My Highland Lover (6 page)

Clothes were sorted. Bags packed. Everything was ready. Tomorrow, they’d leave. Trulie nudged the porch swing into motion. She needed to hear the soothing lullaby of the creaking chains as the swing softly swayed. Tomorrow brought a lot of uncertainty.
Lordy, I hope I’m doing the right thing.

Mairi eased out the screen door, stepped over Karma sprawled across the porch, and plopped down in the swing beside Trulie. “You gonna say bye to anyone besides Dan? Did he really believe you when you told him that lie about moving to Scotland for a few months?”

“It wasn’t a lie.” Trulie scooted over in the swing and looped her arm around the chain suspending it from the porch roof. The memory of the emotionless conversation with Dan flitted through her mind. He’d been so absorbed in his stock-trading reports that he’d barely acknowledged she was even in the room. She smiled at the sudden realization that it didn’t even bother her. In fact, truth be told, she felt a bit…a bit what? Lighter, maybe? Less tense? Trulie took in a deep breath and eased it out. Relaxed. Yes. That was it. She felt more relaxed with the knowledge that her days of tiptoeing across eggshells had ended with good old Dan.

“It wasn’t a lie,” she repeated. “I am moving to Scotland for a while. It just happens to be in a different century.” Trulie restarted the gentle rhythm of the swing Mairi had disrupted with her entry. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

Mairi tucked her legs up under the folds of the oversized terry-cloth bathrobe and hugged her knees against her chest. “I can’t sleep.” The bright-pink bunny ears on her worn slippers flopped in time with the movement of the swing. “It’s gonna be so strange here without you and Granny.” Mairi sniffed and rubbed the end of her nose against her terry-cloth-covered knee.

Trulie nudged the floor with one toe to keep the old swing in motion. She blinked hard against the sting of unshed tears. Mairi was right. It was going to be strange for the family to be split. They’d never separated before. Even in Granny’s classes in jaunting across the time web, they’d all jumped together. “We’ll all be fine. I know Granny’s up to something. I don’t know exactly what, but she always has a good reason for everything she does. She wouldn’t have suggested we separate without good reason.”

Mairi sat silent with her small chin propped on her knees. The only sound interrupting the night was the rhythmic squeaking whine of the porch swing and the cricket song chirping in the darkness.

“Mairi?” Trulie gently nudged the girl’s arm. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but I promise we’ll talk all the time through the fire portal. We can even see each other if the coals are hot enough. We have to trust that Granny knows best.” Trulie curled an arm around her sister and leaned her cheek against the top of Mairi’s head. “Tell me, Mairi. What are you thinking? I promise, just between us.”

Mairi’s shoulders hitched up and down in a hurried shrug as the girl brushed one side of her face against her sleeve. “I know we can visit through the fire portal. But…” Mairi’s halting whisper barely rose above the sound of the rusty chains. “This is the only real place Lilia and I have ever lived. It’s not like jumping and visiting history. This place has always been the home we’ve come back to. You and Kenna came from back there. You lived there for a while. When Granny decides she wants us to leave this time…I don’t think I want to do it.”

So that was it. The child was afraid she was next—and probably with good reason. Trulie stroked her fingers through Mairi’s curls and chose her words carefully. She understood Mairi’s fears but the child needed to embrace Granny’s number one rule about life: it was meant to be lived to the fullest…not just endured.

“I was only twelve years old when we relocated our home to this time. It’s not like I’m an expert on the thirteenth century.” Trulie tapped the back of Mairi’s head. “I’ll have a lot to learn once we get back there, but I know I can adapt.” Trulie playfully tugged on one of Mairi’s curls. “We Sinclairs are pretty smart. We’re survivors.”

Trulie tried not to think about the harsh challenges of the past. No good ever came from dwelling on the negative. Most scenes of her early childhood seemed disjointed and foggy, as if someone had taken a poor-quality video and accidentally deleted some of the scenes. Trulie felt sure Granny and Kenna had wiped away some of the more unpleasant memories. Try as she might, even after all these years, Trulie still couldn’t visualize her parents’ funeral or the time right before they had all jumped to the future. All she got was an overwhelming sense of despair.

“Will folks back then think we’re weird too?” Mairi lowered her feet, stopped the motion of the swing, and turned wide eyes toward Trulie. “Won’t they try to hurt us if they find out we’re…special? Have you read about what they did to people they didn’t understand back then?”

Trulie’s heart hitched at the worry reflected in Mairi’s eyes. Granny had never tried to shield them from what could happen if their heritage wasn’t kept a secret, but anytime they’d skipped back to the past, Granny had always chosen a fairly safe era to visit. Unfortunately, Mairi voiced valid concerns that couldn’t be denied. Patting the child’s back through the plush robe, Trulie forced a smile. “We’re going to be all right, Mairi. We’ll hide each other’s secrets like we always do. I promise. We’ll be all right.”

“I hope so,” Mairi mumbled as she rose from the swing, pulled open the screen door, and went back in the house.

“I do too,” Trulie whispered aloud to the peepers singing in the trees.

Freezing rain pelted down from the dreary blanket of clouds. The droplets stung against Gray’s skin as he kicked a charred beam stuck in the muddy ground. He squinted up into the sky.
Lore, I hate this time of year.
Nature could nay decide whether to punish the land with more of the harshness of winter or give hope of the longed-for spring with a warm gentle breeze.

Gray bent back to his work and snorted in a deep breath. The place still reeked of death and sorrow. The acrid scent of burned wood, seared stone, and now, rotting debris hung heavy in the damp air. Gray shrugged against the weight of the wool mantle wrapped about his body. The tender scars of his newly healed burns twitched with every movement. The sensitive flesh nagged him with the memory of his failed attempt to reach his parents through the wall of roaring flames.

Gray bowed his head and swallowed hard against the crushing weight of failure centered in his chest. “Forgive me,
Máthair
,” he whispered.

No reply came but the cold wind moaning through the ruins.

Gray stomped deeper into the gutted frame of the once-ornate tower where his father had housed the only woman who had ever won his heart. Gray smiled as he ducked beneath a collapsed beam. His father had never attempted to hide the fact he adored his leman and barely tolerated his petty, obnoxious wife. Gray frowned and kicked at the debris. He knew in his heart those verra feelings had surely led his father to his death.

The crunch of horse’s hooves against frozen ground echoed from beyond the blackened walls. Gray snorted and moved deeper into the belly of the silent monument of betrayal. It had to be Colum approaching. No one else had the courage or stupidity to interrupt him while he searched through the debris for what seemed like the hundredth time. The answer had to be here. There had to be an overlooked sign pointing to his parents’ murderer. All he had to do was find it, and find it he damn well would.

“Come out, Gray. Ye ken as well as I ye’ve tramped through those ashes too many times a’ready. If the answer lay hidden within those walls, ye would ha’ found it well before now.” The slow, steady scraping of the horse’s gait halted beyond the collapsed bit of wall to Gray’s right.

Gray pushed aside a blackened beam and squinted at the patch of ground where it had rested. “My mood will no’ bear yer lectures today, Colum. I advise ye leave off and tend to other business.”

Colum’s horse snorted and scraped a hoof against the ground, moving uneasily back and forth as though the scent of the place made the beast uneasy. “Easy, lad,” Colum said as he eased the horse closer to the dismantled wall. “Come out, Gray. Even Rua knows ye waste yer time.”

Gray rested both hands atop the cold, jagged blocks of crumbled stone and leaned in to the wall. The scorch marks were darker here. The fire must have burned longer on this side.

Colum’s horse drew closer, fogging the air with a huff of warm, moist breath mere inches from Gray’s face. The mount shook its head, grumbled a low nervous whinny, then blew a burst of sliminess across the tops of Gray’s freezing hands.

“And how long did it take ye to teach yer horse to snot on command?” Gray flung the mess to the ground then wiped the back of his hands across his arse.

Colum chuckled. “Rua always seems t’know the remedy for any situation.”

Gray ignored the urge to knock Colum’s grinning arse out of the saddle. ’Twould be unseemly for a chieftain to behave so. Stomping back through the debris, Gray stepped through the broken archway and emerged from the ruins. He held his hands out to the freezing mist still drizzling down from the clouds. Might as well make use of the damnedable rain to wash the soot and horse snot from his hands. “Did ye come up here for a reason, or have ye no better use of your time?” Perhaps he needed to assign more responsibilities to the worrisome man-at-arms.

Colum’s face darkened. His chin dropped and he stared at the knotted reins draped across his thighs. “I come here because of Tamhas.”

“Tamhas?” Gray straightened and took a step forward. “What of Tamhas?”

Colum cleared his throat and kneed his horse back several steps. “I fear the old man is unwell, or perhaps dead. No smoke comes from his dwelling and ye know how he hates bone-chilling days such as this. He would surely have a fire.”

Tamhas never allowed his fires to die, not even during the hottest days of summer. But if Colum was so concerned about the old conjurer, why had he no’ checked on the man himself? Gray shook away the freezing rain and shrugged deeper into his plaid. “Did ye no’ call out to the man or pound upon his door?”

Colum’s face blanched a shade lighter ’neath the reddish stubble of a day’s growth of beard. He quickly shook his head, staring at Gray as though he’d sprouted a second head. “Och, no. Ye think me a fool just beggin’ to be cursed?”

“Fool? Nay.” Gray chuckled low, then jabbed a finger toward the center of Colum’s chest. “Coward? Perhaps.”

Colum’s eyes narrowed and his chin lifted as he wound the reins around one hand and turned the horse away. “Aye, well…I dinna think it cowardly to give a man so powerful in the old magic the privacy and respect he deserves.”

“But ye think I should darken his door just because ye ha’ no’ seen any sign of life from his cave?” Gray studied Colum closer. The man was lying. What plot had he and the old demon conjured? Why else would Colum refuse to look him straight in the eye?

Colum shrugged and nosed his horse toward the bare, hard-packed earth leading away from the clearing. “Do as ye will, m’chieftain. I only thought ye might have a bit of concern for yer only uncle.”

Well damn, Colum would ha’ to voice that. Gray swiped the rain from his face then worried a hand through his soaked hair. Mother had made him swear to always watch out for Tamhas. She knew the dangers the old man faced from those outside Clan MacKenna. Not all in this part of the Highlands were so accepting of the old man’s strange ways.

“Colum!”

The horse stopped and Colum turned in the saddle. “Aye?”

“Did ye happen to bring me mount or do ye plan for yer chieftain to walk to the old devil’s lair?”

Colum grinned and nodded down the hillside toward a large outcropping of boulders. The moss-covered stones sprouted like jagged teeth around a bubbling trickle of water. A monstrous horse that dwarfed many of its breed stood patiently waiting beside the crooked stream. “Yon stands yer Cythraul. ’Twas as close as I could get him to the ruins.”

Gray pressed his thumb and pinky finger against the corners of his mouth and pierced the oppressive stillness of the hillside with a sharp whistle.

Cythraul turned with ears perked forward, then violently shook his shaggy black head and took a step back.

Colum laughed. “Now do ye believe me?”

“Aye, well…” Gray dropped his hand to his side and shook his head. “Ye can no’ blame the poor beast. The night of the fire is still too fresh in his memory.” Gray felt the warhorse’s uneasiness. The horse was no’ the only one still troubled by that night.

’Tis all right lad,
Gray thought kindly toward the horse. If not for the loyal Cythraul, Gray would ha’ died that night as well. Gray worried his thumb across the tips of his fingers. His hand still tingled with the memory of the reins nearly cutting through his flesh as Cythraul dragged him out from under the blazing collapsed beam.

With one last glance back at the ruins, Gray motioned Colum forward as he started down the hill. “Come. Let us check on dear uncle and see what mess the old devil has conjured this time.”

“Aye, m’chieftain.” Colum grinned and winked as he headed his horse down the hillside.

“So, we’re all good, then?” Trulie peered up and down the line of troubled faces, then forced a reassuring smile more firmly in place. She had to be brave. She wouldn’t leave her sisters with a parting memory of her face reflecting all her own insecurities about what she was going to do. Thunder rumbled in the distance, interrupting the high-pitched cadence of crickets and katydids chirping in the darkness.

“You’re using the pond instead of the wading pool? Seriously?” Lilia stretched up on her tiptoes and eyed the shimmering expanse of water like a chipmunk perched on its hindquarters. Her eyes widened as the ring of fire blazing around the pond popped and threw orange sparks up into the darkness.

Granny nodded and waved a hand toward the small pond glistening with the light of the crackling flames. The dry tinder stacked around the edge of the water roared and sizzled. Long fingers of orange, yellow, and white clawed up into the night. “The wading pool’s cracked and won’t hold water anymore. Remember what I’ve taught you. Never rely on just the strength of the moonlight to open the web. Fire and water increases your accuracy down to the very day you wish to hit.”