Joanna's Highlander

by Greyson, Maeve

  “She’ll worry after her tour group. After Lucia and Tyler.” Grant scooped up Joanna’s pale, limp hand and held it. “She’ll fret about everything and accept the weight of everyone’s problems as though she caused them. I would take all her worries away, Máthair, if she’d but let me.”

  The gentle weight of his mother’s hand rested atop his shoulder. “I know, son.” She gave him a reassuring squeeze as she bent and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Ye’ll have yer chance. The Heartstone would ne’er do her permanent harm. Ye ken that in yer heart, if ye but remember the truth of yer teachings.”

  “All I ken right now is that the damn stone and the cruel goddesses are determined to ensure I know nothing but sorrow.” Grant tenderly smoothed a tress of Joanna’s hair behind her ear and rubbed the back of one finger down her cool cheek.

  “Hush now,” Sarinda said with a warning glance toward the ceiling. She barely shook her head while hurriedly straightening more herbal jars and lotions on the bedside table. “Angering the great ones is no’ the way to save yer dear lass.” One hand pressed to her heart, her gaze darted around the room.

  Finally satisfied that Grant’s words hadn’t stirred any unwanted attention, Sarinda uncorked one of the bottles of herbs and sprinkled a handful of crushed leaves across the steaming water in the basin. The crisp, clean scent of citrus and mint filled the room. “These will put a bit of energy in the air to coax yer lady from her sleep.” She wiped her hands on the cotton cloth tucked into the waistband of the apron she always wore when working with her healing medicinals. “Esme’s tryin’ her hand at a lovely meat pie recipe for yer meal. She’ll bring it ’round t’ye shortly.” She darted a quick look at the open bedroom door, a dubious expression on her face. “They smell a bit—inedible. After Esme leaves, put the pies in the woods for any wildlife brave enough t’eat them and call Mistress Lydia. She’s prepared a hearty stew and some delicious biscuits. She’ll bring them about just as quick as yer ready. I’m afraid our dear Esme still has much t’learn when it comes to conquering the kitchen.”

  “Thank ye, Máthair. Whate’er ye say. All I need at this verra moment is for my dear one t’open her eyes.”

  “Aye, well…” Sarinda lifted a brow and leveled a stern look at him that he well remembered from his youth. “Yer dear one needs a strong man to awaken to—not one weakened by starvation. Ye will eat or I’ll make ye wish ye had.” She rested a hand to the back of his head, tugged on his tied-back hair, and smiled. “I’ll be leavin’ ye now, but I’ll be back later this evening or afore if ye send for me, ye ken?”

  “Aye, Máthair. I thank ye.” Grant spoke without taking his gaze from Joanna’s motionless form. At least she seemed at peace. Still and calm as though caught in a deep, dreamless sleep. Grant leaned forward, resting his head on the pillows plumped in beside her shoulder as he cradled her hand to his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, her steady intake and expelling of air giving him a bit of solace and lulling him into a mindless daze.

  “Come back t’me, Joanna,” he said in a whisper broken with desperation. “I beg ye, lass. Come back t’me.”

  “You…you’re alive.”

  Grant opened his eyes but didn’t lift his head or move. He was afraid to, afraid he’d imagined the voice he’d hungered to hear since she’d collapsed in the chamber. Her whisper was weak. Breathy. But it was still the sweet sound he feared he’d never hear again.

  A featherlight touch settled across his cheek. “I saw you jump. From the ledge. But then everything went dark.” Joanna’s voice trembled, wavered with emotion.

  Grant raised himself up and brought both her hands to his lips. Those green eyes. Shimmering with unshed tears. Deeper and richer than he’d even imagined. He rained kisses across her knuckles, then smiled. “I am right here, mo ghaol tòidheach. I’ve been waitin’ right here for ye to return t’me.”

  “Was she…was she your wife?” Joanna caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at him with sorrow and pain etched across her face.

  Uncertainty shot a warning jab straight through Grant’s heart and nearly stole his breath. What all had the Heartstone shown Joanna? Where had it taken her? He swallowed hard, forcing himself to appear calm. “Tell me what ye saw, lass. I’ll answer ye as best I can.”

  Joanna’s reddish brows knotted together. She stared off into the distance with a troubled scowl. “I saw…” Her voice trailed off. She coughed, swallowed hard, and wet her lips.

  Grant hurried to pour a bit of the fresh ice water Máthair had brought in that morning. He unwrapped a straw, bent it, then added it to the glass. “Here, lass. Take a sip. Ye’ve no’ been with us for quite some time.”

  Joanna managed several pulls on the straw, then resettled her head on the pillow. She still looked upset as she reached for Grant’s hand and held it tight. “You were a lot younger and in a windowless stone room with a young woman. She looked so young—almost the same age as Esme. She was pregnant. I guess. She wasn’t really showing yet, but she took your hand and put it on her stomach. You both looked so…unhappy. Worried. And then I saw you and your family fighting off invaders. You climbed out the window onto a ledge. Some woman dressed like a warrior grabbed the pregnant girl and killed her when she walked out into the courtyard.” Joanna coughed, nearly choking, obviously struggling to speak through the raw feelings the retelling of her experience stirred. “The warrior woman slit the young girl’s throat and threw her down into the mud.” A tear slipped down Joanna’s cheek and she squeezed his hands. “Then you jumped off the ledge.” Joanna hiccupped back a soft sob and squeezed his hands again. “I saw you die—or at least head that way. How…when…”

  Grant took a deep breath as he returned the glass of water to the nightstand. It had been a long while since he’d allowed himself to think back to that dreadful time. He’d worn the mantle of loneliness and pain every day since then, but he’d fought to keep the detailed memories of those terrible moments hidden from the light of day. He just couldna bear reliving the crushing helplessness and pain he’d felt.

  “What you saw happened in the year 900 A.D. Sixteen years ago this past spring—by this century’s reckonin’. ’Twas right before the goddesses brought us forward to this time.” Still cradling Joanna’s hand in his, Grant sat straighter in the chair, struggling to keep the weight of what he was about to share from suffocating him. “Leannan MacClendon was the young woman who was murdered. My betrothed. The mother of my unborn child.”

  “I am so very sorry.” Joanna’s hitching whisper broke, her face crumpling as renewed tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Aye…well.” Grant leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Why the hell had the stone chosen to show Joanna such misery?

  “I don’t understand why the goddesses didn’t bring her forward too. Why wasn’t she in that room with your family, or at least hiding somewhere?” Joanna turned toward him, rolling to her side and resting a hand on his arm.

  And that perhaps was the greatest hurt of all. Leannan had refused to listen to him. She’d given up on them when the Heartstone remained cold and withheld its blessing of their betrothal. She’d tossed aside all his assurances without a thought to her actions. She’d sacrificed herself and their child. She most likely wouldha survived if she’d stayed in the hidden room as he’d told her. She might ha’ lived if she hadn’t gone to the bailey and attempted to leave the keep and return to her clan. Then the other clans wouldha given her shelter and helped her raise his child—the child of a protector.

  Staring straight ahead, Grant relived the time, narrating in heartbreaking detail all that had happened. Joanna remained silent as he spoke, her eyes wide and reflecting his pain. The goddesses’ refusal of his and Leannan’s troth. Their blessing withheld by the Heartstone. The invasion of the murderous Northmen. Yet, Dwyn had assured him that while Grant’s union with Leann
an had not been sanctioned, neither the goddesses nor the Heartstone wouldha sacrificed her and the child to the brutality of the Northmen. If Leannan had but remained hidden, the other druid clans wouldha helped her survive once the carnage ended.

  “She refused t’listen,” he repeated, locking his gaze with Joanna’s. “Why the hell would she no’ listen?”

  “I don’t know.” Joanna barely shook her head. “I just don’t know.” She squeezed his arm and did her best to smile, her pale, chapped lips quivering at the corners. “All I know for certain is that the Heartstone scares the living shit out of me and I don’t ever want to go around that thing again. Deal?”

  “But ye believe me now?” Dare he hope she’d accepted the truths she’d seen with her own eyes? Dare he believe that she’d accept him for what he was? “Ye believe all I have told ye? And ye accept it? Ye willna run to get away from me?”

  The dubious look that suddenly appeared on Joanna’s face made his blood run cold.

  “Joanna?” He needed her to answer him so badly, he’d surely go mad if she didna speak soon and seal his fate—one way or another. “Lass…please.”

  Her sudden tired, tender look and soft smile enabled him to breathe again. “I’m not going to lie to you. I so need some time to digest all of…whatever this is or was.” She pulled back the bedsheets and patted the bed beside her. “But I’m not gonna run—as long as you get in here and hold me.”

  Grant stood and stripped off his clothes and boots before she could change her mind. He eased into the bed beside her, gently scooped her into his arms, and cradled her against his chest.

  “I’ll hold ye forever, lass.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes, breathing in the reassurance of her sweet warmth melting into him.

  Joanna snuggled tighter against him until he could almost feel her smile against his chest. “Forever and ever?” she asked, nuzzling her cheek more comfortably into the dip of his shoulder.

  “ ’Til eternity ends,” he whispered against her skin. And longer, he silently added to himself.

  “I need you, Grant.” She spoke so softly he barely heard the words. ’Twas more like he felt them against his skin. “That Heartstone nightmare trip was too real. It’s stuck on replay in my head. I need you to make me forget it for a while.”

  A warm wetness seeped onto his chest. Tears. Joanna was crying.

  Ever so slowly, he slid out from under her, settled her back onto the pillows, and propped up on his elbow beside her. He gently cupped the curve of her jaw in his palm and wiped away the trail of her tears with his thumb. “Dinna cry, m’love. ’Tis all in the past. Over and done. I swear it.”

  He leaned forward and nuzzled a slow, sweet kiss across her softly trembling mouth. “We’re safe now. The both of us. Here in each other’s arms.”

  Joanna reached up and stroked his face, brushing her fingers into his hairline at the temple. “I thought I’d lost you.” She stared at him a long moment. Not blinking. Maybe not even breathing. “I’ve never felt that kind of pain before. Dark. Empty. Hopeless.” Renewed tears welled in the outer corners of her eyes, overflowed, and trickled down into her hair. “Make me forget it, Grant. I don’t want to feel anything but you.”

  “But yer weak, love.”

  “I need you. Please.”

  “Aye, m’dear heart. Aye.”

  Grant slid his arms under her shoulders and covered her mouth with his. He tightened his hold as he carefully settled over her, then slowly slid inside her. Must be gentle. She’s still weak. Her wet heat pulled him in, welcomed him, made him clench and grind to bury himself deeper.

  She wrapped her legs around him, arched into him as her hands trailed up and down his back. Never once did they break the kiss, the precious connection, as they slowly moved in tandem, bodies intertwined.

  Each time he pulled out, Joanna ground her body upward, her hands squeezing and pulling to hurry him back inside harder and faster. Grant slowly rocked into her, trying to be gentle but shuddering with the need to possess her completely and hear her cry out in pleasure. He finally broke the kiss and firmly planted his hands above her shoulders. She was close. He could tell by the way she trembled, the way her wet heat quivered and sucked him back in, demanding more with every stroke.

  “Make me forget, Grant,” she panted out as she bucked beneath him. “Love me now.”

  Grant couldna speak. All he could do was obey. He hammered hard and fast, rocking the bed back against the wall, the rhythmic thud echoing across the room. Joanna arched, clenched his arms, and screamed out something he didna quite hear since he was too busy roaring out a release of his own.

  Her legs still wrapped around him and still buried to the hilt, Grant rolled to the side and held her tight. Sheepishly, he rained kisses across her closed eyes as he realized his cock was already growing hard again inside her. “I fear I’ll have t’put m’clothes back on t’keep from lovin’ ye again.”

  Joanna didn’t answer, just pulled away the slightest bit, turned in his arms, and backed up, nuzzling her ass against his waiting erection. She reached back, grabbed one of his arms, and clamped it across her breasts. “As long as you keep doing all the work and I keep reaping all the benefits, you’re not getting out of this bed ’til morning.”

  Burying his cock back where it belonged, Grant pulled Joanna back against him and set to nibbling her shoulder while tickling the sweet button of her lady parts that he’d be tasting later to make her scream again. “Aye, lass. ’Tis a deal. Lie back against me and enjoy.” And then he decided to prove he could rock the bed from side to side just as fine as he’d pounded the headboard against the wall.

  Chapter 17

  “Hush your mouth, young lady, and breath normally, please.” Dr. Lester Farthingham rudely pressed the cold stethoscope harder against her chest. “I can’t hear a durn thing when you’re talkin’, so hush it!”

  Joanna grit her teeth and crossed her eyes at Lucia and Tyler. Seven-year-old Tyler giggled and snorted out loud until Lucia shook him by the shoulder and fixed him with the type of warning look that only a mother can give. “Go downstairs and ask Esme if she needs your help with the icing bowl. I think she finished the cupcakes for you to take to school tomorrow.”

  “To the icing bowl!” Tyler shot out the bedroom door.

  “Oh, to be seven again and have my only care in the world be licking the icing bowl,” Joanna observed.

  “What part of ‘hush it’ do you not understand, Ms. Martin?” The old doctor glared at her over the rims of his glasses, his scraggly gray mustache accentuating his displeased scowl.

  “I said I feel fine.” Joanna politely pushed Dr. Farthingham’s stethoscope away. Lucia was too freaking overprotective. It had been her overly paranoid idea to have the doctor show up at Grant’s house just to make sure Joanna checked out okay. “I just got a little dehydrated during the hike with Grant and had an attack of claustrophobia while we were exploring the cave. That’s all it was. I’m all good now.”

  Well. Sort of good. Still gotta wrap my mind around all the weirdness Grant showed me. It made her queasy just to think about it. She wasn’t about to tell the doctor what had really happened. He’d lock her up in a loony bin and throw away the key. Besides—she felt a kind of odd certainty about the whole thing that she just couldn’t explain. She had to protect Grant and all he’d shown her. He hadn’t asked her to, but she felt it deep in her bones. I’ll make him a deal. As long as I never have to go back there again, my lips are sealed.

  “Healthy folks your age don’t usually pass out and remain unconscious over twenty-four hours under such circumstances, young lady.” The blustering doctor glared at her, his black-rimmed glasses still perched on the end of his bulbous nose. His bushy gray brows knotted together like two fierce caterpillars wrestling for the best spot on a leaf. “Is there a chance you might be expecting?”
His voice took on the standard “you can tell me anything—I’m a professional” tone.

  “I always practice safe sex, Doc. Trust me, there is absolutely no chance I’m pregnant.” Well…there might be a kinda sorta chance, but hopefully not. No condoms yesterday—risky, but surely just that once…er…several times, but just one day will be okay.

  Dr. Farthingham chuckled as he removed his stethoscope and tucked it into his worn leather bag. “I delivered a healthy nine-pound girl to the Carters last week. They always practiced safe sex too.”

  “So, did she check out okay, Dr. Farthingham?” Lucia asked as she plopped down on the bed beside Joanna. “Her energy level still seems a little sapped and that’s just not like her.”

  “She just needs to build her strength back up,” the doctor answered while tucking all his tools back into his bag. “Layin’ in the bed without any fluids or nutrition takes a toll and weakens even the healthiest of bodies.” The gruff old doctor made his way to the door, his short stature and rolling gait reminding Joanna of an overweight bulldog guarding his territory. He paused just outside the doorway and frowned back at her. “Tell Grant MacDara I’ll be havin’ a long talk with his mother about him not havin’ enough sense to get the proper medical care for folks when they need it. I won’t waste my breath talkin’ to him. I know it won’t do a damn bit of good.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Lucia smiled and nodded. “I’ll make sure Grant gets the message—clearly.” As soon as Dr. Farthingham was out the door and down the hall, Lucia leaned closer to Joanna and gave her a dirty look. “Grant MacDara’s got a royal ass-chewing coming from me too. I can’t believe he let you lie here since yesterday without medical attention. Now out with it. What the hell happened? You’ve never fainted before in your life.”