Kate looked at the shopping bags they'd amassed in a short period of time and shrugged. "I inherited money from both my parents. And I make more than enough at my job. It's something I want to do for him." How could she begin to explain the connection she felt to Darach in such a short period of time when she didn't quite understand it herself? "I want to make this a special time for him."
Hamish looked at her and offered a crooked smile but said nothing as they walked out of the store. A coffee shop beckoned from next door.
"How about a coffee before we call it a day?" Kate suggested.
"Sure, I could go for a biscotti too," Hamish said, already opening the door.
They entered and Kate inhaled the fragrant blends. She seriously thought she might be addicted to the stuff. Forget the biscotti, she wanted a cup of java. They ordered and settled at a small corner table.
She took a couple of fortifying sips and finally found the nerve to ask the question that had nagged at her throughout the morning. "Hamish?"
"Yes?" He glanced up from dunking the biscotti in his coffee.
"Did you die atDrumossie that day?"
"Nay." His soft answer was almost lost in the quiet jazz piped in as background music and the other conversations around them. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a minute or two. Kate let the silence stretch between them. "I was wounded and had taken refuge at a farmer's croft. The British hunted me down, me and others like me. They lined us up against a wall and shot us."
Kate had read the accounts but to hear it first-hand...her stomach plummeted. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I asked. I'm sure it's not something you care to remember."
He munched another bite of the coffee-soaked cookie. "It's okay. I've died many times before in many places. It's not my death that's difficult. Dying is much easier than watching those you love die and being powerless to help them."
Part of her wanted to know about Darach, wanted to ask about his death. Another part of her couldn't bring herself to because hearing it via a first-hand account made it real. Besides, Hamish had just said it was difficult to watch friends die, how could she possibly ask him about....
"You want to know about Darach?"
She smoothed a crumb off the table. "Yes. No. I don't know. Okay. If it's not too painful for you to talk about, I suppose I'd rather know than not know."
"We went into battle together. Darach knew it was a useless endeavor. We'd marched all night. We were weary and outnumbered. He tried to persuade our regiment leader to allow the men to rest. But Charles had already made up his mind that we'd fight that day. So wescrugged our bonnets, checked our pistols and fought like madmen. It took six dragoons to bring him down. Many more than that fell before his sword." Even now, nearly three centuries later, his voice rang with pride in the fight DarachMacTavish had fought.
"Did he just go down injured? Maybe if there was medical attention...."
"No." Hamish caught her hand in his, something akin to pity shadowing his eyes. "There was nothing to be done, Kate. They cut his head off."
Kate was glad he held her hand in his, otherwise she wasn't sure she could've contained the anguish that welled inside her. Her head swam, feeling very light, dizzy. She leaned forward and shoved her head between her knees, dragging in deep breaths. When she no longer felt as if she might pass out at the table, she slowly sat up.
Hamish waited calmly until she raised her head.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You've nothing to be sorry for. It's difficult to hear news of someone you love dying violently. But you need to remember, he may not be able to change a major historical event, but he can change his own outcome. He need not die atDrumossie ."
Kate had been attracted to Darach, well, to his portrait, for months. But once she'd met him she'd discovered he was more than just a wickedly sexy Highlander. He was a man of integrity, strength, power coupled with tenderness and compassion.
Now she wasn't sure which surprised her the most, to discover she was in love with a man she'd only just met and who belonged in the eighteenth century, or that he didn't necessarily have to die.
DARACH PUT ASIDEKate's laptop and stood, stretching his muscles. 'Twas a grim account indeed. As Katie had relayed, it hadn't simply been an end to his life, it had marked the end to Scotland's clans.
He'd found answers to many of the questions he'd posed to Katie, yet he was no closer to knowing how to change the course of history.
Years of being chieftain had taught him a valuable lesson. Often the harder you looked at a problem, the more the answer hid.
When would Katie be home? He was glad she'd left. What he'd read...the end of not just his life but a way of life as he knew it...he was glad she'd left him to his own company. But now he missed her. Missed her laughter, her smile, the sound of her voice, the sparkle and intelligence in her green eyes.
He walked to the window, where sunlight poured in and pooled on the wooden floor. He looked out on the city that was her world. Buildings loomed near and in the far distance. Katie lived in a land of castles. 'Twas an odd thought that Hamish now lived, quite happily it would seem, in this land as well.
By rights he should feel at odds here, but strangely he didn't. Mayhap because this was Katie's home and he was surrounded by her things and her scent. Was it possible he'd only met her a few days ago?
As if his thoughts had conjured her, her key scraped in the lock. He crossed the room as she came through the door. She carried several parcels in both hands. As if she'd done it countless times before, she toed the door closed behind her.
"Hello." Her smile greeted him and suddenly his heart felt lighter, the day brighter.
"What have you got there? Did you leave wares for anyone else?"
"Believe it or not, I managed to leave a couple of things for other people. Do you know who all of this is for?" She fair danced from one foot to the other, reminding him of a small child atMichaelmas . "You."
"Me?" Darach didn't try to mask his surprise. "Why would you buy me gifts?"
"Because you'll go stir-crazy if you have to stay in my condo for two weeks." She placed the packages on the floor, tugging on his plaid as she straightened up. "As handsome as you are in your kilt, you'll draw too much attention that way and as great as that suit that Hamish bought looks on you, I thought you might want something more comfortable. I called Hamish, he met me, and we picked up a couple of things for you."
Something warm and wonderful bloomed inside him that she'd take her time to do that for him. He caught her up to him. "You're a daft lass, Katie-love."
"Humph. So far I'm daft, lusty, and clever. You're painting quite a picture,MacTavish ."
He framed her face with his hands. "Aye, 'tis a lovely picture. 'Twas my lucky day when you wanted me so much you jumped into a portrait to get into my bed."
"Get it straight, you egomaniac. I didn't jump. I was pushed. Shoved, no less."
Aye, he liked teasing her. "It matters not whether you were a tad clumsy or Hamish a tad overzealous, 'twas all to my good fortune." He kissed the spot just below her ear and she quivered beneath his lips.
"You know, for a barbarian, you have quite a sweet way with words." She linked her arms about his waist, caressing the naked flesh of his back. An aching need blossomed inside him. Would he ever get his fill of this woman? Would he ever know a time when her touch, her scent didn't awaken his hunger for her?
"And for a lusty, clever, daft wench, I am thinking you are wearing too many clothes." He tugged her shirt out of her waistband while he sampled the sweetness of her neck.
"Exactly what did you have in mind, Highlander?"
Without forethought, he knew exactly what he wanted.
"I want to make love to you there, where the sun slants in through the window. I want to lay with you in the warmth of the sun." He skimmed his hand over her flaxen curls. "I want to see the sunlight in your hair-" he shadowed her cheek with his fingertips and down to the length of her neck "-and across your bare skin." Want and need imbued his voice with a hoarseness. "I want to see your face when you find your pleasure with me."
Katie brushed her lips across his chest and a thrill coursed through him. "I think that can be arranged."
KATE STRETCHED LIKE Alazy cat where she lay on the floor in the sun's warmth. She propped on one arm and looked down at Darach on his back, one arm thrown over his face, his breath still uneven. The sun glinted off his hair, as blue-black as a raven's wing. A smattering of dark hair and corded muscles covered his chest, belly and thighs. His erection, spent but still at half-mast, lay thick and heavy against his thigh.
Dear God, she loved him. Not simply for the breadth of his shoulders or the handsome cragginess of his face or even the sex that was like nothing she'd experienced before. She also loved him for his arrogance, the tenderness he hid beneath his fierce exterior, his unswerving devotion to his people, his playfulness. He was as much an overachiever as she was, and while she might not appreciate the resulting actions, such as tying her to his bed, she understood his motivation.
As if aware of her silent study, he lowered his arm and looked at her. His dark hooded eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Fine lines bracketed the corner of his eyes.
Kate reached out and traced a lazy pattern through the swirls of black hair, down the muscled plane of his belly with one finger, compelled to touch him, to mark the moment as real and because she felt slightly empty with him no longer inside her.
"I have to work tomorrow," she said, lamenting aloud.
She loved her job. She ate, slept, breathed her job. But for the first time ever she wasn't looking forward to going in and dealing with the non-stop pace of one of Atlanta's busiestERs . She very selfishly wanted to spend every minute of the next two weeks with Darach before they made the trip from Atlanta to the exhibit's new opening in New York City. She'd look at the schedule and see if she could manage to take off an extra day. Of course,Torri would know exactly why and gleefully tell all. And what difference would that make? Kate was in good standing. She needn't worry if she manipulated an extra day or two off.
"'Tis to be expected." Still flat on his back, he pulled her over to rest against his chest, his arm about her shoulders. Once upon a time she might've been self-conscious about laying on the floor naked, warmed by a shaft of sunlight, the scent of their recent lovemaking clinging to them like a bewitching perfume. Now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. "Tell me about your job," he said.
She didn't get the impression he asked out of politeness. She didn't think polite registered high on his list. If he asked, he really wanted to know.
Crossing her arms on his broad chest, she rested her chin on top of her hands. He was good sprawling material. "It's hectic and fast-paced. I work 12-hour shifts, rotating days and nights. We have to be prepared for anything and we get a little bit of everything-gunshot wounds, stabbings, abdominal pain, broken bones, burns, domestic abuse-"
"What is that?"
"When someone in a household, usually a husband or a boyfriend, beats up on someone else, usually a woman." She watched him, gauging his reaction. He was, after all, a man who lived in a time when women were chattel and a man's power absolute. Even with her limited background in history she knew that.
A dark frown furrowed his brow. "Aye. There are men who would strike a woman. I have no tolerance for that and I do not allow it in my clan. 'Tis bad practice. 'Tis a man's duty to protect what is his."
Kudos to him on the first point, that he didn't tolerate wife beating among his people. His second point left her wincing. He was obsessive about his role of protector.
"Luckily we don't see very many domestic-abuse cases."
He brushed his big hand over her hip and her skin tingled at the contact. "Could I come with you one day and observe what you do?" he asked.
Kate found his interest in her job immensely flattering. "No. I'm afraid the only way you could actually see me at work was to come in with an emergency problem and we'd rather not go there. But there's a television program that comes fairly close to what it's like. I'll pick up a season of it and we can watch the DVD."
"I would like that." His hand traveled up her back as if he too was driven to touch her. "I'd like to see what you do."
"We can pick it up today. I thought we'd visit the library and the bookstore this afternoon. We can pick up books on Scottish history and...the battle."
"That is a perfect plan."
"You read on-line?"
"I did." He closed his eyes briefly, as if to shut out what he'd read, his pain nearly palpable. "'Twas a dark day for my people."
"I know." She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to read about the destruction of so many he knew and loved and had sworn to protect. To see his way of life reduced to a few sad sentences in a history book. She curved the back of her hand against his cheek, offering her understanding and support. "Did you find anything useful in coming up with an alternative?"
His jaw tightened and beneath her his heart beat more rapidly. "The hardest part is I don't exactly know what I am looking for. It could be anything or...it could be nothing. Mayhap there is no clue." For a moment his eyes, mired in ineffable sorrow, looked old beyond his years. "Mayhap there is no changing the fate of the clanMacTavish ."
She protested instinctively. "I can't believe that. I won't believe that. I refuse to believe I took that journey only to hand you a death sentence."
"Mayhap not." Resolution replaced sorrow. "That is why I will continue to search."
She knew him well enough to know he'd move heaven and earth to find a way to save his people, his instinct to protect was so strong. But it wasn't a role he'd been born to, not as the third son. All her life she'd wanted to be a doctor. What had he dreamed of when he was young, before life had thrust him into the dual roles of avenger and protector? "Darach, when you were young, you had two older brothers who were both in line ahead of you to be laird. Before...that day, what did you want to do? What did you want to be when you grew up?"
"'Twas a long time ago..." He stared at the ceiling but she doubted if he even saw the pipes running along the beams.
"Yes?" she prompted.
"When I was a lad I wanted to be a poet."
Although she smiled, inside Kate's heart wept for the boy who wanted to write poetry but instead took up arms.
DARACH SET ASIDEthe leather-bound journal Katie had surprised him with the day after he'd confessed his boyhood dream of being a poet.
The last four days had taken on a most pleasant rhythm. He missed Katie when she was away, as if a part of him had gone missing.
Yet it was as if he'd discovered new parts of himself in the meantime. He'd discovered a deep and abiding love of history and poetry. He filled his days reading numerous volumes of history, most enjoying the accounts of the Scottish Enlightenment, a period that had immediately followed his death. He read everything he could find by Hume and Smith and the poetsMacpherson , the ill-fatedChatterton , Robert Burns, and Sir Walter Scott.
'Twas as if drenching rains had begun to fill an empty well inside him. In the solitude of the days and nights when Katie was gone he began to fill empty pages with his own poems that seemed to pour forth from him.
He levered himself out of the green chair. He wanted to surprise her. He checked the stainless steel clock mounted on the kitchen wall.
Aye. He'd lost himself in his journal and fanciful thoughts. He'd hurry or he'd be out of time. He loaded a DianaKrall CD in the player-absolutely mind-boggling technology-and got busy in the kitchen.
In a very short period of time he'd developed a weakness for CNN news, jazz vocals, the Fulton County Public library, and double lattes. Likewise, he'd discovered he couldn't abide traffic, soap operas, or fast food.
Hamish had spent a couple of afternoons with him while Katie was at work. The first day Hamish had Darach's picture taken. Yesterday he'd presented Darach with a passport for their upcoming air travel to New York-he'd actually fly likeIcarus . Katie had suggested they not question Hamish's connections or methods.
Darach shook his head as he thought of Hamish'sidiosyncrisies . Hamish definitely had a weakness for shopping which he, Darach couldn't quite grasp. God's tooth, the man spent an inordinate amount of time and money orderingstuff from the shopping network which Darach found vastly amusing considering that Hamish, of all people, should realize he couldn't take it with him.
Darach pulled out the pans and organized them according to the recipe instructions he'd printed off the Internet. He mixed and measured and thought of Kate.
He had a passion for history and poetry and he'd enjoyed getting to know Hamish in a different time and place, but his favorite time was that he spent with Katie. It mattered not whether they were out and about in the city taking in a movie or another marvel, or whether they were lying about in her home talking.
They talked for hours on end about everything, her about growing up without her father, him about growing up without his mother, books, music. She loved science, he loved history, but still they found an interest in the other's opinion.
And the lovemaking, the intimacy of being with her, was beyond what he'd ever imagined it would be. Holding her when she went to sleep at night. Waking up with her leg thrown across his, her hair standing on her head at odd angles, the sleepy way she smiled her pleasure at him with the dawn of each day. With each day, each hour, each passing glance, each caress, she became more precious to him.
And like a spell cast by an enchantress, the days had flown by with no answer for his past making itself known to him. Instead each day seemed to issue louder the siren's call to leave the past where it lay and make this his future.
And what if Katie was pregnant? What if even now, their bairn grew inside her? If that were the case, would he have the strength to leave her, leave their child and return to his past? Even without a child, how was he to bear leaving this woman who'd come to be as essential to him as the very air he breathed?
He put the thought from his mind and got on with preparing her special meal. The timer had just gone off when she walked through the door.
"Honey, I'm home. What the-?"
Darach glanced around. "I cooked dinner for you. The kitchen is a bit of a mess." He looked at the pots and pans littering the stove and counter and sink. How exactly had things gotten to be such a mess? He'd used every pan in her kitchen. He winced. "Aye. 'Tis more than a mess. I've created a disaster."
"You cooked dinner for me?"
Mayhap she wasn't too upset about his messy kitchen? "Aye. You said last night that meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans and peach cobbler always reminded you of your mother and made you feel safe."
She looked from him to the disaster of a kitchen and back. "The laird ofGlenagan , chieftain of the clan MacTavish cooked my favorite dinner for me because it makes me feel safe?" Tears swam in the green pools of her eyes and his heart clenched.
He gathered her to him and held her close. "Nay, love. Don't cry. 'Twas meant to make you feel good."
She laughed and dashed away the tears. "I'm crying because I do feel good you crazy Scot."
Time was fleeting and they had but few days together. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to tell her what was in his heart, the heart he'd thought long dead until her. He knew she had regard for him, but it mattered not if she felt the same, he still felt compelled to tell her how he felt. "Did you but know it, I would crawl to Hades and back for you. I never knew I could love anyone the way I love you Katie Wexford." He'd not thought his heart could feel any fuller, but saying the words aloud made him feel..."I love you, you daft, crazy, lusty wench."