Highlander's Magic (Highlander Heat #2)

“Wow, it’s hotter than hot.” She fanned her face. “Do you see Hope? She was right here.”


“Not yet.” I peered between the wooden beamed rails of the horse corral. A stallion pranced within, kicking up red dust as he snorted. “She’s not in there, and that horse looks ready to bolt.”

“Maybe she went to get him something. If she did, she’ll be that way.” She tilted her head toward a long run of white weatherboard stables.

Following her, I jammed one loose tail of my red t-shirt into my denim cutoffs. At least my Earth clothing should pass initial inspection. Warriors usually wore battle leathers, the same as my country’s elite protectors. “Donaldo Wincrest never comes here, right?”

“You’re safe. It’s just Goldie and Hope who run this place. They were raised together and spent half their lives here.”

We stepped through the open doors and into a wide central holding room. On one wall, hooks held saddles and tack. I stroked one of the long reins, polished to perfection. On the opposite wall, square bales of hay had been stacked to the ceiling, a dozen high and a good twenty bales wide. Hmm, nothing here so far to worry— Nope. At the back of the stables, perched on a wooden stool before a workbench, a man gripped a silver stirrup which glowed red on one end. He was heating the object, and without fire.

A warrior. He must be one of Dralion’s highly skilled.

Someone from Peacio would be dubious, but I had to act the part of an Earthling. I couldn’t show any fear. I stepped closer.

Black hair fell forward over his brow, his hair so silky it shone midnight blue on the ends.

He jerked around, his gaze landing on me.

I kept my composure. “Hey.”

“Who are you?” He stood, his impressive height a good hand over six feet. He would tower over me by a foot. I should be intimidated, but oh, what broad shoulders. His white shirt stretched tight over his chest, and dark leather pants cupped his butt to perfection. His sword, belted low on his right hip, brushed the dusty floorboards.

What? Why was I ogling the enemy? Get it together.

“Ah, I’m Silvie, a friend of Faith’s.”

His eyes were to die for. Stunning silver, displaying his strongly skilled line, swirled around the edges of his pale blue eyes. An enchanter.

“No! This can’t be happening.” He gripped the hilt of his sword, and his nostrils flared. “You should never have come.” What was he talking about?

“Guy, it’s fine. I brought Silvie, and it was important she come.” Faith held up a hand. “I’m after Hope. Did she come in here?”

“Yes. She’s down the corridor. One of the mares is in labor and she ran to check on her. Go, but be quiet.” He set the stirrup on his workbench, and the melted end oozed into a metallic puddle.

“How’d you melt that?” What he’d done was enthralling.

“It’s the spell of heat without fire. What’s your last name, Silvie?” His gaze traveled over me, not missing an inch. Strangely, I enjoyed it. Hold on. What was wrong with me? He was still a warrior.

“Carver,” Faith interrupted. “Guy, she’s in the know, like you are.” The girls had a tight inner circle of those they trusted. And since Guy kept Faith and Hope’s secret as I did, he had to be one of the few good ones. I must have sensed that. Somehow.

“Right.” He snorted then turned back to his workbench. “Take her away, Faith.”

“Come on.” Faith tugged my hand.

“No, I’d like to stay and get to know one of the warriors you trust so much. Go and find Hope. I’ll wait.” He completely intrigued me.

“You sure? He doesn’t sound like he wants you here.”

“If he’s in the know, then I’m safe. Just go.” I studied the warrior as he whispered a spell over the stirrup he’d set down.

“Okay, I’ll be as quick as I can.” Faith dashed away.

“You should have gone with her.” He cast me a sideways glance. “Carver, eh? Any relation to Hope’s mate, the protector Silas?”

“Maybe.” I advanced on him.

“You have the same blue eyes as Carver. Doesn’t he have a twin sister? One I’ve heard is close to Faith?” He slowly circled me. “Yeah, you’re her.”

“What’s your last name?”

His gaze flickered with frustration as he came nose to nose. “Moyer.”

My heartbeat thumped at his closeness. “The son of Gerritt, and the grandson of Gilles?”

“You’ve heard of my line?”

“Everyone has. Forty years ago, Gilles Moyer spelled the dome’s energy field into existence over Dralion.” Which meant this man was from one of Dralion’s strongest enchanting lines. Although, not the wisest since his father had been captured at the battle of Eventide two years ago and now resided within Peacio’s containment cells. A heavy weight settled in my chest and I couldn’t stop myself from touching his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, your father.” Boy, why did I feel such a sudden connection with him?