The Highlander's Vow (Loch Moigh #4) Read Online Free PDF

attention was fixed on their guest. “Michael, this is Sky Elizabeth.”
    “Can’t believe it.” Michael dismounted and led his horse to the trailer where Brutus was tied. “Are we some kind of magnets for time-travelers or something?” He glanced over his shoulder at Sky.
    “Best have this conversation inside,” Gene said. He gestured toward his RV. “Let’s have lunch, and we’ll talk.”
    Michael had only been seven years old when Struan had fallen into the Gordons’ midst, wounded in battle and heartsick from the loss of his father. It had been Michael who had helped Struan get over his fear of the unknown. The lad had a compassionate heart and a gentle, good-natured humor. “I think it’s you, Michael,” he teased. “That big heart of yours acts as a beacon through the centuries.”
    “I hope not.” Michael’s grin belied his objection. “Or we’re going to have to start up a nonprofit organization to shelter displaced time-travelers.”
    Once he and Gene helped Michael out of his armor, they headed for the camper. Struan grabbed Sky’s cloak from the table and followed her up the narrow metal steps and inside. “Are you hungry, lass?” He’d worked hard to eliminate his Scottish burr and to become American in every way, but her presence brought out the Scottish Highlander in him.
    She nodded and looked around in wonder. “Why, ’tis so much cooler within than without, and we are no’ even underground.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “I feel a breeze. How is this possible?” She turned to him for an explanation.
    “It’s called air-conditioning, and it’s one of the many technological wonders of this age.” Struan hung up her cloak in the closet before helping himself to a beer from the fridge. “Would you like something to drink, Sky?”
    “Aye, I find I’m most parched.” She stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room space.
    “Sit.” Marjorie patted the seat of the booth-like dining area. “Would you like a soda, a beer or a cup of coffee?”
    Sky sat down and scooted over. “Oh. My cousin’s wife oft speaks of coffee. I would very much like to try some.”
    “Wait.” Struan frowned. “When are you from?”
    Sky clasped her hands together in her lap. “Early spring in the year of our Lord 1443.”
    “How would your cousin’s wife know about coffee?” The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “And how do you know about a fortune-teller who frequents Renaissance festivals in the twenty-first century?”
    “’Tis a very long and strange tale, sir, but my family has . . . we—”
    “Wait. Save it until after we’ve eaten.” Struan snorted. Already overwhelmed with everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say just yet. “Better doctor the coffee up for her, Ma. Remember my first cup?”
    “I do. In fact, I believe there might still be a few spatter stains from when you spit it out all over the wall.” She chuckled.
    “Mmm. I smell chili and I’m starving.” Gene drew his wife in for a quick kiss, smacking her bottom before letting her go. “I’ll fix Sky’s coffee, while you get lunch on the table.”
    Sky’s face turned a dusky rose at the obvious display of affection between his parents. Her blush was an enticing sight, to be sure.
    Gene handed Sky a mug of coffee with lots of cream and sugar. “Try this.”
    Struan leaned against the kitchen counter, took a swallow of his beer and watched. In fact, his entire family watched.
    Sky’s gaze went from him to the others, her cheeks coloring again. “Am I to have spectators?” she asked, eying the contents of her mug. “I trow ’tis harmless enough, or my cousin would no’ miss it so.” She took a tentative sip, and her lips pursed. “’Tis so very sweet . . . and bitter at the same time.” She set the mug down.
    Struan laughed. “Just wait till you taste the chili.”
    “Is chili sweet as well?” Sky