Alberti’s mouth tightened and he agreed with a quick nod. “Very well then. I’ll be right back.”
She hated being the downer.Lilia swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she directed at Vivienne.
Vivienne draped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed. “Dinna fret, lovie. Ye ken we love ye no matter what. We’ll all get ye through this. Just ye wait and see.”
Lilia pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Don’t make me cry. Come on, Viv. Tell me something that will make me laugh.”
“I dinna ken if it will make ye laugh but ye have to get a look at this pair what just walked in.” Vivienne pulled Lilia closer to the railing and pointed down toward the door. “Nowthoseare some authentic Highland warrior costumes. Wait ’til Alberti sees them. He’ll be ogling the big one for sure.” Vivienne propped her chin on her hand that rested on the railing. “Alberti can have the big one. I believe I’d rather have a ride on the short, stocky lad. He walks as though he’s got quite the prize hanging under that kilt.”
Lilia snorted out a laugh. Thank goodness for Vivienne and her ability to chase away the blues. She scooted her chair closer to the railing and searched the room below. There they were. A strange sense ofdéjà vutingled across her. She knew those colors. Had seen them many times while talking to Granny and her sisters through the fire portal. That pattern decorated the walls of MacKenna Keep. Those men wore the MacKenna Clan tartan.
Both men slowly worked their way across the room to the crowded bar. Vivienne was right. The short stocky guy walked with an unusual swaying gait. Hisdon’t make me kick yer assattitude triggered a smile. The man reminded Lilia of a barrel-chested bulldog marching guard around his favorite bone.
But it was the other man who piqued her interest even more. A full head and shoulders taller than most in the room, he held himself as though ready for an attack at any moment. “He must be a bodybuilder or a bouncer or something. Check out the man bun holding back his hair and damn . . . get a load of those arms.” Lilia leaned forward to keep him pinpointed in the crowd while he made his way through the pub. “Call me crazy but there is just something sexy about a long-haired man with a close-cropped beard.”
“I wonder how old he is?” Vivienne scooted closer. “His hair’s as dark as the devil’s thoughts but his beard’s got some silver peeking through it.” Then she made a sound that could only be described as a predatory purr. “But that body of his is nothing but top-shelf prime. A most decidedly delicious hunk of well-aged beef, if I do say so myself.”
Alberti reappeared with the tray of drinks and slid them onto the table. “Here we are, ladies. And what are we gawking at?”
“The short one’s mine.” Vivienne pointed over the railing at the pair of men below.
Alberti stretched, gazed down into the room, then thoughtfully pursed his lips. “Hmm . . . a bit wooly around the edges, wouldn’t you say? But my goodness, they do look authentic.” He moved closer to the railing, sipping his drink as he peered closer at the men. “And look at their weaponry. We must go down and speak with them. I must know their supplier.”
A shout rose up from the crowd below, followed by a loud banging on the bar.
“Oh shit. Frank’s gone and got out his bat.” Vivienne stood and bent over the railing, scowling down at the crowd below. “And it’s our two lucky pennies. If we’re to find out where they bought their gear, we best get down there and save them from Frank.”
A cold sweat peppered across Lilia. Heart hammering and struggling to breathe, she slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes. No. Not now. She didn’t need a vision now.Unfortunately, the Fates didn’t listen.
A dull roaring resembling the hollow growl of a gale-force wind, drowned out all other sound, spinning her into a smoke-filled darkness. Metal on metal clashed through the din. Pain—a hard impact against the center of her back—knocked the wind from her lungs. Strong hands gripped her arms, pulling her to her feet.“Daren’t ye die! I love ye, Lilia. I swear to the gods I love ye and will never let ye go.”A hard-muscled chest pressed against her cheek. A shaking, hesitant touch brushed along her jawline then gently stroked her hair.“I beg ye. Ye must not die. I canna live without ye.”
She struggled to see through the darkness. Why the hell wouldn’t the vision show the face belonging to that voice—the deepest, richest baritone . . . no, not a baritone but a bass—a voice smoother and sultrier than any she had ever heard.
She pushed away from the chest, reaching up to touch the face she couldn’t see. But then he was gone and she was falling, spiraling down into the bottomless darkness.
“Lilia!” Vivienne shook her hard, her pert little nose nearly touching hers. “Lilia, talk to me this verra instant or I’m having Frank ring for the ambulance.”
Lilia pushed herself up in the chair, blinking away the last of the vision. “I’m fine. Fine . . . I just had a dizzy spell. That’s all.” Alberti and Vivienne were well aware of her time-runner ancestry and the empathic and aura-reading abilities that came to her as part of the package. But she had never told them about the visions. She never spoke to anyone about the curse of those damn visions.
“Come on. We must go. Alberti’s using his gift of diplomacy to cool Frank’s temper but we best go and help. This situation could verra well require the use of cleavage.” Vivienne pulled Lilia to her feet, then stood with both hands extended as though ready to catch her if she teetered off balance. “Are we good then, lovie?”
Lilia took in a deep breath and nodded. No. She was not good but she could sure as hell fake it.“All good. Let’s go.” She waved Vivienne toward the narrow stairs.
They scurried down the steps, worming their way through the throng of bodies milling around the room. Lilia pushed her way ahead of Vivienne, homing in on Alberti’s distinct droning on and on about the proper handling of customers and the utmost care one must always take to preserve one’s image. If sorely pressed, Alberti was quite capable of physically defending himself. After all, he was a licensed trainer and a self-defense instructor in his off hours from their beauty company. But Alberti also loved being the center of attention and hearing himself talk. If given the choice, he much preferred besting his opponents with endless prattling and the slow excruciating death of boredom.
“The sons a bitches expected to pay wif false money. Look at those coins. Happens every year. The damned lot of ye what dress up and do yer little playacting during Fringe think ye can dupe ole Frank wif yer fake money.” Frank bounced the bat atop the scarred railing of the bar with a loud threatening thump. “I ain’t a having it, I tell ye. I ain’t a being made the fool.”
“Our coin is not false!” The short, stalky MacKenna Highlander bumped his chest forward, his meaty hands fisted and raised for the fight.
Vivienne slid her way in between Frank, Alberti, and the enraged object of her interest with a smile and a pat against the short man’s puffed-out chest. “Leave this to me, sweets.” She spun on her four-inch heels, bent forward slightly, and aimed the loosened ties of her gaping leather corset at Frank while holding out her hand. “Gimme the bat, dearie. We mustn’t have folks thinking we’re not excited to have them visit us during Fringe.”
Lilia worked her way around to the side of the other man, the brawny tall specimen she had admired from the gallery. He seemed much calmer than the shorter fellow. In fact, gauging by the feelings he was projecting, he was amused by the entire situation. She leaned in close and raised her voice to be heard above the music, the crowd, and Frank. “I think we should ease our way outside. Vivienne knows how to handle Frank. Once he gets stirred up no one can deal with him but her. Come on. There’s another pub around the corner. My friends and I would love to find out more about your weapons. How about if we buy you and your friend a round of drinks?”
Deep, gray eyes darker than a stormy sky and oddly flecked with bits of fiery gold, turned to her. One burly brow notched a bit higher, directly parallel with the lifted corner of his lopsided mustached smile. The man backed up a step, allowing his gaze to sweep from the scuffed toes of her thigh-high boots, up her curve-accentuating leather armor to the top of her braided hair. “Looking for weapons are ye? Why? Are ye in some sort of danger, lass?”
A shiver of recognition rippled through her.That voice. It was the voice from her vision. Lilia fluttered a hand to her throat and swallowed hard. “Uhm . . .” She struggled to kick her brain into gear and say something other thanuhm. How the hell could she hold an intelligent conversation with the owner of the voice who had only moments ago sworn he loved her and couldn’t live without her?
The man leaned in closer, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners and amusement filling his face. “Aye?” he prompted.
