“I told you. I got dehydrated and then had a panic attack in the caves. You know I’ve always been a little claustrophobic.” The lie was weak and Joanna knew it, but it was the best she could do with the circumstances as they were. She hadn’t had a chance to go over all the Highland protector ground rules with Grant. They needed to have another talk about all she’d seen, what the stone had actually done to show her the past, and whether she was in any danger now that she knew the MacDaras’ story. Kind of like “we can tell you but then we’ll have to kill you”–type shit.
Time to change the subject and distract Lucia and disable her own mounting panic. “Did the Knitting Chicks get safely back home to Tennessee? I kind of abandoned them.” She made an apologetic face. “Sorry.”
Lucia rolled her eyes, rose from the bed, and refilled the half-empty glass of ice water sitting on the bedside table. “Yes. All the ladies made it back to Tennessee just fine. Annamae and Georgetta both emailed and said the group plans on coming back next year because they had such a great time.” She handed Joanna the glass and stood with arms crossed, waiting for her to drink. “Drink up, sweets. We wouldn’t want you to stay ‘dehydrated.’ ”
“Sarcasm makes you look old and bitchy. You know that, right?”
“You scared me, Joanna. I can’t handle another scare with you. Please. Don’t ever do that again.” Lucia took the glass from her and turned away, but not before Joanna spotted unshed tears shining in Lucia’s eyes. “You’re the only family that T and I have.”
“That old bastard is a meddlin’ fool.” Grant stomped into the room, coming up short when Lucia whirled around and faced him. He sheepishly ducked his chin in a polite nod. “Beg pardon, Mistress Lucia. I thought ye’d gone down to the kitchen with young Tyler.”
“For your information, I agree with that ‘old bastard.’ You are now number one on my shit list, buddy.” Lucia jabbed the air with her finger, aiming it at Grant’s chest and closing in on him with every word. “You should’ve called him sooner. What the hell is wrong with you? What if Joanna had needed immediate medical intervention? If you don’t treat her right, you won’t only have Tyler’s BB gun to worry about. I’ll make you wish your ass was back in Scotland.”
Joanna scooted up higher and elbowed the pillows tighter behind her back, thoroughly enjoying the show. Except the part about Scotland. That shot might hit a little close to Grant’s heart. But the man might as well learn right now, Lucia could be a tigress if properly provoked. Poor Grant. Doesn’t stand a chance. She winked and blew him a kiss when he looked her way for help.
“I’d ne’er let any ill befall Joanna. Surely, ye ken that.” Grant sidled his way around the room, giving Lucia a wide berth as he made his way to the bed. He slowly lowered himself and sat on the edge of it, scooped up Joanna’s hand, and clutched it to his chest. “Ye have no idea how dear this woman is t’me.”
Lucia sucked in a deep breath but before she unleashed another rant, Joanna interrupted. “We’re all good here, Lucia. Please. Let it go.” She held out her free hand to her friend and wiggled her fingers. “Come on. I need a truce between you two. I’m happier than I can remember being in a very long time. Let’s not spoil it with fussing over what could’ve or should’ve happened, okay?”
Lucia didn’t answer, just folded her arms across her chest again and glared at Grant.
“By the by, Taggart will be stoppin’ by later. You and the lad will still be here, aye? He asked after ye.” Grant visibly brightened and smiled as though he’d just told Lucia she’d won the lottery.
“You’d better teach him that I’m not that stupid or that easily distracted.”
Oh shit. Lucia’s in a ripe mood. Joanna wasn’t surprised. Lucia was as protective of her as she was of Tyler and once someone landed on her shit list—much less the number-one slot—he’d have one hell of a time getting back on her good side. “Lucia. Come on. For my sake? Truce?”
Lucia’s eyes narrowed as she took in a deep breath, then seemed to forcibly assume a more relaxed stance. “No, Mr. MacDara. Tyler and I will be leaving in a little while. He’s got baseball practice. His first game is tomorrow and this is the first year he’s played baseball instead of T-ball.”
“I see.” Grant didn’t say anything else. Apparently, Lucia’s mood and her calling him “Mr.” had been an effective warning.
“What time’s the game tomorrow?” Joanna nudged Grant. “We could go. Cheer on T.”
“Aye.” Grant risked a sideways glance at Lucia. “That is…if it would be okay with his mother.”
“Of course it would be okay.” Lucia snorted like a bull preparing to charge, then strode closer to the foot of the bed. Locking her glare with Joanna’s innocent gaze, she jerked her thumb toward the door. “T would love it and you know it. Game’s at three. We’ll see you both tomorrow.” Shifting her glare to Grant, her expression softened the barest bit. She lifted her chin and barely shrugged. “And you can tell Taggart he’s welcome to come tomorrow too. If you want. And he’s not busy.”
Grant agreed with a slow, purposeful nod. “I’ll personally see to it that the man is there, Mistress Banks.”
“Great.” Lucia gave Joanna one last stern look, then strode out the door, bellowing for Tyler to “come on” before she’d even hit the staircase leading to the kitchen.
“That woman is a great deal like Máthair, I fear.”
Joanna swung her legs off the side of the bed and hopped to her feet. “Yeah, you should probably keep that in mind. You’re going to have to do some serious damage control to get back on Lucia’s good side.” Calm, quiet Lucia might seem like the reasonable one, but she held a grudge forever.
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Grant rose and rounded the bed. “I thought I’d take ye to see the colt today if yer up to it. I always keep m’promises.”
Joanna didn’t answer. The we need to talk song was stuck on a repeating loop through her mind. Had been ever since she’d opened her eyes that morning. Dark fingers of niggling doubts had started picking away at her newfound euphoria. What exactly did all the Heartstone stuff entail? And what about loving a man from tenth-century Scotland? A man tangled up in druidic myth and legend? A man expected to serve some trio of goddesses with an ancient hammer like Scotland’s version of Thor?
Padding across the room to the armchair in the corner, Joanna sorted through the neatly folded pile of clothes that Lucia had been kind enough to bring over while she was still deep in Heartstone nightmare-land. She gathered up a change of clothes and draped them across one arm, picking away imaginary threads from her favorite dark T-shirt. She had to ask him. She had to know. Knowing was always a hell of a lot better than imagining the worst. “Could they snatch you up and send you back there at any time? Or send you somewhere else even?” There. I said it out loud. She prayed he’d say “no,” but deep down she already knew the answer. They’d jerked his ass across the centuries once and left the woman he loved behind. If they decided their precious rock was at risk, they’d damn sure do it again.
Grant crossed the room, took the clothes out of her arms, and placed them back on the chair. He lowered himself to the padded bench at the foot of the bed and gently pulled her into his lap. “ ‘They’ who? What are ye really asking me, lass? I see fear in those lovely green eyes. Talk t’me.”
You made me love you before I knew, she wanted to scream out at him at the top of her lungs. Instead, she whispered the words, struggling to hold on tight and not plunge into the abyss of hysteria. “I don’t want to end up like Leannan.”
“What?”
Be clear. Settle this now. “I know we’re not married or even engaged.” She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Damn, I suck at this. She’d spent her life hiding her true feelings about anything. How the hell was she supposed to know how to make Grant understand what she meant now? She opened her eyes, took a deep bre
ath, and started all over again. “Look, I know we’re really just at the beginning of all things serious when it comes to this relationship, but…”
“But…” Grant patiently prompted, settling her more comfortably on his lap.
“But I already know I love you and I don’t want them to ever take you away again.” She reached out and cupped his jaw in her palm, adoring the rough stubble rasping against her skin. “I don’t want those goddesses of yours to ruin what it’s taken me a lifetime to find.”
“I canna tell ye what the future may hold for us, dear one.” Grant covered her hand with his, then turned and pressed a kiss into her palm. “There have been times over the past sixteen years…” He paused, brows knotted together as he stared down at her hand. “I willna lie t’ye. There have been times since they brought us to this century that the goddesses have required one or another of us t’travel back to the past—temporarily. Sometimes we must go wherever or whenever it takes to ensure the survival of the druid clans and the safety of our cause.” He finally looked up and gave what Joanna was sure he meant as a reassuring smile but as far as she was concerned, it fell a little short. “All I can tell ye for certain, to reassure ye about the goddesses and put yer heart at ease, is that Dwyn has said they’ve already given their blessings to the two of us.”
A dark shadow crossed his face as he looked back down and sadly shook his head. “They withheld their blessing from Leannan and m’self even though she carried my child. I’ll ne’er understand their reasoning and I damn sure can ne’er explain it.” He lifted his gaze, and one corner of his mouth barely lifted in a smile. “But they’ve seen fit t’bless you and me, so ’tis my utmost hope that they’ll leave us the hell alone and that I willna be called t’travel across the centuries for quite some time—if ever again.”
“I hope so.” Joanna tensed against another unbidden thought. Might as well get it all out in the open. “By the way, I wasn’t fishing for a serious commitment right now. I’m not one of those women. Nice and slow is fine by me. Okay?”
Grant scooped her up into his arms, then turned and lowered her onto the bed. Hovering over her, a suggestive smile playing across his lips, he undid the buttons of her oversized sleep shirt. As he neatly peeled her shirt away from her breasts, he bent and kissed the valley between them with a long, heated kiss. Moving over to one side, he mouthed her nipple, gently catching it in his teeth, then treating it to a warm, wet caress of his tongue.
“Aye, lass,” he said as he fondled her other breast. “Nice and slow is fine by me as well.”
Joanna yanked away Grant’s kilt, reached down between them, and wrapped her fingers around his swollen cock. “What about the colt?” she whispered, as she rhythmically pulled and released his velvety hardness.
“Later,” Grant replied. “When we’re finished with nice and slow.”
Chapter 18
“I’ll give young Master Tyler this much—even though he’s the smallest of the lot, I do believe he’s the best.” Grant shifted on the hard aluminum bleachers, clapping and whistling as Tyler rounded the odd-shaped circle again after hitting the ball so far away that none of the other players could reach it. “Well done, lad! Well done!”
Odd game, this baseball was. Entertainin’, but appeared t’be a great deal less rough than shinty. Grant unconsciously rubbed his right leg well below the knee. He still sported a scar from when he and his brothers were young lads and Alec had hacked him with his caman and split open his shin. He returned to his position of elbows on the knees, feet spread apart, ready for the next bit of action. I believe I could grow t’like this game. He smiled to himself. Funny how such everyday things of this century ne’er interested him until they were somehow connected with Joanna.
He leaned over and nudged Joanna’s shoulder with his. “What did ye call it when he hit the ball with the stick, then made it around the circle afore the other lads could catch him?”
“Home run,” Joanna supplied without taking her eyes off Tyler. She clapped her hands over her head and waved two thumbs up at the cluster of uniformed boys hopping around the victorious Tyler, who was currently running in circles and roaring out some sort of seven-year-old battle cry. “Tyler loves any kind of sport where he can run wide open and be as loud as he wants. Lucia refuses to let him play football—’fraid he’ll get hurt, and I totally get that. He’s not as strong in basketball. He’s so small compared to the other boys. But he’s fast and super-coordinated, so if we can work on his shooting, I bet he’ll excel at that too.”
“Shooting?” Grant sat up straighter on the bleachers and stared at Joanna. “What sort of target or game do they hunt in basketball?”
Joanna gave him a look that clearly told him he’d made another feckin’ twenty-first-century blunder. Sons a bitches. So much t’remember in this damn time. Sixteen years and he still didna have the gist of all of it. He shook his head. “Never mind, lass. I can tell by the look on yer face that my ancient arse is showin’ again.”
Joanna giggled, wrapped an arm across his shoulders, and squeezed. “I love your ancient arse and don’t you forget it.”
Her words warmed his heart and made him keenly aware of the weight of the binding brooch he’d tucked away in his pocket. Today was the day. As soon as the best time presented itself, he was going to do it—ask Joanna t’be his wife. She’d accepted his legacy well enough. Believed it t’be true, although she didna try to hide her aversion to the Heartstone or the goddesses and what they might choose t’do at any given time. He didna blame her for feeling so. He hated the fact that they still had so much control over his life just as much as Joanna did.
“Look over there,” Joanna whispered with an excited pat on his back. “You were right. She does like Taggart.”
Lucia and Taggart were standing side by side, shoulders barely touching, stealing shy glances at each other like teenagers on a first date.
“Of course I was right.” Grant looked where Joanna had directed with a subtle nod of her head. “The man’s been smitten with her for well over a year now.” He wrapped an arm around Joanna’s waist and pulled her closer. “Almost as long as I’ve been smitten with ye.”
“Smitten, huh?”
“Aye.” He knew it wasna the proper word for this time, but that could just be damned. He’d adapted as much as he could. Besides—he’d won this fine woman even though he was still a bit…how did Esme put it…ah yes…still a bit backward. “I told ye why he was takin’ his time. And then there’s the matter of young Tyler. He doesna wish t’dishonor the lad’s memory of his father.”
Joanna brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes that the wind kept catching and tossing with wild abandon. She glanced over at him and smiled. “You Scots are honorable men. Lucia and I are lucky to have you.”
’Tis time. The instinctual knowledge that now was the time to ask Joanna t’be his wife shoved him up off the small section of freestanding bleachers and had him go down on one knee on the slightly muddy ground in front of her.
Joanna sat up straighter. Her lips parted, cheeks flushed, and eyes flared wide. “What are you doing?”
“What I shouldha done some time ago.” Grant fished the royal-blue velvet pouch out of the inside pocket of the leather vest he’d worn over his léine and emptied it into his hand. He stared down at the precious piece of jewelry for a long moment, gathering his courage for what he was about to do.
“When MacDara men choose a wife—and the union is fully blessed by the Heartstone and the goddesses—we give our women a brooch of Scottish agate placed in a silver setting forged by the goddess Bride herself.” He took Joanna’s hand, turned it palm side up, then placed the pin in it along with a silent prayer. “Ye ken how much I love ye. Tell me ye’ll be my wife, Joanna, so I can spend the rest of m’life with ye at my side.”
Joanna stared down at the pin, motionless. Grant watched her so closely h
e couldna even tell if the lass was breathin’. The longer she sat without responding, the worse he felt. Lore a’mighty. What will I do if she refuses?
“Married?” she finally whispered, the fingers of one hand trembling, pressed to her mouth while her other hand slowly moved the pin in the sunlight to set its rich iridescent colors to dancing.
“Aye, m’love. Marry me.” He didna add the silent please running over and over in his mind. He prayed he wouldna have to.
Joanna shifted, made an indiscernible sound, then curled her fingers around the precious bit of jewelry and gripped it so tightly her fingers lost their color. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Was that a yes?” She’d made a bit of noise that couldha been that precious word, but he couldna tell what the hell the woman had said for certain.
She barely nodded. If he hadna been staring at her face, he wouldha missed that too.
“For God’s sake, woman, tell me loud and true so I can hear the words and ken yer wishes for certain. Yer killin’ me, ye are.”
Joanna leaned forward, tucking her fisted hands under her chin and bringing her face to within barely an inch of his. “Yes, Grant MacDara. I will marry you. I said yes.”
Grant lunged forward, grabbed her up off the bleacher, and spun around with her in his arms. “The woman said yes!” Head thrown back and face upturned to the heavens, he roared at the top of his lungs, then spun around again. “She said yes!”
Scattered clusters of parents and friends of Tyler’s team and the opposing team they’d just beaten that still remained on the bleachers clapped and stomped their feet until the aluminum seating rattled like thunder.
Joanna framed his face with her hands and kissed him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.
My wife. She said she’d be m’wife. Gently, Grant lowered her to her feet, reluctant to release her from his hold. It had been such a long time since he’d felt such joy. “We must celebrate. A fine cèilidh with all the clans. We can announce the wedding date then.”
Joanna's Highlander Page 17
