Highland Shifter (MacCoinnich Time Travel) (25 page)

A large crack of lightning scraped over the night sky. A roar of turmoil raged through every nerve of Helen
’s body. At the last second, she caught Simon watching her. A smile spread over his lips.

Then it fell in dread.

Nausea rippled through her body and surged to her throat.

Unlike before, this trip through time was painful.

This trip through time vanished mid-flight.

* * * *

When the world settled, Simon heard someone scream.

Helen and Amber were both crumpled on the ground in Mrs. Dawson
’s backyard. Simon lurched to Helen’s side while Liz and Cian went to Amber.

She breathed, thank God.

“What happened?”

“I think they fainted,” Cian replied.

“Simon? Simon is that you?” Mrs. Dawson called from the back stoop of her home.

“Aye.
’Tis me.”

“Looks like you brought the whole clan.”

Yeah, he had.

Helen wake up.
The longer she lay there motionless, the harder his stomach dropped.

He scooped her into his arms and walked into the house. Behind him, Cian held Amber while the others followed.

“Is that my Helen?”

Simon avoided saying the obvious. Mrs. Dawson
’s frantic voice caused his heart to skip a beat.

Amber stirred once Cian placed her on Mrs. Dawson
’s sofa. “Amber?” Liz called to her.

Simon met Cian
’s gaze. “Did you help her wake?”

“Nay.”

Simon placed a hand to Helen’s cheek, coaxing her to come around. “Come on, Helen. Your turn, lass.”

Someone handed him a cool washcloth, which he placed on Helen
’s head. When her eyes twitched and started to open, he let out a shuddering breath.

“W-Where…?”

“We’ve made it. Mrs. Dawson is here.”

“Is she okay?” Mrs. Dawson asked.

Helen started to move her limbs.

“She
’s fine.”

Simon helped Helen sit up, his arm around her back for support. “Does anything hurt?”

“No. I think I passed out.”

“You and Amber both.”

Helen looked beyond him to Amber, who offered them both a wan smile.

Fiona, Tara and Duncan
’s daughter, offered an explanation. “I think the burden of too many people at once is the reason, Simon.”

Helen shook the fog from her brain. “I think she
’s right,” she added. “Next time we go a couple at a time.”

“I
’ll put on some coffee. It looks like you all can use it.”

“Thanks,” Helen told Mrs. Dawson.

“We’re sorry to have invaded as we have,” Simon told Mrs. Dawson as she walked from the living room.

“I
’m sure you have your reasons. I look forward to hearing them. I’m simply happy to see you back. After the first couple of days I started to lose hope I’d ever see you again.”

Helen grasped Simon
’s arm. “The first couple of days?”

“You
’ve been gone over two weeks, sweetheart.”

“But I thought you said we could pick a time to come back?” Helen
’s pleading gaze met Simon’s.

“I thought we could.”

“Apparently the Ancients didn’t want us returning when you desired.”

“What about Philip?”

“Don’t worry about him now.”

Mrs. Dawson walked back in the room smiling. “I suppose I should find rooms for all of you.”

“Oh, Mrs. Dawson I’m sorry. We had no choice.” Helen stood, but Simon held onto her arm in case her head wasn’t completely recovered.

Mrs. Dawson smiled at Helen. “You look lovely. I don
’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress, much less one so grand.”

Helen laughed. “It
’s all the rage in Scotland.”

“Your hospitality would be greatly appreciated, lass.”

Mrs. Dawson’s cheeks grew rosy. “How could I refuse? My home is yours. Always. I don’t think I have enough beds.”

“Don
’t worry about that. We’ll make do,” Liz stepped forward. “I’m Liz, Simon’s mom.”

“Sorry,” Simon offered his mother. “Let me introduce everyone.” He started with the adults and made his way through the children, most of whom were busy looking around the room and mumbling to each other.

Mrs. Dawson greeted everyone with grace, her lips always in a smile. She did seem happy to have her home filled with people. For that Simon was thankful.

Even with the excitement of the evening, the youngest children were fading. Helen offered to show the kids where to sleep and left the room with Mrs. Dawson and the women.

Cian stayed behind and milled about the room. “So this is your time?”

“I guess you could say that. With all of you here, it feels more like my time. Last month I wouldn
’t have said the same.”

Cian ran his hand along a lamp. “Electricity?”

Simon nodded. “It runs nearly everything.”

“Hmm. The home is warm but no fire burns.”

“A heater. Probably run by gas. A different fuel source.”

Cian moved to a wall and rapped the end of a knuckle against it. “How does the wood get so smooth?”

“It’s not wood. I think it’s plaster. You’ll have to ask Helen or Mrs. Dawson. I was too young to care about how the walls were built when I lived in this time. There’s a lot to take in.” The aroma of coffee filtered in from the kitchen. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

“There are no servants?”

Simon laughed. “Actually, Mrs. Dawson has help, but they leave at night.”

Simon left Cian alone and rummaged through the kitchen to find cups. He poured two and brought one in for Cian. Cian sipped the brew and nodded approval.

“Before the women return, I have something to tell you.”

Simon glanced to the empty doorway. “What is it?”

“My knife is gone.”

“Did you drop it outside?”

“I secured it inside my pack. Now ’tis gone.”

Simon put his cup aside. “What does that mean?”

Cian’s gaze moved to the floor. “I do not know. ’Tis safe to say Helen will be the one to take us all home when the time comes. Risking the loss of more stones would be too great.”

Simon agreed, yet as he watched Cian move about the room, the loss of the knife didn
’t seem to alter his behavior. It was almost as if Cian had expected the knife to disappear.

Chapter Twenty-One

Helen found Simon sitting in front of a warm fire in Mrs. Dawson
’s library. Everyone was safely tucked in bed. Some were two to a bed, but the kids didn’t care. They buzzed with excitement and questions that Liz and Myra answered until they were too tired to speak.

“There you are,” Helen said as she walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She
’d found a pair of jeans and T-shirt among the small stash of clothes in the room Mrs. Dawson said was hers. The dress may have made her feel the part of a lady, but to be out from under all those layers of material felt liberating.

Simon swirled a glass half filled with amber liquid and offered her a smile. He patted the space to the side of him on the sofa. Once seated, he wrapped a hand around her shoulders, tucked her into his side, and sighed. “I
’ve missed you.”

She wanted to remind him that they
’d seen each other more than not, but knew exactly what he meant. “There isn’t an army of men, or a clan of family telling us to stay apart now.”

“No, no there isn
’t.” He kissed her temple before taking a sip of his drink.

“What
’s in there?”

“Whisky, I think.”

Helen removed the glass from his hand and took a drink. “It’s smooth.”

“I thought ladies didn
’t like the taste of whisky.”

She tucked her feet up on the sofa and rested her hand on his kilted thigh. “I grew up with whisky and beer, not wine and sherry.”

He smiled and said, “It’s nice to enjoy this and not worry about an attack.”

Helen blew out a breath. “I didn
’t realize how stressed I was about the war until we arrived here and the threat was gone. I don’t know how you live like that every day.”

Simon stroked her shoulder as he spoke. Waves of pleasure tingled down her arm. “Before last year, everything was peaceful in Scotland. After Grainna that is. The MacCoinnich
’s trained me for war, trained me to be a protector. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have to use those skills.”

The distant look in Simon
’s eyes caused Helen to ask, “H-Have you ever killed a man?”

His eyes met hers. “Would it concern you if I had?”

“No, I guess not. Seems inevitable where you’re from.”

He moved his gaze back to the fire. “I
’ve killed.”

Helen swallowed. “Does it haunt you?”

“I think about it, but I don’t dwell.”

Their lives were so different. How they managed to find common ground was a miracle in itself. Helen watched smoke lift above the fire and leaned onto Simon
’s shoulder.

“I suppose we should find our beds. Tomorrow will bring new tasks to master.”

Helen sat forward and frowned. “Beds? I thought we’d…” She clamped her mouth shut. There was no need to tell him she assumed they’d share a bed now that they were back in her time. In fact, Cian now occupied the room Simon had taken when they’d stayed at Mrs. Dawson’s before.

“You thought what, lass?” His expression was stoic, but his right eye sparked a bit too brightly.

“Nothing,” she said as she stood. “I guess I’ll just have to find Mrs. Dawson’s cat to snuggle against if you want to sleep in separate rooms.”

“Are you asking me to join you?”

Oh, he was not going to get in so easily. “No, no. I’ll find the cat. Goodnight, Simon.”

Pivoting on her heel, she started for the door, ignoring Simon
’s indrawn breath and the grunt he made after she’d taken a half a dozen steps. But when a deep, rumbling purr filled the room, Helen couldn’t control herself any longer and glanced over her shoulder.

In the middle of Simon
’s kilt and discarded shirt, stood a two hundred pound black panther.

Helen
’s heart raced to her throat. Even though she knew Simon and the animal were one and the same, a shiver of anxiety snaked down her neck. Reflected in the eyes of the predator was an untamed and unpredictable animal.

Simon lowered his panther head and let a low roar emit from his elongated jaw.

Helen couldn’t stop from backing away. “Simon? What are you doing?”

He shook his head and took another step toward her.

She backed up again, found the doorknob, and turned it. “I said I’d snuggle up to a house cat.”

His whole body shook with denial as he prowled closer.

Without thought, Helen turned and ran. She squealed with laughter as she found the stairs and fled.

Behind her, Simon gave chase.

She ran into her room, Simon close behind. Once inside, Simon nudged the door closed with his behind. His tail swished side to side. His cat eyes squared on her, and he licked his lips.

“Simon?” She stepped backward, her eyes never leaving his. “You
’re not playing fair.”

He growled and Helen
’s knees hit the bed. She scrambled up onto the mattress, her heart kicked strong in her chest.

With one graceful pounce, Simon landed on the bed and straddled her frame.

If there was one place Helen never thought she’d be, it was lying under a lethal panther without one ounce of dread.

A long, wet, rough tongue licked the side of her face and she reached up and touched Simon for the first time. He was soft and warm and completely at ease in fur.

He licked her again.

“Okay, you can sleep in here.”

He let out a soft roar, as if in approval, and changed. In only a few seconds, he was back in his own naked skin and kissing her.

Every muscle in her body started to relax and her arms wrapped around his waist and pulled his full weight down on top of her. His fingers ran down her side and nudged into the waist of her jeans.

Helen broke away from his kiss. “You couldn’t do that with claws,” she told him, nipping his ears.

“You
’re right. I’d rip your clothing off instead. Use that cat tongue to taste every inch of your delicious skin.”

Heat shot to Helen
’s core. “That shouldn’t turn me on.”

Simon tasted the corner of her mouth and down her neck. “But it did.”