Ronan didn’t respond. His face was a solemn, emotionless mask as he sat staring down at the half-empty glass and the gently sloshing ruby liquid.
Well dammit. Isn’t this a lovely little mess? I’ve successfully shut down all conversation. Mairi reached past the bottle of Rhenish and snatched up the port, refilling her glass with the liquid ammo. She’d never been a social butterfly. The ability to make pleasant idle chatter had always escaped her. Lilia must’ve hogged that precious DNA strand while they were forming in the womb because she had the ability to talk nonstop about absolutely nothing and keep her audience completely enraptured while she did it. Damn, I wish I were more like Lilia.
Mairi silently toasted that thought and took a deep draw from her glass. The heady warm sweetness of the port blossomed through her, bolstering her sagging confidence up to try-again level. Cupping her glass between her hands, she settled back more comfortably in the chair. “So, tell me…” She took another sip of confidence and drowned a nervous giggle before it escaped. “What brought you here? I don’t think you ever said.”
Ronan pushed up from his chair, strode across the room to the crystal decanters, and filled a short squat glass to the rim with a sparkling amber liquid. “I thank ye for the fine meal. I believe I’ll top it off nicely with a wee dram, if ye dinna mind.”
“So you need liquid courage too, huh?” Mairi pressed her fingers across her lips. Dammit. Did I say that out loud? She waved a hand back and forth as though erasing the words from the air. “I didn’t mean…what I meant was…”
“Aye. I ken yer meanin’ well enough.” Ronan chuckled and raised his glass to her. “Here’s to liquid courage for the both of us.”
This time, the nervous giggle bubbled past the deep swallow of port and nearly pushed the alcohol out her nose. Mairi thumped the glass to the table, coughing and fanning herself against the fiery heat cutting off her air.
Ronan rushed forward, held her arms up over her head with one hand, and thumped the side of his other hand hard between her shoulder blades. “Spit it free, lass. Cough and spit it free.”
Mairi yanked her wrists free, wheezed in a deep breath, then exploded into another paroxysm of coughing. Ronan massaged her back as she sagged forward.
Son of a bitch. I’m gonna be the first person in history to drown in a glass of port. Could this evening possibly get any worse? Well…yes, it could. If she kept coughing like this, puking would be imminent. Wouldn’t that impress this fine Highland specimen currently thumping the shit out of her back? Mairi twisted to one side and held up a hand. “I’m fine,” she gasped. Holding on to the edge of the table, she attempted to stand. The room spun at a nauseating angle. Mairi teetered a few stumbling steps to one side.
Oh holy shit. She plopped her butt back down in the chair, folded her arms against the edge of the table, and rested her head atop them. Too much alcohol. Too little food. Too well sloshed with coughing. Mairi sucked in a deep breath, shivering against the sickly cold sweat flashing through her. She gingerly turned her head to one side. Peeping over her arm, she gauged the distance to the bathroom, praying she wouldn’t have to make the trip.
The slight weight of Ronan’s hand rubbed back and forth across her shoulders. “Are ye unwell, lass? Shall I fetch Mistress Eliza?”
“Please don’t shake me.” Mairi swallowed hard against the warning sign of a cotton-dry mouth. If that spot behind her jaw started feeling like she’d just sucked on a lemon, she’d have to dive for the bathroom and pray she could slam the door closed as she slid to porcelain home plate and started retching. Why couldn’t she be a normal person when it came to overindulging with alcohol? Why couldn’t she just enjoy a fun little buzz then pass out and sleep it off?
“It appears the soup hasna set well with ye.”
Yeah. You go ahead and think it’s the soup. Mairi ran her dry tongue across her lips then pressed them tightly together. She pulled in slow deep breaths through her nose then blew them out her mouth. I will not puke. Maybe if she chanted it like a mantra, it would be so. She sucked in another deep breath and slowly shuddered it out.
Ronan gently brushed his fingers atop her arm. “I’ll fetch Mistress Eliza. Hold tight, lass.”
Mairi didn’t move, just kept deep breathing. If she could hold on until he left the room…
Her hopes grew as the thud of Ronan’s footsteps faded. The latch clicked. The hinges of the door creaked. Then a nauseating waft of rose-scented air washed over her. “Oh. My. God.” Mairi launched toward the bathroom. Halfway across the glossy tiled floor, she slid to her knees and skidded the rest of the way to the toilet. She hugged the welcomed coolness of the porcelain bowl and divested herself of everything she’d ever thought about putting in her stomach that evening.
Weak, sweating, and still draped over the toilet bowl, Mairi rested her forehead against one arm as she flushed away what had to have been at least a gallon of Rhenish and port punch well spiked with spicy ratatouille. Thank heavens Ronan missed this performance. She sagged sideways to a seated position, arms still locked about the toilet just in case. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against one arm. She’d stay like this—nice and still—until Eliza made it upstairs to help drag her sorry ass down to the privacy of her rooms. Why the hell had she been so stupid?
Footsteps thumped across the floor. A cabinet door clattered. Water quietly shushed in a sink. Good. Eliza had already made it upstairs. Mairi kept her eyes closed. Sweet Jesus. Please let Eliza wait until I’m stable enough to take an ass chewing. She’d been an idiot. She knew better than to drink so much so quickly. The last thing she needed right now was a lecture. A cool wet cloth pressed first against the side of her face then gently swabbed the back of her neck. Thank goodness.
“Here, lass. Hold the cloth to yer face whilst I carry ye to the bed.”
Mairi’s eyes popped open to find Ronan’s concerned gaze. Her stomach churned a warning gurgle. Mairi snatched the wet cloth from Ronan and pressed it hard against her mouth. “Please go get Eliza,” she mumbled around the rag as she turned away. I will not puke. I will not puke. Her stomach rolled with a nauseating slosh, gearing up for round two.
“I dinna wish to leave ye like this. I worry for ye.”
Mairi pressed the cloth against her pounding temple and gripped the toilet bowl even tighter. “Please. Get. Eliza.” She shuddered back to her previously hunched position over the toilet, praying he’d go. “Please leave,” she groaned, her voice echoing hollow and urgent against the acoustics of the porcelain bowl.
“Aye, lass.” Footsteps hurried away. “I’m verra sorry.”
Mairi closed her eyes and pressed her face to her forearm, tensing until she finally heard the sound she’d been waiting for. The bathroom door quietly closing with a gentle click.
Finally. She was alone and could sing the song of the porcelain bowl in peace.
Chapter 10
“Eat yer parritch and scones. Mairi should be down soon. She’s never been one to sleep away the day.” Eliza plopped a steaming bowl of oats in front of him. Melted butter and cream pooled in mouthwatering swirls atop the cooked grains. Another plate followed, piled high with two crusty scones, nicely golden and steaming hot as well. “Honey’s in the crock on the table. Ye’ll find more butter in yon white dish.”
Ronan stirred a spoon through the parritch, breathing in the rich nutty aroma. “Mistress Mairi may keep to her bed today. The stew didna set well with her. She was quite ill last night.”
“I doubt that the ratatouille had ought to do wi’ dear Mairi’s illness.” Eliza filled another bowl with the cooked oats and settled at the kitchen table with Ronan. “Our wee Mistress Mairi is no’ accustomed to heavy imbibing. She rarely drinks anything stronger than a bit of tea or that noxious coffee she loves.”
Ronan thought back to the previous night. Aye. Mistress Mairi had enjoyed several glasses of Rhenish and not a few glasses of Port. He shoveled in another hearty spoonful of parritch. They’d both empti
ed several glasses. It had been far easier to drink than talk. Irritation soured in his gut. How the hell could he woo the woman when he couldna think of a damn thing to say to her?
Eliza waved her spoon through the air as though it were a wand. “The two of ye merely need to relax and be open. Be honest with each other. The both of ye fret o’erly much.”
Ronan rose from the table as Mairi slowly wandered into the room. Lore a’mighty. His heart went out to her at her sallow appearance. Aye. His poor lady suffered with the bastardly feel of the day after a night spent in the cups.
“Mistress?” Ronan held out his hand.
Mairi squinted past the hand clapped across her forehead. “What?” She bit out the word as though daring Ronan to speak rashly.
“I would help ye to the table.” Ronan eased a bit closer and smiled his friendliest smile. Poor lass. Her head must be poundin’. He turned to Eliza. “Have ye no’ willow bark tea for the lady?”
Mairi waved him away and stumbled across the room to the other end of the kitchen. She kept her hand clapped over one eye as she popped open a cabinet door and pawed through the strange white bottles squatting on the shelf. “Where’s the ibuprofen, Eliza?”
Eliza pointed her spoon to a higher shelf. “Second shelf, beside the peppermint oil.”
Mairi backed up a pace, straining to see the next shelf up without letting go of her head.
“Here, lass.” Ronan pushed forward. “Allow me to help ye.” He scooped a fat white bottle off the second shelf along with a tall slender bottle made of amber glass. He held both out to her.
“Those are Eliza’s calcium tablets and her cod liver oil. Please…” Mairi snatched the items out of his hand and plunked them down on the counter. “Please just go sit down. I’ve got this.”
Eliza hooked his elbow and pulled him back to the table. “Mind my advice. Dinna poke the bear afore the bear has had her coffee.” Arching a brow higher as Mairi hissed out a string of profanity under her breath, Eliza pointed Ronan back to his chair. “Save yer hide, lad. Sit and let the bear come to ye of its own free will.”
Mairi jerked around, her red-rimmed eyes squinting into strained slits against the bright kitchen light hanging over the table. “I can hear every word you’re saying. I’ve got a hangover. I have not gone deaf.”
Ronan scrubbed a hand across his face, taking care to hide his smile. If Mairi thought he laughed at her expense, she’d kill him. Spotting a bottle of Rhenish sitting atop the counter, he plucked a cup from the hooks under the counter and poured a bit of the wine. “Here, lass. Hair o’ the dog. Have a wee splash. ’Twill make ye feel better.”
Mairi glared at him through the tangle of curls dangling across her forehead as she thumbed open a bottle and shook several of the small brown pills into her palm. She smacked the bottle atop the cabinet, briefly cringing against the sharp noise. She tossed the pills in her mouth, snatched the cup from Ronan’s outstretched hand, and upended it.
Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she gently placed the cup in the sink. “Sorry to be such a bitch. I’m going back to bed for a while.”
“Oh no.” Eliza rose from the table, wagging a finely manicured nail in the air. “Lilia forgot her laptop and she needs ye to bring it to the shop. Hie up to yer room and get on some clothes. Yer sister needs her wee computer to update her inventory.” She turned and beamed her brightest red-lipped smile at Ronan. “Chieftain Sutherland will be happy to come wi’ ye. I’m certain he’d love to see Lilia’s shop.”
Perhaps a stroll in the crisp morning air would do his lady a world of good. Ronan nodded in agreement. “Aye, Mistress Mairi. I’d be happy to accompany ye.”
“Stop calling me Mistress Mairi. It reminds me of that stupid-ass nursery rhyme.”
What the hell was the woman talking about? “Forgive me, Mist…Mairi.” Ronan bit back the words and huffed out an exasperated breath. He had to get Mairi back to his time. Perhaps there he could properly woo her. He didna care overly much for this era. He needed the surety of his own world about him. He looked to Eliza for help.
“Mairi!” Eliza grabbed hold of Mairi’s arm and firmly scooted her toward the staircase. “Shame on ye for such rudeness toward a guest. Hie yer arse up those stairs and when ye come back down, bring a bit of civility wi’ ye.”
Mairi yanked her arm free of Eliza’s grasp, whipped her hair out of her eyes, and glared across the room at Ronan. “Sorry,” she hissed out in a venomous tone that suggested otherwise.
Ronan acknowledged the forced apology with a brief nod.
As the hard thudding of Mairi’s stomping feet progressed up the stairs, Eliza turned back to Ronan. “Let that be a lesson to ye. Ply the woman with liquor at night and face a snarling banshee the next morn.”
“The woman plied herself. I had naught to do with it.” Ronan scooped his plaid from the hook beside the door and shrugged his colors about his body. “A bit of fresh air as we walk to Mistress Lilia’s shop shall do our fair beastie a world of good.”
“Walk?” Eliza snorted out an amused huff as she gathered the dishes from the table. “Ye’ll no’ convince Mairi to walk. ’Tis over three city blocks to Lilia’s shop and the season has gifted us with a bite to the air this fine morn.”
Dread tightened its claws in his gut. “Horses, then?” He prayed the old woman would agree. It had to be horses. The only other possibility struck fear into his soul.
“Oh no, m’fine brave chieftain,” Eliza said with a pointed glance at the door leading to the garage. “Yon chariot awaits. Perhaps a wee ride in the horseless carriage will goad yer wooing into the proper gear. Ye no’ have forever to win Mairi, ye ken?”
“On the contrary, old woman. I have all the time in the world. I’m immortal. Remember?” Ronan opened the garage door and peered down at the great shining beast squatting beside the stair.
“Yer Mairi is no’ immortal.” Eliza held out a square black bag to him. “ ’Tis the laptop. Dinna drop it.” She nodded her approval as Ronan clutched it gingerly against his chest. “And time grows short for the curse to be broken and the evil darkness to be permanently sealed away in its final level of hell.”
At the mention of the unnamed evil, Ronan’s blood ran cold. “Father had the witch put to death. Graham oft told me of the day he watched the wicked one held beneath the waters.”
“Pure evil is never truly destroyed as long as its incantations—its curses—remain strong and active.” Eliza’s face had grown decidedly pale beneath her carefully rouged cheeks. “It can be contained only for a while—and then great care must be taken because it finds allies anywhere it’s held. And it will wait. Patiently.” Eliza’s clasped hands tightened in front of her. “As long as the curse remains intact, the darkness knows it can rise again.”
“Rise again?” Ronan repeated the words, inwardly cringing against the possibility.
“Aye.” Eliza nodded slowly, glancing toward the stair as Mairi stomped her way back down. “We’ve no’ much time, my chieftain. On with it now, afore it’s too late for us all.”
Chapter 11
Pounding headache reduced to a dull roar, Mairi pulled her sunglasses out of the tiny purse slung over her shoulder and shoved them on her face. Of all days for Lilia to forget her stupid laptop. Mairi pushed past Ronan and stomped down the garage steps. The only upside to having to go to the shop was that Ollie’s Grind was along the way. A double shot of the coffee shop’s strongest expresso would go a long way toward making her feel human again. She yanked open the car door and slid behind the wheel. Starting the engine, Mairi leaned forward and glanced up at the landing by the door. Ronan still stood there, staring at the car as though it were a ticking bomb.
“If you’re coming with me, come on.” Ronan didn’t move. Was it possible he couldn’t hear her over the engine? Mairi huffed out an exasperated breath, hit the button to slide down the passenger-side window and leaned closer to that side of the car. “What are you waiting for? You’ve got the
laptop. Come on!”
Ronan jerked as though she’d shot him. He glanced down at the square black bag clenched between his hands then slowly pulled his gaze back to the car. The man still didn’t move a muscle. Just stood there with an oh HELL no look on his face.
Mairi impatiently tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel. Had she really been that big of a bitch this morning? Was he afraid to get in the car because he didn’t want to experience the brunt of her hangover fury again? She rewound the morning in her mind, cringing at the memory of how she’d behaved in front of this man she barely knew. The man who hadn’t run away when she’d drank her way to puking level. He’d stayed at her side and seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. He’d even gone so far as to wet a cloth with cold water and press it against the back of her neck while she tried to recover.
Mairi leaned her head on the headrest. No wonder he was afraid to be trapped in a car with her. Look how snarky she’d been after he’d treated her so kindly. Mairi switched the engine off and got out of the car. She pulled her sunglasses off and hung them by the earpiece into the vee neckline of her sweater. She wanted him to be able to see her eyes when she apologized—genuinely apologized this time.
Stopping just one step below him, Mairi held out her hand. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch. Come on. I promise it’s safe to ride with me now.”
Ronan stared down at her hand. He cleared his throat and nodded as he took hold of it and gently squeezed. “Ye were nay a bi…unkind.” The hint of a smile pulled at one corner of his mouth as he stepped down beside her and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “Ye were unwell. That is all.”
Mairi’s heart double-skipped with a faster beat, whether from Ronan’s kind words, the huskiness of his voice, or the warmth of his touch, she didn’t know nor really care. All she knew for certain was life seemed a lot more worth the effort whenever he was around. “You’re very kind. And I’m still sorry for the way I behaved.” She tugged on his hand. “Now come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee on the way to Lilia’s.”
My Tempting Highlander (Highland Hearts #3) Page 10
