Only With a Highlander Page 10

  “This is Robbie and Catherine’s first night out since Angus was born,” Winter told him gently but firmly. “We are not ruining their evening when nothing can be done until daylight anyway. Robbie will come to see you as soon as he gets home.”

  Daar pointed at Matt. “We don’t need him.”

  “You need me if you want to get home tonight,” Matt said. “Because Winter is not traveling that mountain alone at night.”

  Daar lifted his chin, his crystal blue eyes filled with challenge. “Winter’s been traveling that mountain at night since she was ten,” he said. “She knows it better than anyone.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s me and my truck, or you have dinner with us here while you wait for MacBain.”

  Daar turned his glare on Winter. “Since when are ye letting a man tell ye what to do?”

  “Since she agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” Matt said before she could respond. The polite smile Matt had been using on Daar turned amused when he looked at Winter. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he started jogging toward the parking lot.

  “Well, I never—” Daar muttered, shaking his head at Winter. “Ye shouldn’t be dating that interfering man,” he told her. “Ye shouldn’t be dating anyone!”

  “Maybe I should run away and join a convent instead.”

  “Aye,” Daar said with a thoughtful nod. “That would work.”

  Winter scowled at him. “I was joking, Father.” She patted his arm and softly urged, “Please calm down. Everything will be all right. Robbie will find out what happened to your tree.”

  Daar dropped his gaze. “I cannot believe someone cut my pine,” he muttered. He looked up at her. “Not one of the other trees around it was touched. I had it hidden in a stand of several other pines, and it’s the only one that was cut.” His eyes suddenly widened and he took a step back. “Greylen,” he said on an indrawn breath. “He chopped down my tree!”

  “Papa?” Winter said in a whispered yelp. She immediately shook her head. “He wouldn’t, Father. He knows the importance of that pine tree. He wouldn’t dare harm it.”

  Daar scowled at her, obviously thinking furiously. “He would if he was trying to protect…ah, someone,” he said. “Greylen would dare anything. That’s why the blackguard can’t be found tonight,” he hissed, looking toward the summit and thumping his cane on the ground between them. “He’s probably up there with yer mama right now, burning the top of it.”

  “Think, Father,” Winter said. “Why would he cut the tree thirty feet up from the ground? If Papa wanted to kill it, he would have cut it off at the stump.”

  Daar eyed her as he rubbed his short white beard with the butt of his cane. “Aye,” he said softly, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I did wonder about that.”

  A large, black, four-door pickup pulled under the canopy and came to a stop beside Winter and Daar. Matt got out, walked around the front, and opened the back passenger door. “Let’s get you home, Father,” he said, reaching to help Daar.

  Daar thumped his cane again. “I’m riding in the front.”

  “There’s only bucket seats in the front,” Matt patiently explained. “And since Winter needs to show me the way, that leaves only the backseat or the cargo bay.”

  “It used to be people respected priests,” Daar muttered as he finally climbed in the backseat with Matt’s help.

  Matt handed Daar the seat belt. “Used to be priests were pious servants,” he countered with a chuckle. “Or so I’ve been told.”

  Daar squinted at Matt, clearly taking umbrage. “Ye’re a godless man, Mr.—” He suddenly looked over at Winter. “Ye didn’t even introduce us proper, girl.”

  “Father,” Winter said with a smile, “this is Matt Gregor. He owns Bear Mountain and is building a house there. Matt, this is Father Daar…ah, an old friend of my family. He lives up on TarStone.”

  Matt gave a slight, formal bow. “Father Daar,” he said.

  “Gregor,” Daar repeated softly as he studied Matt. “Ye seem familiar, now that I’ve calmed down enough to look at ye. Where are ye from?”

  Matt shrugged. “Here and there. New York most recently.”

  The door Matt was holding moved as a strong gust of wind blew under the open canopy, buffeting them and the truck in a flurry of dried leaves. Winter looked toward the summit and saw the moon peaking out from a bank of dark, roiling clouds. She looked at Matt. “A storm must be moving in.”

  “Aye,” Daar interjected. “One hell of a storm.” He reached over and took hold of the door Matt was still holding. “I want to go home,” he said just before he slammed it shut.

  Matt turned to Winter with a crooked smile. “You have some very colorful friends,” he said. “First Talking Tom and now Father Daar.”

  “Hey, I can’t pick my neighbors.”

  Matt opened the front passenger door, and before Winter could put her foot on the running board to climb in, he lifted her into the front seat. She didn’t even squeak this time, but only gave him a smug smile as he softly closed the door.

  Matt walked around the front of the truck and climbed in behind the wheel.

  “Which way?” Matt asked as he reached over and finished fastening Winter’s seat belt for her. “Toward town or straight up the ski slope?”

  “We head up past Gù Brath, on the same road we took this afternoon,” she told him as he fastened his own seat belt. “Then we turn right on another old tote road two miles up. That’s when it really gets rough and steep. I’m glad you thought to buy a four-wheel-drive truck.”

  He put the truck in gear, shot her a smile, and started them toward Gù Brath. “I own a mountain,” he reminded her, then said over his shoulder, “So, Father, did I hear you say a pine tree was cut down? It must be special for you to be so upset. Were you growing it for Christmas?” He turned off the paved driveway and onto the tote road. “Isn’t it a little early for someone to be stealing a Christmas tree?”

  “It’s not a Christmas tree,” Daar said. “It’s…I…ah, I’m studying the genetics of white pines, and I was going to collect the cones for their seeds. But somebody cut off the top last night.”

  Winter was impressed. She couldn’t have come up with a better excuse, though she wasn’t surprised by Daar’s explanation, considering all the time the priest spent at Robbie’s logging operation. Daar was always begging for rides and asking questions about clear-cutting and regrowth. This was obviously a fib Daar felt comfortable playing out.

  “But why would someone want to steal its pine cones?” Matt asked. “Is the tree a hybrid you’ve developed?”

  “It’s…I was…It’s…”

  Winter realized Daar might not know such a modern term, and quickly said, “It hasn’t been genetically altered or anything. It’s just a naturally occurring seed tree for lumber. Lumbermen are always looking for really straight trees with thick trunks, as they make perfect saw logs for dimensional lumber. Daar has been watching this particular tree for several years and hoped to give my cousin the seeds. Robbie owns several thousand acres of timberland, and he has to replant the areas he cuts.”

  Matt squeezed her hand and gave a nod. “So the real worry is that someone trespassed and cut down a tree he didn’t own, is that it?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Winter said. “As well as how that person even knew about that particular tree. Turn here,” she said, pointing at the narrow road on the right.

  Matt turned, causing the truck’s headlights to close into a narrow beam as the overgrown path gave the illusion they were traveling into a rising, twisting cave. Matt let go of her hand and pushed the button that engaged the four-wheel drive, but before Winter could pull away, he again covered her hand with his to rest on the console. And he didn’t let go again until the trail really got rough and he needed both hands to control the sometimes halting, sometimes slipping truck.

  “Is there a reason you don’t rebuild this goat path?” he asked, after muttering a rather colorful curse when the truck side-
slipped on a steep outcropping of ledge.

  Winter was holding on to the handle just above her door, and was turned around checking on Daar. “We usually make the trip on horseback,” she said. “Or by snow-cat in the winter.” She smiled at the sight of Matt’s scowling face illuminated by the dash lights. “And keeping it impassable discourages the tourists.”

  “And Father Daar lives up here…why?”

  “Because I like my privacy,” Daar interjected, also mouthing a curse when his cane smacked his own shin. “I don’t like people.”

  “Really?” Matt drawled.

  They rode in silence for another twenty minutes, the rutted path that had overgrown to nothing more than a trail taking all of Matt’s concentration. Branches scraped along the side of his new truck, and Winter winced when she heard a loud thud hit the frame.

  “For a fancy truck, this thing rides like a damn donkey cart,” Daar said, giving a grunt as they came to an abrupt stop.

  “Did you see that?” Matt asked, staring out the windshield.

  “See what?” Winter asked, also scanning the trail ahead in the beam of the headlights.

  “I swear I saw a cat. It darted into the bushes just beyond the beam of the lights. It was big and black, like that picture in your gallery. What did you call it? Gasser?”

  “Gesader,” Winter told him, shaking her head. “But he’s not real. You must have seen a lynx.”

  “Are lynx black?”

  “It could have been a bear.”

  “Do bears have tails as long as their bodies?”

  “You didn’t see a panther, Matt. They’re jungle animals.”

  “I’ve seen a dark, long-tailed lynx,” Daar interjected. “He’s a big one, too. He lives over on West Shoulder Ridge, but he hunts over here sometimes. He must be one of them hybrids,” Daar finished smugly.

  Great, Winter thought. They were all going to hell for telling lies, and she would be responsible for taking a priest down with her. “The cabin is just a few hundred yards farther up the path,” she said. “There’s a clearing where you can turn around.”

  Matt moved his narrow-eyed stare from Daar to her.

  “I’m sure Father Daar will make us some tea and toast, since we missed dinner and he’s so thankful we brought him home,” she continued. “Won’t you, Father?” she asked without looking away from Matt.

  “Aye. I think I have an old loaf of dry bread and some tea left,” Daar returned, sounding anything but hospitable.

  Without saying a word, Matt put the truck back in gear and slowly started forward again. And other than the occasional scrape of a branch, a person could have heard a mouse sneeze in the cab of the truck. Daar’s cabin came into view a few minutes later, and Matt turned in a wide circle that ended at the porch stairs. He shut off the engine but left the headlights on, and the silence became even more pronounced but for the occasional ping of dried leaves hitting the truck roof and windshield.

  “If you don’t mind, Father,” Matt said quietly, “I’ll take a rain check on the tea and toast. I need to have Winter back by eleven, or her cousin is going to stomp me into the ground.”

  Winter let out a relieved breath, grateful Matt was going to stop pursuing his panther sighting. She unfastened her seat belt and got out, then turned to help Daar from the backseat. Matt came around and took his arm as they climbed the porch stairs.

  “I’m sorely tired,” Daar said as he stood at his door and looked at Winter. “Ye promise ye’ll tell Robbie what’s happened the minute he gets back?”

  “I promise.”

  Daar looked at Matt and lifted his chin. “My manners compel me to thank ye, Gregor, for bringing me home.”

  “You’re welcome,” Matt said, with a slight incline of his head. “Do you want us to come in and build up your fire?”

  “Nay. I can tend my own fire.”

  Winter leaned over and gave Daar a kiss on his bearded cheek. “Good night, Father. I’ll likely see you tomorrow. I’ll come up to help Robbie and Papa in the afternoon.”

  “Nay,” Daar said with a quick shake of his head. “I only want the men.”

  Winter wasn’t insulted. In fact, she was assured Daar was back to his cantankerous old self. She patted his arm with a laugh, then turned and walked down the steps and over to the passenger door of the truck. Remembering Tom’s swordsmen, she warned, “You stay inside tonight, Father. You can’t help Robbie if you catch a chill. He’ll be up as soon as he can.”

  “Aye,” Daar agreed, the headlights illuminating his wave from the porch rail. “I’ll be right here when Robbie arrives.”

  Winter opened her door and waited, only to frown when Matt didn’t lift her in. She turned to find him standing behind her, his hands on his hips, smiling.

  “It’s no fun when you’re expecting it,” he said.

  Winter rolled her eyes with a laugh, stepped on the running board, and climbed in the truck. Matt softly closed the door and walked around the front, stopping when Daar said something to him that she couldn’t hear. They exchanged words, then Matt finally climbed in behind the wheel.

  “What did he say to you?”

  He shrugged and started the engine. “Just another friendly warning,” he told her, putting the truck in gear and slowly easing out of the clearing and back onto the steep path. He darted a quick glance at her. “That if I value my life, I might want to find another lass to charm.”

  “Oh, no,” Winter muttered, covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.

  “He also kindly explained that your father is even more protective of you than your cousin, and that getting on the wrong side of Greylen MacKeage was tantamount to suicide.” Matt brushed back her hair and pulled one hand from her face, exposing one of her eyes so she could see his smile. “He also suggested I spend more time praying and less time pursuing a woman destined for the convent.”

  Winter did groan then, quite loudly, and covered her face again as they bumped their way down the mountain.

  “I’m beginning to realize why you aren’t already married. How many boyfriends have your army of protectors scared off?”

  “Dozens,” she muttered before lowering her hands to smile at him. “That I know of. That’s not counting the guys who never even dared to ask me out.”

  Matt kept his attention on the path ahead. “Well, Miss MacKeage, your army has just come up against a man who doesn’t scare easily.” He braked to a stop and looked at her. “Do you?”

  Chapter Nine

  “The only thing that scares me,” Winter said softly, watching his face in the dash lights, “is not being able to tell if what I’m feeling is real or just my imagination.”

  “You’re not imagining me, Winter MacKeage. I assure you, I’m very real.”

  Winter clasped her hands on her lap and stared out the windshield. “Then that does scare me,” she whispered.

  He said nothing to that, but sat with his own hands loosely holding the steering wheel as he also stared out the windshield. Then, still without saying anything, he finally began easing the truck down the rutted trail again, the stark, pregnant silence inside the cab making Winter’s heart pound with dread.

  Had she just blown it? Had she finally managed to do what Robbie and Father Daar hadn’t been able to? Had she just scared off Matt by letting him know she was attracted to him?

  She knew better! She knew men didn’t like being chased by infatuated, starry-eyed women; they wanted to be the pursuer. Men were like bears: run from them and they would go after their prey without questioning why, but stand firm and make a lot of noise and they’d just as likely turn tail and run.

  Matt had been enjoying pursuing her, giving chase by buying her paintings, commissioning her time, even kissing her on his own terms. But she had just told him she liked him so much it scared her, and now he was suddenly rethinking his intentions toward her.

  Aye, she’d blown it big time.

  The sound of the bushes scraping the truck grated on Winter
’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She had met Matt only yesterday, yet in that short time she’d experienced a whole roller coaster of emotions. She’d gotten angry at both him and herself, been intrigued, infatuated, charmed, and quite wonderfully kissed. Maybe she really should join a convent; it had to be easier than maneuvering through this quagmire of feminine awareness.

  But curses, running away wasn’t the solution, either. Hadn’t her parents always taught her to follow her heart? Well, despite what her mind was all but screaming, Winter’s heart was telling her that Matheson Gregor was one man worth making a fool of herself over.

  So what the heck, she suddenly decided with a determined lift of her chin, she might as well begin as she intended to go on. And if Matt Gregor couldn’t handle her own intentions, it was his loss!

  “If you want to really feel the mountain,” she said into the silence, “the best time is when a storm is moving in.”

  He stopped the truck, put it in neutral, and looked at her.

  “There’s a sheltered bluff not a hundred yards away, where we could feel the mountain breathing.”

  He shut off the engine and then the headlights, plunging them into absolute darkness. Winter twined her fingers together, both dreading and hoping he’d say something—anything—to put her out of her misery.

  She flinched when his large hand covered hers, stilling her action. “I finally understand your family,” he said through the darkness. “You really do need looking after, don’t you? You’ve put yourself on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, with someone you’ve just met, and now you’re offering to take a walk in the woods with a complete stranger who outweighs you by at least a hundred pounds.”

  She pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms under her breasts. Okay, so maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. Whether Matt was angry or amused by her not-so-subtle offer, he was definitely surprised. She sensed him leaning back on his side of the truck, and could just make out his own arms folded over his chest as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

  “What about that cat I saw?” he asked after a long silence.