Page 75 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“Nay,” she lied, knowing he’d feel guilty otherwise and not wanting him to add that burden to the load he was already carrying. She felt him relax and closed her eyes, thinking he would sleep now, when he spoke again.

“The motte and bailey is done.”

Elysande’s eyes flew open at once and she twisted onto her back to try to look at him, but it was too dark to see his expression. “Really?”

“Aye. We finished tonight,” he said, and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “We can all move in tomorrow and stop tripping over each other in this place.”

“And the clans will leave now,” she added, happiest about that. Having them work together was like having a dozen cooks in the kitchen, each of them wanting to lead the meal preparation, each having their own way of doing things and each sure their way was best. She was amazed everyone had made it through the project alive.

“Half of them have already gone, and the other half plan to leave after breaking their fast in the morning,” Rory told her.

“And we shall have the place to ourselves,” Elysande said on a pleased little sigh, squeezing his arm as she did.

“Ourselves, five soldiers, sixty servants, a hundred sheep, a dozen chickens, two cows, six horses and two thousand masons and laborers banging away nearby every day,” Rory said dryly.

Elysande chuckled at the complaint and turned onto her side facing him. “We could always slip away back here on occasion when you wish a break. Aulay did give us use of the lodge until the castle is built.”

“Aye, he did, didn’t he?” Rory murmured, drawing her closer and rubbing his hand up and down her back. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he sighed, “I love you, Elysande. I’m so glad your mother sent you to me.”

“So am I,” she whispered back. “And I love you too.”

When his response was a light snore, a smile slid over Elysande’s lips. She wasn’t upset that he’d fallen asleep and missed her declaration. She had told him that before and would tell him again. In fact, she planned to tell him that at least once a day for the rest of her life. Because she did love him, and she too was grateful she had been sent to him. Elysande’s mother might have called her a treasure in the letter she’d sent to Rory, but the truth was her brave handsome Highlander husband was the treasure, and he was all hers.

“I love you too, my highland treasure,” she whispered softly and closed her eyes.

An Excerpt from Meant to Be Immortal

Read on for a sneak peek of Lynsay Sands’s

MEANT TO BE IMMORTAL

Available May 2021

Prologue

Mac had just finished setting up his centrifuge when he caught a whiff of what smelled like smoke. He lifted his head and inhaled deeply; there was the astringent cleaner he’d used on the counter surfaces, various chemical and other scents he couldn’t readily identify that were coming from the boxes he had yet to unpack, and—yes—smoke.

A frisson of alarm immediately ran up the back of Mac’s neck. Where there was smoke there was fire and fire was bad for his kind. It was bad for mortals too, of course, but was even worse for immortals who were incredibly flammable.

Straightening abruptly, Mac stepped over one unopened box and then another, weaving his way out of the maze of unpacking he still had to do and to the stairs leading out of the basement. He took them two at a time, rushing up the steps to the special door he’d had installed several days ago. It blocked sound, germs, and everything else from entering the lab he was turning his basement into. He’d also had the walls sealed and covered with a germ-resistant skin. Apparently, his efforts had been successful. Even at the top of the stairs, he was only able to catch the slightest hint of smoke in the air, yet when he opened the door he found himself standing at the mouth of hell. The kitchen on the other side of the door was engulfed in flames that seemed almost alive and leapt excitedly his way with a roar.

A startled shout of alarm slipped from his lips as heat rushed over him, and Mac slammed the door closed at once. He nearly took a header down the stairs in his rush to get as far away from it as he could and crashed into a box as he stumbled off the last step. Pausing then, he stopped to turn in a circle, a mouse in a blazing maze, searching for a way out.

His gaze slid over the small half windows that ran along the top of the basement wall on the back of the house, skating over the flames waving at him from the burning bushes outside, and then he turned toward the rooms along the front of the house and hurried to the door to the first one. It was a bathroom, its window even smaller than the others in the main room. It was also covered with some kind of glaze that blocked the view. Even so, he could see light from the fire on the other side of it.

Rushing to the next door, he thrust it open. This was an empty room about ten feet deep and fourteen wide, with two half windows that ran along the front of the house. Mac stared with despair at the flames dancing on the other side of the glass. He was trapped, with no way out . . . and no way even to call for help, he realized suddenly. There was no landline in the basement, and he’d left his cell phone upstairs on the kitchen counter to avoid interruptions while he set up down here.

I’m done for, Mac thought with despair, and then glimpsed a flash of red light beyond the flames framing and filling the nearer window. Moving cautiously forward, Mac tried to see what was out there, and felt a bit of hope when he spotted the fire truck parked at the top of the driveway and the men rushing around it, pulling out equipment. If he could get their attention, and let them know where he was . . .

Turning, Mac rushed back into the main room, wading through the sea of boxes until he spotted the one he wanted. He ripped it open and dug through the bubble-wrapped contents until he found his microscope. It was old and heavy, and Mac pulled it out with relief and then tore the bubble wrap off as he moved back to the empty storage room. He didn’t even hesitate, but crossed half the room in a couple of swift strides and simply threw the microscope through the nearest of the two little windows. Glass shattered and Mac jumped back as the flames exploded inward as if eager to get in. They were followed by rolling smoke that quickly surrounded him, making him choke as he yelled for help.

He was shouting for the third time when dark figures appeared on the other side of the fire now crowding the window. He thought he could make out two men in bulky gear, what he supposed was the firemen’s protective wear, and then someone shouted, “Hello? Is there someone there?”

“Yes!” Mac responded with relief. “I am in the basement.”

“We’ll get you out! Just hang on, buddy! We’ll get you out!”

“Get somewhere where there’s less smoke,” someone else shouted to him.

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