My Highland Lover (17 page)

“I will have respect in m’hall. I will accept no less.”

Gray’s jaw tensed beneath her hands. His muscles rippled with barely controlled rage. Trulie swore she heard his clenched teeth crack with the pressure. Poor Gray. He just didn’t understand. She’d been singled out and ostracized by the best of them because of her family’s strange ways. Fearghal and his mother were amateurs when it came to trying to make her feel uneasy.

“They don’t bother me,” she said, soothingly. With one hand still resting on Gray’s hard-muscled arm, Trulie turned away and focused on Fearghal and Aileas. Time to get a quick read of Mr. Personality and his mama.

Whore.
Bits of muddled conversation colored with emotion raced through Trulie’s consciousness.
Half brother. Unwanted stepmother. Murder. The whore’s tower. Jealousy. Loathing. Fear.
All the dark energy emanating from the pathetic duo standing in front of her suddenly made complete sense—all except the odd reading of some sort of secrecy. One or both of them was definitely afraid of something being discovered. They weren’t afraid of physical harm. Trulie focused harder. They feared being found out. Perhaps about the murder? But which one was it, and was the murder the secret they didn’t want revealed? Damn, she needed to read their minds, but she just couldn’t force herself to go there. As sloppy as these two were, surely she could figure them out without having to wade through the nastiness of their inner selves.

Trulie clicked off the facts in cold, analytical order. Gray’s mother was the chieftain’s leman, the favored mistress the old man had dearly loved. Aileas was the political marriage, the wife who loathed her unfeeling husband even more than she loathed herself. Trulie almost felt sorry for Aileas. Almost. The ballsy woman had as much as come out and called Trulie a slut in front of Gray’s clan. And then her son had actually done it.

And Fearghal—the man could hardly stand upright. He leaned heavily against his mother. His balding head bobbed up and down. His red-rimmed eyes insisted on slamming shut as he struggled to gain his balance. How could such a pitiful creature share a bloodline with Gray? Trulie stepped closer and peered harder at Fearghal.

A sudden flood of emotions battered so hard against her that Trulie took a few steps back. She had never felt such a wave of deep hatred. It had to be eating them both alive. But wait—Trulie focused harder. The disturbing hum of hatred wasn’t coming from either Aileas or her son.

Aileas yanked the staggering Fearghal back toward the archway. The woman obviously feared her son was about to say too much. Trulie felt sure of it. Perhaps they would rise to properly tendered bait. Yes. She had to do it. Surely that would loosen their tongues and stir the strange hate enough that she could hone in on its source without having to visit the dark recesses of anyone’s mind.

Inhaling a fortifying breath against Aileas’s stench, Trulie closed the distance between herself and the scowling woman. Adrenaline pounded through her. Surely all present could hear the hammer of her heart echoing across the deathly silent hall. Setting her jaw, Trulie pointed a finger toward Aileas’s heart. “Don’t make the mistake of challenging me again. I know your secret. Don’t make me reveal it.”

Aileas flinched as though she’d been struck, and plucked at Fearghal’s sleeve as though trying to position the drunken fool between herself and Trulie. Her thin lips opened and closed, but no sound came forth.

Spinning around, Trulie gave Aileas her back and took her time walking regally back to the front of the room. That ought to push the woman over the edge and loosen her tongue. Trulie smiled and arched a brow at Gray.

Gray’s expression was stone-cold hatred. He didn’t even blink. Trulie struggled to keep the smile from slipping from her face. Gray’s rage and hatred troubled her. Such poisonous negativity always caused more harm to the bearer than the target. Aileas and Fearghal were not a threat. She had to make him see that.

Trulie glanced back over one shoulder at Aileas and Fearghal. Still no outburst from the pair?

Fearghal hitched to one side and Aileas’s jowls waggled as her scowl deepened.

Well, crap.
That hadn’t worked out as she had hoped.

A prickling sensation tingled up the back of Trulie’s neck, pulling her attention to the far side of the room. Two massive tapestries hung from the first level of supporting beams jutting out from the stone wall. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the vibrant scenes of successful hunts weren’t hanging flat. Trulie concentrated harder on the two wall coverings and saw them gently moving, as though stirred by something behind them. Shifting to one side, she ran her gaze along the floor beneath the tasseled ends of the weavings.
Yes.
The darkness running the width of both hangings indicated some sort of hidden alcove behind them.

The prickling sensation disappeared. Trulie shrugged away the disturbing feeling that she had just missed discovering something very important.

Fearghal shook the hall with another wet belch, one that sounded as though it had come dangerously close to emptying his stomach of its contents. Trulie shivered with disgust. She couldn’t handle the sound of puking. Time to end this happy little family gathering.

Trulie walked over and smoothed a hand up the center of Gray’s chest. She needed to soothe her enraged Highlander before he did something he might regret. Speaking low so no one else could hear, Trulie leaned close until the heat of Gray’s rage radiated against her. “Let her go, Gray. I don’t care what she calls me. She’s just a miserable old woman who can’t get over the fact that she’s never been wanted.”

Low murmurings stirred through the crowd like the droning of angry bees.

Gray bared his teeth as though he were about to sprout a set of fangs and roar. With one glance to the back of the room, he shouted over one shoulder to his man-at-arms. “Colum, clear this hall. I can no longer stomach the stench of it.”

“I be glad Father lies dead,” Fearghal squeaked as a muscular guard slammed a large hand atop one of his shoulders and pulled him backward. “I be glad his whore lies dead too,” Fearghal said, choking and coughing as the guard cursed and wrapped a hand around his throat.

The chilling clatter of drawn steel echoed to the rafters.

“Fearghal, enough!” Aileas hissed as she shoved her wadded bit of linen deep into her son’s mouth. Then she bowed her head once in Gray’s direction and attempted a rough curtsy. “Forgive,” she croaked as she continuously bobbed up and down humbly as they backed their way out of the hall.

Tension hung heavy in the air of the now-silent hall—empty of everyone except Gray and Trulie. Even the fires glowing in the two hearths danced across the wood without a single pop or hiss. The MacKenna colors barely fluttered against the faded stones of the keep’s walls.

Gray tensed against the eerie feel to the air. He felt no draft. No stirring of a breeze. Perhaps the souls of those already crossed over moved among them. Perhaps they stood witness to the trials of their descendants.

Gray pulled his gaze away from the fluttering banners of tartan and scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. If his ancestor’s spirits were in the room, he wished t’hell the wise ones would tell him what he should do.

“Gray.” Trulie’s soft cool hand slid up his arm. The scent of her sweetness embraced him, instantly bringing him comfort.
Lore ha’ mercy.
The woman rendered him powerless at the same time she completed his verra soul. Gray dropped both hands and opened his eyes.

“Forgive me,
mo chridhe.
” Gray shook his head and pulled Trulie to his chest. “I should ha’ known better than to have ye join me in great hall. Not only was I dishonored, but they shamed ye as well. I should ha’ ne’er put ye through it.”

Trulie hugged him tighter, patting his back as though consoling a child. Her silky curls tickled underneath his jaw. “I told you not to let those two bother you. Trust me”—Trulie leaned back and grinned up into his face—“I have dealt with much worse.”

“I will no’ have ye treated in such a way. Fearghal and Aileas were no’ the only ones that showed us disrespect.” Gray set her aside and turned away. He refused to put Trulie through the years of loneliness and pain his mother had endured.
Máthair
had ne’er complained about the life she had chosen, but Gray had seen her suffering. He could still see the wistful look in
Máthair’s
eyes as she watched the other women laughing and chatting among themselves. Few women of the clan took it upon themselves to befriend the chieftain’s mistress. A leman, especially one as fair as
Máthair
, always stood alone.

Gray swiped a hand across his face and turned back to Trulie. He knew what he must do. There was only one way to ensure his clan treated Trulie with the respect she deserved. “We will marry before the next full moon. I shall order the preparations started immediately.”

Trulie’s mouth dropped open and her sleek brows nearly disappeared into the dark curls framing her face. “What?”

“Aye.” Gray nodded. The decision eased the band of tension clenched about his chest. Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? “A fortnight should be enough for Cook to put together a fine feast.” Gray rubbed his hands together. “Colum will see to it the day is announced across our lands. All the clan will attend.”

Gray’s spirits lifted. Aye. Marriage was the perfect answer. A pleasant rush of anticipation tightened his groin. Then he would have an e’en better excuse to keep Trulie in his bed. After all, as soon as they married, they best be about the business of producing heirs. “ ’Tis the perfect answer. All MacKennas will then treat ye with the respect ye deserve.”

“But I’m not ready to get married. At least not yet…and not when you put it like that.”

The uneasiness pinching Trulie’s tone troubled Gray even more than her words.

“Don’t look at me like that, Gray. Granny and I j-just got here. And I don’t even know if I’m staying.”

If she was no’ stayin’?
And the woman stuttered? Now? She hadn’t stuttered a single time while under attack in the great hall, but now she couldna smoothly speak her mind? Gray sucked in a deep breath, tensing against the return of the frustration closing in like a vise. He hadna been with Trulie more than a few weeks, but he did ken one verra revealing trait about the woman. Trulie only stuttered whene’er she felt so strongly about something that her emotions tangled her tongue. In fact, she had confirmed this flaw late one evening while they took their leisure along the path around the bailey.

Trulie shrugged, then flicked both hands up in the air. Her lower lip quivered when she opened her mouth, but no words came out. She finally blew out a frustrated huff, stamped one foot and snapped her mouth shut.

Gray waited. A sense of dread took hold in his gut. What the hell was Trulie struggling to say?

She took another step toward him, clutching both hands in front of her. “I admit I feel very…” Trulie paused, caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and stared down at the floor.

“Ye feel what? By the grace o’ the Almighty, woman, would ye please try to say what fills yer heart?” Gray fought the urge to grab Trulie’s shoulders and shake the words out of her.
Damnation.
This should no’ be so difficult for the lass. ’Twas just a matter of agreeing to wed her lover.

Trulie’s cheeks reddened as she eased a step back. “I think…we’re very…good together. But deciding to marry just to cease gossip is not the answer.” Trulie slowly inhaled a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she backed up another step. “I don’t even know how long I’m staying in this time. After Granny gets good and settled, I might decide to return to the future—permanently. After all, before long, I need to jump back and check on the girls anyway.”

“What the hell are ye sayin’, woman?” Gray lost the battle with self-control and grabbed Trulie by the shoulders. Instead of giving her a good shake, he pulled her forward and planted her directly in front of him. Had the woman lost her senses? She could nay be traipsin’ across time anymore. She belonged here. She belonged with him.

The soft green of Trulie’s eyes darkened to the shade of a troubled sea. She wet her lips and refused to look him in the eye.

“Trulie.” Gray ground his teeth against his inability to control this situation. Why the hell was the prospect of this joining so difficult for her to understand? Did he really have to say the words aloud? Did he have the courage to hear the woman’s answer? Gray cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across the silk of her skin. Nay. He should nay have to say a word. Surely she knew how he felt.

Trulie still didn’t lift her gaze.

Gray’s heart clenched as a single tear rolled down Trulie’s cheek. “Why do ye cry?” Gray whispered. What the hell had he done to cause her pain?

“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” Trulie answered in a small voice.

The center of Gray’s chest burned as though Trulie had stabbed him. He slid his hand under her chin and forced her face upward. “I thought…” Gray swallowed hard against the frustration closing off his throat. This should nay be so hard. “I thought ye felt…make me understand why ye have no wish to wed me.”

Trulie gently pulled away from Gray’s touch. Easing back a step, she reached up and took Gray’s hand between both of hers, then lowered it between them. “I think we have a great beginning.” Trulie wet her lips as her smile faded. She shrugged one shoulder and continued. “But great beginnings don’t guarantee a great forever. I am not going to marry a man just because he’s embarrassed by the way his clan treats me.”

Gray yanked his hand away and took a step back. Trulie’s words stung as sharply as a slap. How could the woman say such a thing? “I am no’ embarrassed.”

How could she nay see he only thought of her, only wished to spare her the pain his mother had endured?

“Yes you are.” Trulie’s voice strengthened. Gone was the uncertain tremor of only a moment ago. “You were the one who got all bent out of shape and had Fearghal and Aileas dragged out of the room when they started hurling insults at your family because of me. I understand you have to demand respect, and a healthy dose of pride is fine, but it shouldn’t be the catalyst for a marriage.” Trulie jerked away and flounced a few paces across the room. Suddenly, she halted as though an unseen force held her in place. She didn’t turn as she spoke, just stared down at the floor. “You better worry about what your clan thinks about the way
you
behave. Not what they think about me. There is such a thing as too much pride, you know.”