by M. L. Briers
I made the mistake of looking at the man as my cheeks blazed heat, and his eyes were locked on me like a heat-seeking missile.
Busted!
I didn’t want to be busted looking at the man-god, but I did want to bust some heads. Ross and Callum going at it like eejits. The gossips on the corner chattering behind their raised hands. Moira sniggering in my ear, and Jack – poor Jack, who had just elbowed everyone else on my to-kill list out of the way to claim the number one spot.
Life sucked. It was official, and I was raising a banner over the bistro proclaiming – not that I’d walked five hundred miles and five hundred more – but that life truly sucked.
Just then Jack’s phone rang, and you could have heard a pin drop, as a gaggle of gossips all eavesdropped on his call. Me, personally, I would have hummed a tune, if it wasn’t just plain rude.
“Aye, dead, I’ll head out now,” Jack said, not realizing that everyone had their radar tuned into him. “Sheep, you say, aye – got it.”
A collective breath was released by all. Sheep dying wasn’t exactly a new thing on Skye; people ran them down all the time, especially those poor unsuspecting tourists. Well, when you’re driving along looking at the scenery and taking a picture out the car window, who had time to look at the road ahead?
“We’ll continue this later, Maggie,” Jack said, pulling me out of thoughts of killer tourists mowing down sheep, killing Gran for the love potion thing, killing Jack for being, well, Jack, or the fact that he’d let his toilet brush hairstyle grow out a little and how it looked good on him. I felt confused.
“Will we now?” I said, snubbing my nose at the man.
“Aye, we will,” he tossed back over one broad shoulder, and I opened my mouth to speak, but was suddenly, painfully aware that I had an audience watching my every move.
“I’d ask that you hold your breath on that one, outlander,” I tossed back and got the required sniggers that I was hoping for from the small gathering. With any luck, they would be deflected from thinking about anything other than him being an outsider.
“That told him, Maggie,” Callum said, looking pleased, about what exactly I didn’t know, and didn’t care to ask.
“Now, I’ll tell you, Callum McIntyre, remove that jack from outside my bistro, before a tourist tries to sue me for looking at it wrong.” I offered him the kind of scowl that a man in his right mind didn’t argue with.
“Aye, Maggie, consider it gone.” He looked suitable sorry.
“But, thank you for thinking of me,” I offered back before I turned back into the bistro and saw his chest puff out again.
Men.
CHAPTER FIVE
~
“We’ll continue this later, Maggie,” Moira mimicked Jack’s words with a depth to her voice that I’d never heard before. Of course, she didn’t sound like him, but that still didn’t stop my mind from thinking about the man. Cursed be, why did he have to come back to the island? “And the man himself standing there like he’d done nothing wrong.”
She snorted her contempt for him, and that sound was lost in the chatter of the pub. Tourists were everywhere, and our little watering hole looked like a session of the United Nations. On the way to the bar I had counted at least eight different languages and Peter, the Barman, was playing point out the drink and charades, which meant that everything was taking longer, but we were used to that during tourist season.
“Well, my offer is still open, Maggie,” Ross said, and he grinned, but it still felt as if he meant it. “And bonus, I won’t even have to leave the island to do it.” He chuckled.
“You’re not supposed to be encouraging your darker side, Ross,” I warned him.
The man had always been big, powerful, and strong, but then most Highland men felt that way. Now that we knew about Ross’ heritage and his liking for a full moon, he just seemed so much stronger, but that was a side of him that he needed to get a handle on, keep in check, and even having the thought of chomping on someone sitting there in the back of his mind wasn’t a good idea in my book.
“Family is family, and I’ll not let some outlander mess with you, Maggie,” Ross said, looking serious enough not to look like Ross.
I’m not entirely sure who felt it first, Ross, Moira or myself, but there it was, the supernatural had just walked into the pub. We all turned to look for it. In truth, I expected the bat-boy to be there with Eileen, but it certainly wasn’t the vampire.
Ross mumbled something that I couldn’t hear over the noise of the chattering crowd, and I didn’t have to turn my head to see where Ross was looking because it was obvious. They stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, and as Ross pushed up to his full height, I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like doom, as they started toward our table.
The older one of the two was tall, broad-shouldered, and slim at the waist. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t packing muscle, he was. His dark eyes were locked and loaded on Ross and my spidey senses screamed trouble.
The younger one was nearer to our age, and his physique echoed Ross’. He was bigger than his companion, but he had the same good-looking, chiseled features and dark eyes. Eyes that held secrets and maybe some lies as well.
Both men looked guarded, and I didn’t like it one little bit. Especially not the part where Ross was acting like a guard dog.
I shot a look at Moira and found her looking back at me. I could feel that, just as I was, she was drawing the energy from around us to feed our magic. Ross looked like a cat on a hot tin roof, funny really, considering he was a wolf.
Ross was right — family was family — and if they thought they were going to mess with my family, they could think again. I wasn’t sure just how much magic I could get away with using inside the crowded pub, but it would have to be enough if things got ugly.
“Uncle Lachlan,” Ross said it, but he looked confused. That was exactly how I felt when I realized who they were.
“Ross, lad.” The man’s smile was tense, and it didn’t reach his eyes. But as they performed one of those chest bumping man hugs and slapped each other on the back like they were trying to outdo each other, the atmosphere did seem to settle a little.
I still didn’t let go of my magic; there was just something about Ross’ uncle that I didn’t like.
“Ross,” the other man said, and I knew instinctively who he was.
Ross’ cousin had definitely grown into his body. As a boy; he’d visited on the island for summers, or what pretended to be summer here, and that man might have been big, brawny, and had grown into his good looks, but what was the betting that he was still a bully?
“Fraser,” Ross said as he did the manly chest bump, slappy thing with his kin.
I was too intent on watching Ross to notice that his uncle had turned his attention to me. It was only the fact that I felt his eyes glaring that pulled me away from Ross’ reunion. When I flicked a look at Lachlan, there was only suspicion and distaste looking back at me.
“Did your father not warn you about consorting with the enemy?” Lachlan might have been addressing his words to Ross, but his eyes were firmly locked on me.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be impressed, intimidated, or insulted, but I have to say; I’d go with option three over the other two.
“What are you talking about?” Ross chuckled.
“You know what they are.” Lachlan’s top lip twitched, and his eyes never left mine. A challenge perhaps?
I had no problem with playing a game of stare-out, and with two sisters I’d become very good at it over the years. That didn’t mean that the man wasn’t testing my patience — rude.
“Friends, uncle, they’re friends,” Ross assured him.
“Aye, well, that remains to be seen.” The man folded his muscle-packed arms across his broad chest and turned his attention back to his nephew.
I just loved to be insulted, challenged and dismissed – triple rude. It was the highlight of my day so far.
“Why are you here?” Ross asked.
I could get behind that question it wasn’t as if his kin visited on a regular basis anymore.
“We felt it, Ross,” Fraser said, slapping Ross on the back like he was congratulating him for something. “Did you not feel a connection to us?”
“I don’t understand.” Ross shrugged those broad shoulders.
“This isn’t really a place to talk about family matters,” Lachlan said, eyeing Moira and me as if he didn’t trust us as far as he could throw us, and given the chance I was sure that man could pitch us quite a way.
“You’ll come back with us, Ross,” Fraser said.
“I’ll come down for a visit when there’s time for…” Ross started, but his uncle cut him off.
“You need to come now, Ross. Take your place with us,” he said, and it didn’t sound as if it was up for debate.
I felt Moira’s eyes on me, but I was too interested in what was going on with Ross’ kin to pay her any mind.
“My place? I don’t understand…” Ross said. I did, and I didn’t like it.
“You’re alone, Ross. You have no… kin here,” Fraser said.
“Yes, he does.” I couldn’t hold my tongue a moment longer.
I wasn’t about to let Ross get railroaded into joining their pack, or whatever they were trying to do. It was obviously why they’d come, they wanted him, and Ross was family, an islander, and this was where he needed to be – unless he chose otherwise.
“He’ll not take advice from the likes of you,” Lachlan said, and I couldn’t be sure because of the noise of the crowd, but I thought I’d heard a small growl in there somewhere.
“Uncle.” Ross did growl, and it sounded like a warning to me.
I didn’t know anything about werewolf pack politics, and I very much doubted a quick googling of the subject would yield me any sane answers, but the problem was that Ross didn’t either.
“Ross, we all know I’m big enough, and powerful enough to take care of myself,” I tossed that out there for his Uncle’s benefit more than Ross’, and as Lachlan levelled a dark gaze on me, I felt the fine hairs on my body stand to attention as my magic naturally reacted to my mood.
I’d read enough of Eileen’s werewolf research to know that challenging one wasn’t exactly the way to go, but boy, did it feel right. I’d say the man had an attitude problem but didn’t we all?
“This is family business, and you’d do well to hold your tongue, lass,” Lachlan said, his top lip quivering slightly in anger.
“That would look pretty stupid, now wouldn’t it?” Moira said, cocking her famous eyebrow and drawing the man’s attention towards her.
“Something, an outlander, would do,” I offered to back my sister up.
“Best to hold your tongue before someone rips it out for ye,” he growled back.
I pushed up to my feet, just as Ross growled another warning that got lost in the buzz of the bar, and the alpha, because that’s what the man was, turned his body and full attention towards me.
“Sit down, Margaret McFae,” Gran’s steel voice rang out true above the crowd, and I froze in place at the sound of my full name, I hated when that happened. “Lachlan MacNabbie.”
Oh, he got the full name treatment as well. Ha! Sucker.
“Fiona…” That was all the big, brawny wolfman managed to get out as he turned his attention towards little old Gran, and she had a fierce look about her.
“I felt you coming a mile away, Lachlan, and you didnae even ask permission to set foot on the Isle,” she ground out, and all I can say is; go Granny!
“T’is family business, Fiona…”
“T’is proper to ask. You know the rules,” Gran berated the man, and I was sure that he’d shrunk in stature, not unusual when my gran got her witch on with someone.
“Aye, it was overlooked,” Lachlan conceded, and I did a mental happy dance at seeing him get his backside handed to him by a little old, fierce as you like, lady.
That had to hurt his big, masculine pride, no?
“You came to help, no doubt?” she demanded, with a flick of a look in Ross’ direction, and to say that Ross looked confused would be an understatement – he looked positively daft.
“I came to take him home…”
“This is his home,” she scowled up at the man, and if you didn’t know gran, her ability, or her personality, it might have looked a bit like a Highland Terrier going up against a Pitbull.
“You know he needs to run with family,” Lachlan lowered his voice, and I strained my ears to hear him. This wasn’t a gossip thing; this was Intel.
“He’s doing just fine.”
“Hello, standing right here,” Ross said, and bless him, he even raised his hand like he was in school and needed the toilet.
“He’ll do better with his own kind.” Lachlan ignored him, so did Gran, as she played her part in the power dynamics.
“Don’t be turning the lad’s head, Lachlan. You have a son of your own; you don’t need Ross.”
It was like watching tennis, only more exciting. To me, tennis was like golf, and I know that we invented golf, but I don’t think that was our finest hour. Although, it is true that the Scots did like to beat things with a big stick, like invaders to their lands, but still, golf? Snooze.
“But does Ross need us?” He asked.
Admittedly, my Gran had to think about that one. If Ross’ kin knew the ins and outs of a werewolf’s backside, not literally speaking, I hope, then maybe Ross spending some time with them would be good for him. Maybe Ross could learn a thing or two about controlling his beast.
Although I didn’t much care for Fraser, the big bully, and he couldn’t use his wolf side as an excuse for being an eejit, because Ross had never been a bully growing up — sure, he might have pulled a pigtail or two — but not an out and out bully. But, maybe Lachlan might be a help to Ross, and who could deny him that?
“Still standing right here,” Ross said.
I did feel sorry for him; once Gran got on her high horse there was no knocking her off it, and believe me, many had tried.
“Yes, and you make a wonderful brick wall, I’m trying to see what’s going on. Sit down.” Moira grumbled, tugging at his shirt, but Ross wouldn’t give way. I could see by the way that his hands were fisted at his sides that he was ready to protect Gran, even if she didn’t need it.
I admit I’d been steering clear of Gran since last night. That love potion was half full, and I didn’t think I could contain my anger, and a lot of curse words, if I had it out with her.
I didn’t know if she’d used the potion for me or for somebody else, but if it was for me, I thought I might just kill her. That didn’t mean that if Lachlan and Fraser decided to get a little rowdy that I wouldn’t think twice about using my magic to put them down — perhaps permanently.
I could kill my Gran, but nobody else better lay a hand on her.
“Well, that’s up to Ross to decide, but you watch your tone around my girls, and remember that Ross has free will.” Gran looked formidable, and I’m sure that even Lachlan and Fraser had worked out not to mess with her. “Now don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
CHAPTER SIX
~
For one long moment, it looked like Lachlan was caught between standing up to Gran, and the possibility that Ross would intervene on her behalf. I doubted he was a stupid man, three witches and a werewolf against the two of them weren’t good odds. He’d be lucky to get out of the pub with his furry little backside intact.
If he truly was here to take Ross back with him, then the last thing that he’d want to do was alienate him. But he was male, and they didn’t always come to a rational thought.
“We are staying at the Inn, Ross, and will be seeing you soon,” Lachlan said as he nudged Fraser and motioned toward the door with his head.
“Way to go, Gran,” Moira chuckled. The woman was never much for subtle ways, and I saw Lachlan hesitate in step at her w
ords, but he never turned back.
“Moira,” Gran used her steely tone to make my sister sink down into her chair where she rolled her eyes to the ceiling and bit her inner cheek, trying to look innocent when we all knew she was anything but.
“Can I get you a drink, Fiona?” Ross asked. He still had that gravel in his voice that said his beast was still just under his skin.
“I didn’t come for a drink, Ross. I’m not staying,” Gran said and promptly turned on her heels and strolled for the door.
I didn’t think that was a very good idea, and immediately pushed up to go after her. One witch against two werewolves wasn’t odds that I liked.
“Where are we going?” Moira asked as she rushed to get to her feet.
“I’ve got this, Ross will give you a lift home,” I tossed back over my shoulder. I didn’t need Moira tagging along behind me, but I did need to get to Gran.
For an elder, Gran was still fast on her feet. She’d made it out of the door before I reached her, and it was closing shut behind her as I reached for the handle. Wouldn’t you know it, some eejit decided that was a great time to push the stupid door open, and the wood cracked against my knuckles.
I could say the air turned blue with curse words, but that would have been an understatement. I certainly turned some heads.
“Oh, of course, it would be you,” I grumbled as I bit down on another stream of curse words that wanted to break free from my lips as I shook out the pain in my hand.
There he was — Jack — of all the people that could have hit me with the door, it had to be Jack.
“Are you all right, Maggie?” He asked as those eyebrows of his did that caterpillar mating dance, and damn did that look cute.
I hated cute. I hated him, well, sort of. I hated that he was blocking the doorway and thwarting my escape from all things Jack.
“Would you move your big self?” I bit out. Gran was getting away.
