Sword of the Highlander by Cynthia Breeding

She certainly didn’t sleep well. Cassidy opened one eye slowly as sunlight drifted in her window. The Highlander was still there, sitting in the chair with his eyes closed, the great swords crossed over muscular thighs. Not a dream then. Her body felt hot, unsatisfied, and needing to be touched. She didn’t remember ever waking up to her fiancé with this longing ache …but Aubrey was an intellectual who compartmentalized his life. He would probably laugh at her if she tried to describe every nerve ending tingling…waiting… wanting to be touched.
    But then, how many women in the twenty-first century woke up to find a medieval warrior in their bedrooms?
     
     
     
     
    Sword of the Highlander
     
    Cynthia Breeding
     
     
     
    From the original Highland Press Publishing anthology
    Lochs and Lasses © 2011
     
    Sword of the Highlander © 2011 Cynthia Breeding
    Cover Copyright © Amber Wentworth
     
     
     
    Sword of the Highlander
     
     
    2012
     
    One
     
     
    Cassidy Gordan clicked the off button on her cell and told herself not to be upset because her fiancé, Aubrey Fournier, had canceled yet another date. On the sidewalk outside her medieval costume and artifact shop just off Haight, tourists bustled past, cheerfully loud and boisterous. The early spring afternoon had turned unusually warm for San Francisco and brilliant sunlight lit the stained-glass depiction of St. George and the Dragon on the front door. She should be happy. Aubrey had just been busy these past two weeks.
    “A problem, little one?” her friend, Carlotta Roselli, asked.
    Cassidy shook her head. “Aubrey’s on his way to the airport. He has to fly to New York to see about a Hepplewhite dining suite a private owner wants to sell.”
    “Ah, but that is good news, no?”
    “No. I mean, yes.” Cassidy smiled wanly. She should be glad—and she was—that Aubrey was such a successful antiques dealer. At twenty-seven, she had nearly despaired of finding an eligible man in this eclectic city. She just wished his business partner, Eugene, weren’t so afraid of flying that Aubrey had to make all the trips. “It’s just that I’d planned to make a special dinner tonight…Dungeness crab with Fettucine Alfredo.”
    Carlotta sighed and patted her flat stomach. “I wish I could eat like that, my pet, but I have to watch every carb these days.”
    Cassidy’s face warmed guiltily. She had been blessed—or cursed, if her sparse curves were an indication—with a fast metabolism. Carlotta was voluptuously curvy in all the right places and, at forty-five, still able to attract men like flies to sticky paper, although that might have to do with her golden skin, dark hair and eyes, and natural vivaciousness as well. Cassidy was her polar-opposite:  tall, slender, fair-skinned, with hair neither gold nor red, but something most people called ‘strawberry.’ She often wondered how they’d come to be friends, but Carlotta had introduced Aubrey to her as well.
    “I’ll probably just order take-out later,” she said. “Mr. Sinclair sent a medieval sword by private courier earlier that he wants me to catalog.”
    “And where is your elusive boss these days?” Carlotta asked.
    “The last time he called, he was in Saudi. Something about a scimitar from the Crusades that had been uncovered. You know how interested he is in ancient swords.”
    Carlotta waved her hand toward a locked door leading to a back room filled with authentic medieval artifacts and not just replicas like the ones in the front of the store. “I have no idea why any of you are interested in such old stuff, other than to sell it at a good price.”
    Cassidy nearly cringed. Her boss, whom she’d only met once in person since he traveled continuously in search of ancient relics, would probably have an apoplexy if he heard such talk. But then, how could she explain a love for the past to someone who lived so very much in the moment?
    Carlotta flashed her a wide smile and patted her