Real Vampires Know Hips Happen (20 page)

“What does that mean?” Jerry gave us both searching looks.

“It means that I’m not afraid of hard work, Jerry, even if it’s acting on the stage. That I don’t take money from you and that I live on what I earn.” I kept my arm around his waist. “I’m not ashamed of it. I guess I could have a talk with Lily, help her figure out a way to earn her own living without depending on her father or some other man.” I gave Mara a meaningful look.

“My daughter doesn’t need advice from such as you.” Mara’s nostrils flared. Not a pretty look for a change.

“Does she need to work? I hope I can afford to support my own child.” Jerry growled. “Can’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, I have no idea what condition my finances are in.”

“You are quite wealthy, Jeremiah.” Of course Mara had looked into
that
situation. “And, as her father, you can do as you please. The generous allowance you give her has helped her get rid of some undesirable friends who were paying her way so she could live an unsavory lifestyle. The allowance and inviting her to live with you was a wise decision.”

I had heard enough from the shrew. “Yes, you can afford it, Jerry, but Lily isn’t a child at over four hundred years old. It would be nice if she had a sense of responsibility.”

Davy McLeod cleared his throat. “That’s awfully good music going to waste while we discuss such thorny topics. Can’t we dance now, my love, and put this off for another time?”

“Of course, darling.” Mara sneered at me. “Trust Gloriana to turn a pleasant evening into a disagreeable wrangle. Jeremiah, Lily will love you. Does love you. Your generosity literally saved her life. I’m sure you will figure out your relationship with her. Now let’s dance.” She pulled Davy toward the bonfire.

“Sorry. Did I cause that?” I looked at Jerry’s pensive expression.

“No, Mara was trying to pick a fight. That was obvious even to my muddled brain. Now it seems Lily might be a problem when I had hoped she’d be a joy. Shit. I’ve had a lot on my empty mind lately, Gloriana. Money, family, even trying to figure out if I can go up in a flying machine tomorrow night without acting the fool.” He pulled me against him. “So I thought I’d try to forget all that for a while with a bit of fun. Are you with me?” His smile was a good effort, but strained.

“Of course. Put all those worries on the back burner. It does no good to strain to remember things and might even make it worse.” I leaned up and kissed him. “I have to warn you, though. It’s been dozens of years since we’ve come here together. Be patient with my dancing. I may be rusty.”

He just pulled me closer and kissed me again. I had a feeling he was gathering strength. Then he stepped back, bowed like a courtier of old and urged me closer to the crowd. Once there, he found a spot among the dancers and made sure I could follow the steps. Soon we were laughing and leaping around with the best of them.

Bart and Caitie joined the dancers and proved to be quite a couple, showing off their skills. Bart wore the O’Connor plaid, which got him some looks, but Cait made sure he got a warm welcome. He wasn’t the only one in a different plaid; Davy and Mara’s stood out too. Neighbors wore their own clan plaids and some had come in their modern clothes. Still, everyone seemed to have a good time, enjoying the old-fashioned entertainment which included a local singing group.

Several hours went by and the whiskey Jerry had brought plus many other bottles were passed around. Then the laird called for quiet and swords were brought out.

“Now this is the way they danced in ancient times.” Jerry tossed aside his empty bottle, his eyes bright. “The swords
are wicked sharp. One misstep and I’ll ruin my boots.” He laughed then set two swords on the ground to make a cross. Several other men did the same. The pipers were tuning up, waiting for a signal. They began to play as soon as the men raised their arms, their feet on the ground between the swords.

It was a delicate dance with fancy footwork that still looked entirely masculine. Of course these were warriors who leaped over their swords, gleaming in the light from the fire. I could imagine this as it must have been hundreds of years ago. Jerry proved to be a master of the dance, his feet never once brushing the steel as he skipped lightly around the swords. He turned and twirled, bent and straightened. It was mesmerizing.

Suddenly he froze. He turned, swept up both swords, one in each hand, and stared into the darkness just outside the light from the fire. The pipes stopped with an eerie whine.

“Come closer, you coward. I can smell ye.”

“Can you really? I swear I bathed before I came.” The voice was amused but the man who stepped into the circle of light looked entirely serious. “Really, Jeremiah, are you still holding a grudge?”

“Damn you, MacDonald, why wouldn’t I be? You killed my brother.”

I gasped, my heart in my throat. So this was one of Ian’s clan, obviously wearing his plaid. The man looked like Ian with the same blond hair and harsh features that spoke of a Viking raid long ago. He didn’t carry a sword of his own but then why would he? He wasn’t like Jerry, still thinking with a sixteenth-century mind.

“I had heard rumors that you were off your head. I guess they’re true. Your brother has been dead for centuries, man. Let it go.”

Jerry tossed one of the swords toward the MacDonald who caught it effortlessly. “Let it go, Douglas? Would you let your own brother’s death be forgiven and forgotten so easily?”

“What’s this?” Douglas gave the sword a few slashes as if he were testing the steel. “Are you seriously thinking of a sword fight? What are you? A throwback?”

“Aye. It seems I am. Come on. Or did you leave your guts in your other sporran?” Jerry stepped closer and flicked his sword toward the man purse Douglas wore, cutting off one of the foxtails that hung from it.

“Now you’ve pissed me off. This is my best one, you thug.” He brushed his hand down the front of the fancy sporran closed with a large silver clasp that featured a snarling creature.

“You’re stalling.” Jerry wore plain leather embossed with the Campbell crest.

“I have guts aplenty but no taste for ancient sports.” He threw down the sword and the crowd gasped when it clattered to the ground. “You want to keep up a stupid feud? I have no interest in it. Neither has my brother Ian. When you get to Texas, you will find that he is no longer going to bother you or your”—he bowed toward me—“loved ones.”

“Why did you come here?” Angus stepped forward. “You were not invited.”

“I heard you were having a clan gathering and thought this might be a good time to propose a truce. I am laird of Clan MacDonald now and have brought members of my own clan with me.” He raised his hand and a dozen burly men dressed in the MacDonald plaid appeared out of the darkness. “We mean you no harm or we could have already ambushed you. Do you believe that?”

Angus nodded. “I believe you have a goodly number of men here and managed to sneak up on us. ’Tis reason enough for me to ban whiskey here from now on.” He stepped closer to Jerry. “Feuds are a waste of time, I agree with that. And your brother was avenged long ago, you just don’t remember it, Son.” He rested his hand on Jerry’s sword arm.

“That he was, Laird.” Douglas’s face hardened. “I remember it well. We have both lost brothers, Jeremiah. Yet I am
still willing to put our differences aside. Because the world seems smaller than it used to be. We both have holdings elsewhere, and looking over our shoulders in case an enemy lurks there is a waste of energy and manpower.”

“That it is.” Angus gestured but Jerry wasn’t about to give up his sword yet. “I would have you swear a blood oath, MacDonald, as the head of your clan, that this is a true and honorable end to any and all hostilities between us. This will be witnessed by all those here from both sides, tonight. Are you willing, Douglas MacDonald?”

“Da, no!” Jerry wrenched away from his father. Before he could get close to Douglas, six men in the MacDonald plaid stood in front of their leader with guns drawn. More than one also held a stake.

“Touch me and you’ll be dead before you can lift that sword.” Douglas glanced at the laird. “I’m willing to take the oath but you’ll have to make sure your son here understands that this treaty between us is binding upon him as well. Both here and in Texas if he goes back there. My brother is as weary of this endless hostility as I am.”

I wondered about that. It hadn’t been that long ago that Ian had played one of his dirty tricks just to get Jerry’s goat. Would he really forget their feud now?

More than twenty Campbell men now flanked Jerry, and every sword that had been on the ground had found a hand. The other men held dirks, those wickedly sharp knives the Scots favored.

“Tell your men to stand down, MacDonald.” Angus pulled Jerry to his side and gestured to some of his own men to back off when the MacDonald men put away their weapons at a nod from their leader. “My son knows that my word is law in our clan.” One of the Campbells took Jerry’s sword though he was cursed for it. My heart broke to see Jerry humiliated like that. But he knew the rules and had always abided by them.

This was the right thing to do. It was a miracle a MacDonald had been the one to propose the truce. Modern Jerry
would have still hated it, but would have understood the necessity of letting an ancient feud go.

“I’m glad I won’t be here to see this.” Jerry again wrenched away from his father. “You know you can’t trust him. As soon as your back is turned—”

“You’ll abide by my decision.” Angus clearly would tolerate no argument.

“Aye.” Jerry nodded, his face like stone.

“Then spill my blood. For the oath.” Angus gestured and a man handed Jerry a dirk. I knew Jerry had one tucked into his belt. It was a miracle he hadn’t thrown it the minute Douglas had come into view. “Careful now. I don’t fancy losing a finger.”

Jerry muttered a curse but made a neat slice on his father’s palm.

Douglas did the same with his own dirk. Then the two men stepped forward and clasped bloody hands.

“Peace!” Angus roared then said something in Gaelic. Jerry stayed silent.

“Peace!” Douglas and the rest of the crowd echoed. Then the two leaders spit on the ground and the pipers began to play a lively tune. Whiskey reappeared and everyone started talking.

Jerry stood pale and brooding near his father. Enough. I walked over to him and pulled him aside.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said quietly. He nodded and we started walking toward the castle.

“Miss Gloriana?” Douglas was there, too close to ignore.

“How do you know who I am?” That really bothered me. This man shouldn’t have known my name or recognized me.

“My brother and I communicate. He sent me a picture of you when I told him who was staying at the Campbell castle.” Douglas smiled like it was perfectly all right to have spies in his enemy’s camp.

“This MacDonald in Texas has a picture of you, Gloriana? Why?” Jerry pulled me to his side, clearly ready to get away from Douglas and this whole party gone wrong.

“He’s a doctor, remember? Bart mentioned him. I was sick recently. I used his services. He took a picture then, I guess.” Of course he had, probably with a security camera. Did Douglas know my entire long and complicated history with Ian? It was certainly nothing I wanted to get into now with Jerry. “We’re leaving for home tomorrow. I hope you mean this feud is really over because I think Ian might be able to help Jerry regain his memory.”

“Ah, yes. Amnesia. Most unusual in a vampire.” Douglas tried for a sympathetic expression but failed. “My brother will certainly be fascinated by it. He is always curious about the unexplainable.” The implication was clear: Jerry was a freak and if he stayed that way, Douglas wouldn’t be sorry to hear it.

Jerry stiffened beside me. “Feud or no feud, I will never trust a MacDonald and certainly not to be my doctor.” He pulled me toward the castle. “Come, Gloriana. I think I’ve had all of this company I can tolerate.”

“Good night, Gloriana, Jeremiah.” Douglas smiled. “Believe it. This feud is done. I have better things to do with my time than worry about petty squabbles between Highland chiefs.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Jerry stopped and looked him up and down. “If I remember aright, you were fond of sneaking up on the backside of sheep. Ever get a woman to stand still for you, Douglas?”

His answer was a wooden stake pressed against Jerry’s heart in the blink of an eye.

“Stop it!” I grabbed Douglas’s arm.

“Maybe the people around here feel sorry for you, asshole, because you’ve lost your memory, but I won’t put up with that kind of insult from anybody.” Douglas pressed hard enough to make a spot of blood appear on Jerry’s white shirt. I tried to pull him away but he wasn’t budging. Jerry just smiled, apparently not worried about death pressing against his heart. “You ever speak to me like that again and I’ll send you to hell, feud or no feud. Understand?”

“Stop it, I said. One yell and you’ll have a horde of Campbells staking
you
, Douglas. Back the hell off.”

“Hush, Gloriana. This is between the MacDonald and me.” Jerry grinned and grabbed the stake, his arm shaking as he shoved it away. “Sorry if I touched on a sensitive subject there, Dougie. Put away the stick or shove it up your ass, whichever you prefer. My father has sworn peace or you’d already be dead at my hand for killing my brother.” Jerry raised an eyebrow when Douglas cursed and tried again. They ended up wrestling for it, the MacDonald finally stepping back out of reach when he realized he couldn’t win.

“Four hundred years ago you came back and killed my own brother in retaliation for your loss. Convenient that you forget that. Darren, his name was. You fought hand to hand but he was no match for you.” Douglas slipped his stake into a holster. “I thought long and hard before I offered this truce. Because those wounds never heal. But, as I told your pa, I’ll not waste another second watching my back for the likes of you.” With a kind of dignity I wouldn’t have expected, Douglas backed away.

“We are done, Campbell.” He turned on his heel, striding away just as others noticed our group and some of the Campbell men started toward us.