Time For A Highlander (Real Men Wear Kilts) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Time for a Highlander

  Publication Page

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Also Read

  Thank You

  Time for a Highlander

  by

  Maxine Mansfield

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Time for a Highlander

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Maxine Mansfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2016

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0706-0

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0704-6

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For all who dream of a second chance.

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Maxine Mansfield

  AND HER BOOKS

  “The Academy, Volume One, has to be one of the best series I've read…Everything from dragons to gnomes to hot steamy sex held my attention from the first page…The characters are all amazing…I laughed a lot, and out loud. I look forward to reading more from Maxine Mansfield. A definite must add to your tbr list. Highly recommended!”

  ~Denise Gardner

  TOUCHED BY THE MAGIC

  “Maxine Mansfield's TOUCHED BY THE MAGIC is a book that will be unlike anything you've ever read! It's a wonderful love story between two very magic-filled beings, Half-Elf Briar Tumbleweed and Paladin Uthiel Stoutheart. If it sounds like a fairy tale, well it is. But, trust me, it isn't your normal Disney fare—by a long shot.”

  ~Lizbeth Selvig, Contemporary Author Avon Impulse

  “This was quite an entertaining read full of comedy, adventure, and some steaming hot loving. The plot, characters, and creatures were so wonderfully thought out.”

  ~Anna, Book-Lovin-Mommas

  What would you do for one more smile?

  One word, one moment, one more quick glance?

  What would you do for one more hug?

  One giggle, one snuggle, one more funny dance?

  What would you do for one more summer?

  One fall, one winter, one more fragrant spring?

  What would you do for one more night?

  One day, one evening, one more song to sing?

  What would you do for one more story to tell?

  One verse, one poem, one more silly rhyme?

  What would you do for one more kiss goodnight?

  One touch, one smell, and just a little more time?

  Chapter One

  The Callanish Stones, Isle of Lewis, Scotland

  March, Spring Break, Present day

  Bethany Ann Anderson couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. She’d scrimped and saved and dreamed of this vacation for years, and now she was finally standing on Scottish soil, listening to a real, live Scottish Highlander, in a Scottish kilt, speaking with a wonderfully Scottish brogue, and telling the tour group all about the standing stones before them, and the history behind them.

  It was magical.

  She took in a deep breath of brisk Scottish air, and at first, thought the dizziness she suddenly felt was due to her euphoria. But then the ground beneath her feet shifted and moved, and the tallest stone closest to her started to topple just as a child, who couldn’t have been more than four or five, darted right in front of it.

  She didn’t think. She simply reacted.

  Death wasn’t anything like she’d imagined it would be. And that she was most assuredly dead was about the only thing Beth’s panicked mind could comprehend.

  After all, a stone slab more than four feet wide, eight feet tall, and weighing at least a ton, couldn’t possibly have landed directly across her torso, where it lay pinning her to the ground, without killing her. Could it?

  She glanced from side to side, and further evidence of her demise assaulted her senses. The entire tour group she’d been a part of only moments before had disappeared into thin air, and she was all alone in this silent place of ancient stones, on this sad little island off the coast of Scotland.

  Alone except for the unfamiliar looking man who paced back and forth. He gazed directly at her, and for a moment, Beth’s heart pounded with hope. Then, he simply shook his head and continued to pace, as if she weren’t there.

  Oh yes, she was definitely dead.

  Of all the times Beth had contemplated the afterlife, not once had her vision included an angry-looking guy wearing a dress, with disheveled brown hair, and wire-rimmed glasses. Why on earth would she envision such a thing now?

  She blinked furiously and fought to clear the fog her mind had become. When that didn’t work, she scrunched her eyes closed and concentrated on the act of simply breathing in and out.

  It didn’t help. And her panic worsened as she realized breathing was exactly what she was no longer doing.

  Her eyes flew open, and he was still there. He looked to be probably middle-aged, of average height and with average features. That is, other than the fact he was clad in what looked to be a dress of some kind.

  On further inspection, however, she realized it wasn’t a dress at all, but a long, white robe whose hem was frayed with age. He carried a worn-looking, gold-edged book of some sorts in his right hand, and unfortunately, he didn’t have even a hint of wings or a halo.

  She sighed. Well then, he probably wasn’t a celestial creature here to welcome her into heaven. At least not one she recognized from any of the pictures in the old family Bible.

  Beth wondered if perhaps he could still be a higher being of some sort. She hoped so. Because, considering some of her past mistakes, the alternative was too horrible to contemplate.

  A strange sound emanated from his throat, not words exactly, but more a growl, mixed with an excited grumble.

  Lord help her, if he wasn’t an angel, then was he perhaps from the opposite end of that spectrum?

  She didn’t understand. Yes, she’d made that one unforgivable mistake, and she’d never tried to dispute it. But other than that, she’d always strived to lead a good and decent life. This entire situation wasn’t in the least bit fair. Where were the bright lights and the streets of gold she’d read about in the good book? The
harps playing while a heavenly choir sang? And—and—and real live angels with wings and halos instead of some guy with wire-rimmed glasses?

  Her last memory had been of pushing the child away from danger and toward his father as the earth had shook and the huge slab of stone that had been standing for centuries suddenly toppled over, crushing her beneath it. There hadn’t been time for more than a moment of fear and then nothing.

  “Umm, sir.” She chuckled nervously. “Would you be so good as to call the equivalent of afterlife 911 or whatever it is here so I can get out from under this rock? It’s quite uncomfortable. Where exactly am I anyway? God, I hope this isn’t Heaven, or worse—” She gulped. “—Hell.”

  He covered his eyes with a hand and shook his head. His voice no more than a whisper. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Mr. Wire-rimmed-glasses paced back and forth once more, weaving in and out between the standing stones as he mumbled. “How am I going to explain this one? There will be no hiding it like I did the last time. I’ll very likely lose my job. But at the same time, I can’t simply hold her here in Limbo indefinitely, can I?”

  He shook his head. “Of course not. Someone would find her eventually, and then there would be memos and meetings and hearings. And I seriously doubt it would end before my entire reputation was completely ruined.”

  The confinement of the stone still lying upon her body became increasingly irritating. Not because it was painful, but simply because she found it impossible to move. “Mr. Whoever-you-are,” she yelled. “If you aren’t going to call someone, would you mind helping me get out from under this thing yourself?”

  He briefly glanced her way, then continued pacing. “Help you? Is that all you’re concerned with, madam? I can’t believe you’d expect me to make matters worse by actually assisting you in your folly.”

  He wagged his finger at her. “You weren’t supposed to be under there in the first place. That rock wasn’t supposed to fall on you. It was meant to land on the child’s father. He was supposed to be the one to save his son’s life, not you.” He stopped directly in front of Beth and glared. “Do you have any idea what a predicament you’ve put me in?”

  Tears stung her eyes as Beth shook her head. It was the only part of her body she could move.

  “Well, let me tell you then, madam, a true, I’ll-probably-never-recover-from-it disaster, that’s the kind of mess you’ve put me in. Lord save me from busy-body do-gooders. Don’t you understand? It wasn’t your time. You can’t go taking someone else’s turn. Makes a big mess of the time-space continuum, laws of nature, and all that”—he waved his hands about—“jazz.”

  She had to know. “The little boy, then? He’s all right?”

  The man balled up his fists, and his voice shook. “All right? Is he all right, you ask? Oh, yes, he’s quite all right, and so is his father, who will be fine and peachy now for the next fifty-three years, seven months, two weeks, six days, eighteen hours, and forty-two minutes. That’s the very next time his rotation will come around once more.”

  He glared right at her. “Do you now see what havoc you’ve caused, madam?” He wagged his finger again. “And before you threw yourself into a path that wasn’t yours to take, did you even for a millisecond consider the ramifications of your actions? Do you have any idea all the children and grandchildren who might now be born because the person who should’ve died didn’t? Not to mention how much extra work you’ve piled on top of me and my colleagues?”

  Beth’s heart soared, and she smiled. “I’m sorry about the extra work, really I am, but it’s a good thing, then, my life for his. He obviously has a family to live for. I’ve been alone for, well, a while now. It’s okay. Really it is. I don’t mind. I just want out from under this rock.”

  For a moment, she feared the man was about to have a stroke as his entire face turned an ugly shade of deep purple.

  “You don’t mind? Who do you think you are? Who gave you permission to decide who lives and who dies? Even I don’t get much of a say-so into such important matters, and I’ve been doing this job all my existence.”

  His face glowed an angry red, and for a moment, Beth worried he’d quit talking to her all together and leave her here all alone. He didn’t, though. He continued to rant.

  “I, madam, follow the rules. I pride myself in helping along the little unexpected things that catch people off guard and change the course of one’s day-to-day life and death.”

  He stopped speaking, and for a moment, his eyes broke contact with hers and his lips grimaced. Then, he began again. “I admit, sometimes what I instigate can prove to be a tad, let’s say, unpleasant, for the recipient, but not always.”

  Beth snorted. “You call being trapped beneath a huge rock a tad unpleasant? I’d sure hate to see your definition of really bad. You, sir, are the king of understatement.”

  He glared once more and then turned his back on her. “I’ll have you know I am considered a perfectionist amongst my peers, madam. In close to four hundred years, three hundred and seventy-three to be precise, and on this very same day of March, I was indirectly involved in the only other small incident of my prestigious career. But I swear, other than what has transpired today, it was the only other irregularity to have taken place during my watch, ever. Just the one teensy, tiny, little mistake, but it was one I’ll probably never live down.

  “I was a rookie back then, though,” he sighed. “And that debauchery wasn’t any more truly my fault than what you’ve caused today. Quinton MacLeod, although a strapping example of manhood, was not, shall we say, graceful. And Lady Elspeth Frasier? Well, the fact of the matter is, she should’ve been paying more attention to her own business and concentrating less on her stepmother’s.”

  He sighed again deeply.

  On the one hand, Beth wanted to punch him in the nose for the fault comment, and on the other, she wanted to give him a hug and tell him everything would be okay.

  Then she remembered she couldn’t move, and she desperately wanted him to get through telling his story quickly and go get her some help.

  He didn’t seem to be the least bit in a hurry, however. He continued to reminisce.

  “Poor Laird MacLeod, after what happen, he spent the remainder of his days blaming himself for the accident that took Lady Elspeth’s life. He never did marry, you see. Died all alone, miserable, and more importantly, without the heir he should’ve been granted.”

  The man shook his head. “But when the boss gets wind of this latest mix-up, I’ll be out of a job for sure. Or worse, he’ll dock my pay and put me on plagues and pestilence duty again. I do so hate plagues and pestilence, they’re such a nasty, smelly business.”

  He leaned in close to Beth and whispered, “He might be forgiving to others, but he can be a bit merciless with the hired help if you know what I mean. Demands perfection, that one does.”

  With a flip of his wrist the stone slab lifted away and fell off to the side, landing with a loud thud a few feet away.

  Startled, Beth slowly rose and dusted herself off, amazed she didn’t have a single bruise, ache, or twinge anywhere. She patted her head to make sure her tight, brown bun was still intact. And she pushed back in place the plain black-framed glasses she needed to read anything smaller than size fourteen font since turning forty-five last fall.

  She held her hand out to the man. “I wish I could say I’m sorry about your possible, umm, job problems, but I’m not. Anyone who prides himself on causing mischief in other people’s lives deserves to have their pay docked and put on plague and pestilence duty. The world could use a little more good will and charity and a lot less bad luck, if you ask me.”

  The man ignored her outstretched hand and folded his arms. “Nobody asked you.”

  She absently picked a piece of lint from her rust-colored cardigan and smoothed her skirt over hips no longer as slender as they’d once been. “So, what happens now? I expected to go toward the light or something like that. I thought I’d at le
ast get to see, to explain, to be with…” She cleared her throat. “I’ve always tried to obey the commandments and be a good person.”

  The man chuckled. “Oh, I see how it is. You want to go dancing off into the light and have your happily-ever-after afterlife and leave me here holding the bag for your error in judgment.”

  He jabbed a finger in her direction. “You aren’t going anywhere, madam. Not until you help me fix what you broke.”

  Beth sighed. “I don’t know how to help you and preventing me from moving on would be…well, it would simply be wrong. Haven’t you ever heard the old adage two wrongs don’t make a right?”

  Suddenly, the man’s eyes lit, and a smile crossed his face. “That might be the answer.”

  He flipped through the pages of his book, then pulled what looked to be some type of high-tech smart-phone thingy from a pocket in his robe and began pushing buttons.

  “If I add the co-efficient of the speed of light to the variable of time minus what happened yesterday and squared by the root of what’s about to take place tomorrow…”

  He fleetingly looked at Beth, then back to the instrument, then up again. He shook his head twice and glanced at his data.

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right, you say? If my calculations are correct, madam, I may be able to do precisely that. I’ll make a right from two wrongs, thereby canceling them both out.”

  He poised a finger above the send button for a moment. “Shall we see if I’m correct?”

  Then, he pushed it.

  Time and the awareness of space itself became fuzzy and distorted. With a whoosh, Beth floated upward and away, toward an ever-growing pool of nothingness. Looking back toward the strange man fading in the distance, she shouted, “Who are you anyway?”

  Only an echo found its way back before darkness completely enveloped her once more. “My name, madam, is Tobias Moiré. I am a third generation event manipulator, but you would probably know me better by my everyday title.

  “I am Fate.”

  ****

  Beth’s lashes slowly fluttered open, then her eyes widened. Above her head swung what looked for all the world to be a set of hairy testicles and a—a penis. She blinked and then blinked again while trying her best to avert her gaze. She couldn’t really move very far away from the sight, however. Her head was bracketed by two big feet attached to two very long, sturdy-looking, bare legs, stretching out from beneath a red and black plaid …something.