Highlander in Her Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

was, she cherished that tea towel. Like the small tartan-covered armchair beside her bed, she’d found the tea towel at a garage sale. Along with the worthless wooden frame she’d used to mount it.
    A thin purse sparked creativity.
    And penning supposedly true tales of the strange and inexplicable for Destiny Magazine , a popular monthly focused on all things supernatural, didn’t generate enough income for luxuries.
    Even if some of her stories were fact.
    Like her most recent. The reason she’d barricaded herself inside her postage-stamp-sized apartment and wasn’t answering her phone or e-mail.
    Kira groaned and knocked the pillow aside. Impossible, how a mere week could turn someone’s life upside down. One excited phone call to Destiny from a group of wannabe archaeologists, and there she was, using her far-seeing ability to help them locate the remains of a Viking longboat resting proudly at the bottom of a river-bisected Cape Cod lake, her discovery proving beyond a doubt that Norsemen were the first to land on the New World’s shores. Overnight, she’d become everyone’s most celebrated darling.
    Or their worst nightmare.
    Depending on whether one favored horn-helmeted sea marauders or the tried and true. Either way, even if Destiny raised her salary to match her sudden and unwanted notoriety, the proponents of a certain Mediterranean mariner weren’t too keen to see their hero’s glory dinted.
    A shudder rippled down Kira’s spine and she clutched the covers tighter. She’d lost track of how many historical societies wanted her head, each one raking her over the coals for her blasphemy.
    Christopher Columbus may have died centuries ago, but his spirit was alive and well in America.
    His fans active.
    Out there, and sharpening their claws.
    She frowned. No, a raise wasn’t going to help her. The means to purchase an air ticket meant tiddly-squat if she ended up tarred and feathered before she could ever reach the airport.
    Not to mention a Glasgow-bound plane.
    Judging by the hate mail she’d been receiving, such a mob might even seize and burn her passport. Already, she’d found two nails thrust into her car tires, and some exceptionally witty soul who clearly lived in her apartment building had smeared some kind of unidentifiable goo on her doorknob. Icky, foul-smelling goo. Kira swiped an annoying strand of hair off her forehead. At least fretting about such nonsense took her mind off him.
    The gorgeous, incredible-in-bed medieval Highlander she shouldn’t be fantasizing about when she was in a pickle.
    She sighed and shut her eyes, doing her best to forget him. The alpha Gael who not only could melt her with one heated, sensuous glance but knew better than any real man how to ignite her passion.
    A fool’s passion, imagined and un real, regardless of how exquisite.
    She pressed a hand to her forehead and massaged her temples. The broadcast reporters and television cameras camped in the Castle Apartments parking lot were real and she’d had enough of them. As the daughter of a ceramic tile salesman and a high school art teacher, she wasn’t used to the limelight.
    Nor did she like it.
    Especially when they all seemed determined to make sport of her.
    â€œSleep.” She breathed the word like a mantra, repeating it in her mind as she rubbed two fingers between her brows. A good eight hours of oblivion was what she needed.
    Maybe then she’d wake refreshed, the snarl of television crews and other suchlike long-noses gone from outside her apartment’s ground-floor windows, the world a new and bright place, free of problems and cares.
    Yes, she decided, settling an arm over her head, sleep was just what she needed.
    Lass…your raiments .
    Deep and rich, the mellifluous words seduced the darkness, pure Highland and buttery smooth. Familiar in ways that slid right through her sleep to curl low in her belly, warming and melting