Joanna's Highlander

by Greyson, Maeve

  As much as Grant wanted to argue that last point, he held his tongue. Gingerly, he closed his hand around the brooch, holding it with a tender grasp as though it were a living thing.

  So much hope rested on this hard-won bundle. So much was at risk—so much could be lost.

  “I understand,” he finally said, already dreading what he knew he had to do. “I’ll do it straightaway—as soon as I can get her to leave her charges at the bed-and-breakfast for a time. I believe after the last two days the ladies have enjoyed here at Highland Life and Legends, they might be ready to cut their visit short and take a wee rest for a day or so.”

  “Good, then.” Dwyn clapped Grant on the shoulder and smiled. “My blessings t’ye, son. Yer brothers were good enough to make certain yer personal tunnel to the vault could still be accessed and fresh supplies were laid into the alcove at the base of the stairs.” His tone grew gruff as he turned away. “They knew ye hadna paid yer proper respects to the stone or the weapons since well before the explosion on the mountain. But rest assured, ye can take yer lady the way that she should go so ye can learn yer fate with her.”

  “I thank ye, Dwyn.” Grant pulled his phone out of his sporran. “I just pray yer blessings are enough.”

  Dwyn responded with a slight dip of his chin. “I’ll leave ye to it, then. I’m off t’check on the clans if ye should need me.”

  Grant stared down at the phone in his hand. Unimaginable contentment or a return to bleak loneliness was a mere phone call away. Dread and pending doom bore down on him like a weight across his shoulders. Deep in his heart, he’d known this day was inevitable, but he’d hoped that somehow, some way, he could’ve found a way around it. Lived like an ordinary man. Finally rid himself of the MacDara legacy. He huffed out a disgruntled snort. He shouldha known better. He’d not escaped his fate in the tenth century and now it remained t’be seen what his fate would be in the twenty-first.

  He tapped Joanna’s number with his thumb and put the phone to his ear. It rang three times.

  “Hey, Grant. Can you hold on just a sec?”

  “Aye.” He’d hold the damn call forever if it meant he wouldna have to risk losing her because of his legacy, because of the whims of the goddesses and the stone.

  “I’m back. Had to get Hazel settled in. Her hangover seems worse than the others’, so Martha called Doc Farthingham to check her out.”

  “Máthair can be a better help to the woman with her herbals. Shall I send her over?” Doctor Farthingham. That man’s an arrogant arse. Grant frowned, remembering the run-in he’d had with Lester Farthingham when the fool of a man had advised daily drugging of Emrys MacDara to keep the man calm. Father didna need the old bastard’s drugs. Father just needed the proper handling and care from his family and clan. “Máthair can be there straightaway, I grant ye that.”

  “That’s okay. Doc’s already here. I feel sure that Hazel is all right, but we just wanted to be on the safe side.” Joanna’s voice dropped to a low, sultry tone. “By the way, tell your mother and Miss Lydia that I really appreciate the time off yesterday and last night. The time to get away. Just be me.” She went silent for a brief moment, but the pause told Grant volumes. “I…uhm…feel better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

  Grant nearly groaned aloud. What would the lass say after he showed her the hidden truths the MacDara clan protected? He swallowed hard and forced the apprehension out of his voice. “I’ve already thanked them, sweetling—and I feel the same.” Before Joanna could say anything else, Grant hurried to get the dreaded chore set in motion. “Would ye be available for a bit of time this afternoon? After ye’ve tended to yer ladies for the day?”

  “Absolutely,” Joanna answered. “Today’s definitely going to be a day of recovery for them.” She paused half a heartbeat, then continued in a more suggestive tone. “What exactly have you got in mind?”

  Grant stared up into the brilliance of the bright blue sky. Wisps of white clouds rode the gentle breeze. The energizing warmth of the spring day urged him on. “It looks t’be quite the fine day. Would ye fancy exploring the caves in the cliffs along the river’s edge below my house?” The woman seemed to enjoy running and being outside. Surely, she’d warm to the idea of exploring the land.

  “Caves? Really?”

  The shift to piqued interest in her voice spurred Grant on. “Aye. We might even find an arrowhead or two. There’s much history in this area.”

  “Sounds great. I’ve got to clean up the bus first. The trip back from the park was a little rough.” There was a telling pause in the conversation, then Joanna continued. “Why don’t you meet me at the car wash around two? I should be finished by then.”

  “Aye, lass.” Grant struggled to keep the dread out of his voice. “Two it is.”

  Chapter 13

  Joanna glanced at her watch, double-checked the side mirrors for any signs of the sheriff or his deputies, then floored it. She hadn’t counted on it taking so long to clean up the bus, and then she’d had to return to the bed-and-breakfast to shower and change clothes. She shuddered and suppressed a gag. The bus had been nasty. From now on, all tours would have rules regarding alcohol consumption.

  She spotted Grant standing beside his Jeep in the parking lot. Crap. He’s already here. Well…I’m not that late. Joanna waved at Grant and pulled the bus into the overnight lot of the car wash/truck stop. She pressed a hand to her chest, softly smiling at the fluttering uptick to her heartbeat and the pounding rush of I’m so glad to see you surging through her senses. Damn, I’ve got it for him bad. But what exactly was “it”? She was almost afraid to define her feelings for Grant—afraid if she did that this contentment, this sense of peace that she’d never felt before, might pop and disappear like a delicate soap bubble.

  She swallowed hard, shut down the bus, and set the parking brake. Deep down she knew what this feeling might be, but she didn’t dare say the word—not even in her thoughts. Yet she couldn’t write off this burning need for Grant as nothing more than pure lust. This was more than craving some hot skin-on-skin bonding. She needed to hear his voice. See his smile. Watch the emotions flash in his eyes. She wanted to know his thoughts, hear his memories, find out all that Grant MacDara was and wished to be.

  She’d never felt like this before and it scared the living shit out of her. He’d easily accepted her in all her jacked-up glory. No questions asked. Maybe it was that fact alone that touched her battle-scarred heart. Was this what love really was? There. She’d actually used the “L” word. Maybe not out loud, but she’d thought it. But could this be for real? If it was, then she and Matthew had totally missed the mark. Thank goodness, she’d escaped that messed-up yellow brick road straight to hell. They would’ve been miserable even if Matthew hadn’t turned out to be an abusive asshat.

  A light tap on the bus door’s window pulled her from her internal interrogation. Grant smiled up at her. She wiggled out from behind the wheel, opened the door, and bounded down the steps. She landed in front of Grant with a hop and smoothed her hands up the hard, muscular chest she couldn’t resist.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. And she was sorry. Any time away from Grant had become totally unacceptable. Tiptoeing, she snuggled up against him and gave him a quick kiss. Damn. The man felt like a slab of pure heaven sculpted into her own kilt-wearing fantasy made real.

  Grant gathered her up into a tight hug, pressed his cheek against the top of her head like he always did, and held her as though he’d never let her go. He didn’t say a word, just slowly rubbed one hand up and down her back as though attempting to memorize every sensation, every second in her presence.

  Something was wrong. Joanna felt it as surely as she felt Grant’s strong muscles flex and shift beneath her hands. Gently, she eased back and searched his face. Trouble…or something…darkened the blue ice of his eyes and drew his sandy brows together.

 
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. Maybe if she talked really low, he wouldn’t answer and whatever was wrong would just go away.

  “Nothing,” he answered just as quietly and barely shook his head. He forced a strained smile that came off more like a tensed grimace he was struggling to control. “I’ve a lot on m’mind, is all. Family business, ye understand.” He stepped back, ducking his chin as he scooped her hands up into his and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Forgive me for troublin’ ye with it.”

  “Are you sure?” He was lying. Joanna would bet her favorite pair of running shoes on it. She squeezed his hands and repeated the question. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Aye.” Grant avoided her gaze, laced his fingers with hers, and headed them toward his Jeep, parked in the automobiles-only section of the truck lot. “The day was so fine, I took the top and the doors off the Jeep. Better to enjoy the fresh air. Come. Our adventures await.”

  Joanna buckled herself in and fastened the straps of her backpack around the seatbelt across her waist just in case the off-road ride got rough. “I brought all the supplies I could remember from my hiking days. You know: water, flashlight, nylon ropes. Stuff like that.”

  Grant smiled and nodded but remained silent as he steered the Jeep out of the parking lot and roared up a gravel side road that was barely wider than a dirt path.

  Grabbing hold of the roll bar overhead, Joanna gritted her teeth and attempted to concentrate on the wilderness around them as they sped through the woodlands. Whatever the hell was bothering Grant squatted between them like an eight-hundred-pound gorilla. Fine. I’ll wear him down. He has no idea what a pain in the ass I can be when I know someone’s trying to hide something from me.

  The rough ride through the backwoods to the base of the cliffs on the river’s edge in front of Grant’s house was accomplished with no conversation. Not because Joanna had nothing to say, but because the rutted-out gravel road winding around trees and through creeks and gullies made speaking impossible.

  Just when Joanna had decided her teeth were about to rattle loose, they finally jerked to a stop in front of a secluded wide beach in the bend of the river. Smooth round rocks, weather-bleached into muted shades of white and sandy browns, covered the stretch of land just beyond a line of scraggly overgrown bushes just now greening up with the kiss of the warm spring sunshine. Rippling fingers of blue-green water with white lacy edges danced and bubbled across the surface, gently lapping against the shore, painting the rocks and scattered driftwood a darker glistening shade.

  The unmistakable scent of muddy banks, washed-out shoreline, and river water brimming with every stage of life from algae to catfish filled the air. Joanna pulled in a deep breath. This part of the world smelled new. Pure. Unspoiled. She looped her arms through her backpack and hitched it up high across her shoulders. Time to get to what was bugging Grant. “It’s gorgeous out here. I didn’t really appreciate its beauty from the house. You’re a very lucky man to have such a view, Grant MacDara.”

  “Aye,” Grant said through a tight-lipped smile. “That I am.” He pointed to the left, where the rocky strand of beach created a path around tall, knobby ridges of sandstone-layered earth. The path looked as though the river might be dipping in and out of the land, eroding its way through the hills. “This way.”

  Still short on words. Mentally, Joanna bobbed her head as though brewing for a fight. That’s fine. I can handle it. I am the queen of bullshit chitchat. “Tyler would love it here. I bet he’d find all kinds of neat stuff that’s washed ashore.”

  Grant nodded as he helped her navigate a particularly slick pile of stones. Releasing her hand as soon as they reached more solid footing, he remained silent, squinting up at the rising wall of rock and earth in front of them. Without a word, he strode forward, scaling up and across the rocks with the agility of a goat.

  Hmm. Guess the chitchat is going to have to be a bit more personal. Joanna dove forward and grabbed his arm. Grant immediately stopped and turned to face her but kept his gaze fixed on where she’d latched a tight hold to the crook of his arm rather than looking her in the eye.

  His troubled expression twisted her heart, then sank like a heavy nauseating meal to the pit of her stomach. Something was very wrong. I’ve got to lighten things up. Get him to talk to me. I can’t take this. She forced a grin and playfully tugged on his arm. “Hey! My legs are shorter than yours. This isn’t a race, is it?”

  Still avoiding direct eye contact, Grant shook his head. “Nay, lass. No race. My apologies. Ye’ll find the caves I spoke of are just up ahead around this outcropping of scrub.” He gently removed his arm from her hold and turned to continue up the shoreline.

  Well, shit! Enough of this. Joanna lurched forward and grabbed Grant’s hand, jerking him to a stop. “Enough. I’m not taking another step until you tell me what’s wrong.” A realization suddenly came to her and spewed out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You’re acting like this is the last time you’re ever going to see me. If you’re planning on dumping me, at least do it in civilization. Don’t take me out to some deserted cave and leave my ass to find my way back.” She let go of his hand, shoving it back at him as though his touch infuriated her. “Now out with it or I’m turning back right now.”

  “I canna tell ye here,” Grant said. He looked at her with such sadness, she wanted to gather him up in her arms and promise him everything would be okay, but how could she when she didn’t know what was wrong?

  Grant nodded toward the direction of the caves. “I have t’show ye. And attempt to explain.”

  Suspicion and dread fought for supremacy in Joanna’s gut, digging in their claws and twisting as though scratching out their territory. This couldn’t be good. She’d always sensed some sort of weird mystery surrounding the MacDara family. No one in town ever really talked about it because the quirky Scottish family had done so much to help the community. Everyone loved the MacDaras and their canny business sense with the theme park. They had done more to ensure the survival of Brady, North Carolina, than any taxes or federal grants had ever hoped to accomplish. But there was something about the Scots that no one ever spoke of—something secret. Joanna had tried to dig deeper but had come up empty-handed.

  What the hell could it be?

  Joanna chewed the corner of her bottom lip and slid her thumbs up under the straps of her backpack. The whispers of the waves across the rocks began to grate on her nerves. She looked back where they’d just come from, at the Jeep waiting at the end of the trail. She could go back to the bed-and-breakfast and be done with this right now. She’d had enough drama in her life to last her until she died. She didn’t need any more. She turned and looked at Grant. Like hell I can. He owns me. Heart and soul. She stood immobilized by indecision. She needed to find out what lay ahead but was terrified to do so. “Grant…please. Talk to me.”

  Grant stared down at the ground, hands knotted into fists. “I canna tell ye here,” he repeated, then turned to look out across the river as though the help he sought could be found somewhere atop the rippling water or the tree-lined banks beyond.

  “All I can do…” He paused for a long, strained moment, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, staring at the horizon. He finally turned to her and looked her in the eye. The emotions she saw flickering in the intensity of his gaze made Joanna shudder and wish they could rewind the hours and return to yesterday. This is so bad that I’m gonna lose him. The dark thought knotted in her throat and nearly choked her.

  “All I can do is ask ye to give me this chance. Please trust me, Joanna.” Taking her hand in his, he closed his eyes and pressed her fingers to his lips. “Please come with me and hear me out. I swear t’ye, I’d ne’er hurt ye or put ye in harm’s way.”

  “I know you won’t hurt me.” Joanna squeezed his hand and edged closer. “But you sure as hell haven’t made me feel any better about…whatever this is.”
>
  “Aye, well…if it’s any solace t’ye, I feel damn poor about it m’self.”

  There was that. Grant was obviously suffering. He didn’t want to do whatever it was he’d decided to do. She could see it plain as day. Joanna took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. What was it Lucia always said? “In for a penny, in for a pound.” That was it. And now Joanna finally understood what it meant. This was definitely love she felt for Grant—bona fide I want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-waking-up-beside-this-man love. There was no escaping it. The deadly emotion owned her. If she heard him out and it was something awful, she’d suffer. If she denied him this chance and went back to town right now, she’d mourn his loss the rest of her life and wonder what might have been. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

  “Son of a bitch,” she said under her breath.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I said, ‘son of a bitch’!” Her shout echoed out across the river.

  Joanna shoved past him, scrambling over the steep mound of an uprooted tree stump wedged in the hillside with mud and rocks. She looked back.

  Grant hadn’t moved. He was just standing there staring up at her.

  “Well? Are you coming or not?” She was tempted to lob a rock at him. “I can’t lead the way since I have no idea where the hell we’re going.”

  Grant set his jaw, tucked his chin, and forged past her.

  Silent and brooding, they climbed up then down the rough, river-eaten landscape. Geez. Are we climbing to the next state? Joanna adjusted the backpack across her shoulders. It was getting heavier by the minute. It had been a long time since she’d hiked, and now she remembered why she’d switched to running. She hated climbing and carting all her crap on her back like a pack animal. She bit her tongue to keep from sounding like the kid in the backseat whining, Are we there yet?

  She stared at Grant’s broad back. He was wound so tight a feather could touch him and he’d explode. His wide shoulders were tensed under the bleached linen of his shirt, stretching the material and straining the seams. He kept his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as he stomped his way higher. At least while they were following the rough upward trail, she was still oblivious to whatever ominous news lay ahead. She blew out a heavy sigh and raked a forearm across her sweating forehead. Climbing and hiking sucked, but getting your heart broken sucked harder, and she had the sinking feeling that’s what was about to happen.