Highlander's Magic (Highlander Heat #2)

“He’s determined to kill MacLean.”


“Aye, my brother’s been a thorn in his side for years.”

“But he wants his death.”

Mary’s blue eyes misted. “I understand, even though I’m saddened to say so.”

“Tell me more about MacLean. If I’m to work my magic, I need as much information about him as you can give me.”

“Lachlan was my father’s only son, his heir and successor.” She slid her needle through the shirt, repairing a hole. “My sisters and I adored him, although Lachlan grew up well afore his time since Father passed when he was only fifteen.”

“Are you saying he was still a minor when he had to lead his clan?”

“Aye, but we called him Big Lachlan. Fifteen he may have been, but no one could miss him in a crowd, no’ when he towered over them all. His skills were immense, and he excelled with the sword.”

“What of his mind?” A seagull squawked as it circled overhead. It followed the lad swinging his pail as he dashed back toward the fishermen.

“Naught ever slipped his notice, no’ from the beginning.” She looked skyward with a shake of her head. “He’s a strategist, as Father never was. Father enjoyed his pleasures and burdened our clan with large debts in his five years as chief. Lachlan wars as he does in order to return to our clan all Father lost. The boy I knew disappeared when he became our clan’s chief.”

“I’ve read—I mean, doesn’t he have some redeeming qualities? He can’t be all bad.”

“Aye. He loves his people, except he’s ruthless in his endeavors. I fear these past five years have hardened him beyond reproach. His actions certainly speak so, and there’s nay telling what he’ll do next.”

“What of his family?”

“He wed Lady Margaret, the Earl of Glencairn’s daughter afore our feud began. They have bairns.”

“Which makes him how old?”

“Two and thirty.”

She tapped her fingers on her knees. He was too young to die. Even the turn of the century was too soon. Archie simply couldn’t go after MacLean, a decision her Highlander had already made. She’d definitely need a ton of magic to sort this.

“What worries you, Marie?” Mary tucked a lock of Marie’s blond hair over her shoulder. “You appear so burdened.”

“Fairly much everything, and I miss my sister.” The future existed, and with her here in the past, she could easily alter it if she wasn’t careful. Time to cover her bases. “I need you to do something for me. I can’t afford to mess up whatever magic brought me here, or the fact you bequeathed your amulet to me. I realize you don’t believe I’m from the future, but please, ensure your keepsake is passed down your maternal line, to your eldest daughter and so forth, until it once again comes into the possession of a MacLean.”

“’Tis a special kind of magic belonging to the fae to make such a request.” Mary slowly nodded. “If that is your wish, I shall hold fast to it.”

“I more than wish it.” Good. One problem down. She was glad to have taken care of that necessity. She breathed deep, taking in the heavenly scent of seafood stew wafting along with the salty sea breeze. “Tell me what I can do to help, Mary.”

Giggles floated toward them.

“The midday meal is almost ready.” Mary seized a blanket folded at her feet and spread it out. “Oh, and there are the rest of our helpers.”

Along the path, a group of girls carried the fresh loaves of bread they’d brought on the cart from Dunyvaig.

Mary nodded at the girls as they set the food down. “Go and call the men. The sooner they arrive, the sooner we can all eat.”

After bobbing their heads, they raced off.

“Marie, you slice the bread and pass it out”—Mary pointed to a knife near a stack of bowls—“while I aid the ladies in serving the stew.”

“Will do.” She got to work.

Before long, the men arrived. Serving girls brought flagons of ale from a nearby longhouse and moved through the men as they relaxed on the grass and low boulders.

Weaving among them, Marie offered the bread.

Archie strode in and a serving girl dashed to his side and handed him a bowl of stew. Still he wore no shirt, and the girl tending him ducked her head, her cheeks flushing. He seemed oblivious to it all.

She wound around the others toward him and held out her tray. “Help yourself, but don’t eat it until you’ve put on a shirt.”

“I would but you’re wearing it.” His grin was wide as he swiped a thick slice of bread, dunked it in his stew, and took a hearty bite.

Her belly rumbled as he chewed.

“Have you no’ eaten yet?”

“No, and I won’t until you put on a shirt.”

“This tastes good.” He dipped his bread and held it toward her. “Come, my faerie. Take a bite.”