My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts)

by Maeve Greyson

  “Can you…um.” Well, crap, she hated to ask him to help her, but who knew if there was another chair over there? Irritation flashed through her. And crime-a-nitly, wouldn’t a gentleman ask if she wanted to sit or would like a drink before he took care of himself?

  A large warm hand cupped her elbow. Trulie squeaked and jumped away from the touch.

  “Forgive me, lass.” Gray’s deep voice rumbled. “I only mean t’lead ye to the table. I thought ye might like to sit and have a drink. Would ye care to?”

  “But I saw you sitting over there.” Trulie turned toward the spot where she had last seen the royal blue cloud. It was gone. Now the blue blob shimmered right beside her.

  “I nay sat.” Gray’s tone sounded confused and just a little bit insulted. “I pulled out the chair to better lead ye to it. And I thought ye said ye couldna see me?”

  “It’s complicated.” Trulie swallowed a groan and rubbed the hot gritty corners of her eyes. Now she was irritated with herself. The color of his aura paired with his current behavior completely overrode his bullish attitude back at Tamhas and Granny’s reunion. She felt like a complete idiot.

  “Thank you,” Trulie mumbled as she reached toward the shimmering patch of blue. She swallowed hard. Confusion, irritation, and pride stuck crossways in her throat. She hated being wrong. “I really do appreciate your help.”

  Gray didn’t respond. Just slid his broad palm up into her hand and stood there.

  Trulie chewed on the corner of her bottom lip as her hand sank into the soothing blue light. The pulsating tingle in her hand shifted into high gear and rippled through her body. A sly voice in the back of her mind whispered, “Wonder how good the rest of him would make us tingle?”

  The memory of lying across the muscled expanse of Gray’s chest sucked every last drop of moisture from her already dry mouth. The rest of him had felt very nice. Very nice, indeed.

  Gray gently pulled her forward. “Your grandmother is resting comfortably farther down the way.” Gray cleared his throat. “And that cat is with her as well.”

  Trulie couldn’t resist a smile. When Gray said “that cat,” his voice took on a resigned tone, as though he struggled with the fact he despised the feline. “Kismet takes some getting used to. She thinks she’s the center of the universe and everything revolves around her.”

  “Kismet?”

  Trulie nodded as Gray carefully placed her hand atop the smooth arm of a large wooden chair. “Granny’s cat.”

  “Aye. Well…” Gray’s voice receded as the blue aura eased a few steps away and another heavy chair scraped against the stone floor. “If ye ask me, cats belong down in the pantries keeping the rodents at bay.”

  Trulie smoothed her palms atop what felt to be a large wood table. She shivered as she folded both hands in front of her. She missed the warmth of the fire. Maybe. Or could it be nerves making her insides feel as though she were on the verge of a monster case of caffeine jitters? Trulie inhaled another deep breath, catching the same scent of mouthwatering spice she had detected when she first realized she was sprawled across a very large man.

  The tantalizing aroma grew stronger as the blue aura leaned toward her, took her hand, and wrapped it around a cool metal container. Trulie’s nose twitched, and before she caught herself, her thoughts tumbled out of her mouth. “You smell good.”

  Gray chuckled. “Thank ye, lass.” His voice deepened with a seductive echo. “Ye smell verra fine yourself.”

  Trulie pressed her cold hands to her now very warm cheeks. “I mean…” Trulie patted the air to relocate the glass Gray had placed in front of her. “It seems like I remember this era smelling really bad the last time I was here.” Oh Lordy, did I just say that out loud? Trulie raised the glass and took a sip of water. Maybe if she shoved something in her mouth, she’d stop babbling like an idiot.

  “I see,” Gray responded in a strained tone.

  Trulie lowered the glass and closed her eyes. What the crap was wrong with her? She never babbled. Babbling was for…well, she just didn’t babble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that everything stunk. It’s just that…” Oh holy hell, the more she talked the farther she shoved her foot in her mouth. At the rate she was going, she would soon have her leg inserted clear to the hip.

  Gray’s rumbling laugh filled the room. “I canna say I understand a word yer saying, but I will say ye definitely have me intrigued.”

  Intrigued was good. Maybe. Trulie settled the glass back on the table and slid it farther away. “Tamhas said you needed my help. What exactly did he mean by that?”

  The atmosphere of the room immediately shifted. Tense silence filled it. Karma’s toenails clicked across the stone flooring, then faded into muffled thumps. A grumbling huff told Trulie the dog had found a spot on the pelt-covered portion of the room and settled down. Apparently, Karma had decided Gray MacKenna wasn’t a threat. That made her feel better…some.

  “Mr. MacKenna? Did you hear me?” Trulie settled against the curved back of the chair.

  “Mister?” Gray spit out the word with an impatient huff. “Ye may call me Gray, or the MacKenna. If ye wish, ye may call me chieftain. But I canna say I take to the word ‘mister.’ Sounds like lowlander speech t’me.”

  “It’s only a term of respect.” Trulie curled her laced fingers into a tighter knot. He didn’t like the word ‘mister’? Had it originally held a different connotation? “Granny always taught me to respect my elders.”

  “Elders?” Gray’s voice now had the clear sound of someone who had just been insulted. “I dare say I am no’ an elder to ye. How old do ye think I am?”

  Trulie combed her fingers back through her hair. Crime-a-nitly! Couldn’t she keep her foot out of her mouth for five minutes? Now she had insulted the man by insinuating he was old. She smoothed both hands along the sides of her head and tucked her stubborn curls back behind her ears. “I don’t think you’re old. I have no idea how old you are, and I really don’t care. You said you were the chieftain so I figured you were probably very…mature.” Well, that sounded lame. Somebody just needed to hand her a shovel so she could bury herself in the hole she had just dug with her mouth.

  “I have no’ been head of m’clan verra long. M’father died a short time ago.”

  “Oh. I am so sorry.” Trulie’s heart dropped with a painful thud. The poor man. No wonder he was so intense. Not only had he just lost his father, but he hadn’t been a leader to his people very long.

  Gray’s heavy sigh echoed through the room.

  Trulie pulled a strand of hair free and nervously curled it around one finger. After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, she leaned toward the blue cloud sitting across the table. Maybe the third time would be the charm. She had to find out what Tamhas meant about helping this man. There was just something about this whole situation filling her with an almost uncomfortable amount of anticipation. I’m meant to do something here. I can feel it. Was this why Granny had been so adamant about hurrying back to the past? “How can I help you, Chieftain MacKenna?”

  The vibrant deep-blue of Gray’s aura shifted to a dark, disturbing cloud of mist. Trulie eased back in the chair. Holy crap. Now what had she said to upset the poor man?

  “Gray.”

  Trulie folded her hands in her lap and nodded. “Yes. Your aura has turned gray. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No,” Gray said a bit louder. “I would rather ye call me Gray—if ye dinna mind.”

  “Oh.” Trulie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She had never had so much trouble communicating with another human being in her entire life. What the devil was wrong with her? It had to be because she had to rely solely on her extra senses. Yes. That had to be it. Trulie took another sip of water. No way did the zero comfort level of this conversation have anything to do with the fluttery feeling batting its wings around her stomach every time Gray MacKenna rolled his rs in her direction.

  Trulie batted a tickling curl away
from her forehead and leaned forward again. “Okay, Gray. What was Tamhas talking about? He said I was the only one who could help you. So I’m asking…help you with what?”

  The loud scraping of a chair hurriedly pushed aside, accompanied by the elongation of the murky aura in front of her told Trulie that Gray now stood. The cloud of color receded, then bounced back and forth with a jerking rhythm. Trulie blinked hard and tried to focus. Geez. She wished she could see the man. It was hard to relate to a bouncing blob of shifting mist.

  “My parents were murdered. Burned to death in the north tower. I believe the fire was no accident.” The pacing stopped as Gray’s aura darkened even more with his pain. “I intend to find and pass judgment on the killer. Tamhas said ye would know exactly how to make that come to pass. He said ye had the sight.”

  Trulie leaned back against the support of the chair and swallowed hard. Murdered? Burned to death? A violent shudder shook through her. What a horrible way to die. And that explained a lot about the eerie feeling of this place battering against her senses.

  “I…” Trulie opened her mouth then closed it. What the heck do you say after hearing something like that?

  “Once ye find the bastard…or bastards who started the fire, I will handle the rest.”

  Gray’s voice growled with emotion. Raw anger and a thirst for vengeance dripped from every syllable.

  “So Tamhas told you I can read people?” Trulie knotted her hands back in her lap and pressed them tight against her stomach. The thought of trying to solve the murder filled her with gut-wrenching uneasiness. Had Granny known about all this when she had insisted on returning to this time? Had Granny really wanted to land in the middle of all this conflict? Trulie’s inner voice—the voice that always added commentary where Granny was concerned—snorted out a loud What the hell do you think?

  “Aye.” Gray’s terse one-word response spoke volumes. “He said ye had the sight,” Gray repeated.

  Trulie took a deep breath and ignored the uncomfortable queasiness burning at the back of her throat. “Well. I think I need to explain it a bit more. I can read people and get a very accurate sense of what type of person they are, but I can’t always see everything in their minds.” Well. She really could see into peoples’ minds. But sorting through a person’s thoughts and memories always made her uneasy. She rarely used that particular gift. It drained her physically, and if she happened across someone’s more disturbing memories, the darkness haunted her for days. There were just some things she never wanted to know. “Uhm. I guess if you already have someone in mind, I could talk to them and see what I could find out. Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

  Okay. She needed to stop babbling now. Trulie finger-walked a shaking hand to her glass and brought it to her lips. The cool springwater smoothed the stomach-clenching nervousness churning ever higher.

  Breathe, Trulie Elizabeth. Her oversensitive sense of self-preservation blared a loud and clear warning. Could Gray really be trusted? Was it safe to share the truth about her abilities—all her gifts? How many times had Granny told her keeping quiet about the Sinclair talents was key to the family’s survival?

  “All I ask is that ye help find the one who set the fire. Help me find the one who bolted me mother’s doors and blocked the stairwell leading down from her private rooms. Help me find the cur who warned m’father of the danger to his woman. The bastard lured me sire there before the fire was set. I want the one who barred the tower entrance from the outside and trapped my parents inside that fiery hell. I want their neck between m’hands.”

  The air in the room pulsated with Gray’s anger. His rage battered against Trulie’s senses like a barrage of missiles exploding on impact. Trulie closed her eyes and pressed her palms against her temples. Gray’s heartbreak and bleak sense of complete loss crashed in around her. Trulie flinched and shied away. Yes. Gray could be trusted. All he wanted was to avenge his family.

  “Are ye unwell, lass? Should I send for yer grandmother?” Gray’s hands were warm against her shoulders. His aura surrounded her, then lowered to the floor. The man had to be on his knees.

  Trulie pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. Here Gray was, racked by such pain, and yet he knelt at her feet out of concern for her. Trulie’s stomach somersaulted and her heart double-thumped a fluttering sigh. Her fingers shook as she smoothed them across her cheeks and blinked against the sting of unshed tears. With a sniff, she straightened in the chair and forced a smile. He’s just being polite. Don’t read anything into it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like that. I’m fine. I’ll be…just fine.”

  “Perhaps yer weariness has o’erly taxed ye.”

  The vibrant blue aura rose as Gray stood and moved away. The warmth of Gray’s touch slid away from her shoulders, triggering an immediate shiver. Come back, all her senses cried out. Trulie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, shaking the feeling away. Breathe. Just breathe.

  “I shall have yer grandmother sent to ye.” Gray’s voice now came from behind her. He was back at the door.

  The slow creaking hinges and the soft thud confirmed it. Just that quick, he was gone.

  Trulie sagged forward, bowing her head into her hands. Why did alone suddenly seem…lonely? A cold wet nose snuffled against her. Karma grumbled a low, soothing whine and bumped his silky head up beneath her arm.

  “I love you too, Karma.” Trulie buried her face in his wooly ruff and rubbed his velvety ears. A metallic clatter and the rasping whisper of a moving door straightened her in the chair. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s only me, gal.” A trilling prrrpp announced that Kismet accompanied Granny. Soft footsteps echoed across the room, then the gentle weight of Granny’s hand rested on Trulie’s shoulder. “Gray said you weren’t well.” Granny slid a finger under her chin. “What’s ailin’ you, gal?”

  “Other than my eyes, I’m fine.” Who am I kidding? I’m confused as hell. Trulie patted the table until she found her cup. A rough tongue rasped across the back of her hand, then water splashed across her fingers. “Kismet. That’s my water.”

  A lapping sound echoed from the depths of the cup, then the rough tongue swiped her hand again. Trulie sagged back in the chair. “You’re welcome.”

  Granny squeezed her shoulders. “Come on. Get up.”

  “Where are we going now?” She really would have preferred staying put until her sight returned.

  “Coira’s waiting for you in your room. She’ll get you fed and settled in.” Granny gave her shoulders another impatient shake. “Come on, now. Time’s a wastin’.”

  “Who is Coira?” Without her sight, she felt like she needed a scorecard to keep up with all the players in this twisted game of thirteenth-century Name That Scot. Trulie held out her hands and slowly rose from the chair before Granny could shake her again. Patience was not one of Granny’s virtues.

  Granny steered her clear of the chair, then tucked her hand in the crook of her arm. “She’s our maidservant. I’ve spoken to her. She’ll help you get acclimated.”

  “So, she knows about us?” Trulie lifted her face as a waft of cool air brushed past her and the door groaned shut behind them.

  “She knows enough.” Granny patted Trulie’s hand and turned her down the hallway.

  Chapter 8

  “Dinna fret now, Mistress Trulie. Coira will have ye all unpacked and settled in yer rooms in no time a’ tall.” The bright-pink aura jabbering away in third person buzzed about the room in such a frenzy it made Trulie’s head spin. Coira must have been a hummingbird in a past life.

  “Thanks, Coira.” Trulie moved carefully through the unknown space with both hands extended. Karma’s firm weight against the side of her leg helped keep her on course. “And it’s just Trulie. Remember?”

  “Ah now, mistress. Ye’ll have Steward and Cook a whalen’ me arse with a long green switch if I dinna show ye proper respect.” The fuchsia cloud ping-ponged back to Trulie and took hold of both her hands.
“Here now. Allow me t’lead ye to the settee. Ye must sit and enjoy Cook’s fine biscuits and mead whilst I undo yer strange wee bag.”

  Trulie eased down, expecting another hard bench, but was pleasantly surprised with the softness of a plush cushion. She ran her fingertips over the seat. A knobby weave. Smooth silkiness interlaced with rough knotted threads. The cushions reminded her of Granny’s needlepoint and tapestry pillows.

  “Hold out yer hands, m’lady, and I’ll hand ye the cup.” Coira’s cotton-candy-pink aura hovered patiently in front of Trulie.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” Trulie held up both hands. “When it’s just you and me in the room, call me Trulie. Okay?” Having a personal servant didn’t feel quite right, but Trulie gladly welcomed a friend and confidante to help her adapt to this strange new world.

  “Make…a…deal.” Coira repeated the phrase as though not entirely sure of its meaning. “Is this the same sort of thing as an agreement…or perhaps a pact?”

  “Yes.” Trulie nodded as Coira placed a heavy metal cup between her hands. “We’ll make a pact that whenever we’re alone, you’ll call me Trulie. You can do that and not get in any trouble with the rest of the household—right?”

  “Aye, m’lady…er, Trulie.” Coira’s aura bounced down, then up again.

  Hmm…that must’ve been a curtsy.

  The cloud of pink floated a bit to the right as Trulie hesitantly sipped what smelled like a cloyingly sweet wine. Trulie held the liquid on her tongue and slowly breathed in, savoring the unusual flavor. The drink wasn’t like any wine she’d ever had before, and if she remembered Granny’s tales of the past correctly, the unusual twang deepening the flavor of the fermented, fruity liquid had to be honey. Trulie swallowed and quietly smacked her lips. She had no tolerance for alcohol, but this didn’t taste strong at all. Not bad.

  An amused snort reminded Trulie that Coira was still very much in the room.

  “What?”

  “Ye look like Cook when she tastes the soup t’see if more salt is needed. Ha’ ye ne’er tasted mead afore?” Coira chuckled and flitted about the room with soft thuds and pats that told Trulie Coira was still busily setting everything in order while they talked.