Free Just in Time for a Highlander by Gwyn Cready

the carefully burnished wood and shook his head. Neither potent nor artful. A perfect metaphor for him in the eighteenth century. On the other hand, who had just been kissed by the most enchanting woman between John O’Groats and Lands End? Duncan MacHarg, that’s who. Perhaps if Duncan were very lucky, he could extend those few seconds of happiness to an hour or even a particularly glorious eight in the time he had left here, assuming, of course, there would be an end to his time here.
    He opened his door and set the candle on his bedside table, where he discovered a decanter of what turned out to be very fine whiskey. With a freshly poured glass, he returned to the doorway. He could see the faint light emanating from the space under Abby’s door and smiled. Was it candles or just her enchanting glow? He would have said angelic glow, but there was definitely a streak of something other than the temperament of angels to her. And that made him smile even more.
    Abby’s door opened and Nora emerged, jug in hand. Then Abby herself appeared, in a diaphanous slip, half-hidden by the door, to relay some instructions. Nora listened, curtsied, and headed for the stairs. Before closing the door, Abby looked down the hall. Her eyes, unsteady, met Duncan’s, and his heart quickened. A footman making his rounds crested the stairs and looked surprised to see Duncan in the doorway. In explanation, Duncan pointed to the mists off the loch visible through the window at the end of the hall. “Quite a sky.”
    The footman nodded politely, turning in the opposite direction, and when Duncan looked for Abby again, the door was closed.
    Duncan stared at that door for a good five minutes, debating. At last, he came to a decision. With a deep, uncertain breath, he swallowed the rest of the whiskey and placed the glass on the table just inside the room.
    When he looked up, Rosston was tapping lightly on Abby’s door. Duncan ducked back inside and watched, unseen. Abby’s door opened and Rosston slipped inside.
    For many moments, Duncan stared at the door, walloped to his core. Only when Grendel bounded up the stairs, wagging his tail madly, with Nab half a staircase behind, did he break his gaze.
    Nab looked at his benefactor with curiosity.
    “Is Lady Kerr in love with Rosston?” Duncan asked without preamble.
    “I should hope so,” Nab said. “They are betrothed. The wedding will be at Michaelmas.”

Ten
    Abby cut through the gurgling water like a bird extending her wings, and the cool of the liquid balanced the warmth of the sun on her naked back. The loamy smell of the river filled her head, and she could feel the grit and disappointment of the day before slowly being washed away.
    “I am in love with the sea,” Serafina said, coming up for air, “but I must admit swimming in such placid waters, with the larks singing overhead and the early morning sun sparkling among the reeds, is quite lovely.”
    “It’s called Candle Pool. It is one of the most magical places in the borderlands—or so Undine says.” Abby turned on her back to float, putting her hands behind her head. Their clothes were heaped under the boxwood overhanging the bank, and a bountiful breakfast of boiled eggs, sausage, and buttered bannocks sat wrapped in a basket awaiting them after their swim.
    “Do you believe in Undine’s magic?” Serafina asked.
    “Indeed I do,” Abby said, snorting. I shall be dealing with the effects of it for many days to come. “If you are worried about her ability to help you, you mustn’t. She is very good at seeing the truth, sometimes even better than one wishes. She’ll be able to guide you.”
    “’Tis not the truth I need,” Serafina said sadly. “Far from it. I need someone to pretend to be my former fiancé so that I may collect cargo that, when sold, will repay the money he stole from me. I was hoping Undine might give me a spell that would help conceal the identity of whomever I hire.”
    Abby smiled and ran her