The Parchment Scroll (22 page)

The pounding of boots sounded and his eyes darted to the sound—which was accompanied by torches blinking in and out as they came toward him.

Duncan and Alex MacLeod, as well as their father and the Fae man surrounded Hugh and Dubh.

“Why is it I’m always bringin’ ye somethin’ ye lost?” Hugh tried to tease, but his smirk faded when he saw the murderous expression on Duncan MacLeod’s face. It wasn’t aimed at him.

“Ye found the halfling,” the man breathed.

“Aye. She…almost killed me.” Four sets of eyes snapped to his face.

“Your aura is clouded by a dark spell. Come, my cousin can cleanse you.” The white-blond man stepped forward, gesturing with the lit torch.

“Ye’d have me inside?” Hugh asked.

“Aye, ye saved my son. Ye brought me tha halfling. I’ve no ill words fer ye, MacDonald.” Duncan met his eye when Hugh dismounted.

Duncan took the Irish lass from his stallion’s back, but didn’t hold her long. The Fae man took her, holding her high against his chest.

The laird shouted for a lad to take Dubh. “Besides, we’ve things ta discuss,” Alex said.

The Fae man muttered something under his breath. When Hugh looked at him again, his eyes were closed, and he was chanting words that sounded Gaelic, but were off somehow.

Hugh could make nothing out. Alarm washed over him, and he tensed.

“Relax,” Alex MacLeod said. “He’s makin’ it so she willna wake.”

“She really almos’ killed ye?” Duncan asked.

Hugh forced a nod. Admitting what happened on the beach should’ve made him feel weak but it didn’t.

“Come, I’ll have my wife fix ye.” The MacLeod laird gestured.

“I’ll take her to the dungeon myself, and seal the locks with a spell,” the Fae man said. “I shall meet you when I’ve finished.” He disappeared in the darkness of the bailey.

“We’ll be in my ledger room,” Alex called.

Hugh looked around the vast great hall as he followed the MacLeod twins and their father inside Dunvegan. His heart sped up and he cursed it. He couldn’t muster the bollocks to ask about Juliette.

The door was wrenched open and Jules popped up, her heart running a mile a minute in the borrowed bed. She’d not been sleeping just yet, but Claire had still startled her. “Jesus! What’s wrong?”

One look at her sister told her there was nothing
wrong.
Not if the grin she was wearing was any indication. “Hugh’s here!”

Her stomach fluttered and she schooled her expression to mask the plummeting feeling seizing her gut. Instinct made her want to shout ‘
so what?’
but she bit it back. It was bad enough she’d been stuck at Dunvegan for three days. She didn’t need to hear his name when she was finally getting somewhere on convincing herself to forget him.

Yeah, that’s working.

It wasn’t like she could get mad at Janet. The brunette beauty had finally delivered a healthy boy, and she and Xander had named him Liam. The birth had been difficult; everyone was exhausted but okay now.

Jules hadn’t had the heart to be a pest begging to get out of Dodge. Seeing the little guy made it worth it, too. Beautiful baby. Dark-haired like his mom, violet eyes like his dad, and no wings after all.

“You scared the shit out of me for that?” Jules barked.

Claire arched one fair eyebrow, resting her hands on her hips. “Right. Like you don’t care.”

“I don’t.” Jules averted her gaze, plucking invisible fuzz off the MacLeod tartan covering her.

The plaid’s the wrong color.

Oh, shut the hell up.

“Bull. Shit.” Her sister crossed the room, her expression about the sternest Jules had ever seen it.

“Oh, hold on to that expression. You’re gonna need it when Lach gets older. Great
mommy
face.”

“Juliette.”

Jules winced, ignoring her baby sister when Claire climbed on the high bed and plopped down. She relaxed into the pillows behind her, resting her head on the carved wooden headboard.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

She cast her eyes to the wide ceiling. “I’m not going through this with you again. Let me get some sleep so I can mentally prepare for the journey tomorrow. In case you don’t remember, traveling through time is a bitch.”

“Hugh. Is. Here.” Claire pinned her with a pointed stare.

“I heard you twice the first time.”

“It’s a sign.”

“A sign of what? That he lives on the island?”

“Jules. Please—”

She growled and met Claire’s green eyes. “Please,
what?
”

“Hugh brought Bridei to us. He told Duncan that she almost killed him with a spell. Alana says it was a spell meant to break every bone in his body.”

“What?” The word was a croak, and Jules shot up in the bed, her pulse pounding in her ears. “Is he okay?” She had to swallow hard—twice.

“You
do
care,” Claire breathed.

“Of course I
care
,” Jules snapped. “I love him.” She winced at her first-class blurt.

Claire grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Is he okay?” It sounded like a demand, but her sister beamed.

“He’s fine. Alana washed the residual magic away with a spell of her own. She said he’s not in harm’s way. She and Xander bound Bridei’s magic and Duncan threw her in the dungeon.”

“Dungeon? Like a real one? Y’all have a dungeon?”

Her sister giggled and nodded. “Aye. It’s dark and smelly and has bars like jail. Only three cells and I don’t venture down there.”

“Jesus.”

Claire laughed again. “You sound like Duncan. Except, of course, for the sexy brogue.”

Jules couldn’t hold back her smile. “Yeah, yeah. Hugh says it all the time. Has that sexy brogue thing going on, too.”

“Actually, he has sexy going on all over. He’s kinda hot, big sis.”

“Claire Grace! You’re a married woman.”

Her sister laughed. “I still have eyes. And I’d never mack on my sister’s man even if I wasn’t married. Just sayin’.”

Jules’ smile faded. “He’s not my man.”

Claire sobered. “Don’t lose him just because you’re stubborn. Don’t go back if you really want to stay.”

“Did he ask about me?” When her sister didn’t answer, Jules crushed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw until her teeth smarted. “That pretty much says it all right there, Claire-bear.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

When she finally had the guts to meet her sister’s eyes, she wanted to cry even more. All she read was concern. Jules couldn’t stand it. She needed anger. It was better. But mustering it was a failure. “Yes, it really does.”

Claire shook her head, and her smile was kind. “He’s a Highlander, Jules. Remember that.
Stubborn
is engrained. As strong as he is physically. Not to mention what he’s been through. Whether he loved her or not, he lost his wife and child. These men protect what is theirs. Always. He didn’t have the control to do so.”

“All you’re doing is highlighting our differences. Everything definitely in the
con
column.”

“Love is the only important
pro
.”

Jules shook her head and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “It would never work. I love my job. I can’t do that here. Being a woman is a con in this century.”

“Doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would,” Claire said softly.

“You have Duncan.”

“You have Hugh.”

She frowned at how fast her sister had countered. “I don’t.”

“You could.”

“You’re killin’ me.”

Claire’s mouth was a hard line. “I won’t apologize. Stop being a dumbass. What do you have to go back to? Need I remind you we have no
family
there? You don’t like your partner even if you love your job. You don’t like your boss all that much either, and you haven’t been in a relationship that mattered since I was a kid. Brent was a dick and you never should’ve married him, so he doesn’t count. You want to walk away from the man you actually fell in love with just because he wasn’t born in the same century you were?”

“Fuck,” Jules whispered.

“I totally could be right now, actually. But I’m sitting here with you.”

She laughed. “Claire. Really?”

Claire smirked. “You just hate that I make sense.”

“I do.”

“Finally. Something that happens to be the truth.”

“Bite me.”

Her sister shook her head, long flaxen locks dancing over her shoulders. “No thanks, not my thing. Look,
he’s
here.
You’re
here. Why don’t you at least talk to him? Tell him how you feel. Find out how
he
feels and if it’s not what you want to hear—which has like nil chance of happening, in my opinion—you can still go in the morning.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You just
won’t.
I never knew you to be a runner. That was always my game, not yours. You always faced the giant alone.”

She closed her eyes again as Claire’s words had sting her sister probably didn’t intend. “I never faced the giant alone. You were always there, no matter what shitty foster family we were living with.”

“But I hid behind you, clinging to your hand.”

Emotion that had nothing to do with her broken heart rolled over Jules and a tear trailed down her cheek. “You were little. You were supposed to.” She forced words out.

Claire threw her arms around her. “You always saved me. Now let
him
save
you
. He loves you, big sister. I just know it. You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

Her voice evaporated as her sister pulled away. Tears coursed down and Jules couldn’t even make her hand move so she could wipe them away.

“Just think about what I said. Oh, and down the hall, toward the stairs. Third door on the right.” Claire popped off the bed, grin back in place.

“Wh-h-hat?” Jules cleared her throat.

“Hugh’s room.”

Her sister was gone before she could shout, “So what?”

“What the hell am I doing?” She winced at the disgust in her tone as she paced the corridor. Claire would have a freaking field day if she knew where Jules was.

Thanks for the tip, lil’ sis.

Not even two minutes had passed after Claire had left her guestroom before Jules had shoved her legs into pants and her arms into a shirt and hurried to the room Hugh had been shown to.

Can you spell pathetic?

Yeah.

It’s five letters and starts with a J.

Her heart rebounded against her ribs, making fun of her as it went for the lay-up. It was bouncing around so much it might as well kick her in the gut on the way, too. Her mouth was a desert with no hope of an oasis.

If she ever got the balls to form a fist and knock, it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t be able to speak to him.

Stop playing coward.

Jules sucked in a breath that only made her throat ache even more, and forced a knock on the door.

She waited…and waited.

She resisted the urge to glue herself to the rough wood, and beg him to open up. Emotion swallowed her whole and made her shake so bad even her teeth rattled.

He’s not coming.

Somehow he knew it was her and didn’t want anything to do with her.

When the door finally opened, Jules had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out. She blinked to clear her vision, cursing her tears to hell and back.

His dark eyes widened and she tried not to fidget as he trailed her frame. “Juliette,” Hugh breathed.

“Hi,” she blurted.

Idiot.

Jules tried not to stare, but he’d answered her knock wearing only what he called
short pants
—closest thing to boxers seventeenth century style, except they were longer, stopping just above the knee. They hugged his muscular thighs. His calves were bare, and she couldn’t help but remember them entwined on that MacDonald tartan on the beach.

The other morning felt like a lifetime ago—in a bad way.

Hugh’s gorgeous chest was on display, and she averted her gaze from his pecs—and banished the memory of his hardness against her softness.

Everything she was screamed for him. To touch him. Kiss him. Be in his arms again.

“I didna think ye’d be here.” The rawness of his voice had Jules’ eyes flying back to his face. She swallowed a whimper. His expression matched his tone, suggesting he gave a damn.

“Are you okay?” Her second blurt of the night had confusion darting across his face.

“Aye. Why wouldna I be?”

“Uh…Claire told me about the spell—”

“Oh.” He gestured with his hand. “I am well.”

“Good.”
I’m not.

They stared at each other and Jules shifted on her bare feet. She’d been in a hurry leaving her room, and the cold stone beneath her was only obvious now.

Hugh’s eyes darted down before meeting her gaze again. “Come in, lass.” He stepped back and put his hand out.

Jules only hesitated for a second, but she couldn’t look at him. She avoided glancing at the large bed too, but she didn’t miss that the covers were turned back.

Great. He’d been sleeping.

She whirled around to see him hovering near the closed door. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Hugh stepped forward, his arms at his sides. “Ye didna.”

“Oh. Good.” Jules rubbed her arm, but the linen of the leine felt rough and uncomfortable. “What are they going to do with Bree?” She rushed her words, still unable to meet his eyes. Claire hadn’t said, and she wanted to know, even if she was currently just trying to divert attention from herself.

“Turn her over ta tha Fae.”

“Really? Wow. What will they do to her?”

He closed the distance between them, reaching for her hand.

Jules couldn’t find it within herself to pull away. A jolt of electricity shot up into her shoulder when their skin met and she almost lost it. Or worse—gave in to the urge to let blurt number three out of her mouth. It played on the tip of her tongue and went something like
I love you
.

“I doona’ know. But ‘tis no’ for ye ta concern yerself abou’.” Hugh’s words were low and not condescending in the least. In his way, he was trying to protect her from horrific things.