Page 14 of Crazy About Jill (Highland Berserkers #1)

CHAPTER 14

J ill hurried down the hallway, knocking on her brothers' bedroom doors. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and anxiety fluttered in her chest. How exactly did one prepare breakfast for six medieval warriors?

"William! Joe! Breakfast duty!" she called. She pushed open William's door first, the hinges creaking in protest.

William emerged from his blankets, hair disheveled. "Already?" he mumbled, squinting.

"Dad invited the Highlanders for breakfast. These guys are used to hard physical labor. A couple of toaster pastries aren't going to cut it."

In Joe's room, enthusiasm greeted her instead of drowsiness. "They're coming for breakfast? Awesome!" Joe was already pulling on a shirt. "Do you think they'll show me how to sword fight?"

"Let's just focus on feeding them first," Jill cautioned.

The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs, and her stomach growled. In the kitchen, their father stood at the stove, a content smile on his face. Jill reached past him to turn down the burner.

"Morning, kids," he greeted, his eyes bright. "Hope you're ready for an interesting day."

There was something different about him today—an unmistakable lightness, his Scottish accent flowing more naturally as if being himself fully for the first time in years.

"Feeding an army?" Jill quipped, eyeing the ingredients piled on the counter.

Joe elbowed her. "If you'd traveled through time a thousand years, you'd be hungry too."

"They're berserkers, Joe," William muttered, shuffling into the kitchen. "Not exactly the kind of guys you want to mess with."

"They're men," their father corrected gently. "Lost and far from home. Not so different from what I once was."

A movement outside caught Jill's eye. In the yard stood six men, examining various aspects of the farm with obvious curiosity. Her pulse quickened at the sight of Alasdair, whose presence seemed to anchor the others even as they explored.

When breakfast was ready, Jill stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The berserkers turned, their faces a mix of wariness and interest. Alasdair called out to his men in Gaelic, his deep voice carrying across the yard.

"A-mhàin bidh cùirteis, mo bhràithrean," he instructed. Be courteous, my brothers.

As Alasdair approached, Jill's breath caught. The morning sunlight illuminated him in a way the dim evening light hadn't allowed yesterday. His dark hair was still slightly damp from the shower, his green eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

Without thinking, she reached up to straighten his awkwardly folded collar. The moment her fingertips touched his skin, she felt a jolt of electricity. Alasdair went completely still, his eyes widening.

"Sorry," she murmured, quickly withdrawing her hand. "Your collar was—it doesn't matter."

She gestured toward the house. "Biadh," she said carefully in Gaelic. Food. "Food. Come eat."

Alasdair nodded, a small smile playing at his mouth. "Tapadh leat," he replied. Thank you.

Inside, William and Joe had composed themselves, William setting out plates while Joe poured coffee. The kitchen suddenly felt very small with the presence of these men from another time.

"Boys," Conall greeted. "I believe you met my sons last night, but in proper light—this is William and Joe. And you've met my daughter, Jill."

As they settled at the long table, Jill's mind raced through everything she'd learned about medieval Scottish hospitality. "Fàilte gu ar dachaigh," she said. Welcome to our home.

Surprise flickered across Alasdair's face before he responded, "Tapadh leat airson d' fhàilteachas." Thank you for your hospitality.

The berserkers handled modern utensils with determined focus, occasionally glancing at the Greenwoods for guidance. Macrath eyed the syrup with suspicion, while Fergus enthusiastically drizzled it over his pancakes.

"Sweet as honey, but thinner," Alasdair observed, clearly enjoying the taste.

"The syrup comes from maple trees," Jill explained. "We tap the trees in early spring. It takes about forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup."

Fergus looked up with interest. "Ye harvest from the trees without harming them?"

"Exactly. The tree naturally heals afterward."

The conversation began to flow, awkwardness giving way to interest. Joe ventured his first question. "What's the coolest thing you've seen so far in our time?"

"The shower," Cillian answered without hesitation. "Water hot as ye please, whenever ye want it."

"Aye," Macrath agreed, surprising everyone. "Though these 'pancakes' might be a close second." He had somehow stacked five on his plate.

"The lights," Tavish added thoughtfully. "Fire tamed and contained, without smoke or danger."

William, initially reserved, began asking practical questions about swordcraft and armor, while Joe demonstrated how to pour syrup. Even Macrath relaxed, his gruff exterior softening as he reached for seconds.

"So let me get this straight," William said. "You guys were betrayed, poisoned, thrown into a magical vortex, and ended up here?"

“Aye, that’s the truth of it," Alasdair replied, his eyes revealing a depth of pain his light tone couldn't disguise.

Jill's chest tightened. What must it be like to lose everything—your home, your time, your entire world? A pang of worry flickered through her, remembering the Brollachan was still out there somewhere.

When Jill rose to refill the coffee pot, she stumbled slightly, her hand brushing against Alasdair's shoulder. Their eyes met, and for a breathless moment, everything else faded away.

As forks scraped against empty plates, Jill realized this was just the beginning. Whatever challenges lay ahead, this moment felt like the start of something extraordinary.

"Well," Conall said, rising, "there's work to be done. The lavender won't harvest itself."

"We're ready to earn our keep," Alasdair replied. "Just tell us what needs doing."

Jill stepped forward. "I can show them the fields, Dad. Explain the harvesting process."

Her father nodded approvingly. "Good idea. No one knows more about proper harvesting techniques than you do."

As they filed out, Jill caught her father's knowing smile. She watched Alasdair waiting for her by the door, his eyes never leaving hers.

"This is going to be interesting," she murmured to herself. Interesting indeed.