My Highland Lover (27 page)

Alistair MacKenna stomped forward until he stood staring down at his son. “I’ll no’ have ye disrespectin’ m’self or yer mother. Now, if yer prepared to listen to reason, we’ll explain as best we can.” Alistair spared a quick glance back over one shoulder as he scratched his head. “I’m no’ so sure I understand it all m’self. All I ken is I am a happier man than I ha’ e’er been.”

Gray held up a hand to his father. “Help me stand, old man. This darkness throws me balance.”

Gray’s father chuckled. “Aye. And that punch to yer chin did no’ verra much for it either, I’ll wager.”

“Aye,” Gray agreed. His father made a valid point. Still rubbing his jaw, Gray threw the other arm around his father’s shoulders. Alive. The strangling knot in the center of his chest finally loosened and disappeared with the acceptance that what had seemed impossible—wasn’t.

“Ye live.” Gray knelt before his mother.

“Aye, laddie,” Isabeau laughed as she rumpled his hair. “I ken ’tis verra difficult to understand, but trust me when I say yer father and I are alive and well. We’ve traveled to the next place.” Isabeau’s voice trailed off in a pleased sigh before she continued. “I canna describe the joy we now know. Life is only filled with happiness. There is no hatred or suffering. All we meet coexist with love and respect. Only kindness is known in our land.”

“It sounds truly like heaven,” Gray observed. “But why did ye no’ tell me where ye had gone?”

“Fate must play out its destined course.” Isabeau’s smile faded and her eyes darkened. “If we had warned ye, told ye all that truly was, we might have unknowingly altered things yet to take place.”

“Yer a time runner,” Gray whispered as the realization hit him. “Why did ye no’ tell me?”

A sad smile returned to Isabeau’s face as she leaned against Alistair. “I ne’er traveled through time again after I met yer father. The gift only passes from mother to daughter, so I saw no point in troubling ye with the knowledge.”

A distant moaning like a slow, steady wind began filling the darkness. Alistair and Isabeau met each other’s gaze, then both turned toward Gray. “We must return now. Our time here grows short.”

Gray grabbed both their arms and pulled himself into their joined embrace. “Will I ever see ye again? Will ye ever be allowed to return?”

“Aye, lad.” Alistair grinned as he clapped Gray on the shoulder. “Dinna worry. Yer mother would no’ be the happy woman she is if she couldna watch o’er her son and ken him t’be well.”

Isabeau pressed a kiss against Gray’s cheek and smiled up into his eyes. “I promise ye will see us again soon. I swear t’ye, we watch over ye at all times.”

Gray braced himself against the weight of sadness settling inside. “I miss ye both so verra much,” he murmured low as he closed his eyes.

“We love ye, son,” his parents echoed in unison. “Ye do us proud.”

Gray swallowed hard against the knot in his throat and opened his eyes to see them one last time. It was too late. All he saw was his own face in the waters of the reflecting pool.

A soft, warm touch rested against Gray’s upper arm. “Are you all right?” Trulie whispered. “Gray, are you all right?”

Gray kept his eyes trained on the scowling face staring back up at him from the water’s surface. Was he all right? No. He was damn confused. But now he vaguely understood what Trulie had been trying to tell him. If she had granted his request, traveled back and changed his parents’ fate, Alistair MacKenna and Isabeau de Coucy would not be enjoying the life they now knew. And Fearghal and Aileas would still be there, nettling all they met. And Beala—who knew what would have happened to that poor, confused maid?

“Gray?” Trulie’s voice trembled.

Gray pulled Trulie into his embrace and pressed his cheek against her silky hair. “I understand now,” he whispered. The words caught in his throat as his mother’s smiling face focused in his mind. “Forgive me,
mo chridhe.
I swear I shall ne’er doubt ye again.”

He turned with Trulie still in his arms and nodded to Granny. “Vision or reality?” Everything had seemed so real, but how could it be so?

A faint smile pulled at Granny’s mouth as her gaze lowered to the water glistening in the pool. “Both. I took your mind back to the night of the fire and walked you through what really happened. While ye relived it, I opened the bridge of this reality to your parents. Rarely are those who have taken the last leap interested in returning—but in this instance, your mother’s desire to see you happy gave us both the strength for a short visit.”

Gray bowed his head and hugged Trulie tighter. “Thank ye…more than ye know.”

“Since May first came and went during all the chaos of finding arsonists and murderers, what date are you and Gray going to choose now?” Granny hitched a flat basket woven from thin strips of wood higher on her hip.

Trulie slid the handle of a deeper basket into the crook of her elbow. After a quick glance around the garden, she untied the neckline of her kirtle and fanned it open wide.
Whew.
She was used to humid Kentucky summers. They were best survived by drinking tall glasses of iced tea and staying in the shade. But an overly warm day in Scotland, dressed in entirely too much yardage, was about to turn her into a steaming puddle of sweat. “I don’t know exactly. It will have to be soon, because Gray wants all the clan to be able to travel to the keep. If we wait too much longer, they’ll be too busy stocking their larders for the winter. They wouldn’t be able to risk losing a month of work for the wedding.”

“A month?” Granny stopped walking and arched a brow at Trulie. “So it’s to be a full clan gathering?”

Trulie grinned at Granny’s expression. She supposed the time frame of the wedding did need a little explaining, even though Granny had grown up in that era. Granny’s clan had been even more remote than Clan McKenna. The few remaining members of the clan rarely gathered in one spot. “The ceremony itself will only last a few hours, but Clan MacKenna views the wedding of their chieftain as an opportunity to party. It appears they’ve been waiting a long time for things to improve here at the keep.”

Granny paused from cutting a woody stalk of rosemary. “Sounds a bit like that Highland gathering I forced you girls to attend one summer.”

“From what I understand, a MacKenna wedding celebration is kind of like a Highland gathering that lasts two weeks.” Trulie bent to pinch several velvety, gray-green leaves of sage. “The other two weeks will tie up the clan in traveling to and from the keep. The kin from the farthest borders would have quite a ride to get here.”

Trulie stopped short when she noticed tall spikes of a deep-purplish-blue flower. “It’s blooming.” Her blood went cold as a vision of Colum stretched out across a cold, stone slab flickered through her mind. Why the hell didn’t she see Gray too? Was Gray no longer threatened?

Granny followed Trulie’s gaze and looked over to the corner of the garden. “It’s the foxglove. The one from your vision. But it shouldn’t happen now. Shouldn’t they both be safe? Beala is dead.”

“I don’t know.” Worry tightened a band around her chest and squeezed. Was the vision still active? Or was Trulie just remembering what she had seen? “Have you picked up on any negative energy lately? Coira hasn’t mentioned anything, has she?”

“Not that I know of.” Granny shook her head and scowled down at the plant. “Why don’t we just pull the thing up by the roots and burn it?”

Trulie sat her basket on the stone path and used a small dagger to snip the tops from several chamomile heads. Granny’s suggestion to destroy the foxglove wasn’t half-bad. But what if that wasn’t the plant supplying the poison to be used on Gray and Colum? “No. I don’t want to destroy it just yet. We don’t even know if the vision is still credible. And even if it is, we don’t know if that’s the plant the culprit will use.”

“So what if it’s not the plant?” Granny waved her own knife toward the majestic purple blooms. “It’s poison. I say anything that can be used to kill somebody has gotta go.”

“You know there are also some good uses for it.” Trulie fluttered the hem of her apron in her face to stir up a cooling breeze. “Want me to call Tamhas so he can refresh your memory?”

“No thank you,” Granny snorted out with an insulted look that made Trulie laugh. “I know more about herbs and such than that man could ever know.”

Trulie hefted the fragrant basket of herbs back across her arm. “Come on. Let’s go find Coira. Maybe between the three of us we’ll be able to figure out if Gray and Colum are still in danger.”

“And what good will Coira do when it comes to visions?” Granny paused and added a bit of mint to her basket.

“None,” Trulie replied. “But she’s one of the few close friends I’ve ever had. There’s no harm in keeping her in the loop.”

Gray settled his pewter tankard back to the table with a thud. He felt more relaxed—nay even joyful—than he had in a verra long time. Tapping his fingers against the cool metal of his cup, Gray nodded to all sitting at the long table. “There are none left who seek my death. The keep has finally been cleansed of those who would cause us all evil mischief.”

“Are you sure?” Trulie leaned forward, unknowingly propping her bosom atop her folded arms. The neckline of the dress she wore dipped low enough to give Gray a teasing glimpse of her creamy-white breasts.

Gray shifted in his seat. All he was certain of was that it was entirely too long before it would be time for them to retire to their chambers. The hall was full of summer travelers stopping by to catch up on the latest goings-on of the MacKenna clan. With a wedding looming on the horizon, decorum demanded Gray visit with his guests.

“Gray.” Trulie’s tone yanked him back to the present.

“Aye?”

“I asked you if you were sure no one else would want you dead?” Trulie lowered her voice, leaned forward, and revealed even more of her delectable bosom. “You haven’t pissed off the king, have you?”

Gray wet his lips. Lore, he could almost taste the sweetness of her skin. Sucking in a hitching breath, he silently promised his cock blessed relief later on. For now, he best pay attention to his future wife’s interrogation. “Alexander has no ill will toward me,” Gray replied. Then he couldn’t resist a smile as he added with a pointed gaze toward Trulie’s chest. “Yer dress is verra fine.”

Trulie’s eyes widened. She quickly glanced down at her exposed cleavage, then straightened up on the bench. Her cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink as she quickly glanced around the table.

“Dinna worry,” Gray whispered as he leaned toward her. “No one saw yer delightful bounty but m’self.”

Trulie’s cheeks flamed redder. She grabbed hold of the center of her neckline and yanked upward. “Behave yourself,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “And pay attention. This is serious. Granny and I both think the vision I had of you and Colum might still be active.”

Lore, he loved it when her skin glowed with her emotions. Gray scrubbed a hand across his jaw to keep from angering Trulie even more by smiling. He best take care with his teasing or she would send him to his bed alone. “I understand yer worry. But we canna live each day in fear.” Gray paused, took a long, deep draught of the yeasty ale and returned his mug to the table. “We will be vigilant, but I’ll no’ walk through life a coward.”

Gray stretched his opened hand across the table. “Come. Walk wi’ me.”

Trulie held Gray’s hand, steadying herself as she rose from the bench running the length of the table. Gray rested a hand against the small of her back and steered her toward a shorter table surrounded by a group of what looked like extremely weary men. “Yon sits the Earl of Dunbar—trusted friend to King Alexander himself.”

Trulie froze. Her fingers tightened in Gray’s hand as she leaned close and whispered. “I don’t think it would be wise for me to talk to him. He might get the heebie-jeebies if he figures out I don’t exactly come from this time.”

Gray chortled as he gently pulled Trulie forward. His love used such strange words. He didna ken what
heebie-jeebies
were, but apparently, they were no’ good. “I trust Patrick. After all, ’twas his father who arranged for the king to meet me mother’s cousin, his current wife, Marie de Coucy.”

Trulie still resisted. Worry wrinkled her brow as she nervously glanced toward the earl and his men. The color rose higher on her cheeks the closer they drew to the table.

“MacKenna.” A burly, barrel-chested man with a coal-black beard rose from the table.

“Lord Dunbar,” Gray responded with a polite nod. He was surprised the earl had wandered so far north. “Welcome. What news from yer travels?”

Lord Dunbar waved away the question and made a polite bow toward Trulie. “Traveling through Scotland ne’er changes. Successful hunts and occasional sport with foolhardy thieves.” He sidled his way from behind the table and extended a hand to Trulie. “Now properly introduce me to this dark-haired beauty soon to be yer wife.”

A twinge of jealousy rippled through Gray. Lord Dunbar had been known to dally with another man’s woman just for the thrill of the risk. Gray lightly rested a claiming arm around Trulie’s narrow waist. “Patrick III, seventh Earl of Dunbar, might I present ye Lady Trulie Sinclair, my betrothed.”

Lord Dunbar’s deep-set eyes twinkled as though already plotting. “Chieftain MacKenna has chosen well. ’Tis my immense pleasure t’meet such a lovely woman.” He held Trulie’s hand overly long as he smiled into her eyes.

“The pleasure is mine,” Trulie responded as she eased her hand out of Lord Dunbar’s grasp and tucked it behind her back.

Lord Dunbar chuckled and turned back to Gray. “Word came t’me of yer troubles. My condolences on the death of yer parents. Alistair MacKenna was a fine chief.”

“I thank ye for yer generous words.” Gray tightened his arm around Trulie’s waist as Lord Dunbar’s gaze wandered to her cleavage. “MacKenna keep has suffered much ill will the past several months, but things should improve now.”

A look of distaste wrinkled Lord Dunbar’s nose as he nodded his agreement. “Aye. I also heard the Lady Aileas has finally received all she deserves.”

“Well said,” Gray said with a chuckle. Womanizer or not, Lord Dunbar had a way with words.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Trulie interrupted. “I need to get back to Granny.”

Lord Dunbar bowed, then chuckled as Trulie spun away before he could snag her hand. “Yer a damn lucky man,” he rumbled out of the side of his mouth.

“Aye,” Gray agreed. A sense of pride swelled his chest as he indulged his gaze with the delightful sway of Trulie’s hips as she walked back across the room. “And how fares the Lady Dunbar and your children?” Time to turn Lord Dunbar’s mind back to his own wife.

“All are well.” Lord Dunbar smiled. “And another child will join our family before Yule.”

“Congratulations.” Gray glanced back at Trulie. “I hope to enjoy such a welcoming in me own clan once Lady Trulie and I are wed.”

Lord Dunbar’s face took on a thoughtful frown as he smoothed his hand across his beard. “Have ye settled on a day for the wedding, or do ye intend to wait until Donell shows his hand?”

Dunbar’s question unsettled Gray. What had the man heard? “Donell has no’ been to MacKenna land since he signed the marriage contract and saddled m’father with Aileas.”

“The man knows of his daughter’s treatment. Word has it he has Alexander’s ear and demands justice.” Lord Dunbar clasped his hands behind his back. “If ye ask me, ’tis ludicrous. All ken how much he loathed his daughter, Aileas.”

Gray studied Lord Dunbar. What did the earl have to gain by posing as messenger for a now penniless lowland laird? Gray had heard of Donell’s penchant for drink and romps with as many bawdy women as he could pay for at a time. The man ruled his clan with his thirst and his cock rather than his mind. “Pray tell, what price has Donell placed on this justice?”

Lord Dunbar shrugged as he turned and looked around the hall. “Land, more than likely. The drunken fool seems to ha’ learned coinage slips too easily through his fingers.”

“If Donell wants land”—Gray stood taller and flexed his fists—“let the fool come and try to take it.”

Dunbar’s rotund body shook as he rumbled with amusement and stroked his beard. “Ye know the coward will do no such thing. ’Tis the verra reason that brings me to yer keep.” Dunbar’s face grew serious as he turned, scooped up his tankard, and sucked down a long swallow. “I respect ye, MacKenna, as m’father respected yours. Yer an honorable man. A good man who should no’ meet his end at the hands of a coward.” Dunbar stared down at the floor as he swirled the last dredges of liquid in his glass. His face tightened down into a grim scowl as he raised his head and met Gray’s stare. “Watch yerself, MacKenna. Watch all within yer keep. If Donell’s drunken rants hold an ounce of truth, evil still lurks within these walls.”