Hackles raised, Karma edged closer to Trulie and sounded a guttural warning growl.
“You better keep that beast away from me!” Mrs. Hagerty jabbed a gaudily painted nail toward the dog’s shining black nose.
“Karma is harmless,” Trulie replied. She rested a staying hand atop Karma’s broad head. He really didn’t need to bite Mrs. Hagerty. The old bitch was probably poisonous.
Mrs. Hagerty pressed her round body tighter against the counter and struggled to peer across it at the still-rumbling dog. “Is that one of those pit bulls? Or a Rottweiler? You know I convinced the council to pass an ordinance against those monstrosities. I don’t think you should keep him in a place of business. I think I shall have animal control come over immediately and check his papers. That’ll put an end to his nonsense.” She excitedly drummed the tip of one manicured nail atop the glass case and sneered down at Karma. “One shot in your wicked heart and you’ll never growl again, mutt.”
Enough. It was bad enough the woman hated Granny, but nobody threatened sweet, lovable Karma. Trulie pulled Karma closer, leaning against his reassuring weight as she returned Mrs. Hagerty’s hateful glare. “Animals are not born evil or mean. Humans torture them into that disposition. And if you don’t have any business here other than insulting my grandmother or threatening my dog, I suggest you leave and put us all out of our collective misery.”
Mrs. Hagerty’s eyes widened behind the rhinestone spectacles perched on the end of her hooked nose. “I have never been so insulted in all my life. I don’t have to stand here and listen to such.”
“Good.” An effortless, wicked smile felt quite pleasant as Trulie nodded toward the exit. “Then we understand each other perfectly. Don’t let the doorknob hit you where the good Lord split you.”
The few customers perusing the shelves tittered and snorted behind their hands. Mrs. Hagerty puffed up even further, stomped back across the room, and slammed the door so hard upon her exit everything on the shelves rattled and swayed.
“Bitch,” Trulie said under her breath.
“Trulie! Such language.” Granny playfully shook a bent finger as she emerged from the back room. Kismet trotted in beside her, greeting everyone with a trilling, happy pprrtt.
“How long have you been back there?” Trulie’s mood lightened as Kismet’s loud purr vibrated through the shop. The cat rubbed against the still-irritated dog while weaving in and out between his front legs. The bright mood faded as every customer quickly filed out without buying a thing. As the last person closed the door, the soft jingling of the bell confirmed Trulie’s assumption. Everyone feared the backlash of Mrs. Hagerty’s wrath. No one would go against her.
“I heard every word the old crow cawed.” Granny took an apron off the hook behind the counter and tied it about her waist. A solemn look replaced her grin as she joined Trulie behind the counter of the now empty store and laid a soft hand atop hers. “You know she won’t rest until you and I are ruined and gone. Since her money’s never bought her happiness, she uses it to spread misery and make everyone around her hate life as much as she does. It’s time we resettled to another time. I know in my heart if you and I left, things would be much easier here for Kenna and the girls until it’s their time to join us in the past.” Granny softly chuckled and shook her head. “For some unfathomable reason that woman steers clear of Kenna.”
“Kenna has dirt on her. She caught Hagerty’s housekeeper buying some of our blackberry elixir. The woman fessed up that Hagerty’s a closet drinker. Poor thing lost her job once Hagerty found out she’d told Kenna she likes her elixir spiked with whisky.” Surely Granny wasn’t using old Hagerty as an excuse to retreat to the past. “Since when do you let somebody like Hagerty run you off? I thought you enjoyed one-upping people like her. And now you want to leave Kenna and the girls here? Alone to fight their own battles?”
“We wouldn’t be alone. Granny showed us how to use the fire portal. It’s easier to get a hold of you and Granny with that than if we use a cell phone. You don’t have to worry about a crappy signal or a dead battery with the fire portal.” A curvy brunette in tight-fitting jeans bounced out of the back room. She was followed by two auburn-haired girls still too young to have many curves, but old enough that their physiques promised beautiful things to come.
“Yeah, Trulie.” One of the green-eyed twins agreed. “Half the time your phone is dead and Granny won’t use one. She thinks they’re part of a conspiracy for the government to track down time runners and harness our powers for warmongering.”
The other twin skipped over and nudged Trulie’s shoulder with an affectionate punch. “And who do think helps Granny with her ‘pester Hagerty’ campaign? We’re not as innocent and helpless as we look.”
Granny looped an arm around the shoulders of the oldest girl and hugged her with a shake and a wink. “See? Kenna, Lilia, and Mairi would be just fine. If they need us, they know how to reach us. All they need is a roaring fire with plenty of red-hot coals.” Granny nodded to Kenna and hugged her tighter with a gentle shake. “Actually, any source of heat will do, but coals give the best reception in the portal.”
Granny’s smile faded as she gave the four girls a meaningful look, then strode across the room. “I need to see the lot of you settled.” She pointed a finger toward Trulie. “And you’re the first, young lady. You don’t belong here, and if you search your heart, you’ll see the truth of it.” Granny opened the cash register drawer and pawed through the plentiful receipts, dollars and coinage. “The shop is doing well in spite of not being endorsed by Hagerty the Horrible.” Granny paused, winked at Mairi, and nodded once toward Lilia. “Kenna’s twenty years old. Old enough to manage her sisters. All the girls will be just fine. They know every remedy and recipe for our twenty-first-century snake oil that keeps folks coming back for more.”
“Homeopathic remedies and aromatherapy oils.” Trulie struggled not to rise to Granny’s bait. Granny was wearing her down and she damn well knew it. “The recipes are yours. You know the stuff really works.”
Granny turned and gave Trulie a look she knew all too well. As she handed Kenna the oversized wad of credit card receipts, Granny added the final barb. “Your precious Dan won’t protect you against the likes of Hagerty either. I’ve seen how he fawns all over that snobby woman and her connections. When she convinces him you’re nothing better than the doormat she wipes her shoes on, what do you think he’ll do? No granddaughter of mine would ever accept being treated like dirt.”
Kenna, Lilia, and Mairi collectively eased away to the far side of the room and pretended to dust and straighten items on the pristine glass shelves.
Cowards. Trulie glared at her three sisters. She’d had enough of Granny’s damn nettling. It was time to clear the air. “I want the truth once and for all. What the hell is going on? You can’t be that concerned about me hooking up with Dan.”
Karma and Kismet laid back their ears and trotted across the shop to hide behind the safety of the girls’ legs. Trulie rounded the counter. She was on a roll. One way or another, they were going to settle this. Today. “You’ve always talked about someday resettling to the past but in the past six months you’ve shifted your nagging into overdrive. I want the truth. Plain and simple. What the hell is the deal? Why now? You’re gnawing on me worse than a dog worrying an old bone and I’m tired of it.”
Trulie followed Granny across the room, flipped the Open sign on the door to the Closed side, and yanked down the shade. “What is it with you? Just tell me the truth instead of all this damn maneuvering. Why are you so adamant about permanently moving back to the past? Why does it have to be now?” Trulie couldn’t understand it. What was this burning need Granny suddenly seemed to have to see Trulie settled in the past? It was almost as though she was afraid of something, and that just didn’t make sense. Granny didn’t fear anything.
Hadn’t the tough-as-nails woman jumped to an unknown future with two little girls and an unhealthy set of newborn twins to
honor her only daughter’s dying wish? Trulie remembered the family’s first jump through time better than any of the other jumps Granny had led. Before that jump, memories of the first twelve years of her life were faded and patchy at best. Granny had filled in the blanks about those early years, and from all Trulie learned, Granny was an unwavering force.
How many times had Granny told her how Mother had died bringing Lilia and Mairi into the world back in the thirteenth century? How Father had been so despondent over the loss of Mother, he had pressed the unhealthy, blue-tinged babies into Granny’s arms and begged her to do whatever it took to save his children? How many times had Granny told her how her parents’ bond had been so strong, Father had climbed down into the grave beside Mother and ordered his men to bury them both?
Trulie shivered and rubbed at a tiny scar at the base of her throat that always ached whenever she thought about the past. Granny had saved her life too, by bringing them all to a future where a child’s underdeveloped heart could be repaired with a simple surgery. How could the woman who endured so much be afraid of something as insignificant as a snarky rich bitch and her whining lackey?
“I fear nothing for myself, Trulie.” Granny paused and twirled the white stick hanging from the curtain rod between her bent fingers. Her frown deepened as the window blinds slowly closed. “But for all of you, I fear much once I am gone and there are none like us left in this particular patch of time to protect and teach you.”
Trulie caught Kenna’s eye and nodded toward Lilia and Mairi. “We won’t forget the old ways, Granny. I promise we’ll be all right.” Trulie wrapped an arm around Granny’s shoulders, noticing for the first time how thin and frail the old woman suddenly seemed.
“You don’t belong here, Trulie. None of us really do. This troubling patch of time is good for nothing but a training ground.” A heavy sigh shuddered through Granny, shaking her against Trulie’s side. “But you, Trulie, especially right now, must travel back. ’Tis time to put the wheel in motion. If you stay, you will suffer. We all will. Greatly.” Granny gently slid out from under Trulie’s arm and bent to scoop Kismet up against her chest. “Look into your heart, Trulie. Look hard and you’ll understand exactly what I mean.”
Hugging the cat, Granny slowly walked across the room. A troubled look darkened her face when she reached the back-room door and turned back to Trulie. “One last thing I want you to know before you give me your final refusal. The time grows near for my last leap, and I will be damned if I make that crossing alone out of this godforsaken century.”
Chapter 3
“Fearghal wishes to see his brother. Let us pass. ’Tis our right to see the chieftain.”
Gray closed his eyes against the nasal voice shattering the pleasant comradery of the great hall. As much as he wished to bar the owner of the voice from his presence, his conscience wouldna grant him leave to do so.
“Allow Lady Aileas entry, Colum!” His shout echoed the length of the high-ceilinged room and rang out into the bailey. All the better. At least those who might escape Aileas’s presence had now received ample warning.
“May the gods strike the woman mute or have mercy and strike me deaf.” The hounds sprawled at Gray’s feet lifted their heads as though nodding in complete agreement. Gray dug his thumbs hard into his throbbing temples. He was in no mood for another bout of petty complaints from Lady Aileas and her simpering son.
The dried rushes spread about the stone floors hissed out whispered warnings with every sweep of Aileas’s drab, heavy skirts. The great, hairy dogs lying on either side of Gray’s ornate chieftain’s chair perked their heads higher, then groaned with a unified whine when Aileas passed the final column and neared the center of the room.
Gray dropped a hand to the nearest dog’s head and buried his fingers in the thick, wiry fur. “I feel the same way, lad. But we must be tolerant of the past chieftain’s wife.”
The hound disagreed with a low, rumbling growl.
Both dogs lumbered to their feet and retreated to the passage connecting the meeting hall to the outer kitchens.
Cowards. Gray glared at the retreating beasts, all the while wishing he could join them. Ever since the dearbh fhine had named him Tànaiste to the chieftainship rather than Fearghal, his father’s only legitimate son, Aileas had seen fit to test his patience, along with his leadership, at every opportunity.
The bitter woman had never publicly denounced him as the bastard son of her dead husband’s leman, but sources reported she had shared this opinion privately on more than one occasion.
A sad smile pinched one corner of Gray’s mouth as he straightened in the chair. Damned if he wouldna wager his best warhorse that his parents had reunited on the other side and stood together at this verra moment…laughing because he had been left behind to deal with the unpleasant Aileas.
The tall, gangly woman lumbered forward. She kept one oversized hand locked in the crooked arm of the puny young man stumbling along beside her. Aileas’s wispy hair had escaped its combs, fluttering about her perspiring face and wide shoulders like a veil of mud-brown cobwebs. The exertion of dragging her clumsy son the length of the hall had reddened the broken capillaries covering Aileas’s bulbous nose and her sallow, pockmarked cheeks.
When Aileas came to a halt in front of the main table, she yanked her ill-fitting dress back into place across her sturdy, big-boned frame.
As he had more times than he cared to remember, Gray wondered how his father could e’er bed such a woman and manage to seed a son. There was nay enough whisky in all the Highlands to blind a man to the undeniable truth that the Lady Aileas more closely resembled a surly blacksmith than a comely chieftain’s wife.
“My chieftain.” Aileas coughed out the word “chieftain” as though it had lodged crossways in her throat and she was trying to hack it loose. “Fearghal is greatly distressed o’er the treatment he received this verra morning at the stables.”
Gray shifted his gaze to the nervous man twitching at Aileas’s side. Gray almost felt sorry for the poor excuse for a Scot. Almost. Fearghal might be a sniveling wimp, but he also possessed a cruel streak Gray had witnessed on several occasions. Fearghal’s preferred method of bolstering his own confidence was to torment those less fortunate than himself. Fearghal was a bully. In the worst possible ways, the unpleasant oaf mirrored the cruelties of his hateful mother. Gray rolled his shoulders against the wave of disgust Fearghal and Aileas always triggered. It couldna be that he and Fearghal shared the same father.
“What distressed ye this time, Fearghal?” Gray struggled to keep the contempt out of his tone as he straightened in the chair and feigned interest in Fearghal’s plight. His father’s words rang in his ears: a chieftain is known by his actions as well as his words.
“They…” Fearghal’s annoying voice stalled out. He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple skittered up and down his long narrow neck like a mouse scurrying beneath the bedclothes. His wide-set eyes darted nervously to the right of the room where several of Gray’s men were seated. “Yer guard would nay grant me wish to ride one of the horses that best suits me station. The man dared suggest I take one of the children’s training mares.”
Fearghal’s pompous statement soured Gray’s mood further. What arrogance. Gray didna doubt Fearghal’s claim. The last time the dunce had been given a decent horse, Fearghal had returned on foot and the valuable horse had ne’er been seen again.
By this time, Colum, Clan MacKenna’s chief man-at-arms, had assumed his usual position close beside Gray’s chair. With one hand resting atop the pommel of his sword, Colum stepped forward and joined the conversation in a tone leaving no doubt as to how little he thought of Fearghal. “Our clan’s stables can nay afford to turn our stock of best-bred horses free into the Highlands. Too many thieves lay wait to claim them for their own.” Colum sneered and jerked his chin toward Aileas’s scowling face. “Perhaps yer mother might grant ye access to her decrepit mount or mayhap e’en her closed wagon. Yer arse might
stay seated atop a wagon’s board better than it stays planted in a saddle.”
Well said, m’friend. I thank ye for sayin’ what I cannot. Gray shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Tha’ll do, Colum. Thank ye.”
The tips of Fearghal’s huge ears turned deep red. Gray would nay be surprised if the fool’s head burst into flames.
Aileas growled and surged forward, squaring her stout body in front of Fearghal like a lioness defending her young. Her meaty fists trembled against the dark folds of her skirts. “Will ye just sit there then? Will ye no’ demand respect toward m’Fearghal? Toward yer own brother—the chieftain’s true son, no less?” Aileas’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened as the realization of what she had just voiced hit her.
“Take care, Stepmother,” Gray warned in a low voice. “I am chosen chief to Clan MacKenna.” He had always defended Aileas and her worthless son to the elders, insisting his father’s widow and her son be treated with honor and respect. But if Aileas decided to publicly challenge him, the two would be stripped of his protection immediately.
“Give the order,” Colum hissed. The slightest wave of his hand caused every warrior seated across the room to rise and step forward. “Give the order, m’chieftain,” Colum repeated. “And we shall relieve your presence of this offensiveness. Permanently.”
Aileas’s trembling jowls and watery eyes resurrected what little compassion Gray still possessed for the two. He raised a hand and spoke to the men without taking his unblinking gaze from his stepmother’s face. “Nay.” Gray barely shook his head. “I feel sure the Lady Aileas realizes the rashness of her words. I am certain she claims a mother’s concern for her child as the reason she forgets herself.”
“Aye.” Aileas bobbed her head and stood taller while her cold, proud gaze swept across those standing in the room. “I dare say any of ye would nay do any less if your child’s honor had been so sullied.”
My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts) Page 3