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Informationen zum Autor A native of rural central Maine, Janet Chapman (1956–2017) lived in a cozy log cabin on a lake with her husband, three cats, and a stray young bull moose. The author of the hugely popular Highlander time-travel series, she also wrote numerous contemporary romances. Klappentext The spell used to transport Robbie McBain's father from medieval Scotland to modern-day Maine is about to dissolve. Robbie must go back in time and find a way to extend the original incantation. But he doesn't expect Catherine Daniels, a woman on the run in need of protection, to land in his arms. Original. Chapter One Come on, baby. Give it to me, you sweet thing." Robbie MacBain came awake totally alert and battle-ready, with absolutely no idea what was going on. "That's it. Move for me, baby." What the hell? He had not gone to bed with a woman, so he shouldn't be hearing a husky, seductive voice in his ear. He knew he was in his bedroom at the farm, but, more important, he knew he was alone. "Just a little bit more, sweetie." Robbie sat bolt upright in bed and tried to see through the darkness. Nothing. No woman. Yet her voice had been quite distinct -- and soft and sexy and close. "Come on," she whispered with fading patience. "I've got to get going. Oh, for God's sakes, just move!" At the squawking of several disgruntled hens, Robbie snapped his head toward the baby monitor on his nightstand. And he cursed, throwing back the covers and jumping out of bed. The henhouse. He was supposed to be guarding the henhouse. He scrambled into his pants and grabbed his shirt, stopping only long enough to glance at the clock by his bed. Five-thirty, he saw, breaking into a grin as he slipped on his shirt and found his socks. Deciding earlier that he didn't need to be sleeping outside on this cold March night, he had put the baby monitor in with the hens and let the electronic device do his job. And it had worked, he decided as he hopped first on one foot and then the other, pulling on his boots and tying them. This was the third henhouse raid this week. Only half a dozen eggs were taken each time, and there was always a dollar bill left in their place. But it was the principle of the thing. Someone was buying his eggs. He didn't much care for mysteries, and that sexy-voiced woman on the monitor was one mystery he was suddenly eager to solve. Robbie ran down the stairs and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Quietly, he opened the farmhouse door and crept onto the moon-shadowed porch just as the woman came sneaking out of the henhouse. He blinked into the night. If he hadn't just heard her voice on the monitor, he would swear his thief was a kid. She looked like a child, squatting beside a backpack as she carefully placed her stolen breakfast in it. She spotted him when he stepped off the porch. She dropped two of the eggs when she stood with a startled squeak, swung the pack onto her back, and bolted for the pasture. "Hey! Hold it!" She scaled the paddock fence with the agility of a cat. With an utterly male grin Robbie broke into a run. His thief certainly had a nice rear end. And he also happened to notice, as he vaulted over the fence himself, that what height she did have came from a pair of long legs that swiftly carried her into the night. But he was six-foot-seven in his socks, and Robbie didn't doubt for a minute he would quickly run her to ground. Then he'd find out who she was and what she was doing stealing his eggs. Robbie's smile was gone a little over a mile later. She was getting away! Rasping for breath through gritted teeth, Robbie forced his legs to move faster. He'd arrogantly told his boys that he could catch a simple egg thief, and "No, thank you," he didn't need their adolescent help. He was not about to let last night's braggi...
