My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts)

by Maeve Greyson

  Gray slowly rose from his seat. For some strange reason, the tender healing flesh of the burns across his shoulders had suddenly begun to tingle. A warning, perhaps? Gray shrugged away the feeling and motioned toward Fearghal where he stood trembling behind his mother. “N’more horses, Fearghal. If ye must travel, ye will go by wagon until ye learn to better stay astride.”

  Aileas emitted a strained groaning noise from deep within her throat.

  “Ye would say something, Lady Aileas?” Gray waited. It was Aileas’s move. He would nay have his authority questioned further.

  “Nay,” Aileas snapped.

  “Nay?” Gray repeated sharply.

  “Nay.” Aileas’s voice softened and she respectfully lowered her gaze in as humble a bow as she could manage. “I would say nothing more, my chieftain.”

  —

  “I don’t understand why you don’t want to go. You’ve always loved jumping and enjoy exploring different centuries even more. How many history books did old Mr. Brown make you copy to the blackboard because you argued they were wrong? Granny taught us more in all our jumps than Mr. Brown could ever imagine.” An impatient tappity-tap-tap bounced against the loose plank flooring of the outside shed attached to the old barn.

  Kenna. Even if the girl hadn’t spoken, Trulie would know it was her from the rabbit-kicking thump against the wood floor. Whenever Kenna didn’t or couldn’t control the outcome of a situation, the staccato tapping and jiggling of her right foot transmitted her frustration better than Morse code. Trulie didn’t bother turning around. Instead, she slid on the heavy gloves, clicked the striker, and lit the propane torch. Maybe if she ignored Kenna, her sister would go away.

  “I am not going away. You know better.” Rusted springs squeaking in protest told Trulie that Kenna had just planted herself in the lean-to’s only chair.

  Trulie settled the safety glasses more comfortably on her nose, touched the solder to the joint of copper tubing, and carefully applied the heat of the torch. “I’m busy, Kenna. I’m behind a full month in orders since I lost that truckload of oils and I won’t be able to restock the shelves in the store if I fill all the website orders first. If you’re not gonna help me get this second distiller going, then go check the drying racks and see if they’re ready to be rotated. I don’t have time for idle chatter, so either make yourself useful or go away.”

  The worn springs of the chair groaned again and the old wood comprising the frame of it crackled and popped as though about to disintegrate. Trulie gritted her teeth and leaned in closer to the expensive coils of copper pipe. If Kenna would get off Granny’s meddling team and help, they could get this second distiller built in no time and replace the lost stock. Trulie clicked off the torch, pushed the safety glasses to the top of her head, and scrutinized her work. Not too shabby. This one would be producing essential oils in no time. Now, if she could only resolve her gnawing uneasiness just as smoothly. A growing restlessness, a sense of opportunities slipping away, ached deep inside her. She felt like she was perched on a rickety footbridge over a bottomless pit. One wrong move in either direction, and it would all be over. What the hell should she do?

  “I am still here. You ready to talk or do you still think this is all just gonna go away?” Now both of Kenna’s feet thumped an impatient tap-tapping against the floor.

  Trulie rolled from her knees to her heels and carefully rose from the corner where the metallic monster promising to double production stood. Edging sideways out of the corner, she returned the torch to the work crate along with her gloves and safety glasses. “I’m ignoring you. Now go away.” Trulie flexed and stretched, working out the kinks that had knotted her muscles.

  Kenna snorted while drumming her fingers on the weathered frame of the chair. She shifted to sit with her legs crossed, her right foot still bouncing with impatience. “Be honest, Trulie. Don’t you really think it’s past time”—Kenna winked and folded her hands into a fidgeting knot in her lap—“you gave Granny the benefit of the doubt and took her up on an extended visit to the past? What’s a few months—give or take a year or two—to a time runner?” Kenna bounced her foot faster and grinned. “Think of it as a vacation. You’ve never had a vacation.”

  Trulie ignored Kenna’s flippant attitude. Thirteenth-century Scotland was not at the top of her list of perfect vacation spots. “Since when do you side with Granny? You two usually mix as well as oil and water.” Kneading the small of her back, Trulie made her way to the open end of the three-sided shed and looked out into the trees. Great. She smelled rain. The muddy ruts of the road were never going to dry out if the spring rains didn’t let up.

  “Why are you so damned determined not to give an inch this time? Aren’t you ready for a change? Just the other day you were complaining about how life had gotten so predictable.” Kenna rose from the chair and joined Trulie. She wrinkled her nose as she squinted up into the treetops. “The leaves are blowing inside out. It’s fixin’ to storm.”

  “Yeah, it is. In more ways than one.” Trulie trudged across the springy moss of the clearing and yanked open the truck door. She was so sick of this conversation. As soon as Trulie cranked one turn of the window crank, the corroded piece of metal fell off in her hand. A fat raindrop plopped into her palm beside the broken window handle. The drop of water was soon joined by another and another. Trulie raised her face, glaring up into the clouds as the gently pattering droplets increased to a pouring deluge.

  Trulie threw the broken bit of metal to the ground. Damned if everything wasn’t falling apart all at once. Nothing seemed to be going right. Maybe she did need a break from this time. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Trulie scowled at the cloud-filled sky, squinting against the raindrops.

  Kenna swooped toward her with a tattered quilt stretched over her head. “Get in the truck. I know you’ve got enough sense to know when to come in out of the rain.”

  Trulie slid beneath the steering wheel and scooted over to the passenger side. Kenna could drive. The way my luck’s going, I’ll just land us in another ditch.

  Kenna shoved the quilt between them and slammed the truck door shut. Grabbing the edge of the lowered window, she jiggled and cursed at the piece of glass until it finally inched upward. Glancing back over one shoulder, Kenna feigned a stern expression. “If I break a nail, Trulie Elizabeth, you’re paying for my next manicure.”

  Trulie snorted as she grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Take it out of the money you owe me. I think you’ve built up a pretty good-sized tab over the past few years.”

  “Then what better time to jump back in time and start all over again?” Kenna snickered as she settled back in the seat. “Just think. You’ll be going back to before you loaned me so much money. I’ll be paid in full and you’ll be ahead. Am I smart or what?”

  Or what. Trulie bit back the words before they escaped her mouth. Kenna was such an optimist she was borderline infuriating. She was always upbeat and glass half-full—the Sinclair family’s ray of sunshine. Trulie wasn’t in the mood for sunshine right now. She needed Kenna to butt out, and she needed Granny to get off her back.

  Snuggling deeper into the warmth of the damp quilt, Trulie stared at the droplets of rain skittering down the cracked windshield of the truck. Jump back in time and start over—at least give the past a chance. Granny had hinted at the prospect for months now—especially every time Trulie voiced a thought about switching towns because even after fifteen years they were still outsiders in the small town of Masonville, Kentucky. Everyone pretty much gave them a wide berth unless they needed a remedy from the shop. The Sinclair women had always been the town’s oddities—some gossip even named them witches.

  Trulie glanced over at quietly humming Kenna. Drops of rain glistened in her sister’s dark curls as she carefully examined each trimmed cuticle and painted nail tip.

  “You know Granny wants to leave you and the girls here. Alone. In this time. For a few months—maybe even a year or so u
ntil I get back. You do realize you’ll have the sole responsibility of running the business and holding the family together until then? That means keeping two teenage girls out of all the trouble the puberty years bring.” Trulie watched Kenna closely. How committed was happy little sister to becoming the one in charge? Could free-spirited, didn’t-have-a-care-in-the-world Kenna really lay down the law when the twins tested the limits?

  Kenna shrugged as she extended one hand and compared the nail tips in the fading light of the rainy afternoon. “I can handle it. The girls won’t be that bad.”

  “Granny threatened to lock us up in barrels until we turned twenty for some of the stuff we pulled. What makes you so sure the twins won’t be so bad?” Had Kenna forgotten some of the tearful shouting matches they’d had while struggling through the growing pains of puberty? Teenage years were difficult enough for normal kids. But raging hormones coupled with the strain of keeping the family’s unusual abilities hidden had made maturing a royal pain in the ass for the Sinclair girls.

  “I’m not the empty-headed ninny you think I am.” Kenna dropped both hands to her lap and turned sideways in the seat. “Who cares if half the town thinks we’re poor white trash and the other half thinks we’re witches? They all flock to the shop, and their money’s still good no matter what they think about us.” Kenna’s voice lowered as her gaze dropped to her lap. “Besides…Granny says she has plans for all of us. You need to find out just what those plans are and cash in.” Kenna’s hands clenched into fists until her knuckles turned white. Her voice grew even softer. “She’s sacrificed everything for us, Trulie. I can’t let her down when she’s done so much for us.”

  And there it was. The troubled look on Kenna’s face twisted Trulie’s heart. Kenna had voiced the nagging thought demonizing her own emotions. Granny had given up everything. Left everything she had known and loved to keep her word to her dying daughter and make sure her grandbabies were raised right and healthy in the future.

  Maybe little sister wasn’t the perennial sunshine spewer after all. Trulie blew out the deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Well, dammit. She had tried so hard to help Granny set them all up with normal lives, but it looked like she had failed miserably. There was no denying the Sinclair heritage, or what the Fates might have in mind. Some things were just meant to be. Trulie drew in another deep breath and curled her legs up tighter beneath her.

  Reaching across the seat, Trulie lightly trailed a fingertip across the top of Kenna’s hand. “I won’t know how to act if you’re not around. Who will I talk to when I’ve gotten in over my head?” Trulie struggled to keep her voice from breaking, struggled to keep all the dark uncertainties at bay. “Granny easily blended us into the ways of this era. Jumping back for an extended amount of time will be more difficult. If I’m not careful to completely blend in, I’ll get stuck on a rotisserie at the next village barbecue.”

  Kenna yanked her hand away and rubbed it against her jeans. “Cut it out. That tickles.”

  “I’m serious, Kenna.” Trulie grabbed Kenna’s hand. She had to make the girl understand the danger of what they were about to do…if she actually decided to go through with it.

  “I know you’re serious.” Kenna’s smile quivered a bit as she lifted her chin and winked a sparkling green eye. “I’m smiling ’cause I just won the bet with the twins. They didn’t think I could convince you to do it. And judging by the look in your eye, you’ve finally decided to give the past a try. Now let’s head home and get you and Granny packed.”

  Chapter 4

  “What are you gonna do about clothes?” Lilia edged around the table in front of the couch and dumped another huge armload of assorted clothing into the recliner. Kismet dove into the pile, nosing and burrowing until the only thing visible was the tip of her softly flipping tail. Lilia plucked a shirt from the pile and held it up to her chest. A black paw darted out from under a towel, swatting at the shifting clothes. “If you’re not taking all of these, can I have this one?”

  “Tamhas will see to it Trulie and I have proper attire for the era. Of course, we might take a few of our more favorite things to…uhm…help get started.” Granny pawed through the pile of clothing, plucked out a hooded sweatshirt and slipped it on. “Nice and toasty.” She made a sound that greatly resembled Kismet purring as she hugged it around her and rubbed a hand up and down one sleeve. “And we’ll also store some items in our cache. You girls don’t need all of our things. Some things must be set aside for just in case. You know that.” Granny patted a folded pile of towels as she nodded at Trulie. “If you ever have to pass through this time again, just remember to get up to the north side of the bluff and you’ll find the sealed cache in the cave just above the pond.” Granny wagged a finger toward each of the girls. “Always remember, you never ever leave a wrinkle in time without stashing away necessities in case you have to return. Your survival could depend on it.”

  Nodding to her small pile of clothing on the couch, Trulie snapped her fingers at Lilia. “No. You can’t have any of my clothes. I’m coming back—remember?” Trulie extricated a couple of matching socks, balled them together and tossed them next to the pile of already folded clothes sitting on the table. She’d heard the rat-hole-your-necessities lecture every time they’d visited a different century. She could recite it in her sleep. Time to get Granny off that tirade before she got wound up. “Who exactly is Tamhas?” Tamhas was a name she hadn’t heard before. In Granny’s excitement over their trip preparations, she had apparently let down her guard and allowed the name to slip.

  Granny hummed under her breath as she fished a worn T-shirt out of the load and held it up for inspection. “I always loved this shirt, but I’m afraid it’s seen better days. I guess I’ll go ahead and part with it, as much as I hate to leave it behind.”

  “Granny—”

  “And be certain to take some of those thick socks you love so much, Trulie. You’ll not be able to find those supersoft fuzzy socks in the Highlands of 1247.” Granny pulled a pair of fluffy, hot-pink socks from the back of the pile and tossed them over to Trulie.

  “Granny!”

  Granny straightened from the pile of clothes and faced Trulie. Her brow puckered into a rare expression of impatient annoyance. “What?”

  “Stop ignoring me and answer the question. Who is Tamhas?” Trulie stepped around the table and positioned herself between Granny and the clean clothes. No more babbling about laundry. It was time Granny fessed up about Tamhas.

  The lines around Granny’s pursed lips twitched and she quickly looked away. That confirmed it. Tamhas must be someone important, because Granny was never the first to break eye contact when it came to a stare down.

  “Wow.” Kenna nudged into Trulie with another load of clothes. “Reckon Tamhas is Granny’s boyfriend?”

  “He must be,” Trulie said, joining the teasing. “That explains the voices I’ve been hearing over by the hearth after everyone’s gone to bed. Have you been carrying on a long-distance love affair through the fire portal, Granny? Is Tamhas the real reason you want to go back to the past?”

  “I have heard enough.” Granny snapped her fingers within inches of Trulie’s nose, then yanked the sweatshirt off over her head, balled it up, and threw it on the couch. “I didn’t raise any of you to treat me with such disrespect.” Head held at a haughty angle, Granny marched to the bar of cabinets separating the kitchen from the living area and perched on one of the stools. With a sharp flip of one hand, she scowled at them all. “I advise you all to get busy. I will not have us jumping the web before we’ve properly set everything in order and I know all is ready.”

  Granny lifted her chin a notch higher and motioned toward a rolltop desk in the corner. “Kenna, you’ll find the papers granting you guardianship and power of attorney in the lockbox in the bottom drawer. If anyone gives you any trouble over their legitimacy, one quick shout through the fire portal will bring Trulie and I home before the coals even cool.”


  Trulie shared a meaningful look with her sisters, added a pair of folded jeans to the pile, and stepped over a softly snoring Karma as she headed toward the kitchen. Grabbing the teakettle off the back of the stove, she went to the sink and started a slow stream of water into the pot. “You know we mean no disrespect, Granny.” Trulie settled the kettle on the stove and lit the burner. Leaning against the counter beside Granny, Trulie nudged the sullen old woman’s side. “Now who is Tamhas? Spill it. You know we only want you happy.”

  Granny took in a slow, deep breath and ran a fingernail along a meandering scratch running the length of the cutting-board countertop. “Tamhas was the man I intended to marry, what seems like an eternity ago.”

  Marry? Trulie straightened without speaking and quickly double-checked the height of the flame underneath the already sputtering teakettle. Confusion successfully clipped her tongue and muddled her ability to think. Granny had never mentioned leaving behind a man she had intended to marry. Glancing across the counter into the living room, she saw that her three sisters had frozen in place, their eyes rounded as wide as their open mouths.

  “Is Tamhas our grandfather?” Trulie shrugged and flipped her hands up in the air behind Granny’s back when Kenna gave her the I-can’t-believe-you-just-asked-that look.

  “Your mother was not born illegitimate.” Granny rolled her eyes and shook her head. “My husband—your grandfather—died while out hunting with the chieftain. Wild boars are very dangerous creatures.”

  Trulie waited. Maybe Granny would go ahead and spill the beans if she wasn’t interrupted. Catching Kenna looking as though she were about to speak, Trulie made the “zip it” motion across her mouth.

  Kenna snapped her mouth shut and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Tamhas was your grandfather’s closest friend. He became my protector after I was widowed. The protection grew to love…and it was returned.” Granny’s voice softened as though she were talking more to herself than to them. She swallowed hard and straightened her back as though struggling to contain her emotions. Granny looked up and smiled at Lilia and Mairi. “Tamhas and I were to be married the summer you two were born.”