“She’s bleeding,” Ian whispered, moving beside Robbie and pointing up at the branch.

“There, on the bottom of her belly, just above her left leg. Do ya see it?”

“Aye,” Robbie growled. “Come,” he told the bird.

Mary spread her wings and glided down and landed on his arm. Robbie stroked her chest and lifted his arm to see her wound.

“You’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt,” he said, using his finger to gently lift her bloodied feathers. “Aye, you’ve been nicked by an arrow.”

“How do ya know that?” Ian asked.

Robbie smiled at his uncle. “She told me as much.”

Ian stepped back. “She did? She really does talk to ya?”

“Aye. We’ve had many conversations over the years.” He lifted a brow. “You’re surprised? I’m about to take you on an unimaginable journey, and you think it odd that I talk to my pet?”

Ian shook his head. “I quit trying to think years ago,” he muttered. “Ya must take her to the veterinarian and have that wound tended.”

Robbie looked back at Mary. “Or I can take her to my housekeeper. Cat’s father was a veterinarian, and she knows quite a bit about tending wounds.”

“Then go,” Ian said, waving him away. “It’s only a short distance to Gu Bràth. I’ll be fine.

And I’ll see ya tomorrow afternoon.” He gave Robbie a wide grin. “I’ll hide my plaid under my jacket so no one will suspect anything.”

“Uncle,” Robbie said when Ian turned to leave. “I wish… I’m… ” He waved him away.

“Enjoy your last evening with Grey and Grace and Winter,” he said softly. “And know that tomorrow night, you’ll be with your Gwyneth.”

“Aye. I’ll do that,” the old warrior said, turning and walking down the tote road, leaning on the stick Robbie had found for him at the beginning of their walk. He waved over his shoulder. “I’ll be ready when ya come to fetch me.”

Robbie watched after Ian until he disappeared down the last knoll before Gu Bràth, then turned his attention back to Mary.

“I’ve a good mind to trim your wing feathers!” he snapped, starting toward home. “To stop your recklessness.”

Mary let out a deep rattle that sounded more like laughter than owl talk and dug her talons into his jacket sleeve to keep her balance as he lengthened his stride.

Robbie sighed. Scolding his pet had always been an exercise in futility. And Mary was just as determined as he was to keep the Highlanders here. She still loved Michael MacBain and had no wish to see the warrior’s life uprooted again.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” he told her, quickening his pace. “Her name is Cat, and she’s going to be your daughter-in-law just as soon as I persuade her to trust her heart to me.”

Mary blinked at him.

“Aye, I know this is sudden. But if you’d come back with me instead of staying behind and getting arrows slung at you, you could have given me your blessingbefore I realized my intentions toward Catherine. Now you’ll just have to accept her.”

Robbie stopped and glared at his pet. “Don’t even think to give her a hard time. And you needn’t test her like you did Libby. Catherine has already survived her trial by fire.”

He tucked his arm against his body and cupped the snowy’s head to his chest. “Aye, little one,” he crooned. “I have every hope she can live with my calling. And that’s where you can help. You’ve been in Catherine’s position. You were a modern woman in love with an ancient. You’ll know how Cat will feel, and you’ll know how I can win her heart. Will you help?” he asked, opening his hand so Mary could look up at him. “Will you join in my courtship of Catherine?”

Mary blinked and nipped at his thumb.

He chuckled and started home again, his step considerably lighter. “Aye. Then you can begin by being a perfect patient and not nipping her fingers when she sews you up with her pink silk thread. And Mary,” he added with a laugh, tapping the owl on the tip of her beak, “don’t bring her any gifts like you brought Libby. I already have more magic than I can handle right now.”

Chapter Sixteen

Catherine couldn’t quitsmiling all the time she showered and even found herself wondering who owned the face in the mirror as she dried her hair. The woman staring back at her was… well, glowing and looking rather pleased with herself.

She also looked as if she knew a secret. Something about feeling alive for the first time in years. Energized. Hopeful. Eager.

But eager for what the day would bring or to be kissed again so thoroughly that her insides still hadn’t uncurled?

She hadn’t been panicked by theirsimple hug last night in the barn, and that’s what must have given her the courage to kiss him. That Robbie had taken over the kiss didn’t surprise her, but that he had ended it so nobly did. The guy appeared too good to be true.

She had finally worked up the nerve to tap him on the nose this morning, and been rewarded with a look of such surprise, that Catherine had been tempted to do it again.

And she probably would have, if she hadn’t caught sight of Michael MacBain bearing down on them like a mountain. He’d brushed past his son and right up to her, taken her hand in both of his large paws, and given her a smile that had curled her insides even tighter.

Robbie was the spitting image of his father; though only a few inches shorter than his son, Michael MacBain had the exact same compelling gray eyes, the same cheekbones and jaw, and the same powerful energy that blasted into a person when he looked at them.

Catherine finished brushing out her hair and pulled it into a tail at the nape of her neck.

Just two weeks ago, she would have run from Robbie’s father as fast as her legs would carry her, she realized, smiling at herself in the mirror.

And that, Catherine decided, was the true definition of magic. In less than two weeks, she’d somehow gone from a mouse to a mountain cat.

She loved that Robbie called her Cat. She loved that she actually felt like one, so much so that she had kissed a towering giant last night without even thinking about where it might lead.

And she had also smacked him with the stick this morning, though she hadn’t really meant to. But at least now she understood why Robbie kept getting beat up. Being big and brave and strong were worthless qualities if the guy couldn’t even stay focused on what he was doing for more than two minutes. Maybe while he was teaching her to use the stick, she could teach him how to pay attention. Maybe a few more smacks on the knee would sharpen his focus.

“Cat,” Robbie called, stomping through the kitchen door. “Cat? I need your help.”

Catherine rushed out of the bathroom but came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the large snowy owl perched on Robbie’s arm, silently staring at her.

“What have you got there?” she whispered, slowly inching closer so she wouldn’t startle the bird. She stopped a few paces away and looked up at Robbie and smiled. “A snowy?

Where did she come from?”

He walked over to the rocking chair by the clock and eased the bird onto the back of the chair before turning to her. “She’s my pet,” he said, shedding his jacket and tossing it on the table. “And she’s hurt.” He walked to the owl and brushed a finger down her wing.

“She’s bleeding and needs to be sewn up.”

Catherine moved over beside Robbie and peered down at the snowy’s belly, seeing the bloodied feathers just above her leg.

“There must be a vet near here,” she said. “Somebody with experience handling wildlife.”

“Nay. I want you to sew her up, just like you did me.”

Catherine frowned at him, then at the bird. “There’s a huge difference between sewing up a small cut on your hand and trying to do the same to an animal without anesthesia.

We can’t explain to her about the pain, and she’ll hurt herself even worse by struggling against it.” She looked back at Robbie. “She needs a vet who has the proper equipment.”