TEMPTING THE
HIGHLANDER
By
Janet Chapman
TOC
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20
Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24
Chapter 25
To my own Guardian Angel
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Grace Nugent, for standing with me from the beginning. Your unwavering support and encouragement has always been, and still is, a most cherished gift.
Chapter One
TOC
“Come on, baby. Give it to me, you sweet thing.”
Robbie MacBain came awake totally alert and battle-ready, with absolutely no idea what was going on.
“That’s it. Move for me, baby.”
What the hell? He hadnot gone to bed with a woman, so he shouldn’t be hearing a husky, seductive voice in his ear. He knew he was in his bedroom at the farm, but, more important, he knew he was alone.
“Just a little bit more, sweetie.”
Robbie sat bolt upright in bed and tried to see through the darkness. Nothing. No woman. Yet her voice had been quite distinct—and soft and sexy and close.
“Come on,” she whispered with fading patience. “I’ve got to get going. Oh, for God’s sakes, just move!”
At the squawking of several disgruntled hens, Robbie snapped his head toward the baby monitor on his night-stand. And he cursed, throwing back the covers and jumping out of bed.
The henhouse.
He was supposed to be guarding the henhouse.
He scrambled into his pants and grabbed his shirt, stopping only long enough to glance at the clock by his bed. Five-thirty, he saw, breaking into a grin as he slipped on his shirt and found his socks.
Deciding earlier that he didn’t need to be sleeping outside on this cold March night, he had put the baby monitor in with the hens and let the electronic device do his job. And it had worked, he decided as he hopped first on one foot and then the other, pulling on his boots and tying them.
This was the third henhouse raid this week. Only half a dozen eggs were taken each time, and there was always a dollar bill left in their place. But it was the principle of the thing. Someone wasbuying his eggs. He didn’t much care for mysteries, and that sexy-voiced woman on the monitor was one mystery he was suddenly eager to solve.
Robbie ran down the stairs and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Quietly, he opened the farmhouse door and crept onto the moon-shadowed porch just as the woman came sneaking out of the henhouse.
He blinked into the night. If he hadn’t just heard her voice on the monitor, he would swear his thief was a kid. She looked like a child, squatting beside a backpack as she carefully placed her stolen breakfast in it.
She spotted him when he stepped off the porch.
She dropped two of the eggs when she stood with a startled squeak, swung the pack onto her back, and bolted for the pasture.
“Hey! Hold it!”
She scaled the paddock fence with the agility of a cat.
With an utterly male grin Robbie broke into a run. His thief certainly had a nice rear end.
And he also happened to notice, as he vaulted over the fence himself, that what height she did have came from a pair of long legs that swiftly carried her into the night.
But he was six-foot-seven in his socks, and Robbie didn’t doubt for a minute he would quickly run her to ground. Then he’d find out who she was and what she was doing stealing his eggs.
Robbie’s smile was gone a little over a mile later. She was getting away! Rasping for breath through gritted teeth, Robbie forced his legs to move faster. He’d arrogantly told his boys that he could catch a simple egg thief, and “No, thank you,” he didn’t need their adolescent help. He was not about to let last night’s bragging to them turn into hoots of laughter this morning.
Robbie chased the woman for nearly two miles before he finally realized he wasn’t going to catch her. The long-legged little cat had left the pasture, sprinted down the gully and over the knoll, and disappeared into the thick forest of TarStone Mountain.
Dammit! It was a cold walk back in the stingy morning light. Robbie used up most of his litany of curses during the first mile of his return and was down to swearing in Gaelic by the time he reached his yard.
He stopped in the middle of two dozen foraging chickens that had escaped out the open henhouse door, and looked back at TarStone to see the rising sun peeking over its summit.
“It looks like scrambled money for breakfast again,” Cody said as he stepped out of the henhouse, snapping a wrinkled dollar bill between his hands. “We got any cheese to go with this?” he continued despite Robbie’s warning glare. “Ain’t nothing like burnt toast and dollar-bill omelets to start the day right.”
Robbie took a threatening step forward.
The sixteen-year-old juvenile delinquent pocketed the dollar bill, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled. “Is that egg I see on your face, boss?” he asked.
Robbie also folded his arms over his chest. “No, you’re seeing my decision that you’re cooking breakfast.”
Cody’s smile disappeared. “I cooked yesterday.”
“You did such a fine job and you can do it again today.”
Muttering what Robbie guessed was a nasty curse, Cody stomped off toward the house.
The screen door opened and Gunter stepped onto the porch, moving aside to let Cody go slamming past him.
Robbie sighed. Gunter wasn’t dressed for school, but for work. With his arms still crossed over his chest, Robbie turned to face his next challenge.
“Harley called. Two of the loggers are sick,” Gunter said as he approached. “So I’m going to work today.”
Robbie wasn’t surprised that the eighteen-year-old would rather spend a day of hard labor in the woods than go to school. Hell, Gunter would rather muck out stalls than go to school.
“Harley said two loads of saw logs are leaving today,” Gunter continued, stopping in front of Robbie, his nearly black eyes more eager than defensive for a change. “You need me to run the loader.”
“I can run the loader.”
“You have a meeting with Judge Judy this morning.”
Damn. He did. And those saw logs needed to go out today.
“Her name is Judge Bailey, and she’s all that’s standing between you and an eight-by-ten cell.”
“I only have metal shop and one regular class today,” Gunter continued. “I’ll make it up tomorrow.”
Robbie returned Gunter’s direct stare and weighed the boy’s need for an education against his desire to escape the structure of the classroom.
Hell, everyone needed a safety valve occasionally, and a long day working in the woods just might serve to remind Gunter that an education would make him an easier living.
Besides, the kid deserved a reward for going two whole months without starting a fight at school.
Robbie nodded agreement. “Tell Harley I’ll come out to the site after my meeting with Bailey. And Gunter?” he said as the boy turned to leave. “You only have ten weeks left to get your diploma. Anyone can endure anything for ten weeks.”
A faint grin appeared on Gunter’s usually stoic face. “I’ve endured your cooking for a month,” he said softly.
Bolstered by that grin, Robbie smiled. “Gram Katie is bringing over a lasagna for us tonight,” he offered in concession. “With salad and homemade rolls.”