“Where’s your friend?” Taggart smiled as he spotted the flick of the deer’s white tail between the greens and browns of the sheltering trees.
Hannah stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, pacing back and forth across the path. She ignored his question and gave a jerking shrug toward the woods, staring at the ground as she spoke. “Look. I know it might seem a little strange. But animals are sort of, I guess you could say ...” Hannah paused, then finally blurted, “They’re just attracted to me sometimes. It’s kind of hard to explain. Now, could we just concentrate on why you’re here please?”
Taggart perched on top of the picnic table, elbows propped on his knees. “I probably understand more about ye than ye think, Ms. MacPherson. Ye have to realize, I know a great deal about your family’s history. I’m somewhat of an expert about your past.”
Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she lifted her head. “I see.” She stopped pacing. “Why don’t you start by telling me about this Guild of Barac’Nairn since I already know my own family’s history.”
“I would like to start by callin’ ye Hannah, if ye dinna mind,” Taggart tersely replied. She’d thrown up her hackles when he’d mentioned her family history. There’d be no telling her the truth about Taroc Na Mor or her destiny until he had her on the blessed soil of the sacred ground. Taggart ground his teeth as his frustration mounted. The woman wasn’t going to make this easy. He’d just have to get her there and let the magic in her blood open up her soul to her calling. The Draecna race needed Hannah MacPherson, and whether she realized it or not, Hannah MacPherson needed them.
Hanna inhaled a deep breath through her nose and huffed it out her mouth as though she were about to vomit. With a shrug, she folded her arms across her chest and cleared her throat. “I don’t care if you call me Hannah.”
Taggart hid his smile behind his hand as he scratched the day’s stubble on his face. God’s teeth, ye’d have thought he’d asked if it was okay if he could beat the woman. The uneasy snarl in her voice sounded like a mistreated animal. So, perhaps Miss Sass was a bit unsure of herself? Good. By far, Hannah McPherson was the most hardheaded woman he’d ever met. And the greatest challenge he’d faced in quite a while. Damn, if he didna love it.
“Then, Hannah—” Taggart eased her name off his tongue like a lover calling to his mate. He wanted her to hear the music of Scotland, the magic of its sound. “Walk with me and I shall tell ye of the Guild of Barac’Nairn and how we have taken care of Taroc Na Mor down through the ages.”
They followed the path winding along the tree line and paused on the tiny bridge spanning a gurgling creek. Rays of sunlight trickled down through the canopy of branches to dance on moss-covered stones below.
“I’m the protector named by the Guild of Barac’Nairn,” Taggart began, leaning against the weathered, split-wood railing running across the bridge. “Our group has watched over Taroc Na Mor for more centuries than have been recorded by mortal man.”
Hannah twitched her fingers along the gray, wooden beam. She picked off bits of wood and tossed them into the water tumbling over the multicolored rocks lining the bed of the creek. “That doesn’t make sense,” she interrupted with a shake of her head.
Taggart froze; his body tensed with every muscle thrumming as he scanned the tree line around them. He sensed a change in the air, a tightening in the energies. Danger neared, and it loomed too close too fast. The wind carried the warning to him more surely then a blaring alarm sounding from the town square. Straightening from the rail to search the area, he laid a hand on Hannah’s arm and edged closer to her side.
“What doesna make sense?” Taggart mumbled, scanning the uppermost branches of the treetops and dropping his gaze to the darkest shadows beneath the bushes. He did his best to keep his voice low. He must keep her calm. Something neared, something meaning them both ill will. Had a minion followed them? Where the hell was it?
Hannah frowned down at Taggart’s hand on her arm, then huffed as she slid out from under his grasp. “If the Guild of Barac’Nairn has watched over Taroc Na Mor for untold centuries and you’ve known all about my family, then why didn’t my grandmother or mother hear anything about this wondrous Scottish Disneyland and inherit Taroc Na Mor before either of them died? That’s the part about your little story that doesn’t make any sense.”
With a warning growl exploding from his chest, Taggart lunged, grabbed Hannah by the shoulders, and dove over the railing of the bridge. He folded Hannah up against his chest and rolled with her underneath the structure. He cradled her head just above the water as she spit and sputtered against his chest.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your fuc—are you insane?” Hannah clawed and kicked against him as the water rushed between their bodies.
“Shut up, woman, so I can hear them!” Taggart jerked her hard against his chest, pressing his back tight against the base of the bridge. He reached out with his senses and listened across the dimensions, strained to hear the slightest sound. They had disappeared into the wind. Attack and leave, like they always did. A quick strike and then fade into the wind or the rain to ensure no one detected the destruction laced with their magic. They couldn’t risk those on this side of the threshold discovering their existence.
Taggart hauled Hannah out from under the bridge and unrolled her from his embrace. He patted her arms, felt the top of her head, then finally tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up for a closer look. “Are ye hurt? Did I scrape ye when I yanked ye over the railing?”
Blinking the water out of her eyes, Hannah hissed from between gritted teeth. “Bend down here.”
“What?” Taggart asked, bending closer to peer into her dripping face.
Hannah balled up her fist and punched him right in the mouth, giving a satisfied huff as blood spurted from his lower lip.
With a yelp of surprise, Taggart clapped his thumb to his mouth and backed a few wary steps away. “Now what did I do to deserve that, ye wicked little beast?”
“What did you do to deserve that?” Hannah’s chin dropped to her chest as she paused from wringing out her ponytail. “You drag me off the bridge, yank me into the creek, tell me to shut up, and then you ask me what you did to deserve a punch in the mouth? Are you kidding me? You’re lucky that’s all I did. And then you call me a wicked little beast?”
“Look over there!” Taggart pointed beyond the bridge to the stand of trees just even with the height of her throat. Several good-sized oaks stood twisted off as though they’d been snapped like toothpicks and now their splintered trunks lay scattered across the path like oversized stalks of harvested broccoli.
Hannah stared at the downed trees. Her fingers traveled to the base of her throat as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She turned and scanned the surrounding area, searching for the source of the destruction. “We just walked down that path.”
Taggart nodded. “Aye. We did. That very same path.”
Hannah looked back at the trees. “Those trees weren’t down then.”
Taggart shook his head. “No. They were not.”
Hannah wrapped her hand in the hem of her wet T-shirt and stretched on tiptoe to blot at Taggart’s bloody lip. “Bend down here. I’m sorry. I guess.”
Taggart bent to accept her reluctant apology. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d stopped bleeding within a few seconds. The lass hadn’t hurt him; she’d just surprised him when she’d popped him in the mouth. He came from the other side. He healed at a much faster rate. But he rather enjoyed the sight of her creamy white belly teasing him as she used the hem of her wet shirt to dab the dried blood at his mouth.
“What could cause that kind of damage? Was it some kind of freak windstorm or something? Do you have any idea? How did you know? How did you hear it?” Hannah pressed the cloth to his mouth, her gaze darting from his face back to the line of felled trees.
Taggart covered her hand with his and gently lowered it from his mouth. “Hannah
, there are powerful forces loose in this world. And some of them are nay so friendly toward us.”
Hannah’s mouth tightened into a grim, determined line. “I see. Then thank you for saving my life.” Hannah stepped back. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the felled line of trees then turned back to Taggart. “Is this what your Guild does? Protects the owners of Taroc Na Mor from these powerful forces seeking to harm them?”
“Ye might say that.” Taggart nodded. Uneasiness stabbed deep in his gut like a demon whispering, Taggart, ye’re no’ handling this tellin’ well. It didn’t bode well; the tremble in her voice gave away the emotions tainting the color of her aura. Taggart braced himself for the worst. He sensed a storm brewing. Hannah darkened like a lightning cloud about to explode across the horizon.
With a curt nod of her head, Hannah spun on her heel and stomped her way down the bridge. As she left the wood, she shouted back over her shoulder with a single wave of her hand. “Then I suggest you catch the next flight back to Scotland, Taggart. Because first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll be telling my lawyer to put Taroc Na Mor up for sale.”
“Hannah! Come back here!”
Brushing him off by flinging both hands in the air, Hannah walked faster, with a shake of her head.
“Damn the woman and her hardheaded ways!” With a muttered snarl, Taggart cursed as he scanned the felled tree line to his right one last time before taking off to follow her. As he headed up the path, a snorting buck barreled out of the brush, blocking the lane with his massive antlered head lowered.
“Ye canna protect her the way I can. Now, see reason and step aside.” Taggart came up short. He admired the animal’s loyalty, respected the multi-pronged antlers the pawing deer tossed with a threatening jerk of his bulging neck. But the creature needed to understand the adversary they faced couldn’t be defeated with physical forces of this world.
The deer snorted again, glanced at Hannah’s retreating form, then returned a stony glare to Taggart.
“I swear to ye upon my birthing shell, I’m here to keep her safe.” Taggart nodded toward Hannah. “Now, let me go. They’re still near and she doesna need to travel alone.”
The deer eased aside and faded into the trees without another sound.
CHAPTER TWO
With a flick of his wrist, Taggart erased Sheriff Matt’s memory. That should make the man forget why he thought he needed to follow him around Jasper Mills. The sheriff’s persistent shadow had become a nuisance. The man needed to tend to his regular business and get on with running from that whining lass that herded all those bairns over at the nursery.
Taggart settled back in the seat of his rental car and watched Hannah through the window of the diner. God’s teeth, but the woman vexed him. She refused to return any of his calls and left the room whenever he entered. Surely, she hadn’t meant what she said about selling off Taroc Na Mor.
Scrubbing the day’s growth of beard on his cheek, Taggart heaved a troubled sigh. He had to convince her to come back to Scotland. If he could just get those pretty feet of hers on what she didn’t realize was her homeland, he knew she’d be there for life.
Taggart shifted in the seat as he remembered how she’d felt clutched against him under the bridge. He chuckled to himself. What fire she had, when she’d drawn back that tiny fist and bloodied his lip. A woman with such fire would also house great passion. He squirmed again and adjusted the seam of his suddenly too snug pants. Gads, he needed to think about something else.
The late-evening sun glinted through the diner window on her auburn hair and reminded him of brandy swirling beneath the light of a torch. He loved the way she tossed her head when she laughed, although he noticed she didn’t laugh very often. She seemed relaxed now that it was just her and her friend. Hannah kept her guard up when others were around.
Taggart sucked in a deep breath; he understood completely. Perhaps, he and the guardian had more in common than either of them knew. Well, guard or not, Taroc Na Mor needed Hannah MacPherson and he wasn’t returning to Scotland without her.
“You should at least go see it before you sell it.” Millie thunked steaming plates of scrambled eggs and still-sizzling bacon on the table as she settled into the booth.
“I said you could feed me. I didn’t say you could lecture me.” Hannah scooped a heaping spoonful of the fluffy mound of eggs onto her plate. Millie could be such a noodge sometimes, but man, she sure could cook. Hannah added several slices of thick, hickory-smoked bacon, crisscrossing them atop the crispy mound of hash brown potatoes in danger of sliding off the rim of the dish. She always ate whenever she was troubled over a problem. “Where’s the gravy, Millie? You promised me sawhouse gravy too, remember?”
Millie wrinkled her nose as she did a double take at Hannah’s overflowing plate. “How can you eat like that and still be so tiny? No wonder everyone hated you in school.” Sliding her way back out of the booth, she headed back to the kitchen to get the thick white gravy Hannah requested.
“Everybody hated me?” Hannah pouted as Millie came back through the swinging, double doors of the diner’s kitchen. “I thought everybody hated Geena because she was the first one to get boobs.” Hannah reached for the gravy and spooned it over her potatoes.
Millie nodded. “Well, yeah. We hated her first. And then we hated you next because you ate anything that didn’t bite you first and never gained any weight.” Millie slid back into the creaking seat of the booth and began filling her own plate. “Now like I said, don’t you think you should at least go see the place before you decide to sell it? I mean, my gawd, Hannah! It’s freakin’ Scotland!”
“Exactly, Millie.” Hannah nodded as she slathered a dollop of butter across a steaming buttermilk biscuit. “Jasper Mills is my home. My roots are right here.” Hannah waved her dripping knife in the air, and then she pointed it at Millie’s face. “I told you what happened on the bridge in the park. Were you not listening to a word I said?”
Millie stared off into space, flourishing her empty fork back and forth with a slow, purposeful rhythm. “Oh, I listened.” With a deep sigh, she fell back against the cushioned back of the booth. “I also imagined what it must’ve felt like to be wrapped up in those arms and crushed against that muscled chest. I mean damn, Hannah.”
Hannah rolled her eyes as she licked the melted butter dripping down her thumb. “Oh, Millie, give me a break.”
“What? Come on, Hannah! Okay, we won’t talk about his fantastic body or that luscious, raven-black hair, but you can’t tell me you didn’t at least notice his eyes. I mean, come on! I know you’ve sworn off men, but you’ve still got to have some hormones somewhere in that skinny-ass body of yours. Vibrators can’t take care of everything.” Millie nudged Hannah with her foot as she tossed another biscuit onto her plate. “I’ve never seen such an icy set of baby blues in my life. He’s like a wolf. And the way he moves, like he’s in constant predatory mode. He looks like a pirate, or maybe a vampire, or both. Wouldn’t that be sexy? A vampire pirate who could make you immortal with one luscious bite and hold you captive at sea.”
Hannah shook her head as she nibbled the strawberry preserves off the top of her biscuit and then reloaded it with blackberry jam. “I think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
Millie tapped on Hannah’s plate with the tip of her knife as she nodded toward all the food on the table. “Then why are you gorging yourself like there’s no tomorrow? The last time you ate this amount of food was when you decided you were going to finally cave in and let Jake pop your cherry.”
Hannah stopped chewing. All of a sudden, the food in her mouth tasted like sawdust and swelled so large she wished she could spit it on the floor. She swallowed hard as she edged the biscuit back on the side of her plate and pushed it to the center of the table.
“Hannah, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t ... I just didn’t think. I shouldn’t have said that.” Millie raised a trembling hand to her mouth; her eyes widened as sh
e fidgeted along the bench.
“No. It’s okay,” Hannah said with a shake of her head. “I just suddenly realized I wasn’t that hungry anymore.” She slid her napkin between her fingers and wiped her mouth as she pushed away from the table. The sad thing was Millie was right. She knew she always ate whenever she was upset, but she hadn’t gorged herself this much since the very time Millie had mentioned. So what was her psyche trying to tell her?
“But seriously, Hannah, don’t you think you really need to see the land before you sell it? What if you get rid of it and then end up wishing you hadn’t done it?” Millie crossed the room to a get a dish tub and began clearing the untouched food from the table.
“I just don’t know,” Hannah replied as she helped Millie stack the dishes into the bin. “There are so many questions Taggart didn’t answer. He never really told me anything about this mysterious Guild of Barac’Nairn. And then what he did at the bridge today when that thing ripped through the trees. I didn’t hear a thing out there, Millie, not one single sound. And you know how the animals always warn me about everything. How did he know what was about to happen? He never answered that question either.”
“Well.” Millie paused as she balanced a few more dishes into the bin. “I hear it’s a really long flight to Scotland.”
“So what is that supposed to mean?” Hannah demanded as she followed Millie into the kitchen.
“If you have him hostage on a long flight, he’ll have to answer your questions. He can’t avoid you on that plane.” Millie slid the bin onto the counter, then turned with a scowl to Hannah. “Didn’t you say he told you he knew about your family’s history?”
Hannah caught her lip between her teeth. “I know what you’re thinking, Mill. I wonder if he knows how Grandma died. Or what could’ve killed Mama.”
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