Stomping across the room, Trulie yanked open the door. Without looking back, she squared her shoulders and growled back to the room. “Come on, Karma. We have a trip back to the future to plan.”
The dog rose, trotted past Trulie, then turned and waited. Trulie glared back into the room one last time then stomped out and slammed the door behind her.
CHAPTER9
“Never have I heard a woman speak in such a manner.” Gray stared at the closed door. Trulie’s angry stream of stuttering profanity gradually faded as she stomped away.
“Stuttering is a good indicator that Trulie is royally irritated.” Granny’s shoulders sagged as she blew out a dismal sigh. “That’s what she does when she feels like she has lost control. And if you make her really mad, she cries. You best take cover if she ever cries, because hell hath no fury compared to Trulie on an angry rampage.”
Gray mulled over Trulie’s tirade, more certain than ever that those words should not come out of a woman’s mouth. He stared at the door, remembering her rage and how it had only accentuated her delicate features. God help him. What fire that woman possessed.He scrubbed his fingers across his jaw and turned back toward Tamhas and Granny. “So ye tricked the woman to bring her here. Why?”
Tamhas flashed a toothy grin. “Are ye blind then, man?” The old sorcerer tossed the soiled bowl back into the midst of the worktable’s clutter. “That fiery lass is the perfect match for ye. The children the two of ye sire will be fine and bonnie—perfect descendants to perpetuate this powerful clan.”
“Of course, you will have to woo her.” Granny beamed up at him with a knowing smile and a pat on his arm. “Trulie tends to get a bit out of sorts when she feels she’s been maneuvered. It might take you a bit to get through to her, but don’t give up. I feel sure you can wear her down and convince her the charade was all for the best.”
“I am not the one who lied to the woman.” Gray backed up a step and thumped himself on the chest. “And who said I wanted such a fiery-tongued woman to wife?”
“I will wait until after the two of you are married to tell Trulie you said that.” Granny winked and primly folded her hands in front of her waist. The old woman looked smug and pleased with herself. She greatly resembled her wicked cat after Cook discovered the cream pans licked clean.
He had to get out of here. He felt trapped, both by the tiny confines of Tamhas’s abode and by the sudden plot to get him wed. All he had asked of the old man was the identity of the culprit who had murdered his parents. How the hell had the old demon turned that into a matchmaking request? Gray moved toward the door and stomped squarely on Kismet’s tail.
The enraged cat exploded into a black ball of fury and embedded its claws in his leg.
“Off me, wicked beast.” Gray bent, latched onto Kismet’s scruff, and flinched as two paws of barbs tore free of his flesh. Tiny rivulets of warm blood trickled down his stinging calf.
Kismet exploded again with furious hissing. A high-pitched yowl vibrated into Gray’s hand as the cat twisted in his grasp. Her puffed tail whipped back and forth as the feline threw another swipe at Gray.
“I will thank ye to keep this menace away from me if ye dinna wish to see yer wee cat skinned.” Gray bent and dropped the spitting fur ball into Granny’s arms.
“You are definitely a dog person,” Granny observed. She cuddled the enraged Kismet close and whispered soothing words to the feline. “That’s a good thing. I think Trulie prefers dogs too.”
Gray held up a hand to silence them all and yanked open the door. “Nary another word about yer damnable matchmaking. When I find Mistress Trulie, I intend to leave her with no doubt about my intentions.”
“Which are?” Granny prompted as Coira knocked over another stack of bowls and sidestepped the resulting crash.
“By hell’s fiends,” Tamhas cursed as he shooed the maid away from his cluttered storage shelves. “Take this one with ye afore she destroys everything I own. Be gone, girl. I do my own housekeeping.”
Coira dropped a polite curtsy, scurried across the room, and flitted out the door ahead of Gray. “Come, my chieftain. Mistress Trulie is already well ahead of us. The lady walks quite fast when she is angry. Shall I run to fetch her for ye?”
“Nay!” Gray pointed back to the bench inside the croft. “Ye shall wait here. I dinna give a damn what Master Tamhas wishes.” How the devil had he lost control of this situation? “I am chieftain here. Ye shall stay and assist Master Tamhas in the long overdue clearing out of this hellhole.”
Coira’s eyes rounded and her pale brows arched nearly to her hairline. She bobbed another quick curtsy, skittered back inside the croft, and set to gathering the soiled wooden bowls scattered across the floor.
Gray turned back to Tamhas, fighting against the urge to demand a burning out of his cluttered burrow. He could almost hear his mother’s voice pleading for her brother’s case.Ye know yer uncle is nay quite right. He is too gifted wi’ the ways. Ye must be patient wi’ him, son, for his heart and soul are pure.
Gray clenched his teeth, struggling to rein in his temper. “I may lose control and kill ye for this yet, old man.” He snatched hold of the rope handle of the door and slammed it hard behind him.
* * *
Trulie slowed,then came to a complete stop. Her rage evaporated, loosening the band of tension squeezing her chest. Scotland. So beautiful she could hardly bear it.
And it was so much more than that one word could describe. The rugged land spread out before her, patient and waiting for her to appreciate it for what it truly was. A sky the vibrant clear blue of Scotland’s flag. Clouds so wispy and white that they resembled watercolor brush strokes. Thickets of pines, blue-green in their scattered clusters, softened the jagged edges of stony hillsides and cliffs forming the ridge of a valley leading down to the ocean.
Her gaze traveled past the thickest line of gnarled trees hemming in the bit of land leading down to the sea. Tall fierce crags, topped with the brown grasses of winter, jutted out into the bay like fingers of a great hand dipping down into the water. Atop the highest one, majestic and proud against the sky, stood what had to be MacKenna keep.
Four tall stone towers connected with great walls of weathered block stood almost silver against the skyline. The grounds surrounding the outer wall gently sloped a few feet away from the fortress, then sheared off into the waves. The keep itself had been built on the thickest part of the peninsula jutting into the bay. Either the battering sea or the determined Highland weather had eroded away enough of the land to partially disconnect the keep from the mainland. Trulie stood on tiptoe and shaded her eyes. As near as she could tell, the only access to the keep was by crossing the wide stone bridge connecting the two pieces of land.
The steady pounding of footsteps behind her pulled her attention away from the newly discovered splendor. A subtle tingle surged through her. Not unpleasant. More like an exciting shiver of anticipation. Her senses recognized the only man who had ever succeeded in triggering such a reaction.
