Highlander's Kiss (Clan Matheson #1)

The gaping emptiness where his link should be loomed like a black hole. “As soon as you find her, bring her here to me. I won’t be able to focus until I know she’s safe.”


“I shall, the moment I can. Look after my kin.” She stepped back and disappeared within the dark, rushing vortex of time.

The door burst open and Megan and Connor arrived.

He forced his mind back onto the wounded man before him. He had an arrow to remove and a man to keep alive. Julia would be devastated if she lost yet another of her close kin.



Julia’s head throbbed and her belly rolled as she pitched from side to side within the galley’s hull. The boat rocked and dipped. Waves slapped against its sides, the sound pulling her further toward wakefulness.

She opened her eyes and blinked as a new day dawned. Overhead, heavy gray clouds bubbled and brewed, the mass ready to open and spill its load. She touched the back of her aching head and groaned. Nay, she had no time for wallowing. With a wobble, she pushed herself upright and blinked to clear the haze. All around her, MacKenzie warriors rowed from bench seats and her enemy’s flag flapped in the breeze from the center mast. Damn. A whole night must have passed since her capture.

“Tavish?” She searched along their link except there was naught but an endless dark. Their connection had been severed, and only two things could cause that, either his moving beyond her reach, or death. Goodness. Death. She wouldn’t consider such a thing. Oh dear, Matthew. She’d left him on the trail and his death mere moments away. A tear trailed down her cheek, her heart heaving for the gentle man who’d never raised a weapon in battle yet had perished in a war between their clans all the same.

“About time you woke up, lass.” MacKenzie thumped down the center aisle in black boots, his gaze narrowed on her and the jagged scar cutting through his left eyebrow bleeding afresh. Long war braids swayed at each side of his shaggy, brown head. He leaned in and extended his hand to her. “We’re about to make landfall and stretch our legs. You may do so too, but only with a guard watching your every step. Allow me to aid you to your feet.”

“I’ll never accept any aid from you.” She slapped his hand away, gripped the closest seat and hauled herself up. On her feet, she swayed, her violet skirts damp from where she’d been lying in the water slopping about the hull. She rubbed her chilled arms, leaned against the mast and surveyed the seas and coastline surrounding them. “Where exactly are we?”

“At Red Point, and we’re sailing toward Loch Broom.” His dirty aura leeched the blood-red into the fresh sea air and the heavy roar of his aura increased the pounding in her head. She forced her skill to settle until she heard naught but the wind rushing around her and the slap of the oars through the water.

“What’s at Loch Broom?” Loch Broom sat a good day’s journey to the north of Loch Alsh. She rubbed her brow. Scotland’s rugged coastline swept along her right and to her left, the northern-most tip of the Isle of Skye protruded. They’d sailed quite some distance already, any sign of Matheson land well and truly gone.

“Your parents, and by now, Jeremiah as well. After yours and Cherub’s surprise visit to my keep, I sent my son to my holding there with the order to slay Aleck and Adair within the fortnight if I didnae arrive with you.” MacKenzie bellowed to his man at the rudder. “To land we go. Lower the sail.”

Two warriors unraveled the knots securing the great square sail while the warriors rowing, slashed their oars swifter through the water and sent them on a direct course toward Red Point’s rocky tip and sandy shore.

As the galley reached the waist-deep waters, two warriors leapt out, seized the bow and hauled it half onto the reddish-gold sands. Colin MacKenzie caught her elbow and steered her toward the bow as he tossed out orders, “Gordon, keep Mistress Matheson under close watch. She is to be my son’s wife, so guard her well.”

“Aye, Chief.” Gordon bounded onto the beach, turned back and swung her from the galley onto the sand next to him.

She shuddered at the desperately difficult turn of events. “Tavish, where are you?”

No answer, and the quiet rang like a death knell in her ears.





Chapter 11


The surgery to remove the arrow from Matthew had taken slightly longer than Tavish had expected, but it had all gone rather well considering the extent of the man’s injury. The dawn sun rose as he closed up and left Mathew in recovery under Megan and Connor’s expert care.