Choosing the Highlander Read online

  Choosing the Highlander

  By Jessi Gage

  Chapter 1

  Scottish Highlands, 1981

  Connie followed her twin sister around a chunk of rock in the hillside. Above them, the monoliths forked up into the pre-dawn sky, like prongs on the setting of a solitaire ring.

  An unbidden image from two nights ago flashed in her memory: a diamond, round in cut and utterly flawless. Its two carats of tasteful brilliance winked at her from a bed of ivory satin, mocking her with the offer of all she had hoped and planned for but that she could not bring herself to accept.

  It was the fault of the couple at the next table, the man who had gazed at his date with such fondness Connie’s breath had stuck in her throat, the woman whose cheeks flushed every time her companion brushed his knuckles over her temple or kissed the back of her hand. The meal on their table had been incidental. Love had been the main course. Adoration had glowed around them like a halo, invisible yet impossible to miss.

  I want that.

  The uncharacteristic thought had sent her into an emotional tailspin. Love had not been on her list of considerations when selecting a potential mate. Her parents didn’t have love, but they had everything else and they had given Connie and her sister a childhood filled with privilege and opportunity.

  Give her a man who worked hard and had a head for business, like her father, a man who held the same core beliefs as she, desired the same lifestyle as she. Above all, she desired a man who would respect her choices and support her goals.

  Dependability. Compatibility. Respect. Her parents had taught her these were the foundations of a solid relationship, not the shifting emotional sands of love and affection. Those things were for shortsighted fools.

  Oblivious to the couple behind him, Milt had gotten down on one knee after the dessert course. His proposal flowed effortlessly as ice wine. Of course the words came easily to him. The Chicago District Attorney’s office paid him top dollar to retain him as Assistant DA. Milt had many talents, producing convincing arguments foremost among them.

  Connie had barely heard the proposal. Her eyes kept wandering to the loving couple.

  “Wow. This place is gorgeous!” Leslie’s wonder yanked Connie back to the present.

  Her twin put on a burst of speed as they neared the top of the hill. Her black dress and storm-cloud gray shawl made her look like a haunting spirit as she disappeared around another bend in the trail full of switchbacks.

  Connie followed, glad to put Milt’s proposal out of mind.

  She’d chosen sturdy sandals for the walk but wished she’d slipped into the linen slacks she’d worn on the plane yesterday. Despite their need for a good pressing, they would have offered more protection against the prickly shrubbery than her knee-length denim skirt. By the light of day, her lower legs were bound to look sunburned for all the scratches she’d endured.

  Oh well. What was a little pain when Leslie was having the time of her life? It wasn’t every day Connie got to enjoy her twin, who spent her days—and her trust fund—traveling to whichever remote region struck her fancy while Connie built her career in the city.

  After the proposal, when the urge to flee Chicago—and Milt—had struck, Connie grabbed the postcard Leslie had sent from her latest destination and phoned the hostel where she was staying.

  “Of course, I’d love to see you, Con!” her sister had crooned over the crackly connection. “Why don’t you fly out to Scotland? If you leave now, you can make it in time for the summer solstice sunrise. Doesn’t it sound completely romantic? Watching the earliest sunrise of the year from an ancient Druid site? Oh, come on, Con. Come with me. It will be so much fun!”

  Getting up before dawn to hike a scrubby hill and watch the sunrise after an international flight was the farthest thing Connie could think of from fun. But it sounded preferable to hiding out in her condo and dodging Milt’s calls, so she’d hopped on a plane and met her sister in Inverness yesterday evening. A few hours of sleep and a change of clothes later, and here they were, at Druids Temple, with Inverness—and breakfast—a four-mile bike ride toward the sea.

  Cresting the top of the hill, she found Leslie spinning in a circle in the middle of the stone formation. Her sister had her arms spread wide and her face upturned to the velvet-blue sky, which had rolled up its carpet of stars in preparation for the coming day. It was as if she was dancing with the Earth, itself.

  For all Connie knew, that might be exactly what she was doing. Wicca was Leslie’s new passion. Earth and elements were part of the discipline, or so she had gathered from Leslie’s excited chatter on the taxi ride from the airport.

  Connie had to smile at her sister’s exuberance. And she had to admit that the place was, in fact, gorgeous, even if the hour was ungodly.

  The circle of standing stones rose up around them like a ring of witnesses to history. How many centuries had these stones presided over the acres of rolling meadowland below? How many generations of shepherds had guided their goats and sheep under the watchful gaze of these sentinels? How many sunrises, like the one burgeoning below the rosy-orange horizon, had turned these rocks into dynamic time-pieces?

  Leslie stopped spinning and faced Connie with a breathtaking smile. Her sister might color her auburn hair black and cover her slender body in dark Goth-style clothes, but she’d never been able to pull off the dispassionate air of her cohort. Which was why Connie suspected the Wicca phase wouldn’t last long. Just like the bohemian musician phase, the backpacking through Peru phase, and the sexual adventures in Amsterdam phase that Connie would have preferred never to have heard about.

  Whoever Leslie would be tomorrow, Connie was thankful to be with her today. Leslie stretched out her hand, and Connie went to her, taking it. “I’m glad I let you talk me into this.”

  “Me too.” Leslie lowered herself to sit with her legs crossed in the center of the stone circle, still holding Connie’s hand.

  She had no choice but to kneel at Leslie’s side, even though it would have been more dignified to sit on the fallen log nearby. At least no one was around to see her flash the countryside before she managed to arrange her skirt. Covered, if not exactly comfortable, she settled against her sister and tried to feel as connected to the beauty all around them as Leslie seemed.

  “I’ve missed you, sis,” Leslie said, lacing their fingers together.

  No one else held her hand like this. Not even Milt. But she and Leslie had clasped hands like this since childhood. There was a sweet security in it, and it underscored the unique affection they had for each other.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she told her twin, meaning it more than she could convey with words. They’d been apart too long. Connie had been working so hard at managing her current project that she’d neglected to connect with Leslie, even by phone, in more than a month.

  Leslie’s smile turned serious. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining, but, um, I kind of doubt you came all this way just to watch the sunrise with me. What’s with the impromptu vacation? Is it Milt? Did you two break up?” Her voice lifted with hope at the end, evidence of Leslie’s disapproval of Milt.

  Connie gave her a stern look. Then she slumped and rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. “No. Worse,” she admitted. “He proposed.”

  Leslie held herself too still. Then she nudged Connie’s head off her shoulder. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?” Her forehead creased in confusion. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Milt was your anti-knight-in-shining-armor. He was your ticket to—shoot, what is it you want instead of happiness? Satisfaction, right? Milt was your ticket to the satisfying life you had all engineered to perfection.” She rotated her hands like she was sol
ving a Rubik’s Cube.

  “Don’t knock, Engineering,” she chided. It was an old argument between them. Leslie was the artsy type and couldn’t understand why Connie would want to work at all when they each had a cushy trust fund at their disposal, let alone do math all day. Connie couldn’t understand how Leslie could be content to live off their parents’ money and never make any of her own, how she could flit from place to place calling no address home, how she could go through life without a solid plan.

  “I’m not knocking engineering. I’m knocking Milt. Or maybe I’m knocking your whole satisfaction plan.” Leslie jostled her with an elbow, taking the edge of the criticism. “I take it you didn’t say yes, or you would be celebrating with Milt, not here with me.”

  “I didn’t say yes,” Connie confirmed. “I told him I would think about it.”

  She winced at her cowardice. After witnessing the love flowing between the man and woman at the neighboring table, her answer could only be no. But a no to Milt was a red slash in permanent ink across the plan she had devoted the last few years of her life bringing to fruition.

  “Think about it?” Leslie said. “Really? Oh, Con. Tell me you’re going to say no.”

  She stared at the brightening horizon. “I should have said no already.” She couldn’t help noticing Leslie had gone carefully quiet. It was probably taking all her willpower not to gloat. “Go ahead,” she sighed. “I believe the saying goes, ‘I told you so.’”

  “I would never say that. Especially when you look so miserable.” Leslie’s compassion brought Connie’s attention to her radiant face. Everyone told them they looked just the same, but to Connie, her sister would always be the pretty one. It was more than just her hazel eyes, much more expressive than Connie’s, and her easy smile. It was who she was. Caring, sweet, free-spirited Leslie. Sometimes, though she would never admit it, Connie wished she were more like her sister, able to embrace the joy of life without analyzing everything to death.

  “Oh, Con.” Leslie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know you don’t think you want happiness and love and all that ‘emotional nonsense.’ But I’ve always wanted those things for you. You deserve so much more than a life planned out in boring detail.” She sat up suddenly and clapped her hands. “Oh! Oh, this is perfect!”

  Just like Leslie to go from serious to excited in a heartbeat.

  “What’s perfect?”

  Her twin bounced where she sat, gripping both of Connie’s hands like when they were children and used to spin in circles until they both fell on the grass, dizzy and giggling. “You know how Daddy always says, ‘Fate favors the intrepid?’”

  “Yeah…” Connie drew out the word. What was Leslie getting at?

  “Well, I met a shopkeeper yesterday who asked me what I would wish for on the solstice. ‘The sunrise is a magical time, mademoiselle.—’”

  “Wait, a French shopkeeper in Inverness?” Connie interrupted.

  “I know. Weird. But he had this totally magical vibe to him. I think he might be a warlock,” she whispered, wide-eyed. “Anyway.” She waved away the man’s possibly magical properties while she dug in her backpack. “He told me a wish made from a heart that is pure will sometimes be granted on the solstice, and he gave me this.” With a triumphant gleam in her eye, she lifted a necklace from her bag. It was little more than a stone on a braided rawhide rope.

  “Did he sell you that? I hope he didn’t charge much.” It looked like a kindergartener’s art project.

  “He gave it to me,” she said with wide eyes, as if this was incredible. He said it began singing to him the moment I walked into his shop.”

  Connie rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a witch’s stone,” Leslie said, undaunted by her sister’s lack of enthusiasm. “The hole through the middle is naturally-occurring, but no one knows the process that forms it. Stones like this are said to have magical properties. Looking through the hole is supposed to allow the owner to see into Faerie.” She held the stone up to her eye and looked at Connie through the hole. “Hmm. I don’t see anything unusual.”

  “Of course you don’t. They probably manufacture them by the hundreds and sell them to tourists looking to bring home a piece of Scottish history.”

  “Oh, come on. Let me have my fun.” Leslie spread the string like she was about to put it on, but she surprised Connie by draping it over her head instead.

  “What are you doing? I don’t want this.” She tried dodging her sister’s hands, but she wasn’t quick enough. The stone settled against the sheer fabric of her shirt, cool and heavy.

  Leslie shushed her. “It won’t bite. I’m going to make a wish for you when the sun comes up. Maybe this will make the magic more powerful.”

  “Magic? For real?”

  “Yes, for real.” Leslie spun in a circle with her arms spread. “All of this is magic. Can’t you feel it? The stones? The solstice? You and me together after so long.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, looking completely at peace.

  Connie thought about taking off the ridiculous piece of jewelry and tossing it back at Leslie, but the look on her twin’s face stopped her. Indulging Leslie had always been one of Connie’s weaknesses. She sighed with resignation.

  “Fine. Make your wish. But why don’t you make one for yourself? I have everything I want.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. She had a successful career and wonderfully supportive parent. She had a sister she loved more than anything. But she also wanted to be married and have a family. After the other evening with Milt, she realized she needed love to be a part of that, which meant she would have to completely rethink her strategy for finding a partner.

  She would start with making a clean break with Milt as soon as she returned home. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she was enjoying her sister, and she wanted Leslie to have her heart’s desire.

  “The thing I want most is for you to be happy,” Leslie said, coming to her and taking her hands. “You’re my sister. I love you and my wish is for you to be happy.”

  “I don’t need happiness,” she argued. “In fact, what I want most in life is to earn my own success. Wishes are for people who would rather get things the easy way than to work hard.”

  Leslie blew a raspberry at her, making them both laugh. “Phooey on you,” she said, echoing one of their mother’s favorite comebacks. “Now be quiet while this lazybones makes her wish.”

  Connie shook her head, mortified that she’d inadvertently insulted her sister. “Oh, hon, I didn’t mean it like that.” Her energetic sister was at the opposite end of the spectrum from lazy. She might not have a job, but she applied herself to studying art and culture and making friends everywhere she went. She didn’t respect Leslie less because of the choices she made. They just made it harder for her to relate to her twin.

  Leslie beamed. “I know, silly. It’s called sarcasm.”

  Connie sighed with relief. Her sister was more easy-going than she would ever be. “Gosh, I love you,” she said. “All right, make your wish.” She owed her sister this indulgence.

  Besides, beneath all her protests and eye rolling, she was touched Leslie would use this supposedly magical moment to make a wish on her behalf. It reminded her of when Leslie used to throw pennies in fountains for luck and she would always toss in two, one for herself and one for Connie.

  The sun made a razor-thin neon line between two of the standing stones. It was about to come up. Leslie let go of Connie’s hands and faced the horizon.

  Raising her palms skyward, she looked like a pagan goddess with her long dress flowing around her legs and her ebony hair tangling in the warm summer wind. Long shadows reached toward her from the stones like supplicant fingers. The neon strip of sunlight swelled into a semicircle.

  A frisson of trepidation passed over Connie, gone as soon as she’d felt it.

  Strange.

  She stood up and hitched her backpack into place to prepare for the hike back to where they’d left
their bicycles. “Are you done yet? I seem to remember being promised a hearty Scottish breakfast in exchange for getting up so early.” Her stomach grumbled with emptiness. Or was it churning with uneasiness?

  Leslie didn’t seem to hear her. “I call upon the good spirits,” she said in a somber voice so unlike her usual brightness. “I call upon the powers that be. Receive my wish on behalf of my twin. She trusts her mind to find her mate, when it should be her heart to direct her fate.

  “Open her eyes this day. Let her experience love as it is meant to be. Let her feel passion such as she deserves. Shower my womb-mate with your blessings. I know no more deserving soul. Let my wish be cast with the power of the sun on this holy day. So mote it be.”

  Love. Passion. Trusting one’s heart. These were notions Connie outwardly scoffed at. But hearing them voiced by her sister in this beautiful place stirred a warm sadness inside her. It was like a ray of sun touched that most secret place where she guarded the half-formed desires she dared not fully acknowledge. In that secret place, something took root.

  Leslie lowered her hands and looked back at Connie. “That felt awesome.”

  “Sure. Yeah.” Connie’s throat constricted. She cleared it and forced out, “Thanks for the wish. Ready for breakfast?”

  On the heels of the question, a fist tightened inside her, right behind her breastbone—where the witch’s stone rested. Dizziness crashed over her.

  Impossibly, the standing stones began spinning. The sun flickered between like a headlight through the spokes of a bicycle tire. Roaring filled her ears. She had the strangest sensation that the stone circle was a cog within a vast clock made up of the Scottish countryside.

  “What’s happening?” She fell to her knees.

  “Con?” Leslie’s voice echoed faintly, like it came from a great distance. “Where’d you go?”

  Connie caught a brief glimpse of her Leslie’s worried face before her sister’s image flickered to nothing. Brilliant light overwhelmed her senses and sent shards of pain through her head.

  She clapped her hands over her eyes, but it didn’t stop the light from blinding her. How could that be? It was like the light was inside her head.