Only With A Highlander

Winter scowled. What in hell were they talking about? Have her find who? And what staff?

Had Daar made her a staff like his? Come to think of it, Winter realized she hadn’t seen Daar’s thick old staff for months now; he’d been using a wooden cane made from a maple sapling to get around. So why would he have made her a staff instead of one for himself?

Curses, what was going on?

“It will have plenty of energy in Winter’s hands,” Daar countered, glaring at Grace. “Once she gets her mind off that Gregor fellow and onto the business at hand.” He turned his glare on Grey. “Ye need to tell her now. We need Winter’s magic. The pine is dying.”

They needed her magic?

She didn’t have any magic. That was Robbie and Daar’s calling. Winter stepped away from the window and pressed her back to the cabin, frowning at the trees across the clearing.

Her magic? Her staff? Tell her what now?

She turned to the window again when she heard a chair slide back. Her papa had stood up. He walked over to Grace, took hold of her shoulders, and said, “He’s right, wife. We can’t wait any longer.

We have to tell Winter today.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Grace’s head. “Putting it off is only compounding the problem,” he continued. Winter saw his hands tighten on her mama’s shoulders, and Grace looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “If ye want Winter to get on with her life,” Grey said,

“then we have to tell her now, so she can help us find and destroy Cùram.”

Winter sucked in her breath. Cùram? The wizard Robbie had stolen the tap root from? She was supposed to find him?

And destroy him?

Winter never did hear her mama’s response, what with her screaming when a pair of large hands suddenly caught her at the waist, spun her around, and tossed her over a broad, solid shoulder.

“Oh-ho, didn’t yer mama tell ye it’s not nice to spy?” Robbie said with a laugh as he strode along the side of the cabin with her over his shoulder.

Winter squirmed furiously, but when that only got her a smack on her bottom, she pinched Robbie’s back just above his belt. “Let me go,” she hissed, rearing up and smacking his shoulder. “I wasn’t spying. I was getting Daar some firewood.”

All she got for an answer was a laugh, but she did have the satisfaction of hearing Robbie grunt when her flailing feet co

Robbie entered the cabin and set Winter down on her feet, grabbing her wrist as if expecting her to bolt. “Ye have varmints lurking in yer bushes,” he said to the startled occupants of the one-room cabin. “I warned ye, old man, not to toss yer scrap food out so close by.”

“Winter!” Grace said with a gasp, rushing up to her. “What are you doing here?”

Winter lifted her chin. “I’m trying to find out what’s been bugging you and Papa for the last two weeks.” She tugged her wrist free and turned her furious glare on her papa. “What is it you’ve finally decided to tell me? What’s going on? And what did you mean by my magic?”

Winter became truly alarmed when her papa broke eye contact and looked at the floor, his face paling to ashen white. Never, ever, had Winter seen the powerful Laird Greylen MacKeage back down

—certainly not from one of his daughters, and certainly not from a direct question.

“Winter,” Grace whispered, taking her hand and leading her over to the table, urging her down in a chair. She pulled another chair up beside Winter, took hold of her hand again, and squeezed it as she darted a worried glance at her husband. “Th-there’s something your father and I need to tell you,” she said softly, looking at Winter and leaning closer. “Something we’ve been keeping from you all this time.”

“W-what?” Winter whispered, feeling the blood drain from her own face as she looked into her mother’s turbulent eyes.

The silence became absolute, until her papa suddenly pulled up a chair to sit beside her and took hold of her other hand. “Ye’re…the reason we…ye—” he began, only to pale again and look at Grace. Winter followed his gaze, looking at her mother in question.

“Have you never wondered why Daar brought your father forward in time thirty-seven years ago?” Grace asked softly.

“No,” Winter said. “Yes,” she quickly contradicted with a shake of her head. “Of course I’ve wondered. All us girls have.” She nodded toward the silent priest standing by the hearth. “But the only logical reason we could think of was that Daar had messed up another one of his spells.”

Grace shook her head. “No, he didn’t make a mistake. Daar brought Greylen here on purpose.” She smiled crookedly. “The others, the MacBains and your MacKeage uncles, they were a mistake. It was only supposed to be Greylen who came forward.”

“But why?”

“To meet me,” Grace said softly, squeezing Winter’s hand again. “So we could have seven daughters together.”

Winter blinked at her mama. Daar had brought a highland warrior eight hundred years through time just to make babies?

Grey snorted. “Aye, it seems so,” he said, and Winter realized she’d spoken out loud.

“I was supposed to be the seventh son of a seventh son,” Grace continued, drawing Winter’s attention again. Her crooked smile broadened. “But I was born a female, and it appears that it was my seventh daughter who was destined to be gifted.”

“G-gifted?” Winter whispered.

“Aye,” her papa said, scooting closer and lacing his fingers through hers. He took a deep breath and reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her face. “Ye have a very special gift, baby girl,” he said.

“Ye were born with the knowledge of the universe in ye.”

“I—I don’t have any knowledge,” she whispered, darting a worried look at her mother before locking her gaze back on her father. “If I did, I…wouldn’t I know it?”

“Nay,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “It seems ye need to be made aware of yer gift first. Ye need to be taught the skills of a drùidh.”

“Drùidh! ” Winter yelped, untangling herself from her parents and standing up, sending her chair skittering across the floor. She pointed at the still-silent priest. “Like him? Are you saying I’m like Daar!”

Both Grey and Grace immediately stood, but when Grey stepped toward her with his hand outstretched, Winter took a step back and gave a curt shake of her head. “No.” She took another step back. “I’m not a wizard. I can’t be a wizard! I would know if I was,” she cried, slapping her hand to her chest. “I would know!”

“Ye don’t know because the magic is dormant until ye’re made aware of it,” Daar interjected, stepping away from the hearth.

“Stay out of this, old man,” her papa growled.

“Nay,” Daar countered. “She needs to know the truth.” He looked at Winter. “Ye wouldn’t realize ye have the magic in ye, lass, unless ye knew to look for it. Ye’ve always carried the energy, but ye must look deep inside yourself to find it. It doesn’t just come to ye, ye have to go in search of it.”

“It was exactly the same for me, Winter,” Robbie said, stepping away from the closed door he’

d been leaning against. He smiled warmly at her. “I was twenty-six years old before my papa explained my calling to me.”

“But you were only eight when you saved Rose Dolan in the snowstorm when she was just a few months old,” Winter pointed out. “You were a guardian even then. You nearly died saving her.”

“Aye,” Robbie agreed. “But I was only acting from instinct to save an infant. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“But I don’t even have instinct!” Winter cried, backing away from everyone. “I have nothing!”

“Ye have it all, Winter,” her papa said softly. “It’s been right there in yer paintings since ye first started drawing with crayons. The spirits ye hide in yer work, do ye not find it strange that ye see their energy as plain as ye see the real animals, yet others do not?”