My Tempting Highlander (Highland Hearts #3) (20 page)

The wolf eased a few steps forward, a low-throated grumble rumbling from her silvery body. Mairi didn’t feel threatened. It was almost as though the wolf was trying to help Ronan tell his story. Mairi pointed at the wolf. “If the queen cursed her into a wolf before you were born…” Mairi studied the wolf a few moments then looked back to Ronan. “How exactly were you born? Did she change back to a woman until she’d had you then return to being a wolf once you were born?”

Ronan huffed out a humorless laugh. Bitterness filled his voice. “Nay. The wolf ye see before ye is the wolf she has been since the day the witch said the words. The vile queen claimed she’d turned my precious mother into the scavenging bitch she truly was.”

Apparently, the witch was more creatively cruel than I thought.
Mairi massaged her temples with her gloved fingertips. What Ronan said defied logic. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could a child survive being raised by a wolf?”

The wolf strode the remaining distance between them, glared at Ronan, and bounced with a sharp bark.

Ronan released a heavy sigh and took a step back. “This is how.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his hands loosely clasped in front of him.

Energy crackled through the clearing like unseen lightning, stinging against Mairi’s skin. A soft wind whispered through the trees like a restless spirit, whirling the loose snow into sparkling white spirals. The energy around Ronan hummed louder, then exploded around his body in a column of roaring blue flames. Mairi squinted and backed away, raising an arm against the blinding blue white light.

Eerie piercing howls filled the air, washing across Mairi’s flesh with an icy touch. She scrubbed her hands up and down both arms. This couldn’t be good. Anything that created such a shift in energy couldn’t be good. A final strong whooshing gust tore through the clearing then all went silent.

Mairi risked lowering her arm just enough to peek past the edge of her cloak. Her heart double-thumped and the chill of recognition washed over her like an icy wave. There. Standing where Ronan had just stood, calm, ears perked forward as he stepped free of the discarded clothes piled around him, was the wolf.
My wolf
. The dog she thought she’d nearly killed back in Edinburgh. The dog who had broken her heart when he had suddenly disappeared.

Her hand pressed against the base of her throat, Mary stumbled a step back. It was all painfully clear now. When the dog disappeared, Ronan had arrived, and now she understood why.

A maelstrom of emotions burned through her. Rage. Disappointment. Embarrassment. A sense of betrayal. How could she have been so stupid? She thought back to the farce of their searching through Princes Street Gardens. He’d lied to her all along.

Mairi turned away. Pressing a trembling hand to the side of her head, she walked slowly back to the wagon. How could she have been so damn blind?

“Mairi—please.”

She didn’t bother turning. What the hell was she supposed to say? She walked around to her side of the wagon, clenched the iron railing for dear life, and pressed her forehead against her hands.

Stamping boots. The muffled sounds of clothes being shook out. Muttered cursing.

Mairi didn’t look up. She understood completely now. Ronan had been born a wolf pup then apparently learned how to shift into the form of a human at some point in time.
Graham.
The lifelong friend always mentioned. The helper. The guardian. Was he a wolf too?

Something lightly brushed against her shoulder. “Mairi—please.” Ronan groaned the words as though saying them with a dying breath. “Do ye understand now why I didna tell ye…everything?”

“I understand a lot of things.” And she did. Now she understood completely why she should never trust anyone with her heart, because whenever she did she just ended up hurt and looking like a fool. No wonder Ronan was so careful to omit as many details as possible until the curse was finally broken. And once it was broken, then what? Once freed, would he merrily go on his way without her? Probably. After all, once the curse was broken, what the hell did he need with a wife? “So, where’s Graham? I thought wolves ran in packs.”

Ronan drew in a sharp hissing breath. “If ye wish to meet Graham, we must walk to the river’s edge.”

Mairi studied Ronan’s guarded expression.
Oh holy hell. I can hardly wait to hear what comes next.
“Why do we have to walk to the river?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Ronan pursed his lips and shrugged as he stared down at the ground. “The curse binds Graham to the sea. The only time he may leave the water is when he’s within the curtain of mist surrounding Draegonmare. Whene’er he ventures past the mist, he must remain either in the sea or within one of its tributaries stretching across the lands.”

Mairi pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes against the dull throbbing pain growing ever sharper inside her head. Ronan’s revelations were giving her one hell of a headache. “So he’s a fish?” When Ronan didn’t answer, she opened her eyes to his pained expression. “Okay—so what is he, then?”

“Do ye remember the largest of the statues in yer room? The one of the great winged beast about to belch a volley of flames?”

Ronan’s intense gaze turned her blood to ice water. Mairi shivered as she cinched her cloak tighter about her throat. What Ronan was saying wasn’t possible. Her statues were the embodiment of her overactive imagination, creatures she’d fabricated and pieced together from a lifelong love of oft-told fairy tales and childhood games of what-ifs. “You’re telling me Graham’s a dragon?”

“Aye.”

Mairi drew in a deep breath and waved toward the riverbank. “Then, by all means…lead on.”

Mairi watched the wolf out of the corner of her eye as they made their way down the slippery embankment leading to the river’s edge. The wolf, Ronan’s mother, her silvery white coat rippling lush and thick, gracefully picked her way along beside them. “What is your mother’s name?” She needed something to call her besides “the wolf.”

“Iona.” Ronan bit out the name as though it pained him, not sparing a glance back as he strode down the embankment. He abruptly stopped, turned, and held out a hand. “Mind the ground. ’Tis slick and treacherous. I dinna wish ye to take a tumble.”

Mairi paused, staring down at Ronan’s outstretched hand. Just yesterday, she would’ve taken it without hesitation. Yes. She’d suspected he’d hidden pertinent details of his past, and yes, she’d been pissed at him. But yesterday’s feelings didn’t compare with what she was feeling today.

“Ye will fall if ye refuse my help.”

Did she imagine the suffering darkening his eyes, making his voice rasp low and pained? Mairi swallowed hard, firmly gripped his hand, and allowed him to steady her down the rugged frozen bank leading to the rocky shore. It didn’t matter what Ronan saw or felt anymore. Once the curse was broken, they’d go their separate ways; she saw the truth of that now. The man didn’t give a rat’s ass about her. He just wanted the dreaded curse ended so he could finally live a normal life. She steeled herself against the ache throbbing in the space where her heart once was. She wouldn’t have to worry about a heart anymore. Ronan had crumbled it to dust.

Mairi blinked, fighting back tears, rationalizing all that had happened. Maybe it was for the best. After all, hadn’t she wanted to stay in the future and live a normal life? She took in a deep breath and looked across the cold expanse of dark, choppy waves. “Produce your dragon so I can see how he compares with mine.”

Ronan gave her a sharp look, eyes narrowing as though he saw every pained thought flickering through her mind. With a slow deep breath and a sad shake of his head, he turned and faced the undulating waters. “Graham. Show yerself. Mistress Mairi would meet ye.”

What Mairi had thought was the shadowy darkness of deep water slid closer to the bank. The already choppy surface bubbled and frothed as though whatever was beneath the waters had exhaled a great burst of air. A long pair of horns, curled tusks of black shininess, pierced the surface first. A knobby length of snout followed. Twin bursts of steam shot from each glistening nostril as two great golden eyes blinked away the water streaming down from the dents and furrows running along the top of the dragon’s multihorned head. The long scaly neck arched as gracefully as a swan’s as the beast paddled closer to the bank and politely nodded to Mairi. “ ’Tis my utmost pleasure to meet ye, mistress. We’ve awaited ye quite the while.”

“So I understand.”
Holy shit. He looks just like my dragon.
Mairi drew closer to the water’s edge. “Do you have wings too?”
Cat eyes. I knew it! I knew their eyes should look like a cat’s.

Graham chuckled as he obligingly unfurled both black leathery wings. “Aye, mistress. I tend to keep them folded whilst in the sea. ’Tis a bugger of a weight to pull when they fill with water.”

“I wish I could see you fly, but as I understand it, you’re trapped in the water—right?” Mairi walked excitedly up and down the beach. Lies or no lies, Graham was freaking awesome.

Graham nodded, his leathery mouth pulled down into a frown. “Aye. Whilst outside the mists of Draegonmare, I’m bound to the water even when the moon rises and I return to the form of a man—Ronan’s mentor.” He snorted out two great huffs of steam and stretched his neck higher above the surface. “But soon I shall finally be free.” He gallantly touched his snout to the smooth round rocks at Mairi’s feet. “Ye have my undying loyalty, mistress, for finally freeing me of this fate.”

Dragon by day. Man by night. A mentor and guardian to teach Ronan the ways of men. The witch was freakin’ brilliant.
Without hesitation, Mairi reached forward and rested her hand against the side of Graham’s snout. Leathery and cold. Quite rough. Exactly as she expected. For a brief exciting moment, she forgot about her breaking heart. “I’m honored to meet you, Graham, and I’m so glad to be able to help.”

A soft weight brushed against her skirts, pulling her attention back to her side. Iona the wolf, silent and regal, lifted her muzzle then slowly lowered it in what Mairi took as a gesture of thanks. Somehow, it just seemed wrong to reach out and touch the wolf. Mairi nodded in return.

“Come, lass.” Ronan spoke quietly. “If we hope to arrive back at MacKenna Keep by nightfall, we must go.”

The reality—the stark loneliness of what was about to happen—rushed back to her with a vengeance. They’d return to the keep, say their vows, and then the farce would finally be over. A numbing coldness that had nothing to do with the weather closed in around her. Damn the Fates and damn that witch straight to hell.
What did I ever do to deserve this kind of pain?

He’d lost her without ever truly having her. A sense of darkness settled heavy within him as Ronan pulled the wagon to a stop. His thumbs rubbed hard against the reins as if pinching the dark smooth leather would turn back the hands of time and give him a second chance with Mairi. The spark of hope that had lightened his heart when she’d shown such interest in Graham was quickly doused during the silent ride back to MacKenna Keep. Mairi hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the river.

Ronan draped the reins over the kickboard of the wagon then slowly turned to Mairi. Her pale face looked pinched with sadness and so much more. His woman suddenly seemed so fragile and tiny, hidden in the depths of her hood. Lore a’mighty, what he wouldna give to have her know how precious she was to him…how goddamn much he needed her. “Hot food, a fire, and a bed await. Be ye pleased we’ve arrived back at yer family’s home?”

Mairi didn’t meet his gaze, just smiled that damnable smile—that fake smile he’d come to hate—the brave wall she used to shield herself and hide her true feelings. She rubbed her gloved hand against the tip of her nose and rose to descend from the wagon. “It’ll be good to be out of the weather.”

Damn yer cruel judgment, woman. Can ye no’ tell how much I love ye?
He wanted to scream the words at her, shout them in her face until she finally admitted that she’d judged him too harshly. Aye, he’d gravely erred in not telling her all, but could she no’ see he’d done so because he feared losing her?

Two red-faced lads, heads bent against the sleet cutting through the air, hurried to free the horses of the wagon and lead them to the stable. A dainty hooded figure with a heavy fur bundled in her arms rushed down the wide stone steps of the keep. Her reddish curls blowing about her face, Coira scurried over to Mairi’s side of the wagon. “Ye returned! Thanks be to the gods. I feared ye’d ne’er survive a journey in this wicked cold.”

Ronan held up his hands to Mairi and waited. His heart sank ever lower at the hesitation in her gaze.
Damn the curse straight to hell.
She’d grown to hate him so much she nay even wished to touch him. “Come, Mairi.” Her name caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, struggling against all he’d lost. “Come.”

Avoiding his gaze, Mairi lightly rested her gloved hands atop his arms as he lifted her down from the wagon. Before he could pull her into a closer embrace, she brushed him aside, effortlessly turning away from him. Her smile trembled a bit as she hurried over to Coira. “It’s good to be back.”

Coira’s sharp-eyed gaze swept over Mairi then slid to Ronan as she bundled the fur wrap around Mairi’s shoulders. A pinched look settled across her as she hugged Mairi closer and peered up into her hood. “Be ye unwell?”

“I’m fine.”

Coira’s ruddy cheeks grew a shade brighter and her reddish blonde brows arched to her hairline. She patted Mairi’s shoulder and settled the wrap higher about her throat. “I’ll see ye to yer rooms. Mother Sinclair is already in yer sittin’ room. The lads are stokin’ the fires as we speak and Cook’s prepared a pipin’-hot bit of soup.” She glanced back to Ronan and fixed him with a look that spoke volumes. “The chieftain awaits ye in his private solar.”

“Aye.” Ronan jerked his head down in a single nod. He hoped like hell Gray waited with whisky. Perhaps a wee dram or two would help him know what to do to make things right. A lonely howl pierced the air, making the dreary day seem that much colder.
Máthair
wouldna come inside the skirting walls no matter how vicious the winter storm grew. She’d find shelter close to the sea and keep watch with Graham.

Ronan’s heart sank lower as Mairi and Coira disappeared into the keep. She’d no’ even spared a passing glance back to see if he followed. He shook against the pain as though shaking water free. He would speak with Gray. The man was wed to a Sinclair woman. Surely he’d ken what best to do to win Mairi back. He barreled into the keep, ignoring the quizzical looks of those gathered beside the blazing hearths in the main hall. He took the winding stone steps leading to the chieftain’s solar three at a time.
Aye.
Gray would ken what he should do.

“Here. You sit by the fire. I’ll bring your soup over to you.” Granny hurried Mairi across the room, gently steering her toward the pillowed chair angled close to the hearth.

Mairi welcomed the almost stifling heat of the sitting room, closing her eyes as she lowered herself into the chair. She rested her cheek against the rough weave of the cushions. What she wouldn’t give to just forget about everything and lose herself in the soothing sound of the cheerfully crackling fire.

“Drink this,” Granny ordered as she pushed a cool pewter tankard into Mairi’s hands.

Mairi sucked in a deep sigh, opened her eyes, and stared down at her sad reflection shimmering atop the ruby-colored liquid. She raised the cup and sipped in a deep draw. Port. Granny knew it was her favorite. She swallowed hard around the knot of emotions aching in her throat. She clamped her lips tight against the threat of tears and sucked in a deep shuddering breath.

“Out with it. Now.” Granny pulled up a stool beside her and patted a blue-veined hand atop her blanketed knee.

Mairi sniffed and straightened in the chair, carefully keeping her gaze focused on the dancing orange white flames inside the hearth. As long as she didn’t look Granny in the eye, she should be able to get through this. “There’s nothing to say. We came back here because the weather’s so bad. As soon as the skies clear—hopefully, by tomorrow—we’re going to say our vows beside the sea and then the curse will finally be broken. It’ll be a done deal. And everyone can go on their merry way.”
Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that last part.

Granny’s eyes narrowed. “Go on their merry way?”

Dammit.
Mairi took another long slow sip, laced her fingers about the cup, and lowered it to her lap. “Yes. Go on our merry way.” As the heat of the fire and the alcohol thawed the deep chill from her bones, Mairi relaxed deeper in the chair, not bothering to stifle a yawn. She might as well tell Granny everything. What difference did it make? It was almost over. “The Sinclair souls will be forgiven and Ronan and company can do whatever the hell they please.”

Granny’s mouth tightened into a pinched line and her brow puckered with a scowl. She sat ramrod straight atop the stool, her bony arms folded across her chest. “And you?”

Mairi took another deep draw of the liquid courage and tossed all caution straight to hell. “I’ll return to modern-day Edinburgh and enjoy a nice relaxing soak in Eliza’s big-ass Jacuzzi.” There. She’d said it. By God, nobody could accuse her of not telling the whole truth.

“Without Ronan.” Granny leaned forward and thumped a finger against Mairi’s sternum. “Your souls are matched. You said yourself the energy confirmed it the first time you touched.”

“Yeah…well, the energy lied.” Mairi threw aside the blanket and pushed up from the chair. “It’s all an act. Ronan just wants the curse broken.” She plunked her cup down to the table, grabbed the pitcher, and poured a generous refill. Tonight she’d enjoy the dream-free sleep of the sloppy drunk.

Silence filled the room. Even the lively pop of the blazing firewood seemed muted. Mairi steadied herself against the table, drained the cup, then licked her lips and filled it again. She turned and sauntered across the room, swaying back and forth as though dancing to music only she could hear. “I’ll come back and visit every now and then. I’ll be the favorite auntie who brings all the neat stuff from the future.” Yep. That’s what she’d do. Enjoy the conveniences of the twenty-first century and just pop back to the past on birthdays and holidays.

“What happened?” Granny slowly rose from the stool. A sense of extreme displeasure emanated from her like the stench of cheap perfume.

Mairi snorted out a bitter laugh then took another healthy swallow of port. Granny was pissed. So what? She’d have to get over it. “Bit by bit, piece by piece, the truth of this entire fucking mess has finally come out—no thanks to Ronan the cowardly lion.” She rubbed her fingers across her numbing lips.
Holy shit. I just used the “F” word in front of Granny.

She blinked away the thought and lifted her chin. So what if she’d used the “F” word? What was Granny gonna do? Wash out her mouth with soap?

Mairi held up a finger as she emptied her cup in a long drawn-out swallow. She smacked her lips and lowered the cup, cradling it to her chest. “Correction. Ronan is not a cowardly lion.” Mairi shook her head as she weaved her way back to the table and the precious pitcher of port. “He’s a wimpy wolf.” She flipped one hand through the air as she slopped a healthy splash of wine into her glass. “In fact, he’s probably even neutered, because God knows the man has no balls when it comes to telling the truth—that’s for damn sure.”

“I daresay getting blind-ass drunk is not going to help this situation.” Granny strode across the room in short clipping steps, grabbed the pitcher off the table, and clutched it in a possessive hug.

“It sure as hell can’t hurt it.” Mairi finished what was left in her glass and held out her hand. “Give me the pitcher, Granny.” She shook her head and licked her lips. “You know damn well I’ve earned it.”

Granny’s knuckles whitened as she held the pitcher tighter. “So you finally know all the details of the curse. So what? What has that got to do with the fact that you and Ronan love each other and are meant to be?”

“He doesn’t love me.” Mairi slammed her glass down on the table, stumbled over to Granny, and yanked the pitcher free. “If the man really loved me, he would’ve told me the truth from the very beginning—shared what was really going on instead of hiding every damn detail. You don’t hide shit from someone you love. That’s how you know when you’re really
in
love. You both share all your stupid bad shit and then laugh because none of it matters. All that matters is that you love each other and are willing to bare your souls and wage your battles against the world together.”
What a dumb-ass fairy tale.
Now that she’d said the words aloud, her beliefs regarding love sounded stupid even to her. “I’m an idiot. I should’ve known stuff like that doesn’t exist.”

She peered down at the meager amount of wine left in the pitcher. To hell with a glass. She slurped down what was left of the wine then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and belched.

“Lovely.” Granny shook her head then clamped a hand around Mairi’s upper arm. “You need to sleep this off. We will talk further when your ability to reason is not obliterated by alcohol.”

“There’s not a damn thing wrong with my r-reasoning.” Mairi stumbled over to the bed and bounced down on the mattress. The tears she’d been holding back finally broke free. “How can you expect me to love a man I can’t even trust? Hell, what difference does it make? He’s probably going to leave me before I can leave him anyway.” She covered her face with both hands, vainly attempting to staunch the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “Great. And now I’m a crying drunk. Thanks a helluva lot, Granny.”

Granny deflated with a heavy sigh as she settled down on the bed beside Mairi. With the softly clucking sound she always made when frustrated, she pulled Mairi to her chest and smoothed a shaking hand across her hair just as she’d often done when Mairi was a child.

With a hiccupping sob, Mairi breathed in the soft, comforting scent that was always Granny—a soothing mix of crisp clean cotton and fresh-cut herbs—always lemon balm and mint. Granny barely rocked to and fro, humming the same disjointed tune she always sang to the sisters whenever they were upset. Mairi hugged Granny tighter as the tears increased to an uncontrollable torrent. “I’m sorry I cussed at you. I really am sorry. But it’s just…he’s just…why can’t he…”

“Hush, gal,” Granny shushed as she pecked a kiss to the top of Mairi’s head. “My old heart breaks to see you so unhappy.”

“I just wanted him to love me,” Mairi whispered with a shuddering sigh. “Why can’t he…?” Tears and heartache overrode the ability to speak.
Dammit to hell and back. Why can’t he really love me?