Free Charmed by His Love by Janet Chapman

“You’re the one who’s angry at her for building a house
all by herself
.” He eyed him speculatively again. “Might it have something to do with the fact that you’re a first-generation Maine highlanderwho finds it difficult to have one foot in his father’s world and the other in this one?”
    “Both of my feet are firmly planted in
this
time—including my attitude toward women. I didn’t ask to be born a MacKeage, and I sure as hell don’t intend to perpetuate a bunch of antiquated traditions. There are enough magic-makers running around these woods already, so Laird Greylen is going to have to rebuild his clan without my help.”
    “Ah, I see. It’s not the antiquated traditions you are opposed to so much as the magic. Tell me, Duncan, what’s your particular gift?”
    “I was hiding behind the door when Providence was handing out gifts.” He turned away to look down at the new Bottomless Sea. “Which is fine by me; I really don’t need to start fires without matches, or talk to animals, or travel through time.”
    “Have you even tried?” Mac asked quietly.
    Duncan snorted. “I quit trying when I was eight.” He gestured at the mountain they’d just hiked up and shot a grin over his shoulder. “I’m one hell of an earth mover, though. I figure the road should at least be passable by the time you get back from California, although it’s going to take all summer to finish the five larger bridges if you keep insisting they be made of stone.” He turned to face him. “But I still say you should let me build them out of rough-hewn timber if you really want to give your resort guests a true Maine experience.”
    Duncan widened his grin when Mac’s eyes narrowed at his changing the subject. But he’d be damned if he understood how the wizard had decided he was attracted to Peg, much less that he didn’t much care for the magic—even as he wondered which topic was more frightening.
    Mac took off his jacket. “Here’s an idea,” he said with an equally frightening smile. “I’ll fight you for the bridges.”
    Duncan went still but for the fine hairs on his neck rising again. “Excuse me?”
    “We’ll use swords.” The wizard arched a brow. “You are the reigning champion of the highland summer games down on the coast, are you not?”
    “How in hell do you know that?”
    “And since I’m about to spend the next two months driving a lumbering house across the country and back with only my wife and children for company, I believe I’m up for a rousing battle before I leave. In fact, it might be nice if we met up here a couple more times this week to break a sweat together, as I haven’t faced a worthy opponent since I left Midnight Bay.”
    Yeah, right; like he was going to match swords with a wizard.
    “No magic,” Mac assured him. “Only mortal brain and brawn … and skill.”
    “Sorry,” Duncan drawled, “but considering I came here to
build a road
, I didn’t think to bring my sword.”
    Mac gestured to his left. “No problem; I brought one for you.”
    Duncan stiffened again when he saw the two swords leaning against a stunted old pine tree growing out of the ledge.
    “I believe you’ll find the grip will fit your hand,” Mac said, walking over and picking up one of the swords. He slid it out of its sheath, then turned and held it out to Duncan. “Just as it did your father’s.”
    Duncan slowly reached for the ancient-looking weapon, only to feel a powerful surge of energy sweep through him when he closed his left fist around the hilt. He snapped his head up. “My father’s sword was nearly nine hundred years old when he and the others came to this time over forty years ago, and was sold for a small fortune.”
    Mac nodded. “Yes, I believe it was purchased by an anonymous bidder at an auction house in Edinburgh.”
    “And old Uncle Ian’s sword?” Duncan asked, staring down at the one in his hand. “It was decided at the time that Greylen and Morgan should