Adam preened, casting his silky dark hair over his shoulder. "Of course. I am once again all-powerful."
"Why are you being nice to him?" Lisa snapped.
"Lass, he helped me do all that I've done."
"He made you immortal!"
"And if he hadn't, I never would have met you, but would have died over a thousand years before you were born. He helped save your mother and father. And… Adam is… my father."
"Your father!" She gaped for a moment, as the information sunk in. Heavens, but there was obviously a great deal she still didn't know about Circenn Brodie. But she was more than willing to learn.
Circenn guided her to a chair and sat her down, then the two men took turns filling in her gaps of knowledge regarding the man who would be her husband. And once she knew, it made perfect sense, and explained everything: his unusual powers, his resentment toward Adam, Adam's unwillingness to let his son die.
A few moments of silence passed while she pondered all they'd told her, then she realized they were both watching her intently, and it seemed that they were waiting for something.
Adam moved to her side and reached in his pocket, and Lisa watched curiously, wondering what new thing they were going to spring on her next.
"You know now that I am half-fairy, Lisa," Circenn said gently. "Can you accept that?"
Lisa stood on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the lips. Yes, she assured him.
No regrets?
No regrets.
When Adam withdrew a shimmering flask and a pair of goblets, and poured three drops of glowing liquid into one of the glasses, Lisa scarcely breathed.
She watched in silence as Adam passed the glasses of champagne to Circenn, who—with great deliberation—offered Lisa the glass with the potion in it.
He regarded her gravely, then gave her a tender smile.
Love me forever, lass.
Lisa looked deep into his eyes.
Live with me forever. Cease my endless solitude. I will cherish you. I will show you worlds you've only dreamed of. I will walk beside you, hand in hand, until the end of days.
Lisa reached for the goblet.
Champagne had never tasted sweeter.
Kiss of the Highlander
Karen Marie Moning
"I cannot believe God plays dice
with the Cosmos."
—albert einstein
"God not only plays dice.
He sometimes throws the dice where they
cannot be seen."
—stephen hawking
* * *
highlands of scotland
1518
Prologue
"The MacKeltar is a dangerous man, Nevin."
"What are you going on about this time, Mother?" Nevin looked out the window and watched the grass rippling in the early morning sun beyond their hut. His mother was reading fortunes, and were he foolish enough to turn around and meet Besseta's gaze, she would interpret it as encouragement, and he would be lured into yet another conversation about some bewildering prediction. His mother's wits, never the sharpest blade in the armory, were dulling daily, eroded by suspicious imaginings.
"My yew sticks have warned me that the laird presents a grave danger to you."
"The laird? Drustan MacKeltar?" Startled, Nevin glanced over his shoulder. Tucked behind the table near the hearth, his mother straightened in her chair, preening beneath his attention. Now he'd done it, he thought with an inward sigh. He'd gotten himself snagged in her conversation as securely as he'd gotten his long robes entangled in a thorny bramble a time or two, and it would require finesse to detach himself now without things degenerating into an age-old argument.
Besseta Alexander had lost so much in her life that she clung too fiercely to what she had left—Nevin. He repressed a desire to fling back the door and flee into the serenity of the Highland morning, aware that she would only corner him again at the earliest opportunity.
Instead, he said gently, "Drustan MacKeltar is not a danger to me. He is a fine laird, and'tis honored I am to have been chosen to oversee the spiritual guidance of his clan."
Besseta shook her head, her lip trembling. A fleck of spittle foamed at the seam. "You see with a priest's narrow view. You can't see what I see. This is dire indeed, Nevin."
He gave her his most reassuring smile, one that, despite his youth, had eased the troubled hearts of countless sinners. "Will you cease trying to divine my well-being with your sticks and runes? Each time I am assigned a new position, you reach for your charms."
"What kind of a mother would I be, if I didn't take interest in your future?" she cried.
Brushing a lock of blond hair from his face, Nevin crossed the room and kissed her wrinkled cheek, then swept his hand across the yew sticks, upsetting their mysterious design. "I am an ordained man of God, yet here you sit, reading fortunes." He took her hand and patted it soothingly. "You must let go of the old ways. How will I achieve success with the villagers, if my own dear mother persists in pagan rituals?" he teased.