A Highlander's Obsession Read online

  Her hair was the color of sweet golden gale, his favorite Highland flower. She wore her tresses chin length, a tempting sight blowing wild in the wind like the blonde mantle of a Viking princess. Creighton scowled; too bad he hated the Vikings.

  Ronan escorted the lady in pink up the castle’s steps. The younger woman hurried to catch up. Her open coat billowed, showcasing long legs in snug blue jeans and full breasts under a white sweater. She fought to keep her windswept hair out of her face.

  He reached to take the hand of the pink person, trying hard to focus on her face and not those ridiculous pelican baffies. “Welcome to Matheson Lodge, ma’am.”

  The woman barely acknowledged him, waving a hand in his direction and speaking to her blonde companion. “He’s all yours, sweet pea. Where’s the bathroom? I have to tinkle.” She whizzed by him, a woman obviously in need of the lavy.

  Shocked by her dismissal, Creighton’s hand remained outstretched. Wait, this wasn’t how he did things. Before guests stepped into his home, he gave them a brief prepared speech on the history of Mathe Castle and how his family converted it into a lodge. People didn’t just barge in like field mice in search of cheese. There were customs and rituals to adhere to.

  Ronan spared him an aggravated glance as he hurried after the older woman. “I’ll see to the generator. Take care of Paisley. She saw some strange animals on our way here.” His expression and tone were telling.

  Creighton mentally opened the telepathic shield to his inner bear’s thoughts. Did she now? I’m sure the American twit didna ken what she saw. He turned his gaze on the blonde. Blue eyes, snapped open impossibly wide, dominated her face. Or was it those round, black-framed glasses? Her mouth opened and closed as if she were trying to speak and couldn’t find her tongue. Her hand fluttered to her throat and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Bloody hell.” He reached out and caught her as she folded at his feet. He brought the limp form to his chest. She’d passed out. Travel fatigue, perhaps? He sneered. “Fragile Americans.” What was he to do with the lass? He studied her face. She was a pretty thing with lots of alluring curves.

  Bryce took the steps two at a time, his hands full of luggage. “Bloody hell, Creighton. Ye’ve got the ladies swooning at yer feet.” He paused and stared at the unconscious woman. “She’s a looker. Got an eye-catching form, she does. I wouldn’t mind snuggling up to her on a bitchin’ cold night.”

  Creighton’s scowl deepened and he pulled her closer to his chest. The urge to swipe at his brother was strong, which bothered him, but not nearly as much as this novel feeling of possessiveness. Mine, the bear within him proclaimed.

  A smile split Bryce’s face. So that’s the way of it, ’tis it? Good luck. The woman’s got something strange about her. Can’t put me finger on it. I sensed it when she saw Neilan, Kendric, and ye earlier on our way here. Like she already knew more than she ought. He shook his head as if to erase his telepathic thoughts and hurried for the open doorway.

  “Mum, Creighton scared our guest and she fainted. Get the smelling salts.”

  Creighton gritted his teeth in annoyance. How so like his baby brother to sound the alarm. He turned and carried the blonde—Paisley, Ronan said her name was—inside to the reception parlor of his lodge. Between a large fire roaring in the fireplace and lanterns lit and positioned about the room, the castle’s gloominess faded.

  He laid her on the brown leather sofa then slipped the afghan from its back to cover her. Helplessness strangely took hold. What else could he do to comfort her? On impulse, he snatched his niece’s teddy bear from a child’s rocker near the hearth and slipped it under the American’s slender arm.

  His mother hurried in, a vial of smelling salts in her hand. “Creighton, what happened?”

  “I dinna ken. She couldn’t talk. Her eyes rolled backward as if she were trying to see the back side of her brain. Then she fainted at me feet.” He stopped from cupping her cheek just to feel if her skin was as soft as it looked.

  His mother’s face bore concern then surprise. She pointed to the teddy bear as her eyebrows rose. “What’s this?”

  He shrugged and forked fingers through his hair. “She looked as if she needed it. Ye ken how Colleen is when she’s not well. A stuffed animal always comforts.”

  “Well, seems our guest here is at that in-between age. Too old for a teddy bear and too young for a stroke.” She pressed a hand to Paisley’s brow. “What do ye think happened? Oh, I hope she didna see Broden or Ainsley.”

  “Nay, ye ken the ghosts never step outside the castle.”

  “Well, ye canna tell with them. Remember what they did to that rock band a few months back? I hear they havena been able to play a note since.” She squatted next to Paisley and snapped open the vial, waving it under the woman’s pert nose.

  “Hell, they couldna play before. The fukin’ band sounded like a batch o’ cats in heat.” Creighton stepped back from the ammonia odor, rapidly blinking to clear his eyes.

  Paisley coughed and waved her hand in front of her nose, pushing away the acrid smell. Blue eyes fluttered open behind her glasses. Her displeasure over the ammonia stench changed to confusion, as her gaze swept the room, and morphed into fear once it settled on him.

  Why is she looking at me like that? Have I grown an extra nose? Unease swept through him. Had he changed completely when he shifted back to human form? Or was part of him still covered with fur? He glanced at his hands before touching his face.

  She sat and scooted to the end of the sofa. All the while she gaped at him. A wounded cry escaped her lips. She looked as if she were about to piss her pants in fear.

  “Are ye all right, dear? Ye gave me son quite a fright.”

  Paisley’s gaze stayed locked on him even while she answered his mother. “Y … yes. Thank you. Where’s my grandmother?” She had a pleasing voice. Low, throaty, sexy.

  Creighton cursed himself for noticing.

  The pink-haired woman stormed into the room like a combatant dose of Pepto-Bismol, ready to do battle. “I’m here, sweet pea. What happened? Bryce said you passed out.” She glared at Creighton. “What did you do to her to make her faint, you big overgrown galoot?”

  “Galoot?”

  She pointed a finger at her niece. “Look at her. She’s scared out of her wits.”

  He fisted his hands on his hips and leaned toward the short pink dynamo. “Look who’s talking about wits. A bampot with pink hair wearing pelican baffies.”

  “Creighton, enough. We dinna insult our guests. No doubt they’re exhausted from such a long trip.” His mother took Paisley’s hand and patted it. “Welcome to Matheson Lodge, dear. I’m Fiona Matheson, mother of all these brutes, and this is me eldest, Creighton. How are ye feeling? Better? Do ye think ye can walk or do ye want Creighton to carry ye up to yer suite?”

  Paisley gaped at him for a few more beats. “No.” She slid her glasses back on her nose. Then, realizing she clutched a stuffed bear to her chest, she stared at it with the strangest expression before turning her gaze on his mother. “I mean yes. I can walk just fine.” She stood and wrapped her arm around her grandmother. “I’m sorry I upset you, Gram. A hot bath and I’ll feel better, I’m sure.”

  His mother ushered them toward the doorway. “Would either of ye care fer a cup of tea or hot chocolate?”

  “Oh, a woman never refuses chocolate,” the older woman cooed.

  The pair of them would be trouble. One wanted to destroy the surrounding countryside and perhaps Mathe Bay, if the American oil companies were involved. As for the pretty lass, she was as mystifying as his attraction to her. Creighton ran a hand down his face. His life was changing right in front of his eyes. He had to convince the old broad not to sell her inheritance or to sell to him. Although, he doubted his clan could come up with the funds to match the bids of the large corporations. Still, he had to try.

  The sound of the generator grinding to life filtered through the thick castle walls. Lights powered by the
large machine flickered on. Soon the place would warm up.

  Once he and his brothers were alone, Ronan poured them each a brandy. “Did ye say something to Paisley to scare her?”

  “Nay.” Creighton sighed as he settled into a leather chair by the fire. “The woman’s teched in the head.” His index finger made a circular motion at his temple. She also pulls at me.

  Bryce took the snifter Ronan handed him then glanced at Creighton. “I think she knows what ye are. What we are.”

  “Nonsense. How could she?”

  “There’s something about her. Dinna ye feel it?” Ronan swirled the brandy in his snifter.

  “Aye, he feels it.” Bryce smirked into his glass before he took a swallow. “He feels it in his balls.”

  Chapter Two

  As soon as Fiona left their suite of rooms, Paisley turned and met Gram’s steady gaze. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

  “No, because I can see you’re not. What’s wrong, sweet pea? I read distress in your aura.”

  There was no use hiding things from her. Gram always had a knack for sensing every emotion she had. “Gram …” Tears burned the backs of Paisley’s eyes. “I’m losing my mind. I’m … I’m …” She shook her head and began to pace across the sitting room. She wasn’t ready to talk about what she’d heard just yet. “Why don’t you take a hot bath? I need a few minutes alone to come to grips with things before I can share them with you.”

  Gram patted her arm. “Are you sure? Lord knows, I’d love a hot bath to ease these achy joints. I thought we’d never get here.” She collapsed on the chintz sofa and cast tired eyes on Paisley. “How long ago did we leave Virginia?”

  “Nearly twenty-two hours.” Paisley pressed fingertips to her temples. “I think. Some of our trip is a fog. All this rushing just to sit in the same spot for hours and hours had to be hard on you. I’m worried.”

  Gram waved a hand in dismissal. “Pahhh. This old bird is built of sturdy Scot stock. I can handle most anything.” She rubbed her knees and winced. “It’s ol’ ‘Arthoritis’ who needs the help.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Paisley set Gram’s suitcase on a luggage stand in her bedroom. Gram tottered behind her.

  “These are lovely rooms, aren’t they? Spacious.” Their suite had two bedrooms, each with its own bath. A sitting room with a fireplace separated the two sleeping areas. Gram ran a hand over the pink rose wallpaper. “How do you think this wallpaper would look in my house back in Clifton?”

  “Which room?”

  Gram sported her what-the-hell grin. “All of them.”

  “Overkill, Gram. I’m taking a shower while you get your bath. We’ll have our hot chocolate in the sitting room when we’re done.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Gram unzipped her suitcase.

  Minutes later, Paisley stepped into the shower, its hot spray easing some of the travel-weary kinks. Thoughts and fears surfaced. She’d shared her first conversation with an animal at the age of twelve when Bosco, her chocolate Lab, told her about the thorn embedded in his paw. At the time, she thought it was the coolest thing. At least until she told her parents and they freaked. She seldom allowed recollections of that dark time to invade her consciousness. Weird, her parents had called her. A freak. A liar. Crazy.

  Well, now it looked as if there was a new block in her crazy quilt of life.

  Tonight, for the first time, she’d heard a human’s thoughts. She fisted her hands over her eyes. Oh my God. A human.

  Tears pooled and fell. She truly was a freak. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d been cursed with the ability to hear animals communicate? Now she’d stepped further into the realm of insanity. Her chest constricted and her breathing came in shallow bursts. Holy shit, I can hear other people’s thoughts. She slid down the tiled wall of the shower and cried.

  * * *

  Gram was talking to Fiona when Paisley, dressed in her pajamas, stepped into the sitting room.

  “Sweet pea, wait till you taste this hot chocolate Fiona made us. It’s to die for.”

  Fiona smiled and stepped toward her. “Are ye feeling better, dear?”

  Her gram had taught her good southern manners. Truthfully, she wasn’t up for polite chitchat, but to be rude would only upset the person she loved most in the whole world. Paisley smiled. “Yes. Thanks for your concern. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

  The woman patted her arm. “Good. Good. I like fer our guests to enjoy their time here.”

  “Are Ronan, Bryce, and Creighton your only children? They’re quite good-looking, yet very different.”

  “Och, sweet child, ye do not want to get an Irish woman talking about her sons, or a Scottish one either. I moved here from County Kirk in Ireland when I married me Scottish love more than thirty years ago. I bore him four bairns, each within two years of each other. Me only daughter died when she was almost three. She was a frail thing, she was. We lost her a month before me husband.” Pain pinched her expression and she glanced away, blinking as if to ward off tears.

  “Oh, how awful. How did you go on after so much loss?” Gram reached for a cookie on a tray set on the small coffee table.

  Fiona shrugged. “I had little time fer grief. I had three active sons to raise. A mother does what she has to do to take care of her young. Our family’s had many sad experiences. Me youngest, Bryce, married at a young age to a wee slip of a girl. Miranda died birthing their daughter. Colleen was nearly two months early, and we feared we’d lose her too.” She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Our wee sweet bairn survived. Och, ’tis the light of our lives, she is. You’ll meet her tomorrow when she greets ye.” A smile of pride graced her lips. “Creighton gave her the title of ‘Official Cheery Greeter.’ A title she takes verra seriously, let me tell ye. I keep hoping my sons will soon marry and give me more grandchildren.” Her gaze swept over Paisley.

  Lady, don’t even go there.

  Fiona stooped in front of the fireplace and added two more logs. “ ’Tis a cold, windy night. Or as the Scottish say, ’tis a dreich nicht. Ye will need the extra heat from the fireplace, so keep yer bedroom doors open.” She stood and gave the room a cursory glance, no doubt to make sure all was well. “Set yer tray out in the hallway when yer done. Sleep soundly. Guid nicht an sweit dreams.” She closed the door behind her.

  “Fiona seems nice, doesn’t she?” Paisley sipped the hot chocolate and moaned. “Oh, this is fabulous.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? She melts real chocolate in milk. Sure tastes better than a mix.” Gram toed off her bedroom slippers and tucked her feet under her nightgown. “Tell me, sweet pea. What has you so troubled? I can see by your eyes you’ve been crying.” She brought the mug to her lips.

  Paisley settled onto the sofa next to Gram. “I’m losing my mind.”

  Gram lifted a bony shoulder. “Oh, well, haven’t we all in one form or another? Have a cookie. They’re made with real butter.”

  Paisley reached for one of the treats and then laid it back on the plate. She wasn’t hungry. Food was the last thing on her mind. “I’m starting to hear people’s thoughts.”

  Gram’s cool hand covered hers. Her voice held a tinge of awe. “When did it start?”

  “Tonight, when I first stepped in front of Creighton.”

  Gram raised her cup and held it in front of her lips. “You heard his thoughts or heard bells ring?”

  “Very funny. I heard his thoughts. Scared me so bad I fainted.” She swiped at falling tears. Childhood fears and insecurities resurfaced. Feeling helpless didn’t sit well with her. She was, by nature, a fighter. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? You won’t send me away?” Listen to me. I sound like a scared child.

  Flannel-clad arms enveloped her and drew her close. The scent of the baby powder Gram was so fond of comforted her. “My precious child, no one separates us. No one.” Gram pressed a kiss to her damp hair. “When you think about it, it’s not that much of a stretch. You can hear animals’ thoughts. Some people
would say we humans are animals too. I think this is just a natural progression of your gift.”

  “Gift? Oh, Gram, it’s more curse than gift.”

  “Nonsense. Look at all the animals you’ve been able to help. Veterinarians around the country contact you when they have a difficult patient. Your talent, your gift, is in demand.”

  She slipped off her glasses and blotted more tears with her fingers. “Yeah, I guess. Still …”

  “Still …” Her grandmother’s eyes held that ornery sparkle. “I think it’s telling the first person’s thoughts you heard were that of a handsome-as-hell man in a kilt.” She pursed her lips. “By his thunderstruck expression, I’d say he was just as taken with you as you were with him.”

  “No. Now you’ve got this situation all wrong. I’m not interested in that … that … what did you call him? Galoot?”

  Gram winced. “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologized to his mother when she brought the hot chocolate. I’ll apologize to him in the morning. I was just so worried about you, I forgot my good manners.” She set her cup down and yawned. “I can’t stay awake another minute. Help me up and hug me good night. I’m glad we have a day to rest before Angus’s funeral. We’ll both need to recharge our batteries. What time did the lawyer say the funeral was again?”

  It wasn’t like Gram to forget details like this. “Ten. Maybe you should spend tomorrow in bed.”

  “We’ll see how I feel after a good night’s sleep. I must say, I’m not looking forward to the funeral. You know how I hate them. All those people crying and talking about how good the dead person looks. If that’s not bad enough, there’s the reading of his will afterward. Though why I’d be included in his list of heirs is still a mystery to me.”

  After Gram went to bed, Paisley set the tray in the hallway, put another log on the fire, and went into her bedroom. She stepped to the window and pushed back heavy ivory drapes.