Free Mystical Warrior by Janet Chapman

from his eyes, Trace held his head to keep it from bobbing with Kenzie’s strides. “My face is numb,” he muttered. “I swear, skunk piss is worse than pepper spray. The military should bomb the bastards out of those Afghan tunnels with this shit.”
    “Aye, I’ve seen the little buggers send warriors scattering right in the middle of battle. Here we go,” Kenzie said with a grunt, shrugging Trace off his shoulder and dropping him next to a tidal pool. “Hell, Huntsman, couldn’t ye have left your shorts on, at least?”
    Trace leaned over to splash some seawater on his face and gave a snort. “Apparently, your sister isn’t so shy that she wasn’t afraid to strip me naked in a matter of seconds.” He looked toward the house and saw the blurry figure of Fiona racing down the path along the paddock fence, ablanket in one hand and a jug in the other. He glared up at Kenzie. “She goes home with you today .”
    The highlander bent over and gave the coat Trace was sitting on a sharp tug, rolling him into the pool—his roar of outrage turning to curses when he landed in freezing water up to his chest.
    Kenzie turned to block Fiona’s view as she approached them. “Just leave the blanket and vinegar,” he told her. “And go put Trace’s clothes in a pile in the middle of the driveway, along with your coat,” he instructed, handing it to her, “and light them on fire. Then go change your own clothes,” he continued, moving slightly when she tried to see past him. “And after ye do, go in his home, fill his bathtub with hot water, and put a kettle on to boil.”
    “No!” Trace shouted, making the highlander turn to look at him. His vision might be blurry, but he could see the amusement on the bastard’s face. “I can run my own bath. And besides, the door is locked.” He splashed more seawater on his face and screwed his fists into his eyes, trying to clear them. But when he leaned around Kenzie to look at Fiona and saw that her own eyes were puffy with skunk fumes and filled with concern, he blew out a deep sigh. “Just don’t burn my clothes without taking my wallet out of my pants first, okay?” he asked calmly.
    She nodded. Holding her coat away from herself, she turned and started back toward the barn at a run.
    “His house key is likely on the key ring in his truck,” Kenzie called after her. “Ye run a bath and put the kettle on.”
    “Dammit, Gregor, I don’t want her in my house.”
    “Why? Are ye keeping a naked woman tied to your bed?”Kenzie drawled, unscrewing the cap on the vinegar. “Close your eyes; this may sting.”
    Trace snorted, which ended on a sputter when the vinegar cascaded down over his head and into his mouth. He gargled, then spit it out and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “How did you get here so fast?” he asked, shuddering against the cold as he rubbed the steady stream of vinegar over his chest and arms.
    “I was in town, at Eve’s store. Lucky for you, she uses vinegar to wash the windows,” Kenzie said, directing the stream over his back. “Mind telling me what possessed you to disturb those skunks?”
    Trace stopped washing to glare up at him. “I didn’t; my air compressor did. Apparently, your sister thought it belonged on top of a barrel beside my workbench, and when I kicked the barrel, the compressor fell on the box of skunks. Then it hit my knee just before it smashed into my head.” He touched the stinging lump on his forehead. Finding his fingers covered in blood, he glared up at Kenzie again. “That compressor must weigh as much as she does, so not only why did she think it belonged up on the barrel, how did she get it up there?”
    Kenzie shrugged and poured the last of the vinegar over him. “That will have to do for now,” he said, picking up the blanket. “We better get you into a hot bath before the cold takes your strength.” He laid the blanket out on the grass and reached out to Trace. “If ye have Scotch,