The Parchment Scroll by C. A. Szarek Page B

had dark hair, like Duncan and Alex, but her eyes were big and violet, like Alana’s. She was beautiful, with chubby pink cheeks and the most perfect rosebud mouth that’d make a vain woman jealous because of the natural red color.
    “When she’s mad at Alana, she always finds her dad.” Claire’s green eyes danced.
    The princess frowned. “My daughter and I will have words, no doubt, many times as she grows.”
    Alex chuckled and kissed his wife. “Worry no’, m ò chridhe , I’ll always be here ta intervene.”
    “Or gather wagers.” Duncan smirked.
    Claire giggled and Jules had to swallow to school her expression. The princess didn’t look pleased with her man and his brother—or Claire. Alana’s gorgeous face was twisted in a scowl.
    Xander cleared his throat to cover what suspiciously sounded like a laugh and Janet was grinning, too.
    The patriarch—his name was Iain—sat in a chair by the door, grinning and shaking his head.
    Jules watched the dynamic of the people in the room and her stomach flipped. These people were her sister’s family . Didn’t matter that they were four hundred years removed from what was familiar.
    People were the same here. Love was the same.
    She bit down to stave off unwanted emotion. Jules was going to lose her sister.
    At least Claire belongs here.
    For some reason, Hugh danced into her head. Her heart sped up, but she ignored it. She wasn’t where she belonged. Not in Scotland, and definitely not in 1675. Dwelling on the MacDonald laird was more than foolish—something Jules never allowed herself to be.
    Claire handed the baby over to her mother. The movement caught Jules’ eye and her gaze collided with her sister’s, tugging her from her thoughts.
    “You okay, big sister?”
    “You got it.” Jules plastered on a smile.
    Claire came to her side and slipped an arm around her waist. She squeezed in comfort, as if she’d known Jules was full of crap.
    She was far from okay. Didn’t feel like being specific, though. “When do we start looking for this chick?”
    “Now,” Duncan said.
     
* * * *
     
    Jules had everyone’s full attention when she explained Bree—Bridei, whatever—had been living in the cave of the Faery Stones in the twenty-first century.
    No one expected her to be stupid enough to stick around in this century, but all the men agreed it would make sense to start there. Jules and Bree had arrived in 1675 via the portal, after all.
    It didn’t take long to get organized and mount up to head there. Duncan felt they needed to start before it got dark, and the Fae halfling—as they all called her—had had a head start. Jules had been with Hugh at Armadale all day and overnight.
    She rode her own horse, and couldn’t help looking over her shoulder for a big black stallion, chiding herself every time.
    The beach didn’t even look remotely familiar, although it couldn’t be far from where Hugh had found her. She’d been naked and disoriented, so Jules didn’t figure she could’ve wandered far.
    “I don’t think I was this far down,” she said to no one in particular. She glanced around, sitting taller on the dark brown pony Duncan had given her to ride. He’d told her the beast was gentle and would be easy for an inexperienced rider.
    “Alana has magic covering the area, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember where you were.” Xander’s smile was kind as their eyes met.
    She was struck by his handsomeness. The guy was almost too good-looking. No man should have eyes that color or cheekbones that high. His face was flawless. Hairless and supermodelesque. His short white-blond locks shifted in the breeze as Jules maintained eye-contact with those violet orbs. “Ah.”
    Xander smirked. “Lass, I can read your thoughts.”
    Heat kissed her cheeks. “Uh, sorry.” She averted her gaze and took a breath.
    “Don’t fret. Just picture a wall in your mind. It will help.”
    She looked back at the Fae man and nodded. “Thanks for the tip.