Highlander's Kiss (Clan Matheson #1)

“Mother.” She grasped her close, ran her hand over her fair hair pulled back into a long plait and let the tears flow. “I love you.”


“I love you too.” Mother rocked her in her arms, the gentle hum of her aura a sweetly soothing sound she’d known since the day of her birth and that had only ever brought her comfort. “Tor just explained everything to me, that you’re mated to his brother, Tavish, and that you’re here to rescue your father and me.”

“Did Tor explain that they’re from the future?”

“Aye, that your sister is mated to a man named Finlay, who’s from Tor and Tavish’s clan. The ‘power of three’ has been unveiled and Nessa’s prophecy set in motion.” She shook her head as if dazed. “I cannae believe all that has happened while we’ve been gone.”

“What of Father?”

“He’s so sick. A week past, he suffered a nick to his arm from one of the warrior’s blades and the wound festered and a fever rose. It rages strong and willnae abate. I convinced Jeremiah to take me to the healer. He didnae care to lose his prisoner afore the fortnight of time had expired. Jeremiah told us of the MacKenzie’s demand sent to Gilleoin.”

“Tavish is a gifted healer, one they call a doctor in his time. Father couldnae be in better hands once Tavish finds him.” She glanced at Tor. “Tavish said to take us to the hills where we first arrived. He’ll meet us there with Father, the moment they’ve rescued him.”

“Then let’s be away, before the enemy storms this inn.” Tor opened the outside door and gestured them through. “To the stables. We’ll ride.”

She gripped Mother’s hand and tugged her out the door and around the side of the inn to the stables.

Tor halted next to two horses tethered to a post, cupped his palms and tipped his head toward her. “You first, Julia. Speed is of the essence.”

She set her foot in his hold and he hefted her up then aided Mother as she mounted in behind her.

“Hold tight.” With the reins in hand, she slapped her horse’s neck and bolted from the inn, her mother’s arms wrapped firm around her waist. Tor galloped in beside her and they rode up the hilly trail to the crest. “Where’s Father exactly?” she shouted over her shoulder. “I can inform Tavish. We have a merged link of the mind.”

“Your father’s on the upper floor of the main tower.”

“Tavish.”

“Tell me you’re safely away.”

“I am. Father’s being kept on the upper floor of the main tower.”

“We’ve already searched within the dungeons below and we’re heading that way now.”

“Then hurry.” She urged her mount onward and upward, made the top rise and sat high on her stead. MacKenzie’s stronghold sat on the jutting rock at the tip and guardsmen swarmed the battlements. “They know you’re there.”



With Julia’s warning ricocheting through his mind, Tavish negotiated the cramped inner stairwell of the main tower in the near dark, Kirk and Cherub right behind him. The space was tight, designed that way to ensure a man couldn’t swing his sword should the tower be under siege. He made the second landing where a trace of light trickled through the slatted boards covering a narrow window and he nodded at Kirk and Cherub. “Two more floors to go. We’re almost there.”

He scaled the next two flights then halted at the very top, his senses on full alert. The gloomy corridor, this one lit by one single candle in an iron wall sconce, held three cells with wooden doors and a mail-clad warrior standing on guard outside the last one.

As the warrior straightened and glanced their way, Cherub nabbed him and Kirk and swiftly cloaked them.

“Tavish, I’ve got this one,” Kirk whispered.

They crept closer.

A clunk sounded and the guard grabbed his steel helm which now held a dent in the top that matched the length of a blade, Kirk’s blade. The guard’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slithered to the floor, his keys jangling at his side.

“Nice hit,” he slapped Kirk on the back as Cherub released and uncloaked them.

“They drop fast when they don’t see you coming.” Kirk grinned as he tapped the downed man’s steel helm once more with his sword. “The next one’s yours.”

“Thank you.” The urge to fight still flared strongly through him.

“Hopefully there won’t be a ‘next one.’” Cherub lowered to the guard’s side, hauled his keys from his belt and tossed them to Tavish. “Unlock the door and let’s pray there’s a window. I need fresh air in order to work with my element.”

Tavish turned the key and shoved the door open.

A candle flickered on the floor next to a single pallet wedged in the corner. A ratty gray blanket covered the legs of a man who could only be Julia’s father. Aleck Matheson’s arms were outstretched and each of his wrists restrained with cuffs and pulled back against hooks.