Free The Parchment Scroll by C. A. Szarek Page A

guy’s waist and grinned.
    Jules’ heart skipped a beat. Her sister glowed with love. She had a child with the man at her side. How was she going to get her to come home?
    “Hello, I’m Alex, Laird of Clan MacLeod. Are ye all righ’, lass? Ye look pale.”
    “I-I’m good.” She met concerned blue eyes and forced a smile. “Happy to be with my sister again.”
    Alex smiled and squeezed her hand. “Welcome, lass. Yer family as much as Claire is.”
    Jules took a breath—because she wanted to fall over—and nodded. “Thank you.” The guy was hot, but his eyes were kind.
    “Our cousin said ye arrived with a MacDonald?” The name was a curse, and Claire’s husband scowled as he spoke.
    “Yes, the laird, Hugh, found me on the beach.”
    “Did he hurt ye?” This was a demand from Alex.
    Jules squared her shoulders. “No.”
    Duncan studied her. “Did tha’ coward wretch put his hands on ye?” His voice was low, full of menace.
    She prickled. Wanted to defend Hugh for some reason.
    Seriously?
    He manhandled you. Kissed you. Touched you.
    Kidnapped you.
    You want to defend him?
    There you go again, Stockholm-Syndrome-Girl.
    “He-he-he didn’t hurt me.” Jules forced the words out and swallowed hard. Shifted in the borrowed boots.
    Nice going. Stuttering? Again?
    Now she had her sister’s keen interest. Claire stared, fair eyebrow arched. “Duncan, Alex, I’m going to take Jules up to the solar. We need to talk. Alone.”
    Jules could have kissed her sister.
    Claire stood tiptoed to press her lips to the kilted man’s mouth, and took their child back into her arms.
    “I’ll have Mairi bring some food,” Alex said.
    “I’m not hungry, but thank you,” Jules blurted.
    “Verra well, if ye are, please let Claire know,” the laird said.
    Jules nodded.
    “Go back to the yard and your sparring. We’re fine here. I want to talk to my sister before the family descends.” Claire smiled.
    The men headed out of the great hall.
    Claire took Jules’ hand. “C’mon. Let’s go to the solar.”
    “Solar?”
    “It’s a sitting room with lotsa windows that hold the warmth. I spend a lot of time in there with Alana, Alex’s wife, and Janet, Duncan and Alex’s sister. My sisters now.”
    Jules ignored how the comment had bite. Claire wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings; she was just stating a fact. Both women were her sisters-in-law. Her tone said she cared for them, too. “What, have you learned how to knit or some shit?” she teased instead. Claire—like her—had always been a tomboy.
    “Yeah, there’s no TV here.” Her sister threw her a look that was half-amusement and half-annoyance. “It’s called needlework.”
    She snorted. “Big difference.”
    Claire flashed a grin. “I’m so glad to see you.”
    “Yeah, me too.”
    They climbed a wide staircase and went all the way down a long, dark corridor. Claire pushed open the room at the end of the hall, and light exploded, making Jules squint.
    “See? The solar. Sunny. Warm. Comfy.” Her sister pointed to the various chairs and sofas. There was a fire lit in the wide hearth, the scent of peat moss filling the air.
    Claire set the baby down on a piece of tartan on the floor not far from the hearth. It was a different pattern than the dark red of MacDonald. She assumed it was MacLeod, since it matched the kilted guards at the gate, as well as what her sister’s husband had been wearing.
    Lachlan cooed and waved a wooden block around, babbling happily. There were several more in front of him, along with a stuffed doll. It was a boy, though, clad in a kilt with the same plaid he was sitting on.
    Jules grabbed her sister’s arm as soon as the door was shut. “Claire, I want you to come back home with me. Back to the twenty-first century. Back to Texas. Bring your son and come with me.”
    “No.”
    “Claire—”
    “I would never take my son away from Duncan. Nor would I leave my husband.” Her sister’s green eyes flashed, and she