Stirring Up Trouble: A Warlocks MacGregor Novella

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Chapter 4

  “Comhstach.”

  “I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you,” Donna repeated to herself, ignoring the man’s whisper. No one was there, only a voice. Sometimes she understood the half sentences. Mostly, the words were in some Celtic language she didn’t speak. She guessed Scottish Gaelic, but she really had no way of knowing. Each time they made her tremble, part with dread, part with curiosity, always with anticipation.

  Donna took a deep breath and set down her camera as it synced Misty Wallace’s senior pictures onto the computer. Without much thought, she walked toward the front door and opened it.

  A MacGregor man stood, his hand lifted as if to knock. She frowned, recognizing him as the one who’d accepted her cookies and then given her short, grumpy answers. How could she have thought he was nice? The more she’d played the scene in her head, the more she felt like a simpering idiot, and the more she became convinced this particular MacGregor lacked all charm and was a jerk. To see him at her front door, hand suspended in mid-air and a smile on his face, was bizarre to say the least.

  “What do you want?” Donna didn’t intend the question to come out as harshly as it sounded, but having him on her front porch caused a small shiver to wash over her. He was much more handsome than she’d remembered. The expression in his dark eyes reminded her of lost moments—an innocent searching she hadn’t felt since she was nine years old, a strong cup of coffee on a cold early morning, the angst of being a teen, the smell of her grandmother’s baking on a childhood afternoon, the sorrow of losing a pet, the happiness of capturing the perfect instant on film. The depths of his gaze mesmerized her, and she felt lightheaded. The impressions from the past became vivid, a waking dream full of sound and scents in no chronological order. He blinked and looked away. The rush of feelings inside her subsided as if they’d never been, leaving her feeling emptier than before.

  His expression fell, and he dropped his hand. “Ya do not sound the same as before.”

  The resonance of his voice brought her fully back into the moment. Donna arched a brow. So she didn’t sound like a bubbly airhead? He didn’t exactly sound like the arrogant asshole. “Neither do you.”

  “I wanted to thank ya for your welcome.” He held up her cookie basket. “My family put this together for ya.”

  “Comhstach,” the Scottish voice whispered in hushed determination, so soft it could have been her mind playing tricks on her.

  Donna didn’t readily take the gift. She was afraid to reach toward him. Her hands shook. There was something all too familiar about this situation. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Donna.”

  “Aye, Donna Montgomery, so ya said.” Like the rest of the MacGregors she had encountered, he had dark hair and sensual eyes and a natural sex appeal, but there was something special about him that set him apart from the others. She couldn’t place it. The idea was more of a feeling than a logical fact.

  “And you’ve never said.” She couldn’t help her small smile. “Do you have a name?”

  “Oh, Fergus MacGregor,” he answered. “Sorry, I’m not used to talking.”

  “Silent type, eh, Gus?” Donna chuckled. She held out her hand, finally willing to accept the basket. It was a lot heavier than when she’d delivered it. A chilly breeze whipped over her shoulder as if originating from inside the warm house. She looked behind her to find the source of the strange draft and said, “It’s cold. Please, come in.”

  Donna stepped aside and let Fergus pass. He paused in the entryway and looked around at her giant photo displays. “Ya must really like your family.”

  Donna laughed. “They’re my customers.”

  “Ya must really like your customers.”

  “Some of them,” Donna answered, thinking of Misty Wallace’s photo shoot processing onto her computer. The girl was as snooty as her mother and lacked all natural ability to smile…or say anything nice. “Others not so much, but I do love my job.” Noticing the boxes on her floor, she quickly slid them aside with her foot and added, “Sorry, let me just get those out of your way. I’m photographing the Annual Winter Skate and my display setups seem to overtake everything if I’m not careful.”

  “Winter Skate?”

  “Town tradition for the holidays. There’s a festival, and everyone skates the creek through the woods.”

  “Which woods?”

  “Oh.” Donna frowned. “I guess that would be through your woods now.”

  “The townsfolk plan to trespass on our land?”

  Donna pretended to study her hand. There was the arrogant tone she remembered from their first meeting. He apparently wasn’t too keen on the idea of the common people on his noble estate. She sighed, biting down the urge to say her sarcastic thoughts aloud. “Is this the first you’re hearing of it? I hope it’s not a problem. The town does it every year, and no one has lived in the mansion, so it has never been an issue, but I suppose… You should talk to the city council. I’m sure they’ll know all the permits and details and whatnot.”

  “We will do that.”

  Donna hoped they didn’t cancel the celebration. The yearly gig really was an excellent source of holiday income. Not to mention, it was a nice tradition.

  He didn’t speak, merely stared at her as if he wanted her to continue talking.

  “Comhstach,” the Scottish voice in her mind stated louder, tickling her thoughts as if she was supposed to be remembering something critically important. It was probably something from a television show, some stupid line that she couldn’t get out of her head.

  “Comhsta…” she repeated softly to herself as if saying the word might help produce the meaning.

  Fergus colored slightly. “I’m sorry, did ya just call me a…?”

  She blinked, realizing she’d started paying attention to the voice in her head instead of the man in front of her. “What? Oh, no, sorry, it’s just this thing that I’ve been trying to remember. It has been driving me crazy.”

  “It sounds like you’re attempting to say comhstach.”

  “You’ve heard of it?” Donna asked in surprise.

  “Aye. It means whore.”

  “Oh.” Donna bit her lip. So apparently the voices in her head were calling her a whore? They must be able to see the very unladylike thoughts playing in her mind about Mr. Fergus MacGregor. “Never mind. That can’t be what I’m trying to recall. Anyway…”

  She glanced uncomfortably around the room and then remembered the present. Glad to have a distraction, she pulled at the cloth covering the basket to open her gift. Setting it down on the couch, she reached inside to retrieve a stack of books. Donna read the titles aloud, “How to Cook 101. Does Everything You Make Stink? Cooking for Chronic Burners. Stop Poisoning Your Friends and Family in Ten Easy Steps.” Under the books was a stack of takeout gift cards. “Fast food cards? Is this a joke?”

  “We wanted to…” Fergus coughed nervously. “My family…gift…neighbor…should go.”

  Fergus turned to leave. Donna dropped the books onto the couch and followed him outside. She didn’t wear a coat and the winter wind whipped over her. She had tried to be polite, tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but this was too insulting.

  “I get it. I’m a bad cook. I wouldn’t blame you if you quietly threw away everything I brought up to you. But that gift you gave me? And getting upset about a winter festival? And that rude way you greeted me when I came to your door? You are kind of a jerk, Mr. MacGregor. Do you think because you’re rich you can breeze into town and do whatever you want? Treat people like this? I mean, sure I shouldn’t have brought you food. I don’t even know why I tried. But it wasn’t done with malice. I didn’t deserve your family running away from me and slamming the door in my face. Yeah, I gave Euann the benefit of the doubt and pretended that wasn’t what happened, but I think it’s pretty obvious now. And I surely don’t deserve such a spiteful gift.”

  Fergus didn’t speak.

  Donna’s chest tightened. T
he MacGregor insult stung. They didn’t know her. The gift was just mean. She felt tears burning the back of her eyes. “You know what, never mind. I’m sorry I even bothered.” She pointed at a white sheepdog sitting on the sidewalk watching them. “Welcome to Green Vallis. That dog appears to be waiting for you. You should take him and go home. Don’t worry, you won’t see me at your doorstep again, and I won’t try to talk to you.”

  Fergus didn’t know what to say or do. What did he know about women? He’d never been suave. The fates had taken pity on him when they’d sent him Elspeth.

  He should have looked in the basket before handing it to her. It wasn’t a surprise that his family had done something stupid. They’d think it was a funny prank. Donna wasn’t laughing.

  A wave of sadness passed over him, her sadness. He finally glanced to where she pointed, but Traitor wasn’t there. No dog was.

  When his attention was turned, she’d slipped back inside. Before he knew what he was doing, he followed her. She gasped as he pushed open her door while she tried to close it. “What—”

  Fergus cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He wasn’t sure what had come over him. Donna was sad, and the idea that he’d caused it forced him to act. It had been a long time since he’d kissed a woman, and at first he didn’t move his mouth. He just held his lips to hers. When he pulled away, she was breathing heavily.

  “Wha…at?” Donna reached for his face and pulled his mouth to hers. Her lips moved against his, kissing passionately. Despite the years of celibacy, the feel of her drew up the primal instinct to respond. He moaned, pulling her body against his. A myriad of emotions whirled inside him, but they were all drowned out by a rampant desire. The mindlessness of the moment took hold of them. Magick swirled in his veins, leaking from his fingertips into her skin. He couldn’t stop it.

  Donna pulled away and whispered, “Why did you do that?”

  “I say things wrong. None of my spells work,” he answered honestly.

  “Spells?” Donna gave him a dazed smile. He saw his magick dancing in her eyes. “I’m not as complicated as all that. Though I will give you this much, you have a very strange way of asking a woman out.”

  “Out where?” he asked, confused.

  “Dinner?” She smiled, and he couldn’t look away from her mouth. Her lips seemed swollen from where he’d pressed into them. “If I promise not to cook it?”

  “My family should not have insulted ya.”

  “Is that your sheepdog? It looked like it followed you here. It’s cold today. Should he come inside?” Donna leaned to look out of the open door.

  “What dog?”

  “Standing by that woman,” she said.

  Fergus didn’t see any woman or dog. “I think the light is blinding ya, lass.”

  “Huh, must be.”

  Fergus was used to magick being a big part of his life. But to see it now staring back at him from her eyes made him unsure about how to proceed. His nephews had caused a lot of problems in their own relationships by using magick. Then again, he wasn’t looking for true love. He’d had his shot at true love and had watched that love die in his arms. That reminder was like a cold splash of water.

  As much as he wanted Donna, Fergus knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Donna’s taste was still on his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to keep kissing her. No, that wasn’t true. How could he think that? He wanted nothing more than to get his wife back.

  Elspeth was his everything.

  What was he doing here? This wasn’t right.

  It felt right. Donna felt right.

  What am I doing? What am I doing?

  Fergus realized he’d said nothing and was simply staring at the woman. The daze of his magick in her eyes begged him to continue. He wanted to continue. He needed to go. He wanted to stay. He wanted his wife. He wanted Donna.

  Guilt warred with passion.

  “Perhaps I should go,” Fergus whispered.

  Donna blinked slowly. “Perhaps you should stay.”

  It took all of his willpower to release her arms from his grip. “I have…family…ya…aye.”

  Fergus practically ran from Donna’s house as if demons chased him. He didn’t stop until he was back in his bedroom. Traitor had barely moved since he’d left. The dog lifted his head, and his big, wide mouth seemed to smile knowingly.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t run away. I have to summon Elspeth,” Fergus said.

  Traitor grunted.

  “What do ya know about it?” Fergus mumbled. He fell onto the bed, refusing to touch the sensitive mass of his erection as a punishment for what he’d almost done.

  Chapter 5

  Donna could not keep the smile off her face as she made her way up the hillside to the MacGregor mansion. Her latest gift basket hung on the crook of her arm. All was right with the world. The snow was perfect and evenly spread across the slope of the hillside. She had a date with a sexy Scotsman. Well, they hadn’t confirmed an actual time and place yet, but she had a date sometime in the future.

  She hummed softly to herself. The crunch of her shoes against the snowy cobblestone drive punctuated each step. Muddy tracks from numerous car tires led the way. As if on instinct, she reached for her camera and took several shots of the mansion on the hill. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a thousand photographs of the house already, but today’s somehow seemed better. Holding the camera in one hand and the basket in the other, she continued the climb.

  The sound of laughter caught her attention. She turned her steps toward the side of the house to investigate further. Gaelic shouts became all the more pronounced. She couldn’t understand most of the good-natured teasing, but the tone of the MacGregor voices indicated they were having a good time.

  Without thought, Donna went to join them. For whatever reason, it seemed natural that she should do so. Her walk took her in the direction of the sounds emanating from the steep part of the hill that jutted toward downtown Green Vallis.

  “Ach, I’m freezing my balls off!” someone shouted.

  “Quit whining like a wee baby, Murdoch. Ya lost the last round, and now ya must pay the price with the rest of us.”

  “Shut it, Angus! That is because ya enchanted my log,” the protesting Murdoch answered.

  “And that is why ya are not the only one freezing your man bits off,” Angus said.

  “Ya know enchanting objects never goes well,” a woman said with a touch of censure as if lecturing a naughty child. “It’s no surprise his log flew a hard line for your arse.”

  “Oh, no, I do not want to hear about Angus’s arse,” Murdoch complained.

  “Ya both are whining like wee babes.” Donna’s steps faltered at the sound of Fergus’s strong voice. “Get those naked arses on the sleds or forfeit the title to me.”

  A shiver of anticipation washed over her. She had been able to think of little else since he’d kissed her. She’d waited for him to come back—hoping, praying, begging the fates to deliver him to her doorstep. When he hadn’t visited, she’d decided to go to him.

  Well, to be more exact, she’d decided to go to the grocery store, buy supplies, bake more cookies, and then come to him.

  “Let the MacGregor Winter Games begin,” a loud shout proclaimed just as Donna came around the corner of the house. Three naked MacGregor men raced snow sleds down the side of the steep hill. She recognized them as Angus, Murdoch, and Fergus. A gathering of family members stood behind the contestants, cheering them on. Her eyes followed Fergus in the lead.

  The stupidity of the moment was not lost on Donna. The route they took was hardly safe, and the temperatures were such that they would be sure to catch cold from exposure. None of these things seem to concern the MacGregors though.

  The photographer inside her instantly lifted the camera and began to shoot, even as the woman inside her blushed at the sight of grown men holding their manhoods and barreling toward the forest trees. Her lens zoomed in on Fergus, and she chuckled to herself.
He looked happy, a wide smile across his face. Suddenly, a flash of light passed over the viewfinder. She pulled it away from her eye. Another couple of flashes shot out, moving from Fergus’s hand toward the other sleds. Snow seemed to explode from the ground as if hit by a grenade.

  Donna jolted in alarm. Fireworks? She lifted the camera to try to catch what was happening, but the men were farther from view. A shot hit Fergus in the arm, and he fell off his sled, somersaulting in the snow as the other two men disappeared behind the tree line.

  Donna dropped the basket and ran toward the fallen man. The camera strap across her chest kept her from losing the equipment. Her feet slid, but she kept running.

  “Gus?” she called when he didn’t move. At the speed they’d been traveling, he would surely be injured without protection. “Gus!”

  She arrived moments before the others. Donna kneeled on the ground beside Fergus. He wasn’t moving. The siblings Malina and Iain, their cousin Rory, along with the supposed parental figures in the house—naked Angus with his wife, Margareta, and naked Murdoch with his wife, Cait—came to stand above her. Donna’s heart hammered as fear overtook her. She didn’t think, only reacted. The crimson red of blood stained the white snow, a horrifically telling contrast that all was not well. She moved her hands over the length of his naked body as if getting the nerve to go near the source of his main wound. She soon discovered his forearm was broken when she tried to lift it up from the snow. The bone had pierced through the skin. Fergus groaned softly. She instantly let go.

  “What were you guys thinking?” Donna demanded. Why weren’t they rushing to get him to the hospital?

  “Dammit, Iain! How is she here? I thought ya said the security was in place.” Angus didn’t bother to retrieve his clothing. The cold didn’t seem to trouble him.

  “It is. I checked it myself this morning after Jane and Lydia left to take Charlotte holiday shopping.” Iain appeared confused. “I don’t know how she slipped in without us knowing. Euann reinforced all of the protection spells before he left.”