Highlander Hellcat PG-13 Version Page 4

  Chapter 4: Caramel Apple

  FLASHBACK

  The following morning at dawn Leslie opened the door to Garth’s bedchamber and waltzed inside. She stalked over to the window and pulled aside the thick, red velvet curtain, flooding the room with light.

  Garth groaned as a stream of golden light hit his face. “Ugh…what do you think you’re doing? Shut those bloody drapes, lass!”

  “Rise and shine, Garth!” Leslie declared as she made her way over to Garth’s bed and pulled the cover right off his body. “We have a long day ahead of us, and we’d best get an early start! Oh-!”

  Leslie looked down at Garth’s exposed crotch. Apparently, Garth slept in the nude and Garth was turned on. “Mmm.” Leslie licked her lips at the appetizing sight. Yummy, yummy. A wolfish smile curled her lips. “Why don’t you let me help you with that first, lad?” Leslie pointed her finger at his crotch.

  Garth looked down at his crotch, realized he was turned on, and flushed out of embarrassment. He covered his crotch with his two hands. “Avert your eyes, lass! Have you no decency?”

  Leslie quirked her head at Garth, raised an eyebrow, and laughed. “Decency? What an odd thing for a demon to say.” She looked at Garth’s flushed, panicked face. She sighed, and then shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure. But it’s your loss.” Leslie licked her lips teasingly. “Hurry up and get dressed. Lachlan is already outside and waiting for us to depart. We’re going to take you to the village that is under Clan MacWulver’s protection today.”

  Garth frowned at Leslie’s antics, picked up a pillow, and launched it at Leslie’s head. “Get out of here, you wicked lass!”

  Leslie nimbly dodged the pillow and laughed. Her blue eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Alright already. Okay. I understand. I’ll meet you outside, Garth!” She threw Garth a roguish wink. She opened the door, exited, and closed the door behind her.

  Garth sighed and looked down at his crotch. He wouldn’t be able to ride a horse like this. He decided to take care of business. Leslie’s freckled face came to his mind and he groaned. But when he recalled a pink-haired angel - that’s when he ended up reaching the peak of his pleasure.

  After Garth had cleaned himself up and dressed properly in his tartan plaid, belt, and boots, he made his way through the castle and exited out the front set of double doors into the main courtyard. He looked around and spotted Lachlan and Leslie standing outside the stables with three horses that were already tacked up and ready to go.

  Garth approached the duo with swift, long strides. “Good morning, Lachlan.”

  “Good morning.” Lachlan smiled at Garth charmingly. “I took the liberty of choosing a horse for you to ride. I hope you don’t mind. You’re such a big fella I decided that the only horse that could carry you was Goliath here.” Lachlan patted the side of an enormous brown warhorse. “What do you think of him?”

  Garth approached the horse tentatively and reached out to stroke its muzzle. The horse pushed his nose into Garth’s hand and pawed at the ground impatiently as if saying ‘Let’s get this show on the road already!’. Garth smirked at the spirited steed. “I like him.”

  Lachlan looked pleased. “This steed here is my horse Duff.” Lachlan patted the muzzle of an elegant stallion with a gleaming black coat, and liquid black eyes that reminded Garth of polished onyx. “We’ve been through many a battle together. Haven’t we, boy?” Lachlan gave the horse an appreciative smile.

  “And this beauty here is my horse Fiona.” Leslie waved her hand at a pretty white mare. “She’s small but she’s very fast!”

  Lachlan put one foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle, mounting his horse in one fluid motion. He grabbed the reins. “Let’s get this show on the road, friends.”

  “Aye.” Leslie agreed as she skillfully swung herself up into her saddle next.

  Garth had watched them both mount, and approached Goliath apprehensively. He’d never ridden a horse before, or if he had he didn’t remember. But how hard could it be? Garth put his foot in the stirrup and was about to swing himself up into the saddle when Goliath took off walking after Duff and Fiona. “Och! Wait a minute, Goliath!” Garth complained as he threw his arms over the saddle and clung to the side of the horse.

  Lachlan and Leslie glanced over their shoulders to see what the commotion was, and immediately burst out laughing at Garth’s plight.

  Garth felt his cheeks heat up and cursed his fair complexion. Crap. He concentrated on using all the strength in his arms, lifted himself up, and then swung himself into the saddle.

  “Whoo!” Lachlan whistled appreciatively at Garth’s stunt that reminded him of something he’d seen performed by a troupe of traveling human entertainers. “Not bad, Garth. But let’s see if you can keep up with us! Hyah!” Lachlan dug his heels into his horse’s sides, and Duff shot off like a hawk, exiting through the open castle gate.

  “Do try and keep up, Garth!” Leslie challenged before kicking her horse into a swift trot and taking off after Lachlan.

  “Alright then, Goliath. Let’s do this.” Garth said before gently squeezing Goliath’s sides with his powerful legs. Goliath was more than ready to comply and shot off at a gallop, pursing the other two horses happily.

  Garth was forced to wrap his arms around the horse’s neck and hold on for dear life. He decided right then and there that he didn’t like riding one bit. Goliath shot through the open castle gate and down a dirt road, which headed towards the village that was located in the Middle March and close to the border between Scotland and England.

  The road was sloped since Castle MacWulver was situated high on a hill with the mountains just behind it. After a few minutes, Garth finally felt comfortable enough to let go of Goliath’s neck, sit up straight in his saddle and grab the reins.

  Lachlan and Leslie began to slow down their horses as the village finally came into view. The village was composed of stone dwellings and shops with thatched roofs. The houses appeared to be in good condition and none of the building appeared to be dilapidated or in need of repair. Surrounding the village was lush, green farmland and expansive animal paddocks with horses, sheep, and cows.

  By the time the trio was entering the village they’d slowed their horses down to a walk. “This is our village. A human village that is under Clan MacWulver’s protection. It is a very peaceful and prosperous place.” Leslie told Garth with a note of pride in her voice.

  The companions rode into town and made their way down the main street. Garth looked around at the homes and shops curiously. As the trio rode their horses through the village the humans smiled and waved at them enthusiastically, and greeted them in a very friendly manner. When a group of children spotted the shifters, they ran over, and began to run in circles around them.

  Garth frowned thoughtfully as he looked at the humans and their wee bairns, small children. They looked so…fragile, helpless, weak. Apparently, the humans were mortal, prone to sickness, could die of a small cut if it got infected, and possessed no supernatural powers whatsoever. Garth pitied them…even as he envied them their simple, peaceful existence that wasn’t cursed like his own. “The villagers seem very friendly. Do they know what we are?”

  Leslie nodded solemnly. “Aye, and that’s what’s so unusual and wonderful about our village. All the people here know what we are - that we are demon shifters. They also know our purpose here. Or at least a part of it. The villagers know that we are trying to find human mates. Although, they don’t know our true reason, which is to find our destined Judges and get redeemed. They believe we want human mates in order to blend in with human society better. People come from all over Scotland to live here, and to see if they can win the heart of a powerful demon shifter.”

  Garth’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t really understand why a human would want a demon as a mate.”

  “Oh, it is a desirable fate for the pitiful humans because it means they will have our protection during such dange
rous and unpredictable times.” Lachlan began to explain. “The King of Scotland, King James V, has given us permission to live here among his people as long as we protect his interests.”

  “Laird Magnus is one of the wardens of the Middle March, and has been charged with protecting this human village from all threats: reivers, bandits, rival clans, and the English.” Leslie added.

  Garth raised his eyebrow at Leslie. “King James V knows we’re demons?”

  Lachlan smiled sardonically. “We are in the King’s debt because of it. If he has need of us…we will fight for the King of Scotland, to protect his throne, his life, and his heirs.”

  “It’s the least we can do.” Leslie spoke up. “We are able to live side by side with the humans because he allows it. Because of him we all have a chance to find true love and be redeemed.” There was a hopeful, passionate look in Leslie’s blue eyes as she spoke of finding her true love.

  Garth looked at the village in a new light. These villagers knew what they were and yet accepted them. Many were even there to try and catch the eye of a demon shifter to be their mate. Unreal. These weak, pitiful humans were oddly brave. He had to respect that. “These humans are brave.”

  “Or maybe they’re just stupid.” Lachlan quipped with a sneer.

  “Lachlan!” Leslie chided Lachlan with a disappointed look on her face.

  The trio dismounted, tethered their horses to a nearby fence, and began to walk through the village while heading towards the market square. Several food stalls, and stalls selling various wares from jewelry to pottery had been set up on either side of the main street. The villagers treated the shifters like kings and queens in their midst, and offered them free food. One villager even presented Leslie with a blue agate necklace that matched Leslie’s eyes perfectly.

  Garth watched as Lachlan clasped the necklace around Leslie’s neck and how the man’s hands lingered. Lachlan leaned over and breathed in Leslie’s delectable scent before he pulled away from her.

  Well, the villagers were being nice to Lachlan and Leslie, but appeared to be too intimidated by Garth’s height and fierce golden stare to approach him.

  Leslie hit Garth on the back of his head with a whack! “Would you stop doing that? You’re scaring the living daylights out of them!”

  “Ow.” Garth rubbed the back of his head and gave Leslie a confused look. “Doing what?”

  Leslie raised an incredulous eyebrow at Garth. “You’re glaring at them. You have this murderous stare on your face.”

  Garth frowned. “I am? I do? But…I’m not doing anything.”

  Both of Leslie’s red eyebrows rose at Garth’s denial.

  Lachlan laughed in amusement. “Let him off the hook, Leslie. That’s just how his face naturally looks. The poor lad can’t do anything about it. You should see him when he tries to smile!”

  Leslie snorted. “That so? Never mind then.” She gave Garth a consoling pat on his arm.

  Garth wondered what his face looked like that people found it so…frightening. He couldn’t remember his own reflection and hadn’t bothered to look into a mirror yet. That’s when Garth noticed a curious sight out of the corner of his eye.

  A little girl that was probably around seven-years-old was playing with a scary looking black cat. The cat was missing an ear and had a scar over one of its eyes, and yet the girl-child was playing with the cat, petting it, hugging it, and giggling happily. The little girl was extremely cute with her short, brown ringlets that framed her face, and wide brown eyes. She was wearing an English-style red dress and shiny black leather shoes.

  Garth felt envious of the cat. It was scary looking but the girl-child was still showering it with love and affection. “Are we going anywhere in particular?” Garth asked his companions curiously.

  “As a matter of fact, we are.” Lachlan agreed. “You can’t be a true member of our clan until you have your very own sword! And that’s why we’re going to see our village blacksmith Rory MacDougall to make you a custom-made sword.”

  Garth looked enviously at the claymores strapped to Lachlan’s and Leslie’s waists. He hadn’t thought about it until just then, but he felt naked without a sword while in his human form. His hand reached down as if to grasp the hilt of a sword and the movement felt extremely natural as if he’d done it a million times before. He may not have remembered if he knew how to wield a sword, but his body remembered. His body had stored those memories in his muscle and sinew. Garth grinned. “It’s about damned time!”

  “Ah, I should probably warn you.” Leslie began in a serious tone. “Rory isn’t your usual blacksmith. Before he decided to get married and become a blacksmith he was a Battle Priest and a part of Pope Leo X’s Crimson Cross Order.”

  “Crimson Cross Order?” Garth questioned.

  “The Crimson Cross Order is a holy army of knights, Battle Priests and Battle Nuns that do Pope Leo X’s bidding.” Leslie explained. “They’re vampire hunters, mostly. In order to get Rory’s approval to forge you a sword, you’ll have to beat him in single combat.”

  “He likes to fight shifters first in order to evaluate their skill level. That way he can decide what kind of sword they’ll need, and be able to wield.” Lachlan added.

  “You’re telling me that I get to fight him right off the bat? Count me in. I’m always itching for a good fight.” Garth cracked his knuckles, a gleam of expectation in his savage golden eyes.

  Lachlan slapped Garth heartily on the back. “Good luck. The two of us will have to spar someday as well.”

  A feral smile curled Garth’s lips. “Aye.”

  Leslie rolled her eyes at the lads. Lads - all they ever thought about was fighting!

  Forthwith, the companions made their way to Rory’s Blacksmith Shop. Leslie didn’t even bother knocking when she arrived, but opened the door and strode inside as if she owned the place.

  “She never knocks, does she?” Garth asked Lachlan in a low voice with a wry smile on his face.

  Lachlan chuckled at Leslie’s brazenness. “Nope. That lass is a free spirit, for sure.”

  Lachlan and Garth followed Leslie inside of the blacksmith’s shop. The shop had a very open layout with a large forge towards the back. The forge was lit, and causing the interior of the shop to be very warm. The walls were covered with various weapons: swords, battleaxes, spears and shields.

  Blacksmith Rory was currently hammering the blade of a heated, glowing sword on an anvil, a clanging sound echoing through the room.

  “Good morning, Rory. We’ve brought you a new sword candidate.” Leslie greeted, not beating around the bush.

  “That so?” Rory replied without looking up from his work. “Give me a minute. I’m almost finished with this piece here.”

  “Aye.” Leslie agreed.

  Garth gave the blacksmith an appraising look. Rory had definitely seen some battle in his days and had gained a muscular physique because of it. Garth could also tell by the way the man moved that he could handle himself in battle. The blacksmith had messy, shoulder-length, dark brown hair, rugged facial features, kind brown eyes, and there was some careless stubble on his chin. Rory was wearing a tartan kilt with a black leather apron over top.

  A few minutes later, Rory finished with his hammering and dunked the red-hot sword blade into a bucket of cold water. Steam rose up into the air from the bucket and a hissing sound was heard. Rory pulled out the sword and inspected the blade. “Not bad, but not my best.” He set the finished sword down on a nearby wooden table. He finally turned his attention to his guests.

  “Lachlan. Leslie.” The blacksmith nodded in greeting and then his scrutinizing gaze fell upon Garth. His eyes widened as he took in how tall Garth was at six-eight and he whistled. “Whoo. You’re a big one aren’t you? You a bear shifter? Dragon shifter?”

  Garth opened his mouth to reply ‘tiger shifter’ or ‘weretiger’.

  But Lachlan beat him to it. “He’s a cat shifter.” He smirked in a
musement.

  Rory raised an eyebrow at Garth. “A kitty cat?”

  Garth flushed. “A Hellcat. It’s more like a tiger than a cat.” He argued quickly.

  “Uh huh.” Rory didn’t sound all that convinced.

  Lachlan and Leslie snorted as they tried to hold back their laughter at Garth’s expense. Those jerks. Garth thought as he shot a glare their way.

  “Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?” Rory walked over to a wall covered in swords and after a moment he selected a sword for Garth. “Here. Use this.” He tossed the sword at Garth.

  Garth effortlessly caught the sword by its hilt. It felt good having a sword in his hand again. He executed a few practice swings to get a feel for the weight of the sword.

  Rory nodded approvingly. “You have good reflexes. I think for this bout I’ll use the best sword I’ve ever forged. My masterpiece.” The blacksmith pulled down an impressive looking claymore. Its blade was thin and the sword looked light.

  Garth frowned at it. “That sword looks weak.”

  “Well, let’s see how weak it is then.” Rory challenged as he pulled off his apron and got into a fighting stance. With his apron off Garth caught sight of an interesting looking necklace that was dangling around Rory’s neck. It was a Celtic Triquetra knot made of an orange-red Jasper stone.

  As Garth stared at the pendant it appeared to glow with a red-tinged light. But when Garth did a double take to look at the pendant again it appeared normal. I must have imagined it. Garth thought to himself.

  Garth followed suit and got into a fighting stance too, sword raised before him in a two-handed grip. Before he even blinked, Rory had charged forward and lunged his sword forward at Garth. Crap! The blacksmith was fast. Garth quickly brought up his sword to block the blow and not a moment too soon.

  The duel began. Garth fought against Rory savagely, and their swords clashed nosily. Garth swung his sword in an overhead downward slash, but it was too slow. Rory snuck past Garth’s defenses and landed a glancing blow on Garth’s side, which started to bleed. Bloody hell. Garth mentally swore.

  Garth attacked Rory again, but the man was faster and this time as Garth was forced to avoid his attack Rory’s sword sliced into Garth’s upper arm. Blood dripped down onto the dirt floor.

  Leslie casually walked over to a nearby kitchen table and swiped a red apple from the basket that was sitting on it. She took a loud bite out of it. “Garth…Rory is allowed to hurt you during this match because you’re immortal, but remember not to harm Rory - he’s human.”

  Leslie picked up another apple and tossed it in Lachlan’s direction. Lachlan caught it easily and took a bite out of it. “There’s no way he’ll beat Rory on his first try, so your warning is meaningless. It took me three times before I could best him.” He reminded Leslie.

  “And it only took me two.” A wolfish smile curled Leslie’s lips.

  “Bragger.” Lachlan groused.

  Garth tried to concentrate on Rory’s movements and to block the incoming sword blows, but Rory and his light sword were just too fast, darn it! “Argh!” Garth swung his sword sideways in a frustrated manner.

  Rory blocked the blow easily, and kicked Garth right in the stomach and with enough force that Garth was knocked off his feet to land on the dirt floor on his back. “Oof!” Garth’s sword had slipped out of his grip and he reached for it.

  But then the shifter felt a sword tip pressing against his throat. Garth swallowed and looked up to see Rory’s triumphant expression. “You lose, Hellcat. Come back again tomorrow-” Rory was saying.

  “No, you lose.” Garth countered as he reached his left hand out and wrapped it around the middle of Rory’s sword’s blade. “Argh!” Garth summoned his demonic power and his hand began to heat up. He concentrated all his strength into his grip and shattered the sword’s blade.

  In a swift move, Garth picked up his sword and pressed the tip of it against Rory’s stomach. “If I continued lunging my sword forward you’d be dead now, human. I win.” The shifter’s tone was smug.

  “You…you destroyed my masterpiece.” Rory looked down at his broken sword, his long hair shielding his expression.

  “That weak sword?” Garth scoffed. “I was able to break it with my bare hand. Now, hurry up and make me a strong sword. A nice heavy sword that won’t break.” He demanded in a haughty manner.

  Rory looked up, his eyes blazing with anger. “You broke my masterpiece. Get out.” He said the last softly.

  “Huh?” Garth questioned.

  “Get out!” Rory shouted, raising his voice. “I won’t forge a sword for the likes of you! You have no respect for the spirit of a sword!” The blacksmith tossed his broken sword aside and turned his back to Garth, clearly dismissing him.

  Garth got up and scratched the back of his neck confusedly. Did he just piss off the blacksmith accidentally? Oops. Garth sighed and set the sword down on the nearby table. He strode past Lachlan and Leslie unable to meet their questioning stares. He’d really screwed this one up.

  “Garth, wait!” Leslie called after him but Garth didn’t stop.

  Garth exited the shop and walked swiftly through the bustling village while feeling pissed off at himself. I can be such an idiot. He kicked a rock in the muddy road and sent it flying.

  He looked up to see where the hell he was. He’d gone a long ways from the blacksmith’s house and was somewhere in the outskirts of the village. It was isolated there and there weren’t very many people around.

  The sound of someone crying drew Garth’s attention and he turned his head to see the little brown-haired girl from earlier who’d been playing with the ugly cat. She was looking back and forth at the people passing her by with a nervous, anxious expression on her face. Her big brown eyes were welling up with tears and her lower lip began to tremble.

  Was the girl lost? Garth wondered as his protective instincts kicked in. This weak little girl needed his help. But then he pictured approaching the little girl, crouching before her and asking: ‘Are you lost, lassie?’. The little girl would look up into his scary face, scream and probably faint.

  Bloody hell. Garth scratched his head and wondered what he should do. It was too bad he wasn’t a cat…that’s it! Garth smirked and summoned his tiger-like ears and his tail. His ears sprouted out of the top of his head and his tail emerged behind him. He had to reach his hand behind him into his kilt to pull out his tail. There. Alright. This just might work.

  Garth made his way over to the little girl and crouched down before her. “Meow.” He greeted her.

  The girl sniffled and looked up and up, and her eyes widened at the sight of Garth’s scary face, his fierce golden eyes, and the furry cat ears on the top of his head. A grin broke out across the little girl’s face. “Kitty!” She exclaimed before rushing to Garth’s side and grabbing onto his arm affectionately.

  “Are you lost, lassie?” Garth questioned the girl-child as she hugged his arm.

  The little girl looked up at Garth and nodded. “Aye, I lost my Momma.” She reached up and began to pet Garth’s soft, fuzzy cat ears. Garth leaned into her gentle touch and had to stop himself from purring.

  “Then we’ll find her together, lassie.”

  “Okay.”

  Garth straightened and offered the little girl his hand. She took it. “What’s your name, lassie?”

  “My name is Kirstin. What about you, kitty?” She looked up at him, wide eyed.

  “What a bonny name you have, lassie. My name is Garth. Or at least I think it is.” Garth shrugged.

  “You think? How can you not know?” Kirstin tilted her head at Garth.

  “Well, I lost my memory, but a pink-haired angel called me that.”

  “Pink hair?” The little girl giggled at the thought. “I bet she was pretty.”

  Garth nodded. “Oh, she was. Very bonny. I wish I could get to meet her again. There was something special about her.”

  “I
f you wish for something hard enough…it will come true.” Kirstin said firmly.

  “That so?”

  Kirstin nodded. “Yes, that’s what Momma told me.”

  “I’ll try and remember that, lassie.” Garth said before ruffling her hair with his big hand.

  Garth walked through the village while holding the little girl’s hand, and with his cat ears and tail visible for all to see. The villagers stared and their cold, wary attitudes towards Garth changed as amused smiles broke out on their faces. The villagers began to smile, wave, and laugh good-naturedly at the unlikely pair.

  “Helping that wee bairn find her mother?” A young village woman asked kindly.

  “Aye.” Garth nodded.

  The woman blushed and the group of women that were with her giggled behind upraised hands. “I think I saw her down in the market square. She has a red dress on just like her daughter. Muireall is a real beauty. You can’t miss her!”

  “Thank you kindly.” Garth replied as he and the girl-child began to head in that direction. It wasn’t long before they spotted the girl’s mother up ahead on the road in front of them. The woman was extremely beautiful with long wavy, light brown hair, pale skin, and sea-green eyes. She had a willowy physique and appeared to be as graceful as a swaying willow in the wind. Muireall was wearing an English-style red dress with a tight corset. Garth couldn’t help it as his gaze lingered on her cleavage for a moment.

  Muireall spotted them and her eyes widened before she rushed over to her daughter. “Kirstin!”

  “Momma!” Kirstin let go of Garth’s hand and flew towards her mother.

  Muireall crouched before Kirstin and hugged her daughter tightly. “Kirstin, where have you been, you naughty bairn!” She looked up at Garth and smiled brightly. “Thank you, Stranger.”

  Garth just smiled and moved to go past them. “Wait.” Muireall straightened, smoothed her hands over her dress, and boldly grabbed Garth’s arm, stopping him. “Please come back with me to my home. I have some fresh apples that are hard to find around these parts. I’d like to reward you for what you did by helping my daughter find her way back to me.”

  “Ah, there’s no need-” Garth started to object.

  Muireall leaned forward to whisper in Garth’s ear. “You must be newly arrived. It’s considered an insult to refuse a gift here.”

  “That so? Well, alright then.” Garth scratched the back of his neck, feeling at a loss.

  “My name is Muireall. What’s your name?”

  “It’s Garth.”

  “Well, nice to meet you, Garth.” Muireall smiled amiably as she took her daughter’s hand. Garth began to escort the mother and daughter through the village and to their home. A few minutes later, Muireall stopped right outside of Rory’s Blacksmith Shop. A muscle ticked beneath Garth’s eye at the ironic sight.

  Muireall opened the door and stepped inside while still holding her daughter’s hand. “We’re home, Dear.” She called out.

  “Ah, welcome back, my bonny love.” Rory greeted them happily and watched as Garth ended up entering after them. He frowned at the sight of the Hellcat shifter. “You. What are you doing back here again? Didn’t I make myself clear the first time? I want you gone. Get out of here!” Rory waved his hand angrily at Garth.

  Muireall gasped at her husband’s odd behavior, and shot Garth an apologetic look. “Dear! Don’t be rude to our guest! This fine man just helped our daughter.”

  A muscle ticked in Rory’s jaw. “He what?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

  Kirstin rushed over to her father and clung to his kilt as she peered up at him with tears filling her big brown eyes. “Papa, I got lost and this big kitty cat helped me to find my way back to Mommy.”

  Rory shot Garth a surprised look. “Is that so?” He let out a defeated sigh and then ran his hand back through his messy brown hair in a frustrated gesture. “Ugh, alright, fine. I guess I owe you for helping my daughter. She’s the apple of my eye. I’ll forge you a sword, Hellcat.”

  Garth grinned happily. “Thank you very much.”

  Muireall fetched the basket of red apples that was on the kitchen table and walked over to offer it to Garth. “Here, lad. I would like you to have these. Take them with you for your journey back to Castle MacWulver. The castle is pretty far away after all, and I’m sure you’ll get hungry along the way.”

  Garth felt his cheeks heat up as he accepted the basket of apples from the stunning human woman. He could understand why Rory had decided to stop being a priest and had decided to marry Muireall. “Thank you, Muireall.”

  Garth felt a sword pressing against his throat and gulped. He looked sideways to see Rory holding the sword. “Don’t act so familiar with my wife. You can call her Lady Muireall.”

  Muireall blushed at her husband’s possessiveness. “Dearest.” She chided lightly.

  “Understood. My apologies…Lady Muireall.” Garth offered the apology with a respectful nod.

  Muireall’s blush deepened. “My, my, don’t worry about it.”

  Garth felt his friends Lachlan and Leslie throw their arms around his shoulders, one on either side of him, as they congratulated him on his good fortune.

  “You lucky lad!” Lachlan crowed. “Well, it looks like you’ll be getting a sword after all!”

  “You are such a lady killer, Garth.” Leslie teased as she reached out to poke Garth’s cheek with her index finger. “And what’s with those cat ears? Can I touch them? They look so soft.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the pair of fuzzy orange and black ears on the top of Garth’s head.

  Garth had forgotten how he had his cat ears and tail out. He flushed. “Nay.” He got out of his friends’ hold and backed away from them with his hands raised before him. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Oh, come on. Let me touch them. Please!” Leslie began to chase Garth around the blacksmith’s shop.

  Lachlan arched an eyebrow at Leslie’s antics and the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

  “I want to pet the kitty too!” Kirstin declared before joining in on the chase.

  Rory, Lachlan, and Muireall laughed as they watched the spectacle. And Rory thought about what kind of sword would suit Garth. It would have to be even stronger than his masterpiece. Garth was so tall, the sword could be longer than average, but he didn’t want to make it too heavy because that would just make it slower during combat. Speed was the key in close quarters combat. I’ll make him my best claymore yet! Rory vowed to himself. And Garth appears to be a man that will be worthy of it.