“Come out from behind there, ye bastard. I’ll shove that wee stick of yers straight up yer arse until ye choke on it.” The shorter Highlander bounced forward, doing his damnedest to push through Vivienne and Alberti’s locked arms.
“If ye would be excusing me for just a wee moment, lass.” The owner of the mesmerizing voice from her vision politely bowed then turned around and grabbed the shorter man by the scruff of the neck. “Come, Angus. We will take our money elsewhere.”
“Nay. That bastard insulted me. Called me a thief. I’ll be damned if I leave without showing him what for.” Angus locked both hands atop the bar railing and hooked the heels of his boots into the foot rungs close to the floor. “I’ll not leave without a fight, Graham. I’ll not do it, I tell ye.”
“Aye.” Graham grunted and yanked Angus free of the bar. “Ye will do it and ye’ll be a doing it now.” He grappled Angus closer, muttered something against the side of his head, then shoved him toward the door.
Angus staggered sideways, all the while looking back. Lilia glanced first at Angus then turned and followed his line of sight. What had Mr. Honey-Voice told him? She looked back at Angus once more then turned back again and it all became clear. Angus’s attention was focused on Vivienne. Or rather her currently upended leather-covered derriere as she bent over the bar, wrestling the bat away from Frank.
Lilia hurried forward, waving for Graham to follow. A quick glance back assured her that Vivienne and Alberti were now following close behind Graham. Vivienne was grinning from ear to ear as she waved Frank’s bat overhead and dance-walked to the song blaring from the speakers. Lilia shook her head and chuckled as she pushed her way out the door into the cool night air. Leave it to Vivienne to transform a barroom brawl into a dancing conga line.
Angus was stomping up and down the sidewalk, pausing every now and then to shake his fist toward the pub, then grab his crotch and shake his kilt-covered parts in a very clear message to Frank and his place of business. He whirled around, bent over, and was just about to bare his ass when Graham caught up with him and thumped him on the back. Angus straightened with an angry jerk; his narrow-eyed glare fixed on Graham.
Lilia patted Angus on the shoulder. “Ignore Frank. Fringe always gets his panties in a wad.”
Both of Angus’s dark wooly brows arched clear to his tousled hairline. “Panties?”
Before Lilia could respond, Graham stepped forward with a polite bow and an extended hand. “Forgive us, mistress. We are not usually so uncivilized. I am Graham MacTavish and ’tis an honor to meet ye.” He motioned toward the glowering man just behind him. “And this be Angus MacKenna.”
“Did you say MacTavish?” Lilia paused mid-reach of taking Graham’s hand. This was the first time since she had moved to Edinburgh that she’d run across any MacTavishes other than Eliza. Perhaps Graham was a yet-to-be-discovered relation.
Graham kept his hand extended and bowed again. “Aye. MacTavish. Do ye ken the name?”
She slid her hand into his calloused palm. Bits and pieces of smoldering erotic scenes flashed through her mind and pulsing energy surged into her, heating her to her core. She quickly jerked back and curled her fist to her chest. “Sorry. Guess I built up some static electricity inside the pub.” Static electricity, her ass.That warm tingling jolt packed enough psychic sexuality and cosmic energy to blow her socks off and trigger the orgasm of the century. What the devil was that about?
Graham’s eyes flared wide. With a stiff jerk, he stared down at his hand, then rubbed his thumb back and forth across his fingertips. “Stat . . . What did ye say?” He took another step forward and held out his hand again.
“Static electricity,” Lilia repeated. Dare she touch him again? Surely the blood-warming zap had just been a fluke. Probably because she’d just had one of her visions. Some kind of weird residual stuff. That was it. Her energy was stuck on wide open and her amps were humming into overdrive. She just needed to calm down.
She pulled in a deep cleansing breath, rubbed her thumb across her fingers, then firmly clasped Graham’s hand. The seductive energy surged into her again, warming, melding, and sensually buzzing through every particle of her being. She knew this man and recognized him at the most basic level of her existence. But how in the world could that be possible? She had never met him before.
“I ken who ye be,” he said in a hushed tone. “Lilia Sinclair.” He ran his thumb across the top of her hand then reverently lifted it to his lips.
She pulled her hand away and pressed it back to the tightly laced bodice of her leather corset. “You can’t know me. We’ve never met.” She eased a step back, the back of her hand still burning from the addictive touch of his mouth. “I’m sure I’d remember it if we had ever crossed paths.”
Graham closed the distance she had just put between them, his brow furrowing as he bent closer and studied her. “Aye. I shouldha seen it straightaway. Ye have the look of yer grandmother around yer eyes.”
Vivienne bounced over to Angus, Frank’s bat propped on her shoulder as though she were next up to the plate. “I’m Vivienne Sands and I must know where you got that exquisite shield. I absolutely adore the pattern.”
Angus’s mouth sagged open but no words came out. The man was powerless against Vivienne’s overflowing leather corset bobbing mere inches from his nose. He pulled the shield out from under his arm and handed it over. “Here. Ye can have it.”
She snuggled even closer to him, stroking her fingers across the perfectly round shield decorated with row upon row of brass brads. “So lovely.”
Eyes still locked on Vivienne’s bountiful chest, Angus emitted a strained squeaking noise and nodded. “Aye,” he finally whispered. “That it is.”
Forcing her gaze away from poor Angus, Lilia struggled to breathe against the suffocating conviction that she had just walked into a trap. Graham and Angus were from the past: hence the authenticity of their attire and the confusion in the bar. “Why are you two here? Who sent you?”
“Lilia!” Alberti sauntered up to the group, his cloak neatly folded over his arm. “It’s Fringe, love. You know they’re here for the festivities.” He held out his hand to Graham. “Alberti Peebles. It’s a pleasure to meet another true artist who insists on historically accurate weapons.”
“The weapons are accurate because theyarehistorical.” Lilia squared off in front of Graham and lifted her chin, doing her best to ignore the thudding pound of her heart against her heavy leather armor. Never had anyone affected her so . . . so . . . deeply and she didn’t care for it at all. “Did Granny send you . . . or was it Trulie?”
“Both.” A dark scowl replaced Graham’s amiable expression of only moments ago. “Chieftain MacKenna, the Lady Trulie, and Mother Sinclair worry after ye. They feel I can help protect ye.” He clapped a hand on Angus’s shoulder and pulled him away from Vivienne’s bustline. “Angus was sent along with me because he too appeared in yer grandmother’s vision.”
Alberti and Vivienne shared a worried glance then moved to stand on either side of Lilia. Her knotted hands trembled and the pounding of her heartbeat thumped in her sweat-dampened palms. She didn’t need this right now. She was already in emotional overload dealing with the impending loss of Eliza. Vaguely, she felt Vivienne squeeze her shoulders. “Come on, pet. I’ll take ye home. Ye are far gone weary. Alberti can see to the men and find them a place to stay. We dinna have to deal with this tonight.”
Graham held up a hand, stepping closer and blocking the path Vivienne had turned Lilia toward. “Stay.” His dark eyes narrowed and his extended hand slowly curled closed then dropped to his side. “I beg ye stay and speak with me for just a wee bit. I mean ye no harm—I swear it.” Then he straightened, chin lifted and chest expanding as though shielding himself from what he knew would be her refusal. “Surely ye ken yer family would not send a danger to ye.”
That was a fair point. Lilia eased out from under Vivienne’s protective hug, giving Graham a quick aural scan before shoring back up the shields that kept the world’s emotions from driving her insane.
