My Tempting Highlander (Highland Hearts #3)

by Maeve Greyson

  “Aye.” Ronan coughed and wheezed as he pounded his fist against his chest.

  Mairi reached back and grabbed the leather skin of whisky hanging behind the seat. Water froze in this weather. Whisky not only stayed in a liquid state, it warmed your belly when nothing else would. “Here. Take a swig. Maybe that will help.”

  Ronan obliged her and took several long deep draws from the bag of whisky. He handed the skin back to her without taking his eyes from the road. “I thank ye kindly, lass. ’Twas what I needed to clear my throat.”

  Mairi took a short sip before recorking the neck of the skin and hanging it back on its hook. She closed her eyes and breathed in as the liquid fire trailed down her throat and spread welcomed warmth through her veins. “I will be so glad to get back to the keep. I’m not good at roughing it.”

  “Roughing it.” Ronan frowned as though the phrase puzzled him. “Ye dinna relish a wee ride through the woods wi’ yer man?”

  “I don’t classify three days and three nights of freezing my ass off as a wee ride.”

  Ronan chuckled. “Aye. I dinna wish yer fine arse any harm either. I’m rather fond of it, m’self.”

  Mairi did her best to ignore a sudden surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the whisky. She wasn’t quite as angry with Ronan as she’d been when they started out, but she still wasn’t pleased with his continued penchant to avoid sharing any information that might result in an ass chewing.

  How could she ever trust him when she was constantly wondering what he might’ve conveniently forgotten to tell her? Her spirits sank a notch. How could she ever have a long-term relationship with a man who refused to let her in? That trait alone told her loud and clear that Ronan couldn’t really love her. If he truly loved her as much as he said he did, wouldn’t he be an open book to her? Wasn’t loving someone a matter of unconditional trust? Mairi stole a sideways glance at him. Dammit, I wish you really loved me.

  Ronan smiled at her. “We’ll get back to the keep afore nightfall.” He wrapped one arm around her and pressed his mouth to her ear. “I lay odds there’ll be a warm bed awaitin’ us.” He brushed a kiss against her temple. His husky whisper warmed across her cheek. “I hunger for the feel of yer bareness pressed against me. I would be done wi’ these layers of clothes.”

  Mairi lightly patted Ronan’s hand on her shoulder. “A soft bed will be nice.” To sleep in, she silently added. They hadn’t had sex since they’d left the keep. They’d come close, but she just couldn’t do it and was happy to let Ronan blame the dangerously cold nights as her reason for not wanting to peel off any layers of clothing. My how things had changed since that chilly night they’d warmed each other beneath the ice-coated pines.

  Her traitorous body throbbed and ached for his touch, but her bruised heart and heavy conscience just couldn’t give in. Not anymore. Not ever again. She wasn’t sure how the hell she was going to be able to avoid him when there wasn’t the danger of frostbite to blame, but she had to find a way. How could she share her body with a man who didn’t trust her? How could she ever trust him? Mairi pulled in a deep breath and eased it out. No. She’d tap dance away from him until they were wed and the curse was effectively broken. No longer needing her, Ronan would probably go his way and she’d go back to modern-day Edinburgh and spend her energy looking for a job and burying the hurt in her heart.

  “Where are ye, lass?” Ronan leaned in close and nudged her with a lopsided grin. “Are ye planning our weddin’, perhaps?”

  Mairi forced a smile and breathed in a deep draw of cold air against the heavy ache in her chest. “Whatever you have in mind will be just fine. As long as we’re married.” As long as we’re married and the curse is broken, so I can go back and rebuild my life. Mairi’s cheeks felt frozen in place as she held the false smile.

  “Gray’s legal advisors can draw up the contract upon our arrival.” Ronan shifted on the bench and worked the reins through his fingers. “Then Gray can perform the ceremony. On the shore. Beside the sea. D’ye no’ think saying our vows at sunset as the colors reflect off the water would be a fine start to our life together?”

  Another faint whiff of sulfur made Mairi sit up straighter. There was still no sign of smoke. What was causing that smell? As she looked around, a slight unmentioned detail of Ronan’s ceremony plans triggered her liar alarm. “Of course you mean for us to wait until Graham and your mother arrive. Right? And won’t standing at the water’s edge be colder than dammit this time of year?”

  Ronan shifted on the seat and cast a nervous look about the landscape. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed.

  “See? You smell it too. I can tell by the way you’re acting.”

  Ronan cleared his throat and coughed. “ ’Tis naught but a bit o’ stench. Perhaps one o’ the horses has the winds from the herbs in the horse bread.” He waved a hand in front of his face and straightened in the seat. He lightly flipped the reins atop the horses’ backs and clucked, urging them to pick up the pace. “We can sign the contract and have our own ceremony before Máthair and Graham arrive.” He turned and scooped up her gloved hand and pressed it to his lips. “I want us wed. I need ye t’be mine—officially.”

  Mairi held her breath against the rapid pounding of her heart. If only he meant those words. She blinked, feeling the sting of unshed tears. The shadows in his eyes belied his words. She’d finally nailed down how he couldn’t quite meet her gaze whenever he was avoiding the truth. What are you not telling me this time, Ronan? “And what about your mother and Graham?”

  Ronan shrugged and smiled as he looked away. “Once they arrive, we’ll have a grand feast and repeat our vows in front of them as well as yer kith and kin.” Ronan kissed her hand again. “D’ye no’ feel such a grand event deserves celebratin’ more than once?”

  A blur of silver and gray racing through the woods on Ronan’s side caught Mairi’s attention before she answered. “Wait…was that a dog?” Ronan’s inability to open up and share his real reason for all of a sudden wanting to wed so quickly was immediately forgotten. She’d figure that out later. Mairi turned in the seat, searching the dense terrain more closely. No. Couldn’t be a dog. Not here in the Highland wilderness. It had to be a wolf—probably one that had grown overly brave from hunger. “Over there. Slow down and look. That’s a wolf. I just saw it again.”

  “Nay.” Ronan snapped the reins across the horses’ backs, leaning forward as the wagon gained speed. “If wolves be in this wood, we must no’ tarry. Hold tight.”

  Mairi grabbed hold of the edge of the seat as they bounced across the frozen mud of the road. She nearly went airborne as the wagon lurched and bumped. “Slow down. I don’t see it anymore.” She wouldn’t tell him if she did. She valued all her teeth and they were about to rattle out of her head with every jolt. Mairi swatted Ronan’s arm. “It’s gone. Slow down before you shake all my teeth loose.”

  Ronan eased the horses back to a brisk cantor and pushed the reins into Mairi’s hands. He pulled his longbow from beneath the seat and nocked the arrow in the bowstring. “Dinna be afraid. If wolves attempt an attack, I’ll make short work of them.”

  Mairi pushed the reins back toward Ronan. “If I drive, you won’t have to worry about the wolves. You’ll have to worry about the wagon turning over and breaking your neck. Take back the reins and give the horses a break.” And as long as the wolves left them alone, Mairi didn’t want them hurt. Scotland’s history ran through her head. Thanks to the wolf hunts, the poor wolves would be extinct soon enough.

  Ronan put the bow and arrow back down at his feet and took the reins. With a subtle motion of his hands, the horses slowed to an effortless, ground-eating pace. He restlessly hitched back and forth, stealing nervous glances at the ever-thinning stands of trees running along the left side of the road.

  Mairi resettled herself on the seat and tucked the heavy furs back across her lap. Ronan’s inability to look her in the eye and his nervous actions ate at her core like a badly digested
meal. What the hell was the man lying about this time? Enough. I have had enough. “Stop the wagon.”

  Ronan jerked as though he’d suddenly awakened from a bad dream. “What?” He flipped the reins and leaned forward, coaxing the horses to increase their pace.

  Mairi slammed a gloved hand atop his, grabbed the reins, and pulled back. “I said stop the wagon.”

  The horses immediately obliged. The wagon groaned to a stop. Ronan sat with his head bowed, his focus fixed on the long dark reins still fisted in his hands.

  “We’re not going any farther until you tell me whatever it is you’re still hiding.” There. She’d said it. Let the games begin.

  “I dinna ken—”

  “Don’t sit there and give me that crap about dinna kenning!” Mairi scooted to the far side of the seat, ripped away the fur blanket, and swung herself down from the wagon. She held on tight to the iron railing until she’d steadied her footing. She stomped to the left side of the path and studied the woods. Glistening black trunks marched tall and silent beneath the heavy gray of the sky. A dusting of snow coated the bare limbs interlaced throughout the forest like a great frozen canopy. Nothing moved among the trees. Underbrush bowed low with winter’s kiss, sparkling in what weak bit of sunlight managed to filter down through the clouds.

  Mairi trudged to the edge of the wood, studying the pristine smoothness of the forest floor. Nothing had been through here. There were no signs of footprints. She turned and glared back at Ronan, still sitting in the wagon, staring down at his hands. “Well?”

  “Well?”

  Dammit to hell. If she had a gun, she’d shoot him on the spot—right square in the ass so every time he took a seat he’d regret lying. “What are you still hiding, Ronan? Why do you always get so…so…weird whenever there’s any mention of wolves?” Weird wasn’t a suitable word to describe the way he acted, but it would do in a pinch. It was more like he was distracted or something. Kind of like the way Granny acted when she had too many plots going all at once and was having trouble keeping up with the details.

  Ronan swung down from the wagon, his face a frowning mask, his gaze glued to the ground. He clasped his hands at the small of his back and jerked one shoulder with a quick shrug. “Perhaps ’twould be best if ye shared yer concerns so I might know how best to address them.”

  “Don’t you dare go all passive-aggressive on me. None of this bullshit is any of my doing and you know it.” Mairi stomped a few paces closer. “You’ve been nothing but dishonest with me from the moment we met.”

  “I’ve never lied to ye.”

  “Omitting pertinent details I should know about is still lying! What else have you not told me?” A covey of birds flushed free of the underbrush, their alarm squeaking like creaking doors as their wings flapped furiously to carry them away from an intruder. Mairi jerked sideways and searched the brush the birds had just vacated. A subtle movement inside the snow-covered brush caught her eye.

  “Come forth, Máthair.” Ronan sounded like a defeated man. In two long strides, he was beside Mairi, pulling her firmly to his side. “Come forth and meet Mairi.”

  Snow shook free of the bushes, falling silently to the ground as the great wolf gracefully stepped free of the shelter. Shaking the snow from its coat, the wolf raised its head, ears perked forward, piercing blue eyes fixed in an unblinking stare.

  “Máthair?” Mairi understood very little Gaelic, but she recognized that word. She glanced up at Ronan’s tense expression. The rippling muscles of his clenched jaw paired with the angry red creeping up his throat gave her a pretty good indication of just how uncomfortable this truth-telling was. Good. He should be uncomfortable if he was finally coming clean with all the information he should’ve shared from the beginning. “You’re telling me this wolf is your mother?”

  “Aye.” Ronan jerked his chin down in a sharp nod. “She’s trapped in that form ’til the curse is broken.”

  “Now, wait a minute.” Mairi rehashed all the details Eliza had mentioned when she and Ronan had finally decided to tell her about the curse. “You told me your mother was the king’s leman and she and your best friend were cursed when the witch—your father’s wife—found out she was pregnant with you. Right?”

  Ronan’s mouth tightened as though he was fighting against the urge to flee rather than have the current conversation. “Aye.”

  The wolf eased a few steps forward, a low-throated grumble rumbling from her silvery body. Mairi didn’t feel threatened. It was almost as though the wolf was trying to help Ronan tell his story. Mairi pointed at the wolf. “If the queen cursed her into a wolf before you were born…” Mairi studied the wolf a few moments then looked back to Ronan. “How exactly were you born? Did she change back to a woman until she’d had you then return to being a wolf once you were born?”

  Ronan huffed out a humorless laugh. Bitterness filled his voice. “Nay. The wolf ye see before ye is the wolf she has been since the day the witch said the words. The vile queen claimed she’d turned my precious mother into the scavenging bitch she truly was.”

  Apparently, the witch was more creatively cruel than I thought. Mairi massaged her temples with her gloved fingertips. What Ronan said defied logic. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could a child survive being raised by a wolf?”

  The wolf strode the remaining distance between them, glared at Ronan, and bounced with a sharp bark.

  Ronan released a heavy sigh and took a step back. “This is how.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his hands loosely clasped in front of him.

  Energy crackled through the clearing like unseen lightning, stinging against Mairi’s skin. A soft wind whispered through the trees like a restless spirit, whirling the loose snow into sparkling white spirals. The energy around Ronan hummed louder, then exploded around his body in a column of roaring blue flames. Mairi squinted and backed away, raising an arm against the blinding blue white light.

  Eerie piercing howls filled the air, washing across Mairi’s flesh with an icy touch. She scrubbed her hands up and down both arms. This couldn’t be good. Anything that created such a shift in energy couldn’t be good. A final strong whooshing gust tore through the clearing then all went silent.

  Mairi risked lowering her arm just enough to peek past the edge of her cloak. Her heart double-thumped and the chill of recognition washed over her like an icy wave. There. Standing where Ronan had just stood, calm, ears perked forward as he stepped free of the discarded clothes piled around him, was the wolf. My wolf. The dog she thought she’d nearly killed back in Edinburgh. The dog who had broken her heart when he had suddenly disappeared.

  Her hand pressed against the base of her throat, Mary stumbled a step back. It was all painfully clear now. When the dog disappeared, Ronan had arrived, and now she understood why.

  A maelstrom of emotions burned through her. Rage. Disappointment. Embarrassment. A sense of betrayal. How could she have been so stupid? She thought back to the farce of their searching through Princes Street Gardens. He’d lied to her all along.

  Mairi turned away. Pressing a trembling hand to the side of her head, she walked slowly back to the wagon. How could she have been so damn blind?

  “Mairi—please.”

  She didn’t bother turning. What the hell was she supposed to say? She walked around to her side of the wagon, clenched the iron railing for dear life, and pressed her forehead against her hands.

  Stamping boots. The muffled sounds of clothes being shook out. Muttered cursing.

  Mairi didn’t look up. She understood completely now. Ronan had been born a wolf pup then apparently learned how to shift into the form of a human at some point in time. Graham. The lifelong friend always mentioned. The helper. The guardian. Was he a wolf too?

  Something lightly brushed against her shoulder. “Mairi—please.” Ronan groaned the words as though saying them with a dying breath. “Do ye understand now why I didna tell ye…everything?”

  “I understand a lot of things.”
And she did. Now she understood completely why she should never trust anyone with her heart, because whenever she did she just ended up hurt and looking like a fool. No wonder Ronan was so careful to omit as many details as possible until the curse was finally broken. And once it was broken, then what? Once freed, would he merrily go on his way without her? Probably. After all, once the curse was broken, what the hell did he need with a wife? “So, where’s Graham? I thought wolves ran in packs.”

  Ronan drew in a sharp hissing breath. “If ye wish to meet Graham, we must walk to the river’s edge.”

  Mairi studied Ronan’s guarded expression. Oh holy hell. I can hardly wait to hear what comes next. “Why do we have to walk to the river?”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Ronan pursed his lips and shrugged as he stared down at the ground. “The curse binds Graham to the sea. The only time he may leave the water is when he’s within the curtain of mist surrounding Draegonmare. Whene’er he ventures past the mist, he must remain either in the sea or within one of its tributaries stretching across the lands.”

  Mairi pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes against the dull throbbing pain growing ever sharper inside her head. Ronan’s revelations were giving her one hell of a headache. “So he’s a fish?” When Ronan didn’t answer, she opened her eyes to his pained expression. “Okay—so what is he, then?”

  “Do ye remember the largest of the statues in yer room? The one of the great winged beast about to belch a volley of flames?”

  Ronan’s intense gaze turned her blood to ice water. Mairi shivered as she cinched her cloak tighter about her throat. What Ronan was saying wasn’t possible. Her statues were the embodiment of her overactive imagination, creatures she’d fabricated and pieced together from a lifelong love of oft-told fairy tales and childhood games of what-ifs. “You’re telling me Graham’s a dragon?”