Chapter Eight

Erin had a lengthy discussion with his uncle over the phone and believed he could manage the snowmobile without breaking it or any one of his limbs. He donned warm clothes, clothes he regretted not having in his own time, and with Burt alongside him, made his way back to the garage.

Burt was more than happy to show him much of the details regarding the engine. The lad truly did appear to know what he was about, and that gave Erin all the confidence he needed to begin his next adventure.

Once the large door was open, they pushed the beasts to the outside. Erin pointed in the direction his uncle told them to ride, and with a grin, Burt straddled his machine, much like Erin would his horse, and started the motor.

The sudden roar of the engine had Erin stumbling back several feet. He’d never heard such a fearsome noise in all his life and had second thoughts about what he was about to do. But Burt’s wide smile and loud whoop as he bolted off, carving a path through the freshly fallen snow, gave his heart a jolt of excitement. He would do this insane thing, or else he would feel more the coward and carry regret in his heart for a long time.

It took a few attempts to start his machine, but once accomplished, he held on for dear life and followed the lad. Never before had he experienced anything like it. The speed at which he traveled overwhelmed him, and yet he savored every moment.

He finally caught up with Burt at the top of a small hill that overlooked his aunt and uncle’s land and paused. It was a magnificent sight. The low rolling hills covered with fresh snow seemed to go on forever. It occurred to him that he’d never been so far from the sea, and wondered if he could live in a place where it wasn’t part of his daily view.

Shaking his head, he knew the answer. Home would always be by the sea, no matter the time in which he lived.

“What do you think?” Burt called out.

Erin grinned and turned his thoughts away from home and concentrated on the present and this unusual journey he was on. “I think ’twas a grand bit of riding. My horse couldna have crossed the distance in so small a time.”

“These babies have more than one-hundred and fifty horsepower. No way could a horse keep up.”

“Aye, ’tis a grand way to travel through the snow.”

“How much of this is your uncle’s?” Burt motioned around them at the vast landscape.

“Most of what you see, but I canna mark the true borders.”

“Wow, this is some spread then.” Burt looked to the south and pointed. “Is that his too?”

“Aye, ’tis the stables. He used to breed horses, but now ’tis a shelter for abused animals. He asked that we no’ go there, as the machines upset them.”

Burt nodded, then pointed to the north, and with a laugh and a wave, Erin speed off in that direction.

****

“Heather.” Erin sat upon the edge of the lounge and brushed his hand against her cheek. “Wake up, leannan. ’Tis past time to sup.”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and cast him a dreamlike smile. Och, to have that look in her eyes every morning when they awoke in one another’s arms would be beyond anything he’d ever known.

“You’ve slept half the day away. ’Tis time to share in the feast you prepared.”

“Feast?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I must have dozed off. Have you guys eaten? I put it on the stove on low after I saw you take off on the snowmobiles.”

“Aye, although I didna care to eat without you, you seemed to need your rest. But the way in which the lad is eating your fine meal, I thought it best to wake you before ’tis all gone.”

“Yeah, boys that age are bottomless pits. So, um, did you have a nice ride?”

“Aye, it was…it was a proper rush,” he said with a wide smile.

She giggled soft and low. “You’ve been around Burt too much. But don’t let him teach you any of is more unpleasant habits.”

“I shall be careful.” He took her hand and brought her to her feet. “Now I suggest you put aside your book and come eat.”

He took the book from her hands, noting the title pertained to languages and dialects of Europe. With a grin he said, “’Tis no’ a wee bit of reading, this.”

“If you must know, I was looking for a book on Gaelic, but this is all I could find.”

“You wish to learn the old tongue?”

She cast him a smirk as he escorted her to the kitchen. “I wish to know what leannan means.”

“Ah, then you canna tell me of your dream last eve.”

She paused at the door to the kitchen and looked up at him, her hands on her hips and a stern frown upon her sweet pink lips. “What does that have to do with me wanting to know what leannan means? I couldn’t have said that in my sleep.”

“Nay, but when you remember your dream, you will know what it means.” He pecked a kiss to her crinkled brow, then strolled into the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her.

“Huh. Well, I think you’re way off. It was probably just a rerun of some bad movie I’d seen or something. And I can’t possibly know any Gaelic.”

He could see she didn’t truly believe what she was saying, but he could not tell her of her dream. She needed to find her way on her own. He had no doubt that her keen mind was working diligently to solve the riddle and trying to discern some way to get him to tell her more, but he would do his best to hold his tongue. She needed to face whatever haunted her in her sleep, and more importantly how and why it was in a different time.

She shot him a glare. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Lass, if I tell you of your dream, it will no’ aid you. You must find your way on your own.”

Burt stepped into the kitchen and took a soda from the refrigerator.

Heather was ripe for a rousing discussion on the topic, determined to get Erin to tell her what she’d said, but she was also grateful for Burt’s appearance. Afraid of her dream—of what it might mean, although aching to know everything, she needed a distraction. Both from what felt like a memory instead of a dream, and how Erin’s innocent kiss to her forehead could cause her heart to race.

“Your chili was the bomb, Heather, thanks,” Burt said.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” She took a bite and was rather pleased with how it came out.

Erin opened a bottle of beer. “Aye, ’twas most enjoyable. You are a fine cook, lass.”

“I try. But it’s not too hard when you have a kitchen as nice as this.” She looked around the large space, but thought how it still felt small and cozy. It was the sort of kitchen, the sort of house, a girl like her could only dream of owning.

Maybe that was why she did so much unofficial house sitting. Knowing she’d never live like this full time, she was able to enjoy some of the good life without paying the price.

“What has your thoughts so far away?” Erin asked.

Burt sat down at the table, a worried frown on his pimpled face. “You sure you feel okay? I mean, you slept a long time and all.”

She patted the back of his hand with a smile. Sweet of the kid to care about her so much, but then she supposed he saw her as a big sister. She’d always done what she could for him, and even though it was hard to admit, she cared a lot about him too.

“I’m fine. Just a little daydreaming. I was just thinking about how much I like this house.”

“Aye, ’tis a grand house, although small,” Erin said, and took a large swig of his beer.

She laughed with a small snort. “Well, you can’t really compare a house to a castle.”

“True, but this room is no’ bad in comparison. I think the lack of wood stoves to cook upon and no need for the large number of servants in it at one time, allow for the space to be more compact.”

Burt laughed. “Man, I wish I could see your castle. Heck, I’d like to see any castle. They’re just—just so cool.”

Erin chuckled, sending new and unforgiving tingles down Heather’s spine.

What was it about his voice? About the man in general that flicked all her switches? Her insane attraction to the enigmatic Highlander had to be squashed. Complications of the heart were the last thing she needed right now. She still had to face his godparents when they arrived and pray they wouldn’t press charges. She really didn’t need to be having internal battles with her libido while trying to stay out of jail.

She rose from the table and put her half empty bowl on the counter.

“Can you tell me what it’s like?” Burt asked.

“My home? Aye, lad, if you wish it,” Erin said.

Heather grinned as Burt nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation, then turned to put away the last of the chili sitting in the pot on the stove.

“Verra well. My home is on the Isle of Mull. ’Tis a considerably large stone stronghold perched on a rocky point overlooking a loch. The feel of the salt air off the water is most pleasant. I most enjoy looking o’er the sea from atop the battlements. ’Tis a wondrous thing come sunset. And to the east small crofts dot the land between the castle and the village that sits beside the bay.

“During the day the keep is verra busy. You can hear the blacksmith at his labor, smell the sweet scent of hay from the stables, and at times there are merchants bartering with the many who live there. My brother-in-law is building a new gatehouse. It will be most grand when complete.”

“Cool, and they gotta do all that by hand, right?” Burt asked.

“Aye, ’tis a hard day’s labor. Much of my time, when no’ working on the gate, is spent in the lists with my da and most the guard. Even my mother and sister practice their skills of combat. Then afterward we gather in the great hall for our meal, drink fine ale, and laugh and tell tales while we warm ourselves by a hearty fire.”

“What’s the inside like?”

“Well, the hall is on the ground floor and large, and the ceilings verra high. There is a stone hearth, one big enough for much wood to be burned and to warm the room. On the second floor, ’tis my da’s solar. That is a room no’ much larger in width than yon living room, but again, the ceilings are twice as high. There is another hearth and upon the walls are many shelves of books. At one end of the room stands my da’s massive desk, while at the other there is fine seating and a chess board. We gather there often for talks and games.”

“That sounds nice,” Burt muttered.

Heather knew exactly what he was thinking. Erin was describing a home, not just a castle. Something neither of them had a whole lot of experience with. Although Burt remembered his parents and where he came from, his home-life wasn’t something to reminisce about. And as for Heather, if she did remember, or if what she’d dreamed was a memory and not just some crazy illusion, she wasn’t too sure it was all that hot either.

“Why the long faces?” Erin asked.

“Nothin’.” Burt rose from the table and went into the den, and within moments the television was blaring.

“Did I say something I shouldna have?”

She glanced over her shoulder as she placed a lid on a plastic container with the remains of the chili. “No, he’s just homesick.”

“I doona understand. I thought he didna wish to go back to the orphanage.”

She shook her head. “That isn’t home. What you described, sans castle, was what every orphan dreams about. Family, a place to belong—home.”

He rose and placed his empty bottle in the recycle bin. “I am sorry I caused grief to the lad.”

“Not your fault. It sort of comes with the territory.” She washed out the pot and her bowl then put them away. “With Burt it’s a little tougher. He remembers his parents, how it was before the orphanage. They dumped him there and never looked back. Not that his home was all it’s cracked up to be, but knowing he wasn’t wanted really made it harder on him.”

“And what of you, lass? Do you remember your parents?”

She turned and leaned her hip against the sink as she dried her hands. “I don’t recall anything except my name. And I think I’m probably one of the lucky ones.”

“Ah, so you doona believe your dream was a memory.”

She propped her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “That was cryptic. You can’t drop a bomb like that and not tell me what I said.”

“I canna. It willna aid you, if I do.”

She gave him a shove, although the man was built like a brick wall and didn’t budge a smidge. “Come on, MacLean, give. It’s my freakin’ dream. What did I say?”

He let out a long sigh. “Verra well. You said, ma’s e do thoil e.”

She felt her face freeze. “That’s not possible.”

“You asked, and I told you. ’Tis what you said, leannan.”

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “But how could I—that’s Gaelic, right? I don’t know any Gaelic.”

“’Tis apparent you do.”

She shook her head. “But—”

“Nay, doona worry over it.” He cupped the side of her face, his gaze steady on hers. She resisted the urge to lay her cheek against his warm palm. “It will all come in time. You must be patient.”

“Patience isn’t something I have a lot of.” She tried to smile but knew her attempt was fleeting at best.

“Aye, I’ve noticed that about you,” he said, with a chuckle, then pressed his lips to her forehead. “Now come. Let us see what the lad has found for us to watch tonight, then see if we can convince him otherwise.”

With a somewhat lighter heart, she let him take her hand and guide her into the den. She knew she shouldn’t let him do it, she knew she should break off the connection, but feeling pretty beat-up inside, she let him pamper her for just a little while.

Once in the den, he pulled her down onto the couch beside him and wrapped his arm around her, curling her against his side. She relished the warmth of him, the feeling of security, although it was only temporary.

Still it would make for a wonderful memory after she left. One she could pull out on days when the world was against her and relive the sense of being cared for.