Page 31 of Crazy About Jill (Highland Berserkers #1)

CHAPTER 31

T he scent of lavender hit Jill full force the moment she stepped out of the SUV, sunlight bouncing off the colorful tents lining the grassy fields of the Sequim Lavender Festival. Children's laughter bubbled near bounce houses, and the gentle strumming of a folk band drifted through the air like music caught on the breeze.

This annual tradition had always been a highlight of her summer calendar—a chance to showcase her mother's handmade soaps and connect with the local community. But this year was decidedly different. She took a deep breath, excitement bubbling inside her.

This year, they'd decided to skip the family booth—too much work with her mother still regaining her strength—and let the other artisans take center stage. Sales were doing well enough online now anyway.

Jill spotted her parents strolling hand-in-hand near the festival's heart, Dad carrying a tote bag while Sarah, wearing a sun hat, leaned lightly against him, laughing at something he said. They moved slowly, but with an ease that hadn’t been there months ago. Friends paused to greet them, faces brightening at the sight of Sarah out and about. Her mother's color was good, her smile easy, and the sight filled Jill with a fierce, aching kind of hope. Maybe healing wasn’t just a wish. Maybe it was real.

She tucked the feeling close as she turned back to her own small chaos—six towering men climbing out of the SUV behind her.

Jill had helped them modify their ancient garb into something a little more modern—cleaned woolen tunics, tartan wraps, dark boots, and crisp button-down shirts to pass as dramatic visitors from Scotland. The effect was striking: part warrior, part model, all impossible to ignore.

Pride fluttered in her chest as she watched Alasdair organize his brothers with quiet authority, ensuring they stayed together while taking in the new surroundings. There was something undeniably impressive about him—the natural leadership, the dignified bearing, the way his eyes constantly scanned for potential threats before allowing his brothers to relax.

The morning's conversation with her father echoed in her mind. For men like Alasdair, there was no such thing as casual dating. Was that what made him different from the men she'd known? The certainty of his intentions, the clarity of his purpose?

"Come on," she said, grinning at Alasdair. "You're going to love this."

Alasdair straightened his shoulders, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "Lead on, lass," he replied, his Scottish accent rolling the words melodically.

It was adorable how they strode across the lot like they owned it, drawing curious stares with every move. They didn't look like tourists or lost travelers. They looked like they'd just stepped out of a Celtic wedding catalog shoot.

They hadn't made it ten feet before Lachlan let out a booming laugh that startled a trio of younger women selling lavender soaps. The women glanced up, their eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of the towering Scotsmen.

"Sorry about my friend here," Jill said, striding forward with an easy smile. "They're visiting from Scotland. First time at an American festival."

"We don't mind at all," one of the women replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she smiled shyly at Lachlan. "Not even a little bit."

Lachlan bowed slightly, his cheeks flushing as he attempted a modern greeting. "A pleasure, lasses."

Jill bit back a laugh as she noticed how the brothers straightened their postures, suddenly very aware of the female attention. These men might be fierce warriors, but they turned surprisingly bashful around pretty women—a charming contradiction she hadn't expected.

Turning around, she saw Fergus eyeing an ice cream vendor with curious interest rather than suspicion. His expression was that of a man facing a new adventure.

"Lavender-flavored?" he asked, accepting a cone from the smiling vendor.

"You'll either love it or hate it," Jill said, coming up beside him. The earthy floral notes weren't to everyone's taste, and she could only imagine how strange it would seem to someone from the ninth century.

Fergus took a bite, his eyes widening in surprise. "It's like eating a flower field! Strange, but not unpleasant." He turned to offer a taste to Macrath, who took one lick and handed it right back.

"Even the sweets here are peculiar," Macrath muttered, though his grimace held more curiosity than disgust. "But I'd try it again for that pretty lass serving it."

Jill suppressed a smile. For all their warrior training, they were still men looking for connections—for home, for belonging, perhaps even for brides, as they'd so bluntly put it during their earlier conversations at the ranch.

Lachlan's eyes lit up at the sight of a horse-drawn carriage ride. He wandered over, whispering Gaelic to the mare, calming her instantly. The female driver watched with clear appreciation as his strong hands gently stroked the horse's mane.

Jill edged closer to Alasdair, who was studying a display of handcrafted jewelry with intense concentration. "Having fun yet?"

"Aye," he replied, his green eyes twinkling with genuine pleasure. "Your world has many wonders."

A middle-aged woman selling hand-loomed scarves caught Jill's eye with a knowing smile. "You two make a lovely couple," she said warmly. "How long have you been together?"

Jill felt heat rush to her cheeks, a prickling warmth that spread down her neck. "Oh, we're not—I mean, he's just?—"

"We are not yet formally pledged," Alasdair interjected smoothly, his accent thickening slightly. "But I hold her in the highest regard."

The woman's smile widened. "Well, honey, better snatch him up quick. Men who look at a woman like that are rare these days."

Jill glanced at Alasdair, catching the intensity in his gaze before he quickly looked away. Her heart gave a startled lurch as she recognized the truth in the vendor's words. There was something in the way he watched her, a reverence and attentiveness she'd never experienced with anyone else. It wasn't just the admiration of a man attracted to a woman—it was deeper, more profound, as if he saw something in her that others had missed.

Before she could respond, a commotion caught her attention. Just then, Jill spotted Fergus kneeling beside a little girl crying near the soap stand. Her blonde curls shook with her sobs, her ice cream cone upended in the dirt beside her.

"Fergus?" Jill approached softly, curious.

Without looking up, Fergus carefully withdrew a sprig of lavender from his belt pouch, holding it out gently. "There now, lassie. A wee bloom for a brave girl. 'Tis no reason to weep over fallen sweets. The day is too bonnie for tears."

The child's tears slowed, and she grasped the flower, eyes wide with wonder at the giant man speaking so kindly to her.

A woman rushed over, visibly relieved. "Annie! Oh, sweetheart.” She glanced uncertainly at Fergus, then softened at the sight of her daughter's brightening face. "Thank you."

Fergus stood and offered a respectful nod. "Aye. My pleasure."

Jill's heart warmed as she overheard a couple nearby murmur approvingly. "Did you see that? Big guy's got a kind heart. Maybe they're all gentle giants."

Perhaps these men—branded outcasts in their own time—could find acceptance here, where their differences didn't carry the same stigma. The thought filled her with unexpected hope.

Watching Fergus's gentle interaction with the child, Jill felt a swell of pride. These men, who had been feared and misunderstood in their own time, were showing their true nature—fierce warriors with surprisingly gentle hearts. And she was part of their journey, helping them find their place in this new world. The thought filled her with a strange sense of purpose, more fulfilling than any academic achievement she'd ever pursued.

"Look there!" Alasdair suddenly exclaimed, pointing toward a row of carnival games. A dart-throwing booth caught his eye, the prizes hanging temptingly above it. "What manner of contest is that?"

Jill laughed, genuinely delighted by his enthusiasm. "You throw darts to pop balloons. Win prizes. Want to try?"

His eyes lit up with competitive fire. "Aye, that I would."

The brothers followed eagerly, each reaching for the pocket money Conall had given them earlier. As they approached the booth, Jill couldn't help noticing how several women nearby slowed their pace, watching the group of handsome Scotsmen with undisguised interest.

"Three darts for five dollars," the carnival barker announced, eyeing Alasdair's considerable height. "Pop three balloons, win a prize for your lady friend."

Alasdair glanced at Jill, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Challenge accepted."

He handed over the money, accepting the darts with a confident nod. The brothers gathered around, offering loud encouragement and good-natured taunts. Tavish slapped him on the back. "Show us how it's done, brother!"

With barely a moment's hesitation, Alasdair flicked his wrist, sending the first dart flying with perfect precision. Pop! The balloon burst instantly. The second and third darts followed just as quickly. Pop! Pop!

"We have a winner!" the barker announced, clearly impressed. "Which prize would the lady like?"

Alasdair turned to Jill, his expression boyishly proud. "Choose, lass."

Feeling strangely touched, Jill pointed to a fluffy lavender-colored bear. The barker handed it over with a wink. "Lucky lady."

"Thank you," she said, hugging the bear to her chest, oddly moved by the simple carnival tradition. When was the last time someone had won her a prize at a fair? Had anyone ever?

Cillian and Tavish immediately stepped up to try their hands at the game, clearly hoping to impress a pair of young women who had stopped to watch. Their aim wasn't quite as true as Alasdair's, but their enthusiastic attempts drew laughter and applause from their growing audience.

"Your friends are from Scotland?" asked a friendly-looking man watching the proceedings.

“Yes," Jill replied smoothly. "Visiting for the summer."

"They sure know how to throw!" the man observed with a laugh.

"Lots of practice," Jill said, smiling as she watched Macrath take his turn. "Traditional Scottish games and all that."

The day continued in a blur of new experiences. Cillian tasted cotton candy and declared it "spun fairy magic." Macrath arm-wrestled with a local farm boy, both laughing uproariously at the friendly competition. Tavish tried his hand at ring toss, winning a small stuffed sheep that he immediately presented to a blushing young woman who'd been watching him.

At one point, they stopped to watch a local dance troupe perform traditional Scottish dances. Jill couldn't help but notice Alasdair's intense focus, his expression a mixture of nostalgia and delight.

"It's not quite right," he murmured to her. "Close, but the steps have changed."

"Maybe someday you could show me the original.”

Alasdair's gaze shifted to her, something warming in his eyes. "I'd like that very much."

As the afternoon wore on, Jill found herself relaxing completely, enjoying the sight of the warriors experiencing simple pleasures with such unbridled enthusiasm. Their joy was contagious, their wonder at ordinary carnival attractions a reminder of how magical the world could be when seen through fresh eyes.

By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Jill's cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She gathered them back toward the SUV, counting heads and collecting their various carnival prizes and purchases.

As she started the engine, her gaze caught Alasdair's in the rearview mirror. He looked thoughtful, a gentle smile playing at his lips.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked.

He was silent for a moment. "More than I could say. Your world—it's full of wonders. Perhaps we could find our place in it after all."

His words filled her with warm hope. The historian in her understood the profound displacement they must feel—men out of time, trying to find their footing in a world that had moved on without them. But another part of her, the part that had begun to care for these men—especially their leader—wanted desperately to believe they could carve out a place here.

"You belonged today," she said softly. "More than you realize. People responded to you—to all of you. They saw something special."

He met her eyes in the mirror again, a question in his gaze that made her heart ache with tenderness.

"I was proud to introduce you to my world," she admitted, the words escaping before she could analyze them too carefully.

Something shifted in his expression then—a softening, a warmth that made her breath catch. "Thank ye, Jill. That means more than ye know."

The drive home was filled with the brothers' excited chatter. In the backseat, Cillian showed off his small carnival prizes to Fergus, while Macrath recounted his arm-wrestling victory. Lachlan and Tavish whispered quietly in Gaelic, occasionally glancing at Alasdair, who remained silent, his gaze rarely leaving Jill's reflection in the mirror.

They were beginning to feel like family, Jill realized with a start. An odd, complicated, unlikely family—but family nonetheless. And that thought wasn't terrifying at all—it was wonderful.