A disturbing sense of compliance washed across him, one that he knew had not been of his own doing.It was not his nature to yield to anything—not even when it was in his best interest.“Stop with yer spells, witch.”
Henry gasped like a wee lassie startled by a mouse.“He means no disrespect, Mairwen.”
“Aye, he does,” she said with a weary sigh.“But it is his way, and I accepted that about him long ago.I still mean to protect him.”She pointed at Grant, making a chill ripple through his flesh.“Do as ye are told or regret it, ye ken?I canna snatch ye back once Death wraps his bony fingers around ye and pulls ye from the living.”
Then, the surrounding shadows darkened with an eerie murkiness, swallowing Mairwen from view as a heavy fog rolled in and covered the firth and its port.
“This is her doing.”Grant bared his teeth and nudged his horse into motion, trotting down the hillside toward the shoreline.Past experience with the witch told him she was long gone.If anything happened to Lachie and Gordon while he couldn’t see them, he would hold her personally accountable and somehow make her pay.
The steady thunder of wagon wheels and horses’ hooves came toward him through the fog.He slowed his mount and took refuge off the side of the narrow road, but didn’t call out.Reports of soldiers, excisemen, and their paid blackguards being seen in the area demanded the utmost caution.
As the first wagon rolled into view, he breathed easier.His cousin Lachie urged the team of Shires onward, grinning like a fool as the enormous horses easily pulled the fully loaded wagon up the ever-steepening incline.“Ye’re like a blister, Grant.Ye dinna show up until all the work is done.”
Grant laughed as he rode alongside the wagon.“A wise laird knows when to trust his able men and let them alone.Any trouble?”
“None.That fog came in at the perfect time.Made it so we could load the wagons faster and head out afore anyone was the wiser.If ye prayed it in, ye best be thanking whichever saint ye asked for their help.”
“I shall remember that when I say my bedtime prayers.”Grant had a fair idea that Mairwen had called in the fog, but he wasn’t about to share that with his cousin.He also wasn’t entirely pleased to find himself beholden to the witch, who was most definitely not a saint.He twisted in the saddle and scowled at the swirling fog that appeared to be thickening by the minute.“I canna see a feckin’ thing.Gordon watched the lads and ensured they loaded the crates proper, aye?”
Lachie shot him an insulted look.“I thought ye said a wise laird trusted his able men?”
“A wise laird also worries.This shipment will go a long way when it comes to adding to the coffers meant to get us through winter.”He frowned and stretched forward, straining to better see something up ahead.A figure, a woman, stood in the middle of the road with the heavy fog swirling around her so only her head and shoulders were visible.Sudden recognition chilled him to the marrow of his bones.Her hair was the shade of dew-kissed pumpkins illuminated by the rising sun.Her abundance of curls was tousled, tumbling down her back and over her shoulders.Her smile plumped her cheeks and flashed in her eyes.“Feckin’ hell,” he muttered.It was the woman from his dreams.Had Mairwen been foolish enough to drop the lass out here in the middle of a smuggling run?
Then he noticed Lachie was not slowing the team.“Halt, man!Afore ye hit her.Halt, I say!”He spurred his mount forward, reached over, and grabbed the harness of one of the lead horses.
“What the devil!”Lachie yanked on the reins, struggling to stop the team.Once the wagon halted, he stood and shook his fist at Grant.“Have ye lost yer feckin’ mind?”
“Me?Were ye damned and determined to kill her?”Grant jabbed a finger at the woman.Or, at least, where she had been.He stared at the spot, now empty except for the thinning fog.
“Her?”Lachie repeated.He leapt down from the wagon and trudged a good way up the path, then returned to stand beside Grant’s horse.“Are ye mad with drink?”
Grant wished it were that simple.“Nay.”He jerked his head at the wagon.“The fog played tricks on me.Let’s be on with it, aye?”
“Not until ye tell me the truth.”
Henry rode up, causing the silvery gray mist to swirl even more.“Since when do wetryto get caught?The fog’s lifted from the docks, and they’re astir down there.’Tis time to haul our arses out of here.Gordon and the lads have the other wagons headed this way.”
“The truth, Grant,” Lachie said, widening his stance as he folded his arms across his chest.“Who is thisherye thought ye saw?”
Grant gritted his teeth until his jaws cramped.He trusted Lachie as much as he trusted Henry.Both men were the brothers he had never had.Lachie was also a Defender of the Veil andmightcome close to understanding.“I thought I saw the woman from my dreams.The one Mairwen insists I must marry.”
Lachie puckered a thoughtful scowl, then tipped a nod and climbed back into the driver’s seat of the wagon.Kissing a clicking sound at the horses, he twitched the reins and got the team moving again, passing Grant and continuing up the road.
“And he’s not going to say a bloody thing?”Grant asked Henry.
Henry laughed and shook his head as he nudged his horse to follow the wagon.“What’s there to say?He knows what ye should do as well as I.”
As Gordon and the lads came into view with the other two wagons, Grant urged his horse onward.“Why the hell does it matter if I marry again?”he muttered to himself.But he knew that answer, as if Mairwen floated alongside him and whispered it in his ear.Fated mates shared the strongest love of all, and that love strengthened the threads of the Highland Veil—the barrier that must be upheld at all costs.
Chapter 4
Jessa dashed into the pub with Emily on her heels.Laughing, she paused in the entryway, shaking the rain from her hair and brushing the water off her sleeves.“Sorry, Ems.I thought for sure we could make it before the sky opened up and dumped buckets on us.”
“Ugh.”Disgusted as a drenched cat, Emily pushed around her and headed for the restrooms.“I’m going to go dry off.”
The mental picture of Emily crouching under the hot air hand dryer made Jessa snicker.“I’ll get us a table.”
“Did I not tell ye to go by Boyd’s and get ye a pair of brollies?”Lilias, co-owner of the pub with her brother Lyal, called out from behind the bar.She shook her head as well as her finger, making the sheen of her sleek blonde pixie cut shimmer even brighter under the hanging lights that looked like golden starbursts.“Ye’re in Scotland now, lass.Today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky, and we love it.Ye must always be prepared.”
