“Hannah, is this guy bothering you?” Sheriff Matt appeared, sauntering forward with his hand resting on the sidearm at his hip.
She tossed the man an appreciative smile; then swept her gaze back to Taggart. Matt would definitely need the gun. The massiveness of the angry Scot dwarfed the sheriff. In fact, she wondered if Taggart would have to duck to make it through the door. Probably had to turn sideways too because of those wide shoulders.
“It’s all right,” she said. “We’re discussing some land I wasn’t aware that I owned. Taggart is advising me about Scottish laws of ownership. He is a little passionate about some points I don’t understand.”
“Are you sure?” The sheriff tapped his holster while giving Taggart a warning glare.
“I am absolutely positive.” She patted the man’s arm. A twinge of guilt nipped at her conscience for pushing him off on Lily. Lily couldbe such a whiny little fussbudget when she didn’t get her way. Hopefully, Matt could hold his own with the daycare worker.
She scooped up the envelope and beckoned for the glowering Scot to follow. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk, and you can explain about this Guild of Barac’Nairn without risk of being shot.”
His plan had failed miserably so far.This coming to Jasper Mills to sweep the illustrious Guardian off her feet. He had assumed carting her back to Scotland would be easy. He realized now how wrong he was. Taggart worried a hand through his black, shoulder length hair. Even the photos had failed to entice her to visit Taroc Na Mor. The sight of the place should have filled her with longing. Perhaps the papers had sat too long, and the magic he laced within them went dormant. He had double-checked and performed the incantations himself. How had he erred? The yearning flowed in Hannah MacPherson’s blood. It was in her eyes. Reliable records had also verified her lineage on both sides of the threshold. She was the last true heir in this world and Erastaed.
Gracie Sullivan had been the first of Hannah’s gifted lineage. The Guild had sorely fallen short in their protection of their very first charge of the Sullivan line. They failed miserably again when they lost the thread leading to Hannah’s grandmother and mother. He had sorted through centuries of false leads before finding Hannah. It had taken him forever, but finally he had homed in on her like a bee to nectar.
With a covert glance, he studied her as she walked along beside him. Such fire! Born to be a Guardian, she was. Septamus would dearly love her. In fact, the lass would thrill the Draecna of not only Taroc Na Mor but all the realms.
“Taggart!” She whistled and clapped.
“Beg pardon.” He bowed his head. “Forgive me. I was lost in thought. What did ye say?”
“This Guild of Barac’Nairn? Tell me more about this elite groupnow that we’re out of earshot of Jasper Mills’ busybodies.” She led the way to an acre of neatly mown grass in the center of town. White benches were scattered alongside an asphalt jogging path, but she headed for a set of abandoned benches in the shade of a grand old oak.
“As I said before,” he began. “I paid the taxes on the estate. Ye have no worries regarding money and the lands of Taroc Na Mor.” If money was all that troubled the woman, perhaps he could ease her mind, and they would be on their way to Scotland by tomorrow.
As she settled on the bench, three squirrels chased each other down the trunk of the large tree and settled in an adoring heap beside her.
“Friends of yers?” He nodded toward the chattering threesome looking up at her while flipping their bushy tails. The attentive wee beasties affirmed Hannah’s heritage. True Guardians shared a special affinity with creatures on every level in both the realities.
She smiled and held out her hand to the chubbiest of the group. “I rescued these three from a storm drain a year ago last spring. They seem to have a penchant for living on the edge and have caused a few minor fender benders while crossing Main Street during the busiest part of the day. There’s another oak over on the courthouse lawn that has acorns they can’t seem to resist. Everyone does their best to dodge them, since the whole town knows they’re slightly spoiled.”
Either the woman deluded herself or feared he would think her strange if he discovered her special abilities. A nearby rustling in the bushes caught his eye. He stifled a smile while his heart warmed with satisfaction. Aye. The heritage flowed strong in this one. All creatures loved her. “Another of yer friends appears to be coming to see ye. Did ye save that one’s life as well?” He nodded toward the edge of the park, where a deer nosed its way out of the dense hedging surrounding the well-clipped lawn.
“Oh, not again.” She sprang up from the bench. Both arms waving, she jogged toward the deer, shooing it back into the safety of the woods.
He chuckled under his breath. Apparently, he needed to convinceher it was only natural the animals be drawn to her. She was a Guardian; that is what she did. She must visit Taroc Na Mor. If he could at least get her on the land, get her in the presence of one of the older Draecna, he knew she would change her mind about everything.
“Sorry.” She returned. The deer had relented and retreated to the edge of the clearing, nosing its way between a few forsythia bushes until it disappeared into the deeper shelter of the woods.
“Where is yer wee friend?” He smiled as he spotted the flick of the deer’s white tail amid the leafy cover of the trees.
“Uhm…not sure.” She paced back and forth in front of the bench then twitched a shrug at the woods. “I know it might seem a little strange. But animals are sort of, I guess you could say . . .” She paused, stole another frowning glance at the forest, and shook her head. “They are attracted to me sometimes. Now, could we just concentrate on why you are here, please?”
He perched on top of the picnic table, elbows propped on his knees. “I probably understand more about ye than ye realize, Ms. MacPherson. I am somewhat of an expert on yer ancestry.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her pacing stopped. “I see. Why don’t you start by telling me about this Guild of Barac’Nairn, since I already know myfamily’s history?”
“I would like to start by calling ye Hannah, if ye dinna mind.” She had thrown up her hackles when he mentioned her family history. There would be no telling her the truth about Taroc Na Mor or her destiny until he had her on the blessed soil of the sacred ground. He clenched his teeth, his frustration mounting. The woman would not make this easy. He would have to get her there and let the magic in her blood open her mind to her calling. The Draecna race needed her, and whether or not she realized it, she needed them.
Her nostrils flared, then her lovely mouth pursed as she blew out a disgruntled huff. She granted him a regal dip of her chin. “Fine. Call me Hannah.”
He hid his smile by scratching the day’s stubble along his jaw. By the fires of Erastaed, ye would have thought he had asked for permissionto beat her. Her uneasy tone reminded of a cornered animal. Perhaps the fiery Guardian was a bit uncertain of herself? Interesting. She was, by far, the most hardheaded woman he had ever met. And the greatest challenge he had faced in quite a while. And bless his hybrid hide, if he didn’t love it.
“Then, Hannah—” He eased her name off his tongue like a lover calling to his mate. He wanted her to hear the music of Scotland, the magic of its sound. “Walk with me and I shall tell ye of the Guild of Barac’Nairn, and how we have taken care of Taroc Na Mor down through the ages.”
They followed a path that led into the woods and paused on a small wooden bridge spanning a gurgling creek. Sunshine and shadow danced across the rippling water, lending a peacefulness to the gentle breeze soughing through the trees.
“I am the Protector chosen by the Guild of Barac’Nairn.” Taggart leaned against the weathered, split-wood railing of the bridge. “Our council has watched over Taroc Na Mor for more centuries than recorded by mortal man.”
