Kiss of the Highlander

“Oh, my God,” she choked, stumbling toward the slab. It couldn’t be. How could it be? She glanced frantically at Maggie, who smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“He waits for you. He’s waited five hundred years. It is said you know how to wake him.”

Gwen began to hyperventilate. Spots swarmed before her eyes and she nearly collapsed where she stood. For several moments she could do nothing more than stand there and stare in shock. Then she thrust the black trews she hadn’t realized she was clutching at Maggie and scrambled up onto the slab.

“Drustan,” she cried, raining kisses on his slumbering face. “Oh, Drustan! My love…” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

How had she awakened him? she wondered frantically, unable to believe that he was really there. She touched him with shaking hands, afraid he might just melt away, afraid she was dreaming.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” she whispered weakly.

“No, lass, you’re not dreaming,” Christopher said, smiling.

Gwen stared at Drustan, trying to recall exactly what had happened in the cave. She’d fallen down the ravine and landed squarely on top of him. She’d been fascinated, had touched him, shamelessly running her hands over his chest. Then she’d leaned back so the sun could fall on him, so she might get a better look at the devastating man.

“The sun! You must help me get him outside,” she said urgently. “I think sunlight has something to do with it!”

It took their combined strength to carry the enchanted Highlander down the winding stairs, through the library, and out onto the cobbled terrace. They were huffing by the time they deposited her mighty warrior on the stones.

Gwen stood for a moment, just gaping down at him. Drustan was here! All she had to do was figure out how to wake him! Dazed, she slipped astride him and placed her palms flush to his chest, exactly as she’d done in the cave. The sunshine was falling directly on his face and chest.

But nothing happened.

The symbols remained, etched clearly upon his chest. Back in the cave, they’d begun disappearing. Why?

She narrowed her eyes and peered up at the sun. It was brilliant and clear, a cloudless day. She glanced at Maggie. “He didn’t leave any instructions?” She needed him awake now.

The MacKeltars shook their heads.

“It was thought he feared someone might wake him before it was time,” Maggie said. She cast Colleen a wry look. “Like my daughter who’s been infatuated with him since she first peeked through the slit in the tower and saw him slumbering.”

Closing her eyes, Gwen thought hard. What was different? She opened them again slowly and gazed down at his chest. Everything was the same: the sun, the symbols, her hands….

Blood. There had been blood smeared on the symbols from her cutting her hands up when she’d fallen through the rocks. Could it be that elemental? Human blood and sunshine? She knew nothing about spells, but blood figured prominently in myths and legends.

“I need a knife,” she cried.

Colleen dashed into the castle and returned swiftly, clutching a small steak knife.

Mumbling a prayer beneath her breath, Gwen lightly ran the edge over her palm so drops of blood welled up. With trembling hands, she smeared it across the symbols on his chest, then sat back anxiously, waiting.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then one by one, the symbols began to fade….

She sucked in her breath and glanced up at his face.

“Good morrow, English,” Drustan said lazily, opening his eyes, his silvery gaze tender. “I knew you could do it, love.”

Gwen’s eyelids fluttered and she fainted.

28

When Gwen regained consciousness, she was lying on the bed in the Silver Chamber. Drustan was bending over her, gazing down with so much love in his eyes that she gasped and began crying.

“Drustan,” she whispered, clutching at him.

“She’s awakened, Maggie,” Drustan said over his shoulder. “She’s all right.” Gwen heard the door shut as Maggie left, giving them privacy.

She stared up into his silvery eyes wonderingly. He was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“How?” she managed to ask, cupping his face in her hands. She traced her fingers over every plane and angle, and he kissed them repeatedly as they passed his lips. “How?”

“I love you, Gwen MacKeltar,” he whispered, catching her hand and planting a kiss in the palm.

Gwen laughed through her tears. “I love you too,” she whispered back, flinging her arms around him and holding him tightly. “But I don’t understand.”