Every Time with a Highlander by Gwyn Cready Read Free Book Online Page A

figure out how to get back, and there was only one person who could help him with that.
    The pump house was no minor outbuilding. Perched on the banks of the river, with a gabled roof and an astounding array of wheels and valves visible through its tracery windows, the pump house was an engineering marvel, and Michael might have spent a moment or two imagining the work necessary to put such a thing together had not the other marvel in view commanded his attention.
    Undine stood at the edge of the beech-lined courtyard adjacent to the pump house. Despite her note, she appeared in no urgent need of help. She stood with her back to him, gazing happily at the Tweed, her skirts licked by the breeze.
    She hadn’t noticed him, and he watched her without making a sound for as long as decency would allow.
    â€œLook at them,” she said without turning. “See them dance.”
    He flushed, realizing she must have known he’d been watching, and looked in the direction of her gaze.
    There, just past a bend in the river, scores of fish were leaping in the air and wriggling in the warmth before returning to the churning blue with a splash.
    â€œSalmon, yes?”
    â€œAye,” she said. “Cuddies and glowers too. But salmon mostly.”
    The energetic exercise, like a tiny display of maritime fireworks, seemed to enchant her. He found himself wishing he could elicit the same response.
    â€œThere was a huge rain yesterday,” she said. “The fish always come out after that. They like the current. It massages the stiffness from them.”
    She’d said the last with such empathetic certainty Michael didn’t quite know how to respond. “It sounds as if you’d like to be in there swimming with them.”
    â€œI would.”
    He had come to a stop a little behind her, enjoying the graceful curve of her neck as much as the view. She reached absently under the thick knot of blond at her nape to rub a muscle. Without thinking, he lifted his hands toward her shoulders and recovered himself with a start.
    Good Lord, you hardly know the woman.
    Undine chose that moment to turn, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, mortified.
    â€œHow was my fiancé’s confession?”
    â€œI’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he said, remaining true to his supposed office.
    â€œI very much doubt he said anything.”
    He shrugged, apologetic. “Confidentiality. It’s woven into the cloth.”
    â€œBut you’re not a real priest.”
    He lifted a brow. What could she mean? He knew she believed him to be a priest. She’d called him “Father” and asked about the location of his parish.
    â€œAm I not?”
    She pinkened. “No. I wouldn’t have called you if you were. I’m sorry. I don’t say it to embarrass you. I thought at first when I mixed the potion you would be an acolyte, but you’re too old for that.”
    He coughed. “How flattering.”
    The pink deepened to red, though she didn’t apologize.
    â€œI assume you’ve been defrocked then?” she said. “Or suspended from service in some way?”
    â€œIn the corner in a dunce cap? That’s how you see me?” She seemed to have no knowledge of his having traveled three centuries to serve her. She certainly had no idea he was a theater director. The gaps in her knowledge were large. Perhaps the gaps would prove useful.
    â€œYou needn’t be ashamed,” she said. “I’m sure you’re a competent man. Everyone makes mistakes—and in this case, your failing will serve some good.”
    â€œWhom exactly will my failing serve—other than you, of course?”
    She shifted. “That’s complicated.”
    â€œI assumed it would be.”
    â€œThe people who long for peace in the borderlands, which too often doesn’t include the English.”
    He laughed out loud. “Oh God, you’re a Scot.” Her accent