“M’love,” Gray whispered again, raw pain echoing in his voice.
Trulie hiccupped back a sob as her darkest fears spiraled out of control. Damn Granny. Damn Tamhas. First they had lied and said Granny had to come back to complete her last leap. Then they had lied and said they came back to this godforsaken century just to help Gray solve his parents’ murder. That wasn’t the only reason those two had pushed Gray in her path. And now look what a mess. Why the hell couldn’t they have just left her alone?
Trulie buried her face in her hands and clamped her jaws shut. Well, fine. The murders were solved and the keep had been purged of any residual evil. As for the other…Trulie clenched her teeth until she trembled. The chair beside the bed creaked as Gray stood. Good. He was finally leaving.
Trulie held her breath against another sob. Granny’s meddling had resulted in a heartbreaking failure. But it could be remedied. Trulie shivered with the finality of the decision. It was time. Time to return to the emotionless safety of the future and let Gray get on with his life in the past.
—
“No.” Gray tested the tautness of the bowstring with his thumb, then handed the weapon back to Colum. “I will no’ be going on any hunts until Lady Trulie returns to her place at m’side.” And in m’bed, Gray silently added. “There is much work to be done here.”
Colum frowned at the nock throat, then ran a hand down the red heartwood of the belly of the bow. “She seemed…” Colum’s voice trailed off as he mindlessly tapped his fingers along the delicate curves of the weapon. “She seemed…” He waved the tip of the bow through the air as though marking time for music. “She seemed a bit thin, but she looked to be well,” he finally blurted out.
She was nay well. Trulie had no’ been the same since that dreadful day. Gray selected another bow from the rack and tested the strength of the wood. “Lady Trulie needs more time to heal. I will no’ leave her side until the sadness leaves her eyes.” The hunt could be damned, along with any other duty that might pull him from the keep. Granny had asked him to be patient. He had mastered patience early on in life. He would wait an eternity if tha’s what it took to win Trulie’s smile.
“Coira—” Colum abruptly stopped speaking. He settled the bow across the battered table running the length of the weapons room.
“Coira what?” Gray prodded. Colum had the worst time when it came to sharing anything involving emotions. Ye would think the Sinclair women had cast a spell that tied the man’s tongue to punish him for the way he went through women. Gray waited, watching a myriad of emotions flash across Colum’s tensed face.
“She fears Lady Trulie intends to return to the future.” Colum took a step back as though he feared the words he had just spoken would explode in his face. “Coira is quite certain Lady Trulie plans to leave with the rise of the next full moon.”
Those words verra well could set the entire keep ablaze. Gray closed the distance between them. “What the hell has she told ye? All of it. Tell me all that has been said and ye best tell me now.” If Colum held back any knowledge that would cause Gray to lose Trulie—rage tightened his hands into fists—he would break the man in two.
“Lady Trulie blames herself for losing the child. Feels she failed ye.” Colum eased back, increasing the floor space between them. “Coira said yer wife thinks ye will be better off if she returns to the future and ye go on without her.”
“Go on without her?” Gray roared. “There will be no goin’ on without her.”
Colum white-knuckled the narrow arm of the bow he clutched against his chest. He started to speak several times, then finally flattened his lips into a closed frown and shook his head. It was obvious the man was not comfortable speaking about such things.
Gray’s aggravation cooled a bit, but his sense of urgency didn’t. Apparently, no amount of soft words could convince Trulie she was no’ at fault. Lore a’mighty. Gray turned away from Colum and walked to the long, narrow slit of a window. The opening was just wide enough to allow a man to effectively rain down a volley of arrows on any who would threaten MacKenna keep.
The bit of sky showing through the slit looked dark and ominous. Gray reached through the window and felt the air. Cold. Damp. The wind promised a bone-chilling rain, perhaps even ice or snow. Gray felt an odd sense of unity with the weather. It currently mirrored his troubled soul.
“I will speak to Granny and Coira. This verra day, even.” Gray turned and looked back at a relieved-looking Colum. “It is time for Lady Trulie to realize she is m’wife…and her place is by me side.”
—
Trulie snuggled deeper into the hooded cloak and turned her back to the frigid wind. Maybe a walk through the dormant garden hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Karma trotted up ahead. The great black dog lifted his nose to the wind, closed his eyes, and seemed to smile. In spite of herself, Trulie’s heart lightened the barest notch. Karma helped her survive the darkness.
The final visit to the tiny grave had been almost more than she could bear. But Karma’s comforting weight leaning against her had pulled Trulie through. When he’d pointed his nose toward the sky and softly howled, she had thought she’d surely break down. But in the end, the lonely cry echoing through the valley had seemed the perfect good-bye to her precious little boy.
Karma looked back and softly woofed as though urging Trulie to hurry. When she quickened her pace, he pranced forward, crunching through the frost-covered leaves. Words couldn’t describe the bliss on Karma’s face as he lapped at the scents swirling through the air.
Maybe she should try it? Trulie closed her eyes and faced the biting rush of cold. Inhaling deeply, Trulie waited for whatever it was that made Karma seem so happy. Nothing came.
Trulie ducked back around and snugged the hood around her cold face. “I don’t know what you smelled that made you so happy. All I picked up on was seawater and pine trees.”
Karma responded with a playful yip and a slow wag of his tail. Then he took off at a run and loped deeper into the maze of shrubbery winding through the end of the garden.
Trulie sighed and trudged on. Apparently, Karma had given up on completely pulling her from her dark mood. She guessed she really couldn’t blame him. She had been this way for weeks.
But everything was about to change. Trulie quickened her pace and followed Karma along the stepping-stones winding through the garden. Soon, there would be no more yards and yards of heavy clothes. No more freezing her tail off in the garderobe or balancing acts on the chamber pot. The luxuries and conveniences of simple indoor plumbing were one of the many reasons to hurry back to the future. And blue jeans. And deodorant—real deodorant. Not just a bunch of herbs rubbed against your armpits.
Trulie mentally ticked off all the wonders awaiting her in the future. Maybe if she kept her mind busy with all the stuff that would make life easier, she could find a way to ignore the sick weight of what abouts crushing the life out of her soul. What about Granny? What about Coira? And the two biggest: What about Gray? And what about her broken heart?
Trulie nearly choked from the emotions closing off her throat. Not again. She had already shed a lifetime of tears. Trulie curled tighter into the cloak, pulled the hood low over her eyes, and charged ahead.
Watching her boot tips flash in and out from under her skirt, Trulie couldn’t avoid colliding with the solid mass attached to the worn pair of boots suddenly pointed toward her. She bounced off the broad chest and would’ve toppled backward if not for the strong hands closing around her arms.
“Take care, m’love. What causes ye to hurry so?” Gray tipped back the hood of her cloak and smiled down into her eyes.
Every basic instinct urged Trulie to melt into Gray’s embrace. Just close your eyes and lose yourself in the safety of his arms. It can be all right again. Trulie blinked hard, regained her footing, and pushed herself an arm’s length away. No. She argued with her heart. Never again.
Trulie didn’t miss the shadow that immediately fell
across Gray’s face. Hurt and disappointment burned in his eyes, and his smile faded into a flat, determined line. She couldn’t help it. Once she was gone, he could set about the business of getting on with his life. He would have her forgotten in no time.
“I will no’ allow ye to leave me.” Gray closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his palm. “Ye belong here. With me. For God’s sake, forgive yerself, woman. Ye canna control what Fate deems shall be.”
“Have you forgiven me?” Trulie spit out the words as she pulled away. No matter how much Gray denied it, she would never believe him. She had watched his excitement about the baby grow with every passing day. Now he expected her to believe that he wasn’t disappointed in her? That she hadn’t failed him? For cripe’s sake, she had lost his firstborn son.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Gray retorted in a strained voice. “Why can ye no’ believe me when I say it was no’ yer fault?” Gray stomped forward, grabbed Trulie by the shoulders, and shoved his face only inches from hers. “Our child died. Our son. I hate it as much as yerself but I ha’ ne’er—not for the barest instant—blamed ye for the loss of the babe. It happens, Trulie. Why can ye no’ understand that some things are just meant t’be? Are ye no’ the one who swears ye canna make changes to the past to make a better future? Did ye no’ tell me all things happen for a reason?”
“What could possibly be the reason for taking our baby away?” Trulie sobbed more to the gods than to Gray as she pounded both fists against his chest. A keening wail escaped her as she weakly hit him again and again. “What did we do to deserve it? Why did it have to happen?”
Gray stood silent. His red-rimmed eyes shone wet with unshed tears as Trulie hammered her rage against his chest. She railed against him. Damn him for making her lose control. Damn him for cracking open the incessant ache plaguing her every waking hour. She collapsed into Gray’s arms as the brunt of her sorrow and pain finally broke free.
“I am going back to the future.” Trulie hiccupped a sob against the rough wool plaid crossing Gray’s chest. The warm spice of him surrounded her, coaxed her into voicing all her secrets. “I cannot do this kind of pain ever again. I can’t survive going through this.”
Gray gathered her closer, tightened his arms around her. He nestled her head under the crook of his chin and stroked her hair with a shaking hand. He gently rocked her to-and-fro as heart-wrenching sobs broke free and echoed her despair across the winds.
Chapter 27
“I will nay lose her to the future.” Gray walked a slow circle around the cushioned bench where a grim-faced Granny and a frowning Coira sat. “Tell me what it will take to make her stay—other than placing her in irons.” Gray didna add he would also not hesitate to lock Trulie in her chambers. He would do whate’er it took until she came to her senses.
Granny worried the strings of her apron as she stared off into space. “I don’t know how we can convince her the future really isn’t any safer from heartache than the past.”
“Ye best come up with a pretty good example or Mistress Trulie is gonna call ye a grand hypocrite.” Coira hopped up from the bench, backed up to the hearth, and smoothed her backside toward the heat.
“Coira,” Granny scolded. “Is that ladylike with a man in the room?”
“Me arse is cold and I’m a servant. I dinna have t’worry with actin’ the lady.”
Gray took in a deep breath and rubbed his fingertips hard into his throbbing temples. For some reason, it greatly disturbed him that his wife’s independent attitude appeared to be rubbing off on the servants. God help him if they all adopted her ways. “Why did ye say Granny would risk looking a hypocrite?”
“If Granny had nay taken Mistress Trulie and her sisters to the future, the youngest girls would ha’ died when they were but a few weeks old.” Coira turned and extended both hands toward the cheerful flames licking across the logs. “Mistress Trulie would surely have died too. She spoke of a weakness with her heart when she was just a girl.”
Gray turned back to Granny. “Is this true? Did ye jump to the future to escape the danger of the past?”
“That was different.” Granny snorted a disgusted huff as she slowly rose from the bench. “I did what I had to do to keep my babies alive—I was not running away from what I feared. There’s a big difference between what I did and what Trulie is about to do.” Granny toddled across the room and lit the candles of the black candelabra centered on the table. “Trulie is running from her feelings. She thinks she can outrun her pain. Somehow she’s gotten the misguided notion that if she returns to the future, life won’t be so hard to bear.” With a tired intake of breath, Granny leaned both hands on the table. “We’ve got to find a way to make her realize heartache finds you anytime it wishes. A particular century won’t protect you from its touch.”
A plotting look knotted Granny’s brow. A small grin sprouted at the corners of her pursed lips as she began pacing around the room.
Good. Gray breathed easier with the realization that Granny had shifted into the calculating frame of mind that usually ended up being a verra large pain in the arse. Hopefully, this time would be more successful. Gray was willing to risk it. “What are ye plannin’?”
“What if…” Granny paused with eyes narrowed. “Why couldn’t…” Granny started again as her face brightened with whatever was blossoming in her mind. She clapped her hands together, a full-blown plan sparkling in her eyes. “I need to look into Trulie’s future—the one that would take place if she stayed here. There’s got to be something we could show her that would convince her she needs to stay in this time. I’ve got to find something so awesome Trulie would never want to miss it.”
Granny’s logic made Gray’s head hurt worse. What the hell did she mean by looking into a particular future? The verra idea of what Granny might discover twisted his gut. Gray scrubbed a hand across his weary eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lore, he felt to be a hundred years old. “Yer scarin’ the livin’ hell outta me, old woman. Are ye certain it can be done?”
“Absolutely.” Granny snapped her fingers and smiled. “Futures are created by our choices. Every choice in life has its own particular future. The multiple possibilities from each choice are the strands that create the web of time. You know this, Gray. We showed you this with your parents.”
Gray chose to ignore Granny’s lecturing tone. “Yer certain ye can find the future Trulie needs t’see?” Gray didna ken if he liked the sound of that or not. What if Granny picked the wrong one and showed Trulie a possibility she could nay stomach?
“Let me see what I can find.” Granny rubbed both hands together in anticipation. “I haven’t played the strands of time in weeks, but I’m sure I can find the perfect choice to convince Trulie to stay.”
Gray swallowed hard. This had to work.
—
Trulie pulled the last gown from the wardrobe and held it up. Coira might be able to wear it if Granny took an inch or two off the length and added an inch or two to the bust. Her friend might be shorter but she was exceedingly better endowed. Trulie added the gown of deep green to the pile on the end of the bed. There. That should do it. All the things she had acquired since arriving in this century had been fairly divvied up.
Trulie swallowed hard as she shoved both hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. She glanced at the folded bits of parchment neatly lined up on the table. Her written good-byes would be found in the morning, long after she was gone.
A twinge of guilt twisted through her as she backed up to the fire. Trulie supposed writing out her farewells was the coward’s way, but it was all she could manage right now. Her nerves were raw from the last few weeks. She couldn’t take much more.
A light knock from the inner door of her sitting room pulled her from her thoughts. Who the devil could that be? It was nearly midnight. With a frustrated glance at her twenty-first-century attire, Trulie crossed the room in a few hurried steps, then pressed her back against the door. “Who
’s there this late?”
“It’s me,” Coira chirped with another rap against the door. “Let me in.”
Trulie locked her knees and wedged her body harder against the wood at her back. She wasn’t about to let Coira in. That would be like sounding a warning alarm for the entire northern tip of Scotland. Coira was more efficient at spreading news than the Internet.
“Go away. It’s late and I’m tired.” Trulie leaned her head back against the door and waited.
A hard thud bounced against the lower half of the door. “Let me in, Mistress Trulie. Now!”
Trulie crossed her arms. Wow. Coira was uncharacteristically bossy tonight. “You can kick the door all you want. I am not letting you in.”
“I ken what yer about. If ye dinna allow me in, I’ll wake everyone in the keep and tell them.”
Trulie straightened and stared down at the latch. How the hell did Coira know what she was up to? She had to be bluffing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go away. I’m trying to get some sleep.”
“So be it,” Coira snapped from the other side of the portal. “I’ll just go to the chieftain and tell him yer about to time jump again.”
Well, crap. Coira wasn’t bluffing. Trulie lifted up the iron latch and yanked the door open.
“See? I knew ye were about t’leave!” Coira stabbed a finger toward Trulie’s jeans. “I knew tonight would be the night ye picked t’leave us all behind.”
“So what do you want?” Trulie spoke the words carefully. If she didn’t play this just right, Coira would sound the alarm in a heartbeat.
Coira raised both hands with a shrug as a mask of innocence covered her face. Karma sat beside her with his ears perked and his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth in a toothy, doggy grin.
“What, Coira? What the hell do you want?” Trulie didn’t like the look on either of their faces. It was that smug I’ve got you right where I want you expression that always meant they had the advantage. Trulie made a mental note to scold Karma later. The dog needed to realize where his loyalties belonged.
My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts) Page 29