Page 7 of Sadie’s Highlander (Highland Protector #1)

CHAPTER 6

“ I am a damn fool.” Alec cradled his head between his hands while propping his elbows on either side of the empty plate in front of him. He hadn’t meant to attempt a kiss—or get so close to actually stealing a taste of Sadie’s sweet mouth. He’d sworn he was going to take care. Put her at ease. Be cautious. Convince the woman that he meant her no harm or disrespect.

But then she’d been so damn tempting. So fragile and sweet—looking up at him with those dark eyes that reminded him of the finest amber whisky swirling in the torchlight. He’d almost sampled those ruby lips of hers. Almost given in to temptation. His fingernails dug into his scalp and he closed his eyes against the memory. He’d resisted. Barely. Surely, he’d avoided what would most certainly have been a disaster. Thank the gods and all the demons of hell that he’d stopped himself in time.

“Ye tried to kiss her,” Dwyn repeated as he peered over the sagging pages of the daily gossip paper he held in midair in front of him. The demigod was all-knowing, but it never ceased to amuse him to keep up with the tall tales and bold lies the paparazzi told about unsuspecting celebrities. “After all yer talk about taking care and not scaring her away, ye nearly kissed the woman before she’d even been here a full hour. She hadna even had time to unpack her wee bags.” Dwyn snapped the paper taut, then raised it back up, his voice booming loud and clear from behind it. “Aye. I believe ye’ve called it right on the money this time, Alec Danann MacDara. Ye are a damn fool.”

Miss Lydia thumped him in the center of his back as she toddled past him. “Elbows off the table and man up because I hear her coming up the steps. You fouled out in your own game—now fix it and stop your whining.”

Meddling old woman . Alec obediently straightened in his chair, sucked in a deep breath, and made a silent oath. He would win her trust. One poorly handled battle would not lose this war. He would win this.

Light footsteps pattered up the stairs behind him. Alec rose from his chair and moved to stand behind the empty place setting to his right. “All settled into yer rooms, are ye?” Damned if he didn’t sound like one of those overstuffed hotel ma?tre d’s that he and Dwyn had encountered in New York City when Dwyn had dragged his arse to that confusing place of light, noise, and entirely too damn many people.

Sadie beamed up at him with what appeared to be a genuinely relaxed smile. “All settled in and thank you again. My suite of rooms is awesome.” She wrinkled her nose, lifting it with an appreciative sniff. “I really hope that’s lunch, because it smells delicious and I’m starving.”

Good. Perhaps he hadn’t fared so badly in their first skirmish. She seemed no worse for his actions. Alec gallantly pulled out her chair. “Mistress Lydia is the finest cook in all of North Carolina. If ye leave her table feeling deprived, the fault will be yer own.”

Sadie took her seat and Alec helped her scoot closer to the table.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she took the cloth napkin from beside her plate and spread it across her lap.

The smile she gave him warmed his heart, making him wish they were the only two people in the room; then he could make up for his earlier mistakes without any help from Dwyn or Mistress Lydia.

“I’m not used to such gallantry. I’m afraid chivalry is dead in Los Angeles,” Sadie said as she added a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint to the tall glass of iced tea Miss Lydia placed beside her plate.

“Aye, well—’tis alive and well here in Brady, North Carolina.” Alec propped his elbows back on the table, folding his hands above his plate.

Miss Lydia turned from the stove and gave him a pointed glare. She cleared her throat with a loud, growling ahem before turning back to her bubbling pots and pans.

Removing his elbows from the table, Alec shifted in his seat. Damn the old woman. She needed to stop treating him like an ill-mannered lad rather than the acting chieftain that he was. He didn’t say the words aloud, just straightened, sat taller in his chair, and returned Miss Lydia’s glare.

“Will Esme be joining us for lunch today or is the wee beastie still on a rampage?” Alec truly hoped the answer was yes . Sullen or not, if his sister was present, at least the interfering old woman would have a target to nettle other than himself.

“Esme is dining in her room, where she’s also likely to spend the rest of her life if her mother and I can’t talk some sense into that hard head of hers.” Miss Lydia plopped a heavy ceramic soup tureen down on the table and handed Alec the ladle. “Serve your lady and yourself while I finish dishing up the barbecued brisket and the bread.”

His lady. Quite the ring to those words. Alec stole a discreet look at Sadie, relieved that she didn’t seem bothered a bit by Miss Lydia’s verbiage. “D’ye fancy chicken and dumplings then? Mistress Lydia lets nothing go to waste. Last night’s leavings of the roasted chickens is today’s tempting stew.”

Sadie leaned forward, holding out her bowl. “Waste not, want not, and what better way than with chicken and dumplings? I adore them.” Her eyes grew ever wider as Alec kept ladling, filling her bowl to the rim with a Highlander-sized portion. “Uhm . . . wow—that’s a lot.”

“Are ye not hungry then?” Alec frowned down at her full bowl. She’d just said she loved chicken and dumplings. He wanted to be certain to give her plenty. By the gods, surely she wasn’t like Esme and trying to thin herself down to a bare twig that the wind would snap with the slightest breeze. “Ye’re not dieting to fit into some dress, are ye?”

“Alec Danann MacDara!” Entering the kitchen just in time to hear Alec’s question, Sarinda cuffed her son across the back of the head. “That is not a question a gentleman asks a lady.” Sarinda seated herself opposite Sadie, shot a dirty look at her son, then leaned across the table with an apologetic smile and an extended hand. “Please dinna hold my son’s words against him. He oft forgets to think his words through afore he opens his mouth and spews them out. I’m Sarinda, the silly boy’s mother, and ’tis my pleasure to meet ye.”

Sadie stole a glance at Alec, pressing her lips tightly together, but not before a soft, snorting chuckle escaped. She lightly cleared her throat as she took Sarinda’s hand with a smile. “I’m Sadie, and it’s good to meet you too.”

Embarrassment flushed hot through him. What the hell had he been thinking when he’d proposed their first meal together should be with his family?

“Forgive me.” He dipped his chin at Sadie. “I meant no insult or disrespect.” But dammit to hell, he had good reason to ask. Filling his own bowl, he avoided Sadie’s gaze. “It just seems that every damn woman in this century is not happy unless she looks like a starved waif just off the ships after the Highland clearances. I fail to understand why they wish to look like nothing more than skin-covered bones.”

Sadie frowned as she scooped up a spoonful of the steaming creaminess, pursed her lips, and blew on it. She stared at the fluffy dumpling in her spoon, then shifted her attention to Alec, bitterness reflecting in the depths of her dark eyes. “It’s the curse of society’s idea of the beautiful woman. Everywhere you look—magazines, television, movies, internet—females are blasted with unrealistic images that are labeled as perfection and we’re bullied and shamed if we don’t mimic—or at least attempt to look like—all that photoshopped bullshit.”

She popped the dumpling in her mouth and licked her spoon clean with a shrug of one shoulder. “I’ve never fit that bill and I gave up trying a long time ago.” She patted her curvy hip. “I like to eat. I know I’m a big girl and extra curvy, but I’m healthy, and I will be damned if I make myself miserable by living on celery, carrot sticks, and distilled water.”

“Well stated, my dear!” Sarinda raised her glass with a pleased nod.

“Ye are a lovely woman and there’s not a thing about ye that should be changed.” Alec reached across the table and rested his fingertips lightly on the back of Sadie’s hand. The soft silkiness of her skin didn’t escape him. He spread his hand across hers, glorying in the inviting warmth of her as he finished the awkward apology. “Forgive me if my words offended or made ye feel ill at ease. Please ken that I meant ye no harm or disrespect.”

His heart fell as Sadie slid her hand out from under his. Dammit . That did not go well at all. But then Sadie placed her hand atop his and squeezed. “You didn’t offend me. You’ve been nothing but kind.”

Alec flipped his hand before she could move, laced his fingers with hers, and returned the squeeze.

Miss Lydia placed a platter of sliced barbecued brisket, still steaming and smothered in what smelled to be her homemade spicy sauce, on the far side of the soup tureen. She plopped a basket of sliced hard rolls down beside the brisket, then stepped back and examined the spread. “That should hold y’all ’til suppertime.” She pursed her lips and turned her attention to Alec, the focus of her glare targeting his hand that still held tight to Sadie’s. “Are you gonna let loose of her hand so she can eat while the food’s hot or are you just gonna sit there like a bump on a log and make moon eyes at her?”

“I advise ye to leave off, Mistress Lydia.” Hell’s demons and dragon scat! Why in blazes was the old woman bent on shaming him worse than usual today? Alec reluctantly released Sadie’s hand after one last squeeze. “My apologies. Again.”

Sadie quietly chuckled as she returned her attention to the still steaming bowl of dumplings. Between spoonfuls, her gaze flitted about the table. “Are your brothers and father not joining us? Ramsay . . . or maybe it was Ross—sorry, I’m terrible with names. Anyway, one of your brothers brought me as far as the staircase but then hurried off in the other direction.”

“Emrys isna feelin’ well. He’s retired to his quarters for the remainder of the day,” Dwyn said as he reached for a roll, slid a slice of brisket into the bun, then placed it on the plate in front of him with an elaborate flourish of his long, thin fingers. He added sliced tomatoes, bread-and-butter pickles, and spicy slaw to his plate, then rubbed his hands together with the excited look of an artist about to build a masterpiece. “The lads decided to eat in town. They thought it might be best if ye got to know the MacDara clan in small doses.”

Alec heartily agreed with that line of thinking. ’Twas difficult enough to get to know Sadie with Mistress Lydia and Máthair pecking at him like a pair of starving hens. If his brothers were here, they’d not offer him any easier time of it.

“I’m sorry to hear Mr. MacDara isn’t doing well.” Sadie helped herself to the brisket and rolls, then dipped the sandwich in the creamy broth of the chicken and dumplings and took a bite. She hurried to dab the drippings from her chin with the cloth napkin. Tucking the cloth back into her lap, she shrugged a slightly embarrassed smile at Alec.

As far as he was concerned, the fine lass had nothing to be embarrassed about. It did his heart good to see a woman enjoy her food rather than sit staring at her empty plate like an underfed dog whilst everyone else ate their meal. Perhaps Mistress Sadie could bring about a change in Esme’s way of thinking.

Lightly clearing her throat as she nervously dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, Sadie turned to Dwyn. “I hope Mr. MacDara’s condition isn’t serious. My stay here and the projected filming hasn’t overly upset him, has it?”

“Emrys will be just fine, dear,” Sarinda said. “As he grows older, he’s having more trouble keeping the events of the past back where they belong. My poor Emrys has not had an easy life. When he grows overly upset these days, he tends to relive his battles from long ago.” Sarinda drew in a deep breath and sadly shook her head. “He’s witnessed many a harshness over his lifetime and now canna seem to escape the dreadful memories.”

“PTSD,” Sadie said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Beg pardon?” Alec asked. “What is this PTSD?” He wasn’t familiar with that term, even though he prided himself on having acclimated to this time—well, acclimated to the oddities as much as was possible—over the past fifteen years.

Dwyn had done his best to guide and teach the MacDaras all they needed to know to not only survive in the twenty-first century but thrive. The demigod had accomplished the task well, but Alec still never felt as though he really belonged here. At least not until now.

“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Sadie said. “It sometimes happens to those who’ve experienced more than any human should have to endure. Their past haunts them—reaches into their present and torments them as though everything is happening all over again.”

Every fiber in Alec’s being relaxed. She understood. Even without knowing the extent of the MacDara family history, Sadie understood—and didn’t appear to damn them for it. She was a fine woman and fit in well here. The strangest warm feeling blossomed in the center of his chest—a not unpleasant feeling, but one he had never felt before. The day suddenly brimmed with possibilities.

“Aye. PTSD troubles Athair. But dinna fash, after a night of rest assisted by Mistress Lydia’s tonic, he’ll be right as rain by the morrow.” Alec set his silverware aside. He didn’t want food. He wanted time with Sadie. Private time. The memory of the almost kiss made him wish he’d worn his kilt rather than the heavily seamed work jeans. He shifted in the chair. Damn the trews. They had a stranglehold on his man parts.

Sadie perked with interest. “What kind of tonic? An old herbal remedy maybe? I read that the shops here at the park are well-stocked with quite a selection of homeopathic herbs and oils. I’ve always been interested in the old remedies.”

Miss Lydia waved away her words. “Nothing as fancy as all that.” She toddled over to the kitchen cabinet and drew down a sealed canning jar over half full of an almost clear liquid. “My brother’s best batch this year.” She smiled and winked. “Nothing cures what ails you better than a healthy snort of white lightning laced with honey and lemon.”

“Moonshine?” Sadie’s eyes rounded and she slowly lowered her spoon to her plate. “Isn’t that illegal?”

With a disinterested shrug, Miss Lydia slid the jar back up onto the top shelf of the cabinet and tightly closed the door. “Only if you sell it—or get caught.”

May the gods have mercy on his soul . Alec closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose whilst praying for divine guidance. He pulled in a deep breath, scooted back from the table, and stood. “If ye’ve had yer fill, we’ve plenty of time to stroll through the main area of the park this afternoon. Tomorrow, I’ll take ye to the outer borders, where ye will be better able to see the entirety of our land and where the filming may and may not be permitted.”

A promising idea came to mind as he noticed the amount of brisket left on the platter still sitting in the center of the dinner table. It was the perfect amount for a packed lunch for two.

“Mistress Lydia, would ye please prepare a food basket for m’self and Mistress Sadie and have it waiting in the walk-in larder in the morning? According to the weather forecasters, tomorrow looks to be a fine day for a picnic on the bluff overlooking the river.” He turned to Sadie. “We’ll leave first thing after breakfast. Aye? I assume ye do ride?”

Sadie blinked up at him as though she hadn’t quite kept up with the conversation. “Horses?”

“Aye . . . horses.” What the hell else would the woman ride? They allowed none of those noisy motorized bicycles in the park.

“Uhm. Sure.” Sadie glanced first over at Miss Lydia, then across to Sarinda, then back up to Alec. “It’s been a while, but I know how to ride.”

Miss Lydia smiled and winked, then hurried over to the open double doors of the huge pantry adjoining the kitchen. Huffing and muttering under her breath, she bobbed up and down, then swayed from side to side, pawing through the crowded shelves like a squirrel checking its winter hoard.

“There it is!” she crowed, yanking free a neatly collapsed picnic basket and an assortment of other items off the shelf with it. She turned and winked again at Alec. Her knowing look sent a chill up his spine. “Just you leave everything to me. I’ll pack everything you’ll need for the perfect picnic.”

Miss Lydia’s tone filled Alec with suspicion and no small amount of dread. The old woman had gone into plotting mode. He’d bet a keg of whisky on it.

Sadie tugged on his arm, pulling him from the Miss Lydia–induced sense of impending doom. “Let’s go. I’ve got a tank full of dumplings and brisket and shoes made for walking.” With a bouncing step that jiggled her full bosoms in the most delightful way, Sadie displayed her hot pink tennis shoes laced up tight with bright purple laces. She paused at the top of the staircase leading down to the foyer and looked back at him. Her wondrous cleavage stretched her sweatshirt tighter, daring Alec to try and look away.

Lore a’mighty . Alec shifted in place, wishing Sadie would go ahead and start down the stairs so he could shift his stubbornly rising member away from the wicked bite of the denim seams. No such luck. She stood there waiting, looking up at him with an expectant smile.

Alec waved her forward. “Ladies first. Lead the way.” He swallowed a strained groan as her curvy hips tortured his hardening cock even further with a delicious bounce and wiggle with every step she took. Gods be with him. He prayed they got him through today and that if he couldn’t have her now, then soon. But hope for the future quickened his step as he hurried down the stairs behind her. Mayhap tomorrow, if all went as planned.

Waiting on the outer landing, leaning over the black wrought-iron railing surrounding the stone porch, Sadie glanced back at him as he pulled the door shut behind him. “Which way?”

Alec blinked, struck mute by the sight of Sadie bent over the iron railing to examine the surrounding area below. Lore a’mighty. What a fine arse. He scrubbed his palms against the rough fabric of his jeans. Damn, but he wished he could fill his hands with that delightful fullness.

“Alec?” Sadie straightened and turned to face him. “Which way? Over that gated overpass to the main keep or down the steps to that brick path leading into the woods?”

At this time of day, the main keep adjoining the park would be full of afternoon tourists. People. Crowds of them, since this week was when most of the area schools scheduled fall break for their students. He didn’t want people. He wanted alone time with Sadie—even if they just talked, he wanted her all to himself. Aye, and for certain—he would be a greedy bastard where this sweet lass was concerned. “Down the steps. Ye saw a bit of the keep the day of the meeting and ye’ll see more whenever ye have yer meetings with the other writers that Dwyn said ye’d be working with in the evenings.”

He hadn’t much cared for that particular condition she’d requested in her response to his terms. But Dwyn had assured him that she’d only done so to test his intentions, so he’d had no choice but to agree. He motioned to the path disappearing into the trees. “The path there will take us ’round to the main market area of the park. I’ll show ye the shops and the smithy.”

“I definitely want a look at the herbal shop. Like I said earlier, I’ve dabbled a bit in aromatherapy—studied some herbs and oils and their history.” Sadie shrugged as they followed the moss-covered bricks into the woods. “It’s kind of a hobby. A good way to relax and banish the meaners of the day from your thoughts.”

“Banish the meaners ?” Alec repeated. “What exactly are meaners ? Ye’re not a witch, are ye?” He was only partially teasing. Being an ancient Scot, he had a deep, abiding respect for those able to accomplish the unexplainable with nothing more than a few herbs and oils and carefully whispered rhymes.

“Depends on whom you ask,” Sadie replied with a wicked grin and a wink. “And meaners are rude people. Jerks. You know. What’s the Scottish word for assholes?”

Alec rumbled out a short, barking laugh. He’d not teach Sadie that word. She might use it on him. The more time he spent with her, the lighter his heart felt. He’d never felt this kind of peace before. ’Twas like a sense of being whole again. He’d never felt it in this country nor in this complicated century.

The slightest movement off in the woods caught Alec’s attention. He laid a hand on Sadie’s arm, pulling her to a stop with a soft shushing sound and a finger pressed to his lips. He leaned close and whispered against her cheek, “Allow me to introduce ye to Doughal and Kenzie.” He gently turned her and pointed.

Several yards to the right of the brick path, in a small clearing hemmed by a circlet of towering pines, stood a majestic buck with a trophy rack of twelve points that would make any hunter drool. Tied to one antler was a strip of plaid ribbon perfectly matching the tartan seen all around the park. On the ground beside the deer stood an extremely overweight fox squirrel. Both animals were poised at attention, frozen in place, warily focused on Alec and Sadie.

“Doughal and Kenzie?” Sadie whispered.

“Aye,” Alec replied softly. He slowly lifted a hand to the animals and barely raised his voice. “Yer Lady Esme is confined to her room, but she’ll be out to visit with ye just before sunset as she always does. I’ll see to it.”

Both animals immediately melted into the woods, disappearing into the thicket of pines without a sound.

“So beautiful,” Sadie breathed, still staring at the point in the trees where the animals had gone.

The joy in her voice washed across him like a lover’s touch. He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. Control. Must take care .

“Are they Esme’s pets?” she asked as they started back up the path.

“I wouldna exactly call them pets.” Alec clasped his hands to the small of his back to keep from grabbing one of Sadie’s hands and walking with it pressed to his heart. “A fierce storm came through here two years ago. Wicked damage was done to the land as well as the park. During cleanup, Esme found an abandoned fawn and a litter of half-drowned fox squirrels.”

“She saved them?”

“Aye.” Alec nodded. “Doughal, the fawn, responded to my wee sister’s touch quite well and has stayed close in the private woods surrounding the family’s area of the keep.” Alec chuckled. “My brothers swear Esme’s bewitched the buck, but Máthair says humans are not the only creatures on this earth able to ken a pure heart filled with love when they find it.”

“Your mother sounds like a wise woman.” Sadie looped a hand through Alec’s arm and squeezed, sending a thrill clear to his soul. They walked along in silence for a few paces, then Sadie asked, “So Kenzie was the squirrel. What did she name the other ones?”

“I’m afraid Kenzie was the only survivor of the three that Esme found in the downed tree.” Alec shook his head, remembering his sister’s sorrow when each of the little animals had failed to thrive under her careful tending. “’Twas a terrible time at the keep when we had to bury Esme’s wee friends. My dear sister might be a wicked beastie at times, but when she loves, she loves hard.” Alec stopped walking, covered Sadie’s hand with his own, and turned her toward him. “All the MacDaras love hard.”

Sadie nervously wet her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to their clasped hands. “I see,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Aye,” Alec said, not attempting to keep the wistfulness from his tone. “See that ye do.”

He leaned in closer, taking the utmost care as he slid a finger beneath her chin and slowly lifted her face to his. He had to have a wee taste—no way could he resist this time. He cautiously grazed his mouth across the seam of her barely parted lips, gently nibbling and sampling. So soft. So . . . promising. Must take care. Alec repeated the silent mantra over and over as he reluctantly pulled away.

Aye, indeed. The MacDaras loved hard—when they dared to love .