My Seductive Highlander (6 page)

Graham didn't say a word, just resettled his footing, lifted his stubborn chin a notch higher, and smiled.

Fine. So this is how we're gonna play it.
An
I ain't tellin' and you can't make me
attitude was the quickest way to piss her off. Lilia spun about and started back down the street to the outdoor pub where Alberti and Vivienne waited. No more games and dancing around the details with a heart-stirring man she'd just met—a man she was inexplicably drawn to and suddenly missed now that he wasn't walking beside her.

“Ye canna run from me, lass,” Graham called out above the noise of the crowd.

Lilia huffed out an irritated growl but didn't bother looking back.
You've got it all wrong, handsome. I never run.
Granny obviously hadn't warned Graham who he'd be dealing with. She didn't give a rat's ass if it was August. She was heading back to the house to crank up the woodstove and Granny was going to give her some answers. Granny had meddled and manipulated Trulie, Kenna, and Mairi into returning to the thirteenth century to find their Highland husbands. She had too much going on right now to be the next one up on Granny's play list.

“I'm not leaving ye alone. I know yer…different.” Vivienne shrugged as she plopped down on the overstuffed settee in front of the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. “I don't care that yer odd as an American two-dollar bill. Weird shit doesna frighten me; ye should ken that well enough by now. Yer m'friend, pet. I worry after ye.” She plumped a pillow behind her back and crossed her ankles atop the arm of the chair.

Lilia shoved crumpled paper up under the crisscrossed sticks then took a long-stemmed match, struck it, and dotted the fire along the edges of the paper. The yellow flame took hold, melting into the thin sheets and dancing up into the bits of wood. She pulled out the silver knob, opening the damper as wide as it would go until the delicate yellow flames grew into a roaring white blaze. “I think the world of you, Viv, but I don't want to run you off when you realize I'm not batty—all the
weird shit
I've told you about is real.”

And she didn't want to lose Vivienne's friendship. If not for her and Alberti, she'd either be locked up in a psych ward by now or pushing up daisies in the local cemetery. She ran a thumb along the white scars on her wrist. They'd found her that night after she'd finally signed the papers to prosecute her low-life business partner David Sommers for embezzling and identity fraud.
That son of a bitch
. She'd trusted him, called him friend, and the bastard had nearly ruined her.

Her
true
friends, Alberti and Vivienne, had found her crouched in front of the television, drunk as hell, covered in blood, and sobbing her heart out at the evening news and all the pain her battered emotional shields had allowed to attack her soul.

Neither Alberti nor Vivienne had ever mentioned that night again. That night when she'd finally given up—and they'd saved her and stayed beside her through everything. Dammit, she didn't deserve friends like them. She was a freakin' time runner, for Christ's sake. An ancient bloodline blessed by the damn Fates. You'd think she'd be able to handle this shit alone.

“So what's this fire portal thingy like? It sounds a bit like some sort of cyber-meeting webcam-type deal. Is that what it is, lovie?” Vivienne stretched forward, unzipped her boots, then kicked them off onto the floor.

“That pretty much describes it. As soon as I get a good bed of coals built up, you'll see.” Lilia added more tinder to the base of the fire, shoving in the slivers of wood to keep the blaze roaring until the bigger chunks caught. Maybe it would be easier to confront Granny and Trulie with Vivienne at her side.

“Sounds nifty. I'm gonna pop into the kitchen and fix us a spot of tea.” Vivienne paused at the door to the parlor. “Or do ye want something a bit stronger? Espresso laced with a bit a booze maybe?”

Lilia chewed on her bottom lip, halfway tempted to build up her courage with some highly caffeinated alcohol. She finally shook her head. “No thanks. Conversations with my grandmother are best handled with a clear head.”

The fire popped and hissed. The heated air roared up the flue until the cherry-red cast-iron stove almost glowed. Lilia pushed open every window in the sitting room. A warm August night wasn't the best time for a fire portal call.

As Vivienne entered the room bearing a tray with cups, biscuits, and tea, Lilia took the cast-iron shovel and scooped away a small pile of ash-coated red coals. Cupping her hand just above them, she gently blew against the chunks of orange and red until they sparked and popped with renewed life.

“Hear me, show me, open and know me.” After saying the words, Lilia tossed the spadeful of coals back into the fire. The crackling flames disappeared as a wavering dark window slowly opened and blotted out all else within the stove.

“Holy shit,” Vivienne said as she set the tray on the coffee table in front of the settee and knelt down to stare into the woodstove.

“You opened the fire portal to curse at me? Lilia!” Granny's face flickered into view and gradually her sitting room at MacKenna Keep sharpened into focus as well. “I raised you better than that, young lady.”

“It wasn't me. It was Vivienne.” Lilia leaned over to one side and pointed back to Vivienne, now sitting on the settee with her mouth hanging wide open. “Meet Vivienne Sands. She's the friend I told you about. Remember?”

Granny's face softened with a smile and a nod. “It's my pleasure to finally meet you, Vivienne, and I can't thank you enough for being so good to my granddaughter.”

Vivienne blinked as though waking from a dream then weakly waved a hand in the air. “She's m'friend. Think nothin' of it.”

“I met some other friends of yours today, Granny.” Lilia leaned a bit closer to the portal. “Graham and Angus. Do those names happen to ring a bell?”

“Sarcasm is a very unattractive trait, child, and snarkiness is just plain ugly.” Granny appeared to sit taller in her chair as Trulie came into view just behind her.

“We sent them to check on you, sis. We know Eliza doesn't have much longer.” Trulie settled down beside Granny, concern and compassion shining in her eyes. “We're worried about you.”

“I'm fine.” Lilia battled to swallow the aching knot of sorrow lodged crossways in her throat. She took a deep breath, blinking hard and fast against the threat of tears. They had no idea how badly she was hurting and if she had her way about it, they'd never find out. Emotional pain was her burden to carry—her legacy. She had to protect her family from the emotional mess she was inside. She cleared her throat. “So who are these two you sent to check on me?”

Granny's face brightened as Chloe bounced into view. She pulled the five-year-old child up into her lap and pointed toward Lilia. “Say hello and tell Auntie Lil thank you for the newest picture book she sent to you through the portal.”

Chloe bounced and waved until her dark ringlets quivered like silky springs. “I thank ye, Auntie Lil. When will ye come t'see me again? I want ye t'see m'new horse and watch how Oren helps me ride it.”

“I'm not sure, sweetie. Perhaps very soon.” Lilia narrowed her eyes at Trulie, who refused to meet her gaze.

Trulie helped Chloe down from Granny's lap and led her to one side. “Wave goodbye to Auntie Lil. It's time for our nightly walk in the gardens with Oren before you go to bed. Granny and Auntie Lil have much to talk about.”

Chloe waved a fluttering hand as she bounced out of the room. “Bye, Auntie Lil! Love ye bunches and bunches!”

“Bye, sweetie pie! Auntie loves you too!” Lilia waved then tensed on the edge of her chair. “All right, Granny. Out with it. Who are Graham and Angus and why did you send them?”

Granny wrinkled her nose then resettled her wire-rimmed glasses a bit higher. “What did they tell you?”

“What difference does that make?” Lilia wasn't stupid. Granny was stalling and trying to calculate her next move. Lilia leaned in close again. “Care to clue me in on this vision you supposedly had?”

Granny's chin lifted the barest bit as she leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I'm worried about you. Eliza will be gone soon and you'll be all alone.” Granny pulled a white square of linen from her sleeve and pressed it against the corners of her eyes. “And I feel in my heart…” Granny paused, wet her lips, then took a deep breath. “I feel certain you're meant to stay in the future. I don't believe your destiny lies in this century with us. But I worry about you being there alone. You're different, Lilia. You've always been…special. The world hurts you to your core but you won't allow anyone close enough to help you bear the burden.”

“She's got you nailed, lovie.”

Lilia jerked around and mouthed
Shut up
at Vivienne
.

Vivienne stuck out her tongue and shook her head.

Granny chortled and snorted. “Oh, I like you, Vivienne. I'm so glad you're Lilia's friend.”

Vivienne sat up straighter on the settee. A wicked grin lit up her face. “Why, thank ye, Mother Sinclair. Lilia is the sister I never had.”

“You're avoiding the subject. Why did you send Graham and Angus?” Lilia leaned forward and blew on the coals. The connection through the portal was wavering. She needed to hurry and nail Granny down.

“To watch over you, gal. Just to watch over you.” Granny leaned closer to her side of the portal, so close Lilia swore that if she reached out she could touch the wrinkled silk of Granny's cheek. “I swear to you, Lilia. I didn't send them to bring you back or trick you into anything. Those two brutes are just a pair of plaid-wearing guardian angels sent to watch over you.” Granny's smile wavered as she blew Lilia a kiss. “Let go of your pain, Lilia. You're not meant to walk this world alone and bear the weight of your gifts by yourself. Channel your empathy, my sweet child. Remember your lessons.”

The portal darkened and Granny's face faded from view. “I love you, gal. Never forget. You are much loved by us all.”

Graham shoved aside the flimsy material hanging over the window and stared up into the ever-lightening night sky. Just as he thought. 'Twould be dawn soon. 'Twas time to be about the day—especially since his days here could verra well be short and numbered if he didna win Mistress Lilia's heart and convince her to marry him.

He rubbed his thumb across his fingertips, remembering the eerie tingle when she'd slid her tiny hand into his.
God's beard
. He'd hardened as soon as they'd touched and been filled with the urge to grab her up into his arms and never let her go.
Mine,
his heart had cried out.
Mine, forevermore.

Scrubbing his fingertips through the beard curling along his jaw, Graham turned from the window. He'd ne'er felt such before. 'Twas quite unsettling and he was no' so sure he liked it. An arranged marriage to keep his head from the pike and atone for his sins was one thing. But love? Graham shook away the thought, stomped across the room, and kicked Angus's booted foot. “Up wi' ye now. 'Twill be dawn soon.”

Angus barely twitched from his sprawled position atop a pile of pillows scattered across the floor. Without opening his eyes, he unconsciously scratched his belly, then his hand slowly slid back down to his side as a high-pitched snore whined free of his slack-jawed mouth.

“Angus!” Graham kicked the bottom of his boot again, hard enough to jolt the man's entire body.

Angus rolled to a crouching position, unsheathed both daggers, and flashed them back and forth. He jerked around, glancing about the room. “Who attacks?”

Graham blew out a weary sigh. Why the hell Mother Sinclair had saddled him wi' this great numpty was beyond reasoning. “No one attacks.” He headed toward the closed double doors at the end of the room, waving for Angus to follow. “ 'Twill be dawn soon. We must be about the day.”

Angus straightened from battle readiness, returned the daggers to their sheaths, then stretched with a bone-cracking yawn. He glanced about the room, absentmindedly scratching his arse as he waded free of his pillowed nest. “Reckon they've any food in the house? I've no' eaten since we left the keep.”

“I dinna ken.” Graham pulled open one of the double doors and looked up and down the hallway. “I'm no' even certain where the kitchens might be in this place.”

Angus lifted his nose and sniffed. “I dinna smell any food.” He pushed past Graham and stepped out into the hall, looking both ways as he rubbed at his crotch. “Where did he say the garderobe was? I need ta piss.”

Graham meandered down the hallway, scowling at the row of pristine white doors all firmly closed. “We came in there.” He pointed to a set of burgundy double doors with ornate ovals of what looked like plates of colored jewels centered in each panel. The wood floors of the hallway gleamed beneath the yellow light of the strange orbs that looked as though someone had sliced a cannonball in two and magically stuck it on the wall then lit it from within. “Alberti and the man called Thomas went up there last night.” Graham nodded toward the staircase with the rich mahogany railing. “Perhaps the garderobe is up there?”

Angus shook his head and yanked open one of the narrow doors lining the hallway. “Nah. Last night he pointed to one of these doors. I'm certain of it.” He shook his head, closed the door, and moved to the next one. “Nothing but clothes in that one.” He pulled open the next door then tilted his head to one side and scratched his jaw. “Reckon this is it?”

Graham peered over Angus's shoulder. “God a'mighty. That there be the biggest chamber pot I do believe I've ever seen.” He shoved past Angus, stepping into the tiny tiled room. Easing forward, he leaned over the great white porcelain bowl half filled with water. “This must be it but I daresay whoever pissed here last must no' have been verra healthy. Look how clear their piss be.”

“What's that silver handle for?” Angus tapped a finger atop another white porcelain bowl, this one waist high and built into a cabinet with silver knobs and spouts to boot.

“I dinna ken.” Graham thumped the cool bit of metal behind the oversized chamber pot with one finger. Nothing happened.

“Hit it harder.” Angus nodded toward the porcelain bowl in the floor. “It wiggled a wee bit. I think ye need ta hit it harder.”

“Harder, ye say?” Graham squatted down beside the bowl, studying the silver handle from every angle. He hooked two fingers atop the metal piece and pushed down hard.

The huge chamber pot came to life. Water whooshed and gurgled, swirling in a tempest until it disappeared with a hollow
glug glug glug
. Graham quickly rose and stepped back. “God a'mighty. Did ye see that?”

“Aye,” Angus replied, his voice filled with awe. “And look. The water returns. It rises as we speak.”

Graham leaned over the pot, watching the slowly rising water. “Amazing.”

“I'm no' pissin' in that thing.” Angus hiked up his kilt, stood on tiptoes, and leaned over the waist-high porcelain bowl built into the cabinet. “I'll piss here—looks t'be much safer.”

“I dinna blame ye, lad.” Graham clapped a hand to Angus's shoulder. Any magic that sucked away water with such a fury could verra well be a danger to a man's cock.

The thumping of footsteps overhead and down the stairway caught Graham's attention. He left Angus to his business, squeezing behind the man to step back out into the hallway. Strange place, this future. 'Twould take him a lifetime to discover all that had changed.

Hair disheveled and still buttoning his shirt, Alberti emerged from the stairwell. “Good morning, Graham. You're up bright and early today.” He padded barefoot down the hallway, motioning for Graham to follow. “Come with me, my good man. I'll have a spot of coffee ready in no time. Or do you prefer tea?” Alberti turned, one dark brow arched, waiting for Graham's response.

“Ale, if ye dinna mind.” He had no idea what coffee was and the only time a man drank tea was when he was ailin'. Graham squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. Surely the man didna think he looked unwell.

Alberti frowned as he finished buttoning his shirt and yanked it wrinkle free. “Ale? Hmm…I'll see what I can find.” He disappeared through a strange door that swung back and forth as though toyed with by spirits.

Graham followed. Raising a hesitant hand to the strange door, he gritted his teeth and pushed through it. The door swung back and thumped his arse once he walked through. He glared back at the door, waiting for another attack of the wicked spirits. The door calmly settled in place. His fists relaxed at his sides.
Aye. Just as well
. Alberti had been a kind host. 'Twould be a shame to destroy a part of his home.

Alberti hurried past him, pulled open the swinging door, and thumped down a strange-looking leg at its base that propped it open. “There now. As soon as Angus gets out of the loo, he'll be able to hear us here in the kitchen. I do hope the man is not unwell. I couldn't help but notice the toilet keeps flushing.”

The toilet keeps flushing.
Recognition dawned. Graham stuck his head back into the hallway and bellowed, “Angus! Leave the wee chamber pot alone and get yer arse out here.”

Angus emerged, his face lit with amusement. “That there garderobe is damn fine. The spring running through the chamber pot carries away whate'er ye put in it.”

“Oh dear Lord. Pray, what did you put in it?” Alberti rushed down the hallway, stopped at the bathroom door, then sagged against the door facing. “Thank heavens. It's not clogged and overflowing.”

“I merely spat in it.” Angus shrugged then wiggled a finger round and round. “ 'Tis like a whirlpool in the ocean. Everything goes round and round till it disappears.”

Alberti rolled his eyes as he hurried back into the kitchen. “I'm sure you gentlemen are famished. Come.” He hurried the men over to the narrow oval table waiting in the center of the room. “Have a seat and we'll get you fed before I leave for work.”

Graham lowered himself into one of the cold uncomfortable chairs, nodding for Angus to do the same. He balanced his forearms atop the hard smoothness of the table, frowning down at his reflection. Was there no' enough wood in this century? Most of the furniture of this time appeared to be made of metal and this hard, clear substance that the Sinclair women had said was called glass. Mother Sinclair and Lady Trulie had no' mentioned a scarcity of trees. He rubbed his hand across the tabletop. Lore a'mighty, they needed this substance back at the keep. 'Twould keep the winter winds from passing through the windows yet still allow the rays of the sun to light the rooms much better than oiled parchment.

Alberti set a tall glass of amber liquid in front of each of the men. “It's not exactly ale but it's the closest thing I've got.”

“Thank ye kindly.” Graham nodded as he took a hesitant sip. He held the liquid in his mouth, breathing in to appreciate the warmth of the alcoholic fumes.
Aye.
This would do quite nicely.

A square plate piled high with odd-looking breads followed. “Here you go, gentlemen. Enjoy some of Edinburgh's finest pastries.”

Graham selected one of the lightly browned triangles, brought it to his nose, and sniffed.
Yeasty. Buttery. Sweet.
He took a hesitant bite, nodding as the flaky pastry melted in his mouth. “Verra fine. I thank ye again.”

Alberti smiled, poured some steaming black liquid into a white mug, then joined them at the table. His long slender fingers tapped thoughtfully about the perimeter of his cup. He was obviously struggling against some sort of inner turmoil.

“Out with it, man.” Graham shoved the rest of the pastry in his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. He washed it down with a deep draw from his glass. He had no time to waste this morning, so the man needed to spill whate'er was troubling him. He had to be about convincing Mistress Lilia t'be his wife. Precious time was a-wastin'.

“Lilia is my dear friend.” Alberti's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “I don't know why you're here but I will have you know that I won't stand idly by and allow her to be upset or hurt.”

Graham frowned, confusion pushing him to the edge of his hard seat. “Are ye makin' a claim on the lass? 'Tis my understanding she's no' betrothed to anyone.” Had Mother Sinclair erred? Was Lilia already taken? Now what the hell was he going to do? He couldna verra well return to the wrath of the Buchanan but he couldna remain in this century unless he was bound to Lilia. And what about the fire when they touched? Graham squirmed in the chair at the memory.
Nay.
He wouldna let her go so easily out of his life.

Scowling over the rim of his coffee cup, Alberti remained silent overly long. He took several sips before lowering the mug and setting it on the table. “Lilia isn't engaged…or betrothed to anyone. Why would that matter to you? Last night, you stated you'd been sent here to watch over her. Do be gracious enough to explain.”

“I mean ta marry the woman.”

Alberti clattered his mug back to the table. “Marry? Surely you can't be serious. The two of you just met.”

Graham stood, planted both hands atop the table, and leaned across it. “Are ye challengin' me then?” He'd no' been in a good fight in quite some time. The thought was no' entirely unpleasant, although from the looks of the narrow-shouldered man, 'twould no' be much of a tussle.

Rising from the table, Alberti set his cup down in the sink then turned and leaned back against the counter. “If it comes to protecting my friend, yes—I will challenge you. I will not stand idly by and see Lilia hurt. But if you're speaking of vying for dear Lilia's hand, trust me: the woman is quite capable of dismissing you herself.”

Straightening, Graham hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I would ne'er hurt the lass but I do mean to marry her. I've been charged by her family to keep her safe and the only way I can stay in this century and do so is if I'm bound to her by blood.”

“By blood,” Alberti repeated, a dubious expression wrinkling his nose. “What the devil do you mean when you say
bound by blood
?”

Graham tapped on his wrist. “Bound by blood. We cut our wrists, mix our blood, and say the oath. Do ye no' do that anymore?”

“Not…” Alberti glanced over at Angus, still sitting at the table, totally oblivious to the conversation and calmly shoving pastries in his mouth until his cheeks bulged. “…usually.”

“God's beard, man.” Graham reached over and thumped Angus on the back. “Ye've had enough. Come. We must be goin'.” He'd wasted all the time he was going to waste talking to this Alberti person. The man didna ken a damn thing about the ways and how things had to be.

Angus quickly stood, scooping up more pastries and tucking them into the folds of his plaid. “Thank ye kindly for the food and drink.” He bobbed his head at Alberti then scurried out into the hallway. His delighted chuckling echoed back into the kitchen as the toilet flushed again.

Graham bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Keeping Angus MacKenna in tow was like fostering an ill-behaved lad. Leaning against the back of the chair, he wearily shook his head. “Kindly show me the way to Mistress Lilia's home. I gi' ye my word I mean the lass no harm. I hold the MacKennas and the Sinclairs in the verra highest esteem. I'll thank ye to take me to her.”

“Very well.” Alberti scooped a ring of keys off a hook by the window then motioned Graham toward the hall. “Her home is a few blocks over. I'll finish dressing then give you both a lift there on my way to the shop.”