My Highland Lover (31 page)

Trulie slid her damp palm into his.
The lass is as nervous as I am.
Her cheeks flushed pale pink as her gaze fell shyly to the unusual bough of herbs and flowers in her hands. The cluster of yarrow and dill trembled between them. Yarrow for everlasting love, myrtle for the emblem of marriage, and dill for protection against evil. Dullas had thrust the bundle into Gray’s hands just before he had entered the hall. The silent woman had pointed to the alcove where Trulie waited, then turned and shuffled away. A young serving girl who had befriended Dullas had whispered the meanings of the bundle before scurrying back to the kitchen.

Gray gently eased Trulie up beside him, crooked his finger under her chin, and brushed a chaste kiss across her mouth. “
Tha gaol agam ort,”
he whispered against her lips.

Trulie smiled against his mouth. “I love you too,” she whispered back.

A clearing throat directly beside them broke into the moment. Gray straightened and turned to a very smug-looking Tamhas.

“Shall we begin?” Tamhas’s eyes sparkled with happiness as he lightly bounced in place.

Gray couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the old demon so happy. And that was just fine. Happiness was in abundance this day. Finally. MacKenna keep had found peace. Gray nodded once. “Aye. Proceed.”

Tamhas took Trulie’s bouquet and nodded toward their hands. “Join yer hands,” he instructed as he turned and handed the flowers to Granny.

Gray smiled his reassurance as Trulie’s hands trembled in his. He stroked a thumb across her cool, damp skin. Trulie swayed a bit off balance, then jerked back into place. She blinked hard and ran her tongue across her lower lip.

“Are ye unwell?” Concern piqued his senses as Gray freed her hands and steadied Trulie by her shoulders. The flushed color across her cheeks had heightened to an alarming hue. “Is it the heat, lass? We shall stop right now and finish this in the gardens.” Gray could kick himself. What the hell had he been thinking? A formal wedding, inside the keep, in the heat of late summer?

Trulie shook with a deep intake of breath. A sheen of perspiration shimmered across her pale forehead and the area around her mouth took on a sickly-yellow shade. “I’ll be fine,” she promised in a weak whisper. “We just need to hurry.”

Uneasiness stirred through Gray. From the increasing pallor of Trulie’s face, he verra much doubted if they could hurry fast enough. “Nay.” He crooked an arm about her waist. “Ye will ne’er last. We must find ye some relief.”

Trulie looked up at him and opened her mouth. But before any words came out, her eyes rolled back and she crumpled.

Gray caught her up in his arms as concerned gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd. Trulie’s head fell to one side, her arms dangling limp and lifeless in the air.

“Oh Lord, no! Not the baby.” Granny rushed up on the dais. “Blood, Gray.” Granny’s horrified expression fixed on a dark-crimson stain slowly soaking through the folds of Trulie’s white gown.

Gray hefted Trulie higher against his chest.
Dinna take her from me,
he prayed over and over as he strode from the dais to the winding staircase leading to their private rooms. “Get the midwife. Now.” A nauseating mixture of fear and rage tensed through him as warm wetness dripped down his arm. “Granny, come! Yer healin’ touch, Granny—now!”
Dinna take her or the child
hammered through his mind as he vaulted up the steps.

The sickening plop of blood against stone spurred Gray to move faster. He kicked through the final door to their private chamber and eased Trulie down on the bed. Gray choked back a groan and a bitter curse. All color had drained from Trulie. She already looked as though her soul had departed.

Gray traced a trembling finger along Trulie’s clammy cheek. “Dinna leave me,” Gray rasped out past the knot in his throat. “I beg ye, m’love. Please dinna leave me.”

Trulie’s eyelids fluttered open as she slowly turned her head toward him. Her eyes filled with tears as she raised her hand and rested a finger against Gray’s lips. “Forgive me,” she whispered with a weak sigh as her hand dropped back to the bed.

Thirteen.
That’s how many slabs of stones made up the floor of the room. Why the hell had the stone masons settled on thirteen? Gray stared down at the muted grays and blacks striated with lighter veins of white. The stones were cold. Unfeeling. Who knew how many tragedies the solid blocks had witnessed?

Gray raked both hands through his hair, tempted to yank it out by the roots. The day had plummeted from joyous brightness to the suffocating darkness of sorrow. Gray lifted his head and stared at the closed door. He could nay lose her. He didna give a damn about Trulie’s rules of time runners and not dabbling with the past. If the Fates took his beloved from him, he would send one of the other Sinclair women back in time and have them do whatever it took to warn Trulie of this day. Gray shifted his glare upward. Defiance clenched his jaw. The laws of time could be damned. He would ne’er let her go.

Hesitant footsteps sounded behind him. Gray didna look around—just returned to the mindless chore of pacing. It had to be Colum. Like the brother he had never had, Colum would be the only one brave enough to sit with him during this time.

“The midwife—” Colum cleared his throat with an uncomfortable cough. “Has she come out and said how Lady Trulie fares?”

“Nay.” Gray shook his head without taking his gaze from the floor.

The iron latch of the door clicked. Gray halted, sucked in a deep breath, and tensed for the worst. Colum moved to his side and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

The door slowly opened. A red-faced woman emerged. Her left arm clutched a wooden bowl piled high with blood-soaked rags. Ringlets of damp hair clung about her face as she wiped a forearm across her forehead. She glanced at Gray and then quickly looked away.

“Tell me,” Gray hissed. “Tell me. I must know.”

“The babe, a son, is no more, m’chieftain.” The midwife’s mouth tightened into a frown as she avoided looking Gray in the face and stared back at the door. “Thanks be t’the Fates’ permission and the Lady Nia’s healing touch. Yer wife lives. She rests easier.” The midwife’s voice softened as she added, “For now.”

A son. Gray closed his eyes and bowed his head, holding his breath against the pain. His firstborn son was dead. The midwife’s assessment of Trulie’s condition echoed through the blanket of sorrow settling over him.
For now.
The midwife had added
For now.
Gray stiffened, then jerked toward the woman. “What the hell do ye mean ‘For now’?”

Colum latched onto Gray’s arm with an iron grip. “ ’Tis no’ her doing, Gray. Control yerself, man.” Colum yanked him back. He pulled hard against Gray’s shoulder until Gray finally straightened and stood rooted to the spot.

A cruel mix of painful emotions threatened to double him over. Gray clenched his shaking hands and forced himself not to roar at the terrified midwife. “My wife. She must live. Ye must tell me it will be so.”

The wide-eyed woman bit her lower lip and barely shook her head. “I canna say. Yer wife must find the will t’live. ’Tis up to a greater power than I.”

“That greater power best realize that Gray MacKenna will no’ allow his love to be taken. They already robbed me of me son. I’ll be damned straight to the fiery pits afore I allow them to take me wife as well.” Gray collapsed to the bench beside the closed door and dropped his head into his hands.

“Gray!” Colum waved the midwife toward the outer hall as he rushed over to settle on the bench beside Gray. “Ye must not speak so. ’Tis blasphemy…and mayhap a foolhardy challenge to the gods.”

Gray raised his head and looked Colum dead in the eye. “Then let the challenge begin, for I will ne’er allow them to take her from me.”

A cool, wet nose snuffled into her palm as a soft whine vibrated into her hand. Trulie slid her fingers along the velvet of Karma’s muzzle without opening her eyes.
I love you too, old friend.
The mattress sank with the weight of the dog as he returned to his place against Trulie’s side. Karma’s warmth sank into Trulie like a soothing tonic.
Bless him. He doesn’t know what to do to make me feel better.

A calloused hand pressed against her forehead. Trulie didn’t open her eyes. It took too much effort. The rough hand moved to her cheek, then nudged firmly against the side of her throat.
Go away.
Trulie forced in a shallow breath. Even breathing made her body hurt
.
The hand shoved beneath her shoulders, lifted her up, then gently lowered her back down to a cool dry pillow.

A frail groan escaped her as she settled back into place.
Crime-a-nitly, that hurt.
But the dry pillow beneath her head did feel much better. The other one had gotten all wet and lumpy. Trulie held her breath against the sob threatening to shake free. She needed to go back to the darkness. At least when she was unconscious her heart didn’t hurt so badly.

“Trulie.” Granny’s voice called softly just to the right of her head.

Trulie didn’t answer. She didn’t feel like talking. If she kept her eyes shut and remained still, maybe Granny would just go away. A drowning sense of loss and sadness pushed her deeper into the safe darkness of her mind.

“Don’t you dare give up, Trulie Elizabeth.” The silky back of Granny’s hand pressed gently against Trulie’s cheek.

Granny always did have the softest skin—kind of like crinkly satin. Trulie drew a deeper breath as a burning teardrop squeezed out from under one eyelid and rolled a hot trail of wetness down the side of her face.

“It will get better, gal,” Granny whispered as she pressed a kiss to Trulie’s forehead and dabbed the tear away. “The hurt will ease in time. I promise it will. I have been where you are.”

Trulie turned her head away from the impossible-to-believe advice. Maybe Granny had known pain and loss, but that didn’t lessen the empty ache that made it nearly impossible to breathe. Trulie swallowed the throbbing pain of unshed tears and nestled deeper into the softness of the fresh pillow.
Go away, Granny. Just go away.

A door creaked, then closed with a soft thud.

Even in her weakened state, Trulie sensed Gray had entered the room. “I would see m’wife.” Hesitant footsteps scraped against stone.

Trulie almost sobbed aloud.
No. Make him go away. I can’t see him right now.

The heavy footsteps shuffled closer. Holding her breath against the pain, Trulie forced her body to roll away from the man she had so terribly failed. The coolness of the stone wall radiated against her face. She couldn’t cope with Gray. Not this soon.

“Trulie.” Gray’s deep whisper rolled across her as his fingers barely brushed against the back of her hair.

Trulie closed her eyes tighter and pressed a clenched fist against her mouth. Gray needed to leave. She needed time to figure out what the devil had gone wrong and where she had messed up. What had she done to cause the loss of their baby?

Tears burned against her eyelids and gut-wrenching sobs threatened to explode free of Trulie’s control every time Gray’s hand stroked across her hair. Their son. He had been so perfect, clear down to his tiny toes. What the hell had she done wrong?

Trulie squeezed her eyes shut tighter and burrowed her face deeper into the pillow. She couldn’t allow it. She could not allow Gray to see her collapse. Hadn’t she failed the man enough? The last thing he needed right now was a hysterical woman. In fact, maybe he didn’t need her at all. Maybe Gray would be better off without her.

“M’love,” Gray whispered again, raw pain echoing in his voice.

Trulie hiccupped back a sob as her darkest fears spiraled out of control.
Damn Granny.
Damn Tamhas.
First they had lied and said Granny had to come back to complete her last leap. Then they had lied and said they came back to this godforsaken century just to help Gray solve his parents’ murder. That wasn’t the only reason those two had pushed Gray in her path. And now look what a mess. Why the hell couldn’t they have just left her alone?

Trulie buried her face in her hands and clamped her jaws shut. Well, fine. The murders were solved and the keep had been purged of any residual evil. As for the other…Trulie clenched her teeth until she trembled. The chair beside the bed creaked as Gray stood.
Good.
He was finally leaving.

Trulie held her breath against another sob. Granny’s meddling had resulted in a heartbreaking failure. But it could be remedied. Trulie shivered with the finality of the decision. It was time. Time to return to the emotionless safety of the future and let Gray get on with his life in the past.

“No.” Gray tested the tautness of the bowstring with his thumb, then handed the weapon back to Colum. “I will no’ be going on any hunts until Lady Trulie returns to her place at m’side.” And in m’bed, Gray silently added. “There is much work to be done here.”

Colum frowned at the nock throat, then ran a hand down the red heartwood of the belly of the bow. “She seemed…” Colum’s voice trailed off as he mindlessly tapped his fingers along the delicate curves of the weapon. “She seemed…” He waved the tip of the bow through the air as though marking time for music. “She seemed a bit thin, but she looked to be well,” he finally blurted out.

She was nay well. Trulie had no’ been the same since that dreadful day. Gray selected another bow from the rack and tested the strength of the wood. “Lady Trulie needs more time to heal. I will no’ leave her side until the sadness leaves her eyes.” The hunt could be damned, along with any other duty that might pull him from the keep. Granny had asked him to be patient. He had mastered patience early on in life. He would wait an eternity if tha’s what it took to win Trulie’s smile.

“Coira—” Colum abruptly stopped speaking. He settled the bow across the battered table running the length of the weapons room.

“Coira what?” Gray prodded. Colum had the worst time when it came to sharing anything involving emotions. Ye would think the Sinclair women had cast a spell that tied the man’s tongue to punish him for the way he went through women. Gray waited, watching a myriad of emotions flash across Colum’s tensed face.

“She fears Lady Trulie intends to return to the future.” Colum took a step back as though he feared the words he had just spoken would explode in his face. “Coira is quite certain Lady Trulie plans to leave with the rise of the next full moon.”

Those words verra well could set the entire keep ablaze. Gray closed the distance between them. “What the hell has she told ye? All of it. Tell me all that has been said and ye best tell me now.” If Colum held back any knowledge that would cause Gray to lose Trulie—rage tightened his hands into fists—he would break the man in two.

“Lady Trulie blames herself for losing the child. Feels she failed ye.” Colum eased back, increasing the floor space between them. “Coira said yer wife thinks ye will be better off if she returns to the future and ye go on without her.”

“Go on without her?” Gray roared. “There will be no goin’ on without her.”

Colum white-knuckled the narrow arm of the bow he clutched against his chest. He started to speak several times, then finally flattened his lips into a closed frown and shook his head. It was obvious the man was not comfortable speaking about such things.

Gray’s aggravation cooled a bit, but his sense of urgency didn’t. Apparently, no amount of soft words could convince Trulie she was no’ at fault.
Lore a’mighty.
Gray turned away from Colum and walked to the long, narrow slit of a window. The opening was just wide enough to allow a man to effectively rain down a volley of arrows on any who would threaten MacKenna keep.

The bit of sky showing through the slit looked dark and ominous. Gray reached through the window and felt the air. Cold. Damp. The wind promised a bone-chilling rain, perhaps even ice or snow. Gray felt an odd sense of unity with the weather. It currently mirrored his troubled soul.

“I will speak to Granny and Coira. This verra day, even.” Gray turned and looked back at a relieved-looking Colum. “It is time for Lady Trulie to realize she is m’wife…and her place is by me side.”

Trulie snuggled deeper into the hooded cloak and turned her back to the frigid wind. Maybe a walk through the dormant garden hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Karma trotted up ahead. The great black dog lifted his nose to the wind, closed his eyes, and seemed to smile. In spite of herself, Trulie’s heart lightened the barest notch. Karma helped her survive the darkness.

The final visit to the tiny grave had been almost more than she could bear. But Karma’s comforting weight leaning against her had pulled Trulie through. When he’d pointed his nose toward the sky and softly howled, she had thought she’d surely break down. But in the end, the lonely cry echoing through the valley had seemed the perfect good-bye to her precious little boy.

Karma looked back and softly woofed as though urging Trulie to hurry. When she quickened her pace, he pranced forward, crunching through the frost-covered leaves. Words couldn’t describe the bliss on Karma’s face as he lapped at the scents swirling through the air.

Maybe she should try it? Trulie closed her eyes and faced the biting rush of cold. Inhaling deeply, Trulie waited for whatever it was that made Karma seem so happy. Nothing came.

Trulie ducked back around and snugged the hood around her cold face. “I don’t know what you smelled that made you so happy. All I picked up on was seawater and pine trees.”

Karma responded with a playful yip and a slow wag of his tail. Then he took off at a run and loped deeper into the maze of shrubbery winding through the end of the garden.

Trulie sighed and trudged on. Apparently, Karma had given up on completely pulling her from her dark mood. She guessed she really couldn’t blame him. She had been this way for weeks.

But everything was about to change. Trulie quickened her pace and followed Karma along the stepping-stones winding through the garden. Soon, there would be no more yards and yards of heavy clothes. No more freezing her tail off in the garderobe or balancing acts on the chamber pot. The luxuries and conveniences of simple indoor plumbing were one of the many reasons to hurry back to the future. And blue jeans. And deodorant—real deodorant. Not just a bunch of herbs rubbed against your armpits.

Trulie mentally ticked off all the wonders awaiting her in the future. Maybe if she kept her mind busy with all the stuff that would make life easier, she could find a way to ignore the sick weight of
what abouts
crushing the life out of her soul. What about Granny? What about Coira? And the two biggest: What about Gray? And what about her broken heart?

Trulie nearly choked from the emotions closing off her throat.
Not again.
She had already shed a lifetime of tears. Trulie curled tighter into the cloak, pulled the hood low over her eyes, and charged ahead.

Watching her boot tips flash in and out from under her skirt, Trulie couldn’t avoid colliding with the solid mass attached to the worn pair of boots suddenly pointed toward her. She bounced off the broad chest and would’ve toppled backward if not for the strong hands closing around her arms.

“Take care, m’love. What causes ye to hurry so?” Gray tipped back the hood of her cloak and smiled down into her eyes.

Every basic instinct urged Trulie to melt into Gray’s embrace.
Just close your eyes and lose yourself in the safety of his arms. It can be all right again.
Trulie blinked hard, regained her footing, and pushed herself an arm’s length away.
No.
She argued with her heart.
Never again.

Trulie didn’t miss the shadow that immediately fell across Gray’s face. Hurt and disappointment burned in his eyes, and his smile faded into a flat, determined line. She couldn’t help it. Once she was gone, he could set about the business of getting on with his life. He would have her forgotten in no time.

“I will no’ allow ye to leave me.” Gray closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his palm. “Ye belong here. With me. For God’s sake, forgive yerself, woman. Ye canna control what Fate deems shall be.”

“Have you forgiven me?” Trulie spit out the words as she pulled away. No matter how much Gray denied it, she would never believe him. She had watched his excitement about the baby grow with every passing day. Now he expected her to believe that he wasn’t disappointed in her? That she hadn’t failed him? For cripe’s sake, she had lost his firstborn son.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Gray retorted in a strained voice. “Why can ye no’ believe me when I say it was no’ yer fault?” Gray stomped forward, grabbed Trulie by the shoulders, and shoved his face only inches from hers. “Our child died. Our son. I hate it as much as yerself but I ha’ ne’er—not for the barest instant—blamed ye for the loss of the babe. It happens, Trulie. Why can ye no’ understand that some things are just meant t’be? Are ye no’ the one who swears ye canna make changes to the past to make a better future? Did ye no’ tell me all things happen for a reason?”

“What could possibly be the reason for taking our baby away?” Trulie sobbed more to the gods than to Gray as she pounded both fists against his chest. A keening wail escaped her as she weakly hit him again and again. “What did we do to deserve it? Why did it have to happen?”

Gray stood silent. His red-rimmed eyes shone wet with unshed tears as Trulie hammered her rage against his chest. She railed against him. Damn him for making her lose control. Damn him for cracking open the incessant ache plaguing her every waking hour. She collapsed into Gray’s arms as the brunt of her sorrow and pain finally broke free.

“I am going back to the future.” Trulie hiccupped a sob against the rough wool plaid crossing Gray’s chest. The warm spice of him surrounded her, coaxed her into voicing all her secrets. “I cannot do this kind of pain ever again. I can’t survive going through this.”