all of this.”

“I told ye, lass. I dinna ken any Carlotta.”

A hysterical bubble formed in Cassidy’s throat. “Look. A joke is a joke. You’re a very good actor. Really.”

Niall looked affronted. “Ye think me to be a jester?”

“No!” The thought of this huge, muscle-bound man in striped silk-pantalets with a buffoonish cap on his head almost sent her over the edge again, but the thunderous look on his face sobered her. “You can’t be from the year 1040. It’s not possible.”

He sighed. “I dinna know how it happened. But if ye show me the sword, mayhap I could go back.” His voice softened seductively. “Unlock the cabinet, lass.”

She fingered her jean’s pocket and then dropped her hand quickly, but not before his predatory gaze followed her movement. He looked over the cut of her jeans appreciatively and, for once, Cassidy wished she were wearing a dress. A big, sloppy tent-dress. Her jeans outlined her figure and that fact clearly wasn’t lost on Niall.

“Is the key in that wee pocket?”

Cassidy backed away from him and he took a step toward her. “I can’t let you have the sword. It isn’t mine.”

“Dinna fash.” Niall touched his sporran. “I have coin enough to pay.” He moved closer and held out his hand. “Give me the key.”

“No.” She took two more steps back and bumped into the wall by the door jam.

Niall smiled and moved with feline speed, blocking her before she could get through the door. “Ye have one last chance to give me the key, lass, or I take it.”

She could feel his body heat and his scent filled her nostrils. She tried to duck under his arm, but he caught her, spinning her around, pressing her up against him and then she felt his hand, sliding down her belly. She tried to push him away, but might as well have tried to move a brick wall.

His breath was soft and hot in her ear. “Dinna struggle so. I willna hurt ye.” His fingers slid into her pocket and pulled out the key. “I seek only this.”

Niall moved away so abruptly that Cassidy actually felt cold. Then she scurried after him, but he was already opening the cabinet.

He laid the box on the table and lifted out the sword as though it weighed no more than a child’s plastic one. He held it up to the light, the ruby catching fire like the rays of a sunset and then he lowered it, his fingers tracing the runes along the handle.

“
Mac an Luinne
,” he whispered reverently. “Ye have been found.”

“What did you call it?” Cassidy asked.

“’Tis its name.” Niall let his fingertips trace along the blade. “Do ye truly not ken what ye have here?”

Cassidy shook her head. “The sword only arrived this afternoon.” Then, her curiosity and love of history overcame her need for caution, at least for the moment. “I know the sword of the Great Féinn was supposedly magical, but what do you know about it?”

“The MacChumail was the son of the Fianna leader, his
maithar
the daughter of a druid. When he was still a wee lad, his da was killed and he swore revenge, but the soldiers laughed and wouldna follow him. He spent many years training in the secrecy of the forests of Kintyre under the warrior woman, Liath.”

“Someone like the Celtic queen, Boudicca?” Cassidy’s interest was totally engaged.

Niall shrugged. “Mayhap they were one and the same. Sithee, while hunting one day, a faerie came upon him and led him to her da, a smith, who was working a sword from a stone that fell from the sky. The metal was lighter and shinier than iron and the MacChumail wanted it.”

“And of course, her father gave it to him because it was his destiny?”

“Nae. The smith planned to sell it to the high king, but the faerie fancied herself in love with MacChumail, so she stole it. The old mon placed a spell on it, though, that cursed anyone who tried to steal it. As she was about to bestow the wondrous gift, she tripped and fell upon the sword. With her dying breath, she told the MacChumail her faerie blood would make the sword always strike true.” Niall stopped and smiled at Cassidy. “And that is how MacChumail became the Great Féinn.”

“Fascinating. These myths and legends always are. This story is as good as the Lady of the Lake handing Excalibur to King Arthur!”

Niall gave her a strange look. “Ye would be wise not to mock the gods of auld.” He opened his sporran and laid a handful of gold coins on the table. “These should pay for the sword. ‘Tis sorry I am I canna stay, but the MacBheatha will be waiting.”

He stepped away from her and gripped the sword with both hands, raising it high as he closed his eyes. He muttered something in Gaelic that sounded like a prayer and then, in a voice that made Cassidy envision him as the warrior on the hill once more:

“To Alba,
Mac an Luinne
.”

For a moment, white crystals shimmered around him and he began to fade. Cassidy held her breath. Was she really going to see someone leap through Time? No one would ever believe her. Worse, she would probably be committed to a psychiatric hospital if she told anyone.

The air sparkled as his shape wavered and then, just as suddenly, the light was gone. Niall opened his eyes.

Cassidy smiled uneasily. “You’re still here,” she said.

Three

By the time they’d walked the few blocks to a rather shabby-looking bungalow that Cassidy called home, Niall was becoming accustomed to the noise and fast pace of the things called ‘cars,’ but he didn’t like them.

Cassidy smiled as she pushed open the rickety gate in front of the small house. “Just wait until you see the cable cars and trolleys tomorrow when we go to Union Square,” she said.

“Why do ye want to go there?” he asked and then added, “Whatever it be.”

“It’s where we can shop for clothes for you.”