The concept of the Highlander universe and the character of Duncan MacLeod were created by someone else. They belong to someone else. Actually, they belong to a bunch of people - Gregory Widen, Peter Davis, William Panzer, the folks at Gaumont, and those at Rysher Entertainment, as well. They do not belong to me, and I'm borrowing them without permission. Because Highlander-The Series is my favorite TV show, and because this story has been written out of love with no hope of monetary gain - I hope they'll forgive the transgression.
This story is mine as are characters of Dallas Delany, Sukhe Khan and various minor players - so please don't take them anywhere without letting me know. I hope you enjoy the story and if you do, I'd love to hear your comments.
A Splash of Color - Chapter 7
Duncan breathed deeply, let his breath out with a whisper of impatience, then he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd read the same page three times. It was useless. He couldn't concentrate on Dickens with all the laughter and bickering going on four feet from where he sat.
He'd found the book - a first edition of A Christmas Carol - in Jake's tiny library at the top of the stairs. Hoping it might boast his lagging Christmas spirit, he decided to read it, but Dickens was simply too morose, even if the tale did have a happy ending. He closed the book and set it aside with care.
"If you two are going to argue about decorating that tree, you're missing the whole point of the season. You know - peace on earth ... good will to men," he said.
"Well, you could give us a hand," Richie said, trying to untangle himself from a strand of mini lights that had wrapped itself around his leg like a hungry python.
Duncan sighed as he stood, then walked over to the tree. "I don't know how much help, I'll be," he said. "The last time I put lights on a Christmas tree, you had to light them with a match."
Richie chuckled. "It wasn't that long ago ... you and Tessa had a tree. And as I remember, you did the lights."
Memories swarmed around Duncan as he crouched down to pick up another snarled light set. "You're right," he said. The memories coiled around his heart. "We did have a tree."
"Who's Tessa," Dallas asked, her eyes growing wide with curiosity.
"A very special lady," Richie answered.
"Where is she?"
"She - ah ... died," Richie said. Tiny glass bulbs clicked together in the ensuing silence as he shook a knot of wire and lights.
At Richie's side, Dallas held a glass lion with an orange yarn mane. She spun the ornament around on its golden thread hook, then she looked up at Richie. Her eyes brimmed with questions. Richie tipped his head toward Duncan. He tensed, waiting for questions he didn't feel up to answering.
"Was she your wife?" Dallas asked, quietly, moving to stand before him.
"No," Duncan said. He tried to concentrate on the lights, but his eyes kept losing their focus. After all this time, talking about Tessa shouldn't rattle him, but it still did.
"She and Mac were going to get married." Richie provided the information, he could not.
Dallas knelt before him. "You miss her?"
He curved the corners of his mouth into some semblance of a smile for her benefit, then he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I do."
Dallas leaned in to wrap her arms around his neck. He held her for a moment, feeling her pain mingle with his own. The sensation was comforting in a strange way. Still holding her, he eased her aside, then looked at Richie. His young friend stood with his head bowed as he busied his hands with the lights.
"You know," Duncan said, with a small sigh. "You're supposed to put those on first."
"See, I told you that," Dallas said. She slipped out from the crook of his arm to set her hands on her hips. "But you didn't listen."
"Oh yeah, and I suppose you know everything?" Richie responded. He tossed the lights to the floor with a flick of his hands.
"Yeah," Dallas said, holding her chin at an angle that gave her an air of superiority. "Jake told me. He told me lots of stuff."
Richie threw his hands in the air. "I give up."
Duncan couldn't stop himself. He chuckled at the mask of pure frustration on Richie's face, and the heavy weight that had pressed on his heart crumbled, then it dropped away.
The grandfather clock in the dining room chimed ten times as Duncan lifted Dallas so she could place the angel on the top of the tree. Ten o'clock, already? The last two hours had simply flowed past him in a stream of laughter, and the joy of a task completed in good company.
As the last ringing notes faded away, the slam of a car door drew his attention to the street just outside the window. A taxi - its telltale light glowing in the darkness - sped away, as a shadowy figure darted to the porch. Duncan let Dallas slide through his arms, then set her down gently on the floor. He reached over to pull the curtain aside, and the swelling vibration of another Immortal surrounded him. Cold concern crept along his spine.
A quick glance at Richie's frown confirmed that he had sensed it as well. "Take her in the kitchen," Duncan said. He shoved Dallas toward Richie, then moved to retrieve his sword from the table near the entrance. "You can get out by the back door if you have to."
"Is it--" Dallas began. Her eyes widened with fear.
"It'll be all right, sweetheart," Duncan said. "Go with Richie."
Like a prowling panther, he moved into the hall, then the chime of the door bell jangled his concentration. He tightened his grip on the sword hilt and centered himself as stepped closer to the door. He tugged it open.
Wrapped in a dark hooded coat, the Immortal on the porch stood facing the street. Duncan ran his tongue over parched lips. "Can I help you?" he asked.
The coat flew out in a circle as the other Immortal whirled around, then the hood slipped back. Duncan's jaw dropped as he recognized the wicked smile and the spark glittering in those dark eyes.
"Well, hello MacLeod," she said in a throaty whisper. One eyebrow twitched into a suggestive arch. "Is that a sword in your pocket or are you glad to see me?"
Duncan lowered his sword, then he laughed - a hearty laugh that frothed up from deep within him and shook his shoulders. "Stealing lines from Mae West, now, Amanda?" he asked, stepping aside to let her in.
"Only the best ones," she said. Cupping his chin in a firm, but affectionate grip, she puckered her lips to send him an air kiss, then she sashayed past him. "Only the best."
"I thought you went to Paris. What are you doing here? And how did you find me?" He fired the questions in quick succession.
Her hips swayed enticingly as she closed in on him. She rested one hand on his chest, then circled the neck of his sweater with the index finger of the other. Her dark polished nail left tingling trails where it brushed his neck.
She made a deep throaty sound, that was kin to a cat's purr. "Now is that a proper greeting for someone who's come thousands of miles, crossed an ocean, and a whole continent ... just to spend the holidays with her favorite Immortal?"
The heel of her shoe hit the floor with a thump, as she slipped it off, then rubbed her foot up his calf. She leaned into him, and he looped his arm around her, then she kissed him. The warm wet pressure of her kiss and the heat of passion whirled around him like a summer squall, then she pulled away. "Joe Dawson told me where to find you," she said, ducking her head and fluttering her long lashes.
Duncan chuckled, then he nudged her back to claim another kiss. "Good ole Joe," he mumbled against her lips, but a brief flicker of motion snagged his attention. He glanced over her shoulder to find Richie and Dallas watching them from the doorway.
"It's safe to come out now, I take it," Richie said with a lecherous smirk.
At his side, Dallas stared, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Amanda," Duncan said, guiding her across the room with his hand at her waist. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
"This is my good friend, Amanda," he said.
Dallas's eyebrows shot together in a frown of distrust and suspicion.
"Friend?" Amanda hissed in his ear.
He ignored her. "Amanda, this is Dallas Delaney. She's Jake Pendleton's adopted daughter."
Amanda held her hand out, but Dallas tucked hers behind her back, as she stared at the floor. "Oh," Amanda said, dragging the syllable out, then she touched the girl's shoulder. "Joe told me about Jake. I was sorry to hear--" She left the sentiment unfinished as she backed away.
"I met him a long time ago, and I always liked him." Turning to Duncan, she smiled. "But then I've always had a weakness for men with a little larceny in their hearts."
"I've noticed," Duncan said, pulling her in for a hug. "So what does that say about me?"
"Well, every girl has to have at least one knight in shining armor," she answered. She drew a small circle on his chest with her finger, then she tapped the center. "You're mine."
"Oh, brother," Dallas said with a grimace of disgust. She took Richie by the hand and towed him back into the room. "Let's go finish the tree," she said. "We still have to put the little village underneath."
"I don't she likes me," Amanda whispered in Duncan's ear, then she followed Richie and Dallas into the living room.
Stopping just inside the doorway, she glanced around the room. "Well, isn't this cozy," she said. "It's not quite you, MacLeod, but somehow it suits you, anyway."
"It's not quite me, because it's not my house," he said, as he helped her out of her coat. "And don't get too comfortable because we're not staying very long."
Amanda smiled at him - a smile that said she was just indulging him, because she knew him better than he knew himself - then she patted him on the arm. "I left my bags out on the porch," she said, and the smile took on a beguiling curve. "Would you be a dear and get them for me?"
Duncan laughed softly as he turned to do her bidding. He didn't know how she did it, but she always managed to make him feel young and lighthearted. Even when she landed him in deep trouble - as she so often did - it was difficult to resist her charm. She had an uncanny sense for knowing when he needed her the most, and those were the times she materialized like a genie summoned from a bottle.
When he returned with the two suitcases - at least they weren't trunks - she had already joined Richie and Dallas on the floor. He supposed he should warn her that sitting on the floor in a skirt as short as the one she wore left nothing to the imagination. But after he set the suitcases down, he slipped his hands into his pockets and simply enjoyed the view.
"This little shop would look perfect over there next to the train station," she said, tilting her head to study the small ceramic building she held before her.
Dallas snatched it out of her hand, then ducked under the tree to set it next to a similar shop with a sign that read Apothecary over the window. "It goes over here, not there," she said with more than a trace of annoyance in her voice.
Amanda picked up a Victorian-style house, then reached under the tree to set it next to another house. "I'll bet this one goes here," she said.
Dallas pushed her hand away, then moved the house an inch to the left. "No, it goes there," she insisted.
"Amanda's only trying to help," Duncan said, kneeling down between them. "And you're being very rude."
Dallas curled her lower lip into a pout. "Well, she's putting them in the wrong place."
"I ... ah, think I'll go look for that box of trains," Richie said, standing suddenly. "In the attic, right?"
"At the top of the stairs," Dallas mumbled from under the tree as she rearranged the houses and shops mere centimeters from where they had been before.
Amanda leaned closer to him, and she placed her hand in a tantalizing position on his upper thigh. "I think she's jealous," she whispered.
He remembered that they weren't alone, and he stood before she could do anything indelicate with her hand. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, then he walked over to the liquor cabinet.
Amanda followed him. She slipped her arms around his waist as he poured a generous measure of cognac into two snifters. Taking care not to break her embrace, he turned to hand her one of the glasses.
"She's definitely jealous," Amanda whispered before she took a sip.
"Amanda, she's ten years old."
Amanda smiled, and her eyes twinkled with a lascivious light. "Would you like to know what I was doing when I was ten years old?"
"Er ... not right now," he said, grinning back at her. Knowing her as he did, he could well imagine, but Dallas was not Amanda and this was the end of the 20th century, not the middle of the 9th. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. "But maybe you can tell me, later," he mumbled.
She laughed, then whirled away from him. He sighed and followed her as she went to sit on the sofa. Sitting next to her, he draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. She snuggled against him in response.
"Mission accomplished," Richie announced from the doorway.
Duncan turned away from his study of the flames that licked hungrily at the logs in the fireplace to watch Richie stride into the room. In his arms, he carried a large brown cardboard box.
"Mac, you should see these trains," Richie said, setting the box on the floor by the tree. "They're the old big Lionel trains with the triple tracks. One of my foster fathers was a train freak and he had a set, but he wouldn't let any of us kids touch them."
Duncan glanced over at the dusty engine Richie held up as an example of the treasures to be found in the box, but he was too comfortable to get up to investigate them. Amanda was far more intriguing than a box of toy trains at the moment. She had slipped a warm hand under his sweater, and she teased the waistband of his jeans with her finger. He knew he should stop her, but he had lost all trace of willpower.
Dallas stood halfway between the tree and the sofa, she stared at Amanda with narrowed eyes, then she glanced back at Richie. Clearly indecisive, she took a step toward the lure of Richie and the trains, then she turned and walked over to the sofa.
She stood before Duncan, hesitating for a moment, then she placed her hands on his knees and rested her weight on them. "Can you help us do the trains?" she asked.
Amanda's hand slipped away as he leaned forward. "I think it's way past your bedtime, young lady," he said. "We can set up the trains tomorrow."
"But you said we could watch The Christmas Vacation movie," she said, pouting as she wedged herself between his body and the arm of the sofa.
"That was three hours ago," he said, "but you wanted to decorate the tree, remember? It's nearly 11 o'clock, and way past time for you to be in bed."
"But I'm not even tired," she insisted.
"That's beside the point," he said, giving her a nudge. "Now go to bed, like a good little girl."
She perched on the edge of the cushion, resisting the gentle pressure of his hand on her back.
"I'm not a little girl - I'm ten and a quarter," she replied, "almost a teenager."
"Would you like me to read you a story?" Amanda asked. She reached out to brush Dallas's bangs away from her face, but the girl ducked her head out of reach.
"I'm not a baby," Dallas snapped as she stood. "I can read."
"Oh, I forgot," Amanda answered with a smile. "You're almost a teenager."
Dallas glared at Amanda for a moment, then she turned to Duncan with a wistful smile.
"Be a good almost teenager and go to bed," he said.
"Why do I have to go to bed, when I'm not tired?" she asked, fidgeting with her hands as she glanced down at the floor.
"Because, I asked you to," Duncan replied.
A heavy sigh lifted her shoulders. "Will you kiss me good night?" she asked.
He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug, then he kissed her cheek. He didn't miss the triumphant look she tossed Amanda, as he released her. He shook his head - perhaps Amanda was right. There was definitely something strange going on.
Dallas crossed the room, slowly, then she glanced over her shoulder just before she stepped through the doorway. The pensive expression on her face stirred up even more questions.
Amanda slipped her hand under his sweater again, and he wished he could send Richie to bed as easily. He seemed quite intent on examining the box of trains, but Duncan would rather he did it somewhere else ... preferably far away. He sighed, as he pulled Amanda closer.
"What makes you think she's jealous?" he asked to distract her from the arousing game she was playing with her hand.
Amanda glanced at Richie, then she tickled a sensitive spot before she pulled her hand away. "Who wouldn't be? After all she's had two very attractive men all to herself, and now she has to share."
He captured Amanda's hand in his before it could return to the scene of the crime. "She's a child," he said, kissing her finger tips one at a time.
"But she's also a woman in training."
Amanda nestled into his side, and he could have purred with contentment. He had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn't matter.
"Ten is an awkward age," she continued her dissertation. "A ten-year old girl sees her childhood fading away, but she doesn't yet know what being a woman means, so she's afraid of it."
"What do you know?" he asked. "It's been well over a thousand years since you were ten."
She pinched him hard, and he laughed at the indignant expression on her face. "I'm a woman ... it's all I need to know, and I'll teach you to make disparaging remarks about a woman's age," she said, as she tickled him with fingers that knew every one of his sensitive places.
Richie raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from his project. "Sheesh ... get a room, already," he said, laughing as he began to put the trains back in the box. "Never mind ... I'll get a room. I know when I'm not wanted."
