Текст книги "Only With A Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
And although they had found several suitable building sites, Matt always seemed to come back to the high meadow as his first choice. But after two weeks and four sketch pads full of ideas, Winter suspected Matt’s unwillingness to simply declare the meadow his favorite site had more to do with wanting to spend time with her than an inability to make a decision.
Five days ago Matt had bought camping equipment from Dolan’s Outfitter Store, and even though he had kept his hotel suite, he was now living on Bear Mountain and only coming back to the resort to shower before picking her up for dinner each evening.
Matt had set his campsite at the top of the high meadow in a cave hallowed into an outcropping of rock that overlooked both the meadow and Pine Lake. He’d made a cozy little camp that was still within earshot of Bear Brook and seemed surprisingly comfortable roughing it despite October’s increasingly cold weather. The second night sleeping out, Matt had awakened to a two-inch blanket of snow, though it had completely melted by noon. But instead of scaring him off, the snow only seemed to further endear Matt to his mountain.
When Matt had first mentioned his plan to camp in the cave so he could get a better feel for the mountain, Winter had become alarmed. She’d talked to Tom about the two swordsmen he’d seen in the meadow, worried that Matt might run into them.
Tom had reminded her Matt had a pistol and that a bullet beat a sword any day of the week.
Her boyfriend appeared more than capable of looking out for himself, Tom had assured Winter. And telling Matt there had been two men dressed in kilts, fighting with swords in his meadow in the light of a full moon, would only make him think his artist in residence might be crazy.
So Winter had taken her petition to Gesader, explaining her worry and asking her pet to please keep an eye on Matt for her. She wasn’t sure if the panther had understood her request, much less cared what happened to Matt, but Gesader hadn’t been home for the last five nights. Winter could only hope it was because he was lurking around Bear Mountain, watching for Tom’s elusive swordsmen.
Matt had flown back to New York City several times in the last two weeks, and each time before he left he would stop at Winter’s gallery and ask her to go with him. Each time she would tell him no, and each time Matt took her refusal with the graciousness of a gentleman.
Not that he kissed like a gentleman. Nay, Matt’s kisses had grown increasingly more…well, more heated as Winter had grown more comfortable with him—which is exactly why she refused to go to New York City. The night on the mountain when they’d taken Daar home, when she’d all but thrown herself at Matt, had made Winter realize how close she’d come to nearly blowing it.
She liked Matt. He was everything she could want in a man: intelligent, successful, attentive, charming, utterly gorgeous, and sexy as all get out. The only flaw that she could find was that he was toohonorable.
Winter could no longer deny that she wanted Matt Gregor so badly her heart actually ached.
That first night they’d kissed had definitely been too soon for anything more, but dang it, how much longer was he going to drive her crazy with only kisses? The chemistry was right—she knewit was right.
And she knew Matt also felt what she felt. So what in curses was he waiting for? For her to finally go to New York with him? Was he seeing her refusal as a sign she wasn’t ready to take the next step?
Surely he realized she needed that monumental step to be right here in Pine Creek where she felt safe, didn’t he?
Winter led Snowball out of the barn as she thought about the predicament she was in. How was she supposed to let Matt know she wanted him, but that their first time had to be on herturf? And then how was she going to explain being twenty-four years old and still a virgin without looking like a silly child?
She wasn’t a prude; she was just fussy, was all. She simply had never met a man who made her insides hum with desire—not until Matheson Gregor had walked into her gallery. So how could she take the next step without coming across as a sex-starved hussy, and without having to go to New York City?
She couldn’t ask her mama, Winter decided with a frown as she stepped onto the mounting block and swung into the saddle. She couldn’t quite see herself explaining how badly she wanted to make love to Matt, much less asking Grace to please give her some pointers on how to go about it. Aye, she thought with a snort, that would be quite a conversation between mother and daughter.
Her mama seemed to have bigger worries right now, other than her daughter’s sex life. Winter’s last two weeks of happiness were marred only by the fact that she still couldn’t discover what was bugging her parents. Their moods seemed to be getting worse as time passed, not better. Her papa rode daily with Robbie up TarStone Mountain to Father Daar’s, and Winter knew the three men were still trying to find out what had happened to the pine tree.
And her mama was up there with them today, which was why Winter was heading up TarStone herself. Matt had flown to his factory in Utah last night after dinner, and had said he probably wouldn’t be back for a couple of days, which left Winter plenty of time to spy on her parents. One way or another, once and for all, she was going to find out what the big secret was.
Instead of taking the tote road, Winter urged Snowball into a canter straight up the ski slope.
She would go almost to the summit and approach Daar’s cabin from an unlikely direction. She’d leave Snowball a good distance away, sneak up on the cabin, and listen to what was going on inside.
She had Megan’s wholehearted approval, both girls deciding they were being caring daughters, not spies. Winter preferred to think she was helping Megan, since constant fretting on top of a broken heart was slowly turning Megan into a basket case. That was why Winter had talked her sister into watching the gallery this morning while she followed their parents.
Winter pulled up the collar on her jacket to ward off the chill October breeze as she eyed the bank of clouds moving in from the southeast. A storm was moving up the New England coast, and it was predicted to dump Atlantic moisture ahead of it across the entire state of Maine. For the coast that meant rain; for the mountains, six-to-ten inches of wet snow. It was still early yet for accumulating snow, despite the unusually cold and stormy fall, but even if a foot of snow fell, it wouldn’t likely stick around more than a week.
Winter pulled Snowball back to a walk as she guided him off the ski slope and onto a narrow trail that wove through the woods. They hadn’t gone twenty yards when Gesader stepped into view and sat down right in the middle of the path. Snowball stopped, tugged on his bit to loosen his reins, and nuzzled the panther’s head. Gesader returned Snowball’s greeting with a throaty growl and a rough lick to the horse’s nose.
“Well, good morning,” Winter said, leaning forward in the saddle to look down at her pet.
“How come you didn’t come home last night? Matt’s gone.”
Gesader snarled in greeting, turned, and padded up the path ahead of them. Snowball automatically started following him, and Winter chuckled to herself.
Either Gesader could read her mind or he knew this path ended at Father Daar’s cabin, because her pet continued to take up the lead for the next twenty minutes. He suddenly stopped in a thick stand of trees about two hundred yards above the cabin’s clearing, sat down, and simply stared up at her.
“Yes,” she whispered, dismounting and tying Snowball’s reins to a bush. “You can help me spy.”
As if he understood exactly what she wanted, Gesader led the way to the clearing on the south side of Daar’s cabin. Winter saw only two horses tied up out front, her papa’s warhorse and old Butterball, which meant Robbie wasn’t there. She nudged Gesader with her knee, signaling him to work his way around the perimeter of the clearing toward the front. “Ye keep a watch out for Robbie,” she whispered as she started working her way around the clearing, using the trees for cover.
She watched and listened for a good five minutes, then finally tiptoed across the open space and up to the back wall of the cabin. Keeping her back against the weathered logs, she inched her way toward the window and slowly straightened to peer inside.
Daar was sitting at the table opposite her papa, Daar softly talking and her papa listening. Her mama was standing at the wood-fired cookstove, poking bacon in the large iron skillet with a wooden spoon. Grace suddenly stopped, turned to the men with a frown, and waved her spoon at them.
“I don’t know what makes you think Winter can find him if none of us have been able to,”
Grace said angrily. “Even Mary hasn’t been able to discover anything. And that puny staff you made for Winter can’t even light a candle.”
Winter scowled. What in hell were they talking about? Have her find who? And what staff?
Had Daar made her a staff like his? Come to think of it, Winter realized she hadn’t seen Daar’s thick old staff for months now; he’d been using a wooden cane made from a maple sapling to get around. So why would he have made hera staff instead of one for himself?
Curses, what was going on?
“It will have plenty of energy in Winter’s hands,” Daar countered, glaring at Grace. “Once she gets her mind off that Gregor fellow and onto the business at hand.” He turned his glare on Grey. “Ye need to tell her now. We need Winter’s magic. The pine is dying.”
They needed her magic?
She didn’t have any magic. That was Robbie and Daar’s calling. Winter stepped away from the window and pressed her back to the cabin, frowning at the trees across the clearing.
Hermagic? Herstaff? Tell her whatnow?
She turned to the window again when she heard a chair slide back. Her papa had stood up. He walked over to Grace, took hold of her shoulders, and said, “He’s right, wife. We can’t wait any longer.
We have to tell Winter today.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Grace’s head. “Putting it off is only compounding the problem,” he continued. Winter saw his hands tighten on her mama’s shoulders, and Grace looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “If ye want Winter to get on with her life,” Grey said,
“then we have to tell her now, so she can help us find and destroy Cùram.”
Winter sucked in her breath. Cùram? The wizard Robbie had stolen the tap root from? She was supposed to find him?
And destroy him?
Winter never did hear her mama’s response, what with her screaming when a pair of large hands suddenly caught her at the waist, spun her around, and tossed her over a broad, solid shoulder.
“Oh-ho, didn’t yer mama tell ye it’s not nice to spy?” Robbie said with a laugh as he strode along the side of the cabin with her over his shoulder.
Winter squirmed furiously, but when that only got her a smack on her bottom, she pinched Robbie’s back just above his belt. “Let me go,” she hissed, rearing up and smacking his shoulder. “I wasn’t spying. I was getting Daar some firewood.”
All she got for an answer was a laugh, but she did have the satisfaction of hearing Robbie grunt when her flailing feet connected with his thigh. The final indignity came as Robbie was mounting the steps, when Winter caught sight of Gesader lying in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, lazily licking his paws.
Robbie entered the cabin and set Winter down on her feet, grabbing her wrist as if expecting her to bolt. “Ye have varmints lurking in yer bushes,” he said to the startled occupants of the one-room cabin. “I warned ye, old man, not to toss yer scrap food out so close by.”
“Winter!” Grace said with a gasp, rushing up to her. “What are you doing here?”
Winter lifted her chin. “I’m trying to find out what’s been bugging you and Papa for the last two weeks.” She tugged her wrist free and turned her furious glare on her papa. “What is it you’ve finally decided to tell me? What’s going on? And what did you mean by mymagic?”
Winter became truly alarmed when her papa broke eye contact and looked at the floor, his face paling to ashen white. Never, ever, had Winter seen the powerful Laird Greylen MacKeage back down
–certainly not from one of his daughters, and certainly not from a direct question.
“Winter,” Grace whispered, taking her hand and leading her over to the table, urging her down in a chair. She pulled another chair up beside Winter, took hold of her hand again, and squeezed it as she darted a worried glance at her husband. “Th-there’s something your father and I need to tell you,” she said softly, looking at Winter and leaning closer. “Something we’ve been keeping from you all this time.”
“W-what?” Winter whispered, feeling the blood drain from her own face as she looked into her mother’s turbulent eyes.
The silence became absolute, until her papa suddenly pulled up a chair to sit beside her and took hold of her other hand. “Ye’re…the reason we…ye—” he began, only to pale again and look at Grace. Winter followed his gaze, looking at her mother in question.
“Have you never wondered why Daar brought your father forward in time thirty-seven years ago?” Grace asked softly.
“No,” Winter said. “Yes,” she quickly contradicted with a shake of her head. “Of course I’ve wondered. All us girls have.” She nodded toward the silent priest standing by the hearth. “But the only logical reason we could think of was that Daar had messed up another one of his spells.”
Grace shook her head. “No, he didn’t make a mistake. Daar brought Greylen here on purpose.” She smiled crookedly. “The others, the MacBains and your MacKeage uncles, they were a mistake. It was only supposed to be Greylen who came forward.”
“But why?”
“To meet me,” Grace said softly, squeezing Winter’s hand again. “So we could have seven daughters together.”
Winter blinked at her mama. Daar had brought a highland warrior eight hundred years through time just to make babies?
Grey snorted. “Aye, it seems so,” he said, and Winter realized she’d spoken out loud.
“I was supposed to be the seventh son of a seventh son,” Grace continued, drawing Winter’s attention again. Her crooked smile broadened. “But I was born a female, and it appears that it was my seventh daughter who was destined to be gifted.”
“G-gifted?” Winter whispered.
“Aye,” her papa said, scooting closer and lacing his fingers through hers. He took a deep breath and reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her face. “Ye have a very special gift, baby girl,” he said.
“Ye were born with the knowledge of the universe in ye.”
“I—I don’t have any knowledge,” she whispered, darting a worried look at her mother before locking her gaze back on her father. “If I did, I…wouldn’t I knowit?”
“Nay,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “It seems ye need to be made aware of yer gift first. Ye need to be taught the skills of a drùidh.”
“Drùidh!” Winter yelped, untangling herself from her parents and standing up, sending her chair skittering across the floor. She pointed at the still-silent priest. “Like him? Are you saying I’m like Daar!”
Both Grey and Grace immediately stood, but when Grey stepped toward her with his hand outstretched, Winter took a step back and gave a curt shake of her head. “No.” She took another step back. “I’m not a wizard. I can’t be a wizard! I would know if I was,” she cried, slapping her hand to her chest. “I would know!”
“Ye don’t know because the magic is dormant until ye’re made aware of it,” Daar interjected, stepping away from the hearth.
“Stay out of this, old man,” her papa growled.
“Nay,” Daar countered. “She needs to know the truth.” He looked at Winter. “Ye wouldn’t realize ye have the magic in ye, lass, unless ye knew to look for it. Ye’ve always carried the energy, but ye must look deep inside yourself to find it. It doesn’t just come to ye, ye have to go in search of it.”
“It was exactly the same for me, Winter,” Robbie said, stepping away from the closed door he’
d been leaning against. He smiled warmly at her. “I was twenty-six years old before my papa explained my calling to me.”
“But you were only eight when you saved Rose Dolan in the snowstorm when she was just a few months old,” Winter pointed out. “You were a guardian even then. You nearly died saving her.”
“Aye,” Robbie agreed. “But I was only acting from instinct to save an infant. I had no idea what I was doing.”
“But I don’t even have instinct!” Winter cried, backing away from everyone. “I have nothing!”
“Ye have it all, Winter,” her papa said softly. “It’s been right there in yer paintings since ye first started drawing with crayons. The spirits ye hide in yer work, do ye not find it strange that ye see their energy as plain as ye see the real animals, yet others do not?”
“But they’re only figments of my imagination,” she argued, looking from her papa to her mama, then to Robbie, her hands lifted beseechingly. “I drew them for whimsy.”
“They’re not your imagination, Winter,” Daar said. “They’re as real as the flesh-and-blood animals ye draw. Ye paint what ye see, and ye see the full spectrum of energy.”
“I don’t want to be a wizard,” she whispered, looking down at the floor, no longer able to face any of them. “I only want to paint.”
“Then that’s all ye have to do,” her papa said gently. “Ye have the right to deny yer calling.”
She looked up at her papa in surprise, her gaze then darting to her mother. Grace nodded.
Winter looked at Robbie, and he also nodded and smiled. “Aye,” Robbie said. “Ye have the choice of accepting or denying yer gift.”
“Did you have a choice?”
“Aye. I could have renounced my calling when I learned about it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I chose to honor my destiny, Winter, because despite the enormous responsibility that comes with being a guardian, there’s also the satisfaction of protecting my loved ones.” He crossed his arms again and gazed deeply into her eyes. “But being a guardian and being a drùidhare not the same. My decision to follow my calling should not influence yours. You must walk yer own path, Winter.”
“I don’t want to turn out like Daar,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“I beg yer pardon,” Daar said, straightening his shoulders and smoothing down the front of his cassock. “I served my calling well for nearly two millennia, and I’m damn proud of that fact.”
Winter gave him an apologetic frown. “No offense, Father, but you bungle your spells more often than you succeed.”
He picked a piece of lint off his sleeve. “Only in this last century,” he muttered, looking up with a scowl. “Before that, I was a powerful force to be reckoned with.” He stepped closer, holding his hands cupped together in front of him. “Ye can have that same power, lass. All ye have to do is decide ye want it, and ye can hold the knowledge of the universe in yer hands.”
“To what end?” she asked. “So I can interfere in everyone’s lives? Uproot people from their natural time and send them hurtling into another century?” She suddenly gasped, shooting her gaze to her parents. “I’m going to live for centuries,” she whispered in horror. “I’m going to outlive everyone!”
“Aye, there is that,” Daar said with a sigh, drawing her attention. “But ye get used to it,” he added with a negligent shrug. “Ye learn to adjust, because ye know ye’re serving the greater good.”
“I’m going to turn into a cranky old goat just like you.”
He grinned broadly. “Aye, that is one benefit. I can be just as cranky as I want, and no one can do much about it.”
Winter stood frowning at Daar when another thought suddenly struck her. She looked at her papa. “What were you talking about earlier? Something about Cùram, and that I’m supposed to find him.” Winter felt the blood drain from her face as the realization set in. “I heard you saying you expect me to destroy Cùram. But Robbie told us he’s a powerful wizard. I can’t fight a wizard.”
“It’s up to you, Winter,” her papa said. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel up to.
And if you did choose to accept your gift, you wouldn’t be alone, baby girl. You’d have us guarding your back.”
Winter blinked at him, then slowly looked at everyone else. “No offense, people, but a bumbling old drùidh,a warrior, a rocket scientist, and a guardian are not exactly a match for this Cùram guy, if he truly is that powerful. And I can’t even light a candle without using three or four matches.”
Robbie chuckled. “We also have Mary,” he reminded her. “And Daar has made ye a staff of your own.”
Daar rushed to the hearth and took down a thin, smooth, five-foot-long stick from the mantel.
Winter decided her mama was right, it did look puny.
The old priest walked over and held it out to her. “It’s made from a branch of my white pine,”
he said, his voice laced with quiet reverence. “It’s weak yet, but it will grow strong as ye develop yer energy.”
Winter tucked her hands behind her back. “I don’t want it,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want your magic.”
Daar gave her a fierce scowl that should have fried her on the spot, then turned his scowl on her papa. “Make her take it, MacKeage. Tell her what happens if she doesn’t.”
Winter looked at her papa in alarm. “What happens? What’s the big secret you’ve all been keeping for the last two weeks?”
Her papa looked at the stick the old priest was still holding toward her and shook his head, his gaze locked on Daar. “It’s not really free will then, is it old man, if I tell her the fate of mankind rests on her shoulders,” Grey said, his voice sounding so defeated that Winter’s insides knotted in fear.
“The fate of mankind?” she whispered, looking at her mother. “Mama, tell me what he’s talking about.”
Grace walked up and put her arms around Winter, giving her a fierce hug. “Daar’s pine tree is dying,” she said into Winter’s hair. “And its death is going to cause a chain reaction that will eventually kill all the trees of life. And when they die, the world dies with them.”
Winter pulled back only enough to look into her mother’s deeply troubled eyes. “Just because someone cut off the top of the pine?” she asked. “Killing just one of the trees of life will make the others die?” She looked past her mama’s shoulder to Robbie and frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense.
Surely a tree of life isn’t that vulnerable. That means even an innocent logger cutting timber could destroy mankind.”
“Nay, the trees aren’t that vulnerable,” Robbie said with a shake of his head. “A saw would dull at the first slide of its blade into the trunk of one. But Daar’s pine was dying beforethe top was cut. It had grown weak trying to balance the energies. Something has disturbed the continuum, Winter, and having its energy drained is what made the pine vulnerable.”
“It was already dying before someone cut it?” she whispered, stepping out of her mama’s embrace and turning to Daar. “So the problem isn’t that someone cut your pine, but that…this Cùram wizard you’ve been talking about has upset the continuum.”
“Aye,” her papa said before Daar could respond. “We believe Cùram is here, and that he’s come to destroy mankind.”
“But why?”
“We don’t know why,” Grace said. “That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out for the last two weeks.”
“So did Cùram cut the top off the pine?” Winter asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so,” Daar said with a sigh, finally lowering his hands holding the tiny staff. “That’s another mystery we’ve been trying to solve. We don’t know who cut it, or what that someone did with the top. The storm that night wiped out any signs we might have been able to follow.”
Winter stared in silence at the staff Daar was now leaning on like a cane, then looked at her papa. “S-so you want me to take up my calling to be a drùidhso I can find Cùram and stop him? And if I don’t, mankind will die?”
Her papa said nothing, merely nodded. Winter looked at her mama, only to find tears welling in Grace’s eyes as she neither nodded nor shook her head. Winter then looked at Robbie, but finding his expression completely unreadable, she turned her attention to Daar.
“If I do this…if I choose to honor the destiny you claim is mine, and destroy Cùram and save the pine, can I…can I then go back to being just me? Can I renounce my calling after?”
“Nay,” Daar said, breaking eye contact to look at the floor. “Ye have the free will to choose, but once ye do, there’s no turning back.” He looked at her. “If ye choose to take up yer power, ye can’t suddenly decide ye don’t want it anymore. Once knowledge is gained, ye can’t simply forget what ye’ve learned.”
“So if I take that staff,” Winter whispered, looking at the frail piece of wood he was holding,
“then I become a drùidhjust like you?”
Daar frowned. “It’s not that simple, girl. Ye can take this now,” he said, holding it out to her again, “and nothing much will happen, other than ye’ll get a feel for its energy. It’s not until ye make the commitment in yer heart that yer come into yer full power.”
Very slowly, more scared than she’d ever been in her life, Winter reached out and took the small, pale white staff from him—as everyone in the room it seemed, including her, held their breath.
The moment her fingertips touched the wood, a gentle, almost imperceptible trickle of energy moved through her, causing the fine hairs on her body to stir. The muted hum began as a whisper when her hand closed over the staff, then rose to a pulsing vibration that echoed each pounding beat of her heart. Colorful tendrils of light appeared, dancing through the one-room cabin, engulfing everyone in a strobe of sizzling, blinding energy.
“Hold tight,” Daar called from a great distance. “Don’t be afraid, lass.’Tis only the magic welcoming ye. Embrace the knowledge, Winter, and feel its joy.”
She couldfeel it: the energy filled her, charging even her hair with static, making her reel with weightless freedom. Time stopped. All five of her senses sharpened. She could even tastethe powerful colors, individually distinct, swirling around the room in pulsing waves that seemed to begin and end with her.
And then Winter felt something even more acute as she clutched the thin staff to her chest, something indescribable; a sort of sixth sense settled over her in a blanket of knowledge, so powerful that Winter thought she might explode with awareness.
She suddenly cried out as the force of the turbulent maelstrom became too much, and ran for the door. She grappled with the knob, finally got the door open and stumbled onto the porch, mindless to the frantic shouts behind her. She had to get out. She had to leave before she was consumed!
She ran down the steps and into the clearing, nearly tripping over Gesader when he suddenly appeared in front of her. “Help me,” she cried, groping for the fur of his back. “Please, help me.”
Blinded by tears and the swirling energy pulling at her, Winter clutched her pet’s fur as he led her stumbling up the overgrown trail. She had no idea how she did it without benefit of a stump, but the next thing Winter knew she was mounted on Snowball, leaning forward with her face buried in his mane, crying uncontrollably as her trusted friends took her away from the horror of Daar’s cabin.
Chapter Fourteen
“G et out of my way,”Greylen growled, preparing to move Robbie from the door if need be.
“Nay, Greylen,” Robbie said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Winter doesn’t need any of us right now. We’d only be filling her head with more questions. Trust me, Grey,” Robbie petitioned. “I had the same reaction she’s having when I came home from the army and my papa tried to explain my calling to me.” He smiled sadly. “I spent nearly a week alone in the forest before I was able to face anyone again, much less the man who had given me that calling.”
Grey gave Robbie a good glare, then spun to face Daar. “Ye lied, priest. Ye told Winter it was safe to hold the staff, but it nearly killed her!”
Daar held up his hands, backing away. “Nay, MacKeage, I didn’t lie. I just underestimated the strength of Winter’s gift. I didn’t know the staff would react so strongly.”
Grey felt Robbie’s hand return to his shoulder in a calming gesture, yet he didn’t turn to his nephew but continued to glare at the priest.
“She’ll be okay, Greylen,” Robbie said, moving around to his side. “She has Gesader to look out for her, and Mary will likely tag along in the shadows. Winter has a good head on her shoulders. She’
ll eventually reason things out, and then she’ll come back as mad as hell, demanding answers.”
“But there’s a storm coming,” Grace said, lifting fretful, tear-filled eyes to Robbie as she hugged herself. “They’re predicting snow. She can’t stay away for days in a snowstorm.”
Grey reached out and drew his wife to him, holding her head to his chest and absorbing her shivers. “Winter knows every nook and cranny on this mountain,” he assured her. “And how to survive with nothing more than a knife no matter the weather. She has an emergency kit in her saddlebag, remember? Robbie’s right, wife. Our daughter doesn’t want anything to do with us right now.”
“But ye mustgo after her,” Daar interjected. “Ye forgot about Gregor. Ye didn’t tell Winter she has to stop seeing him. Ye have to go after her and tell her now.”
It was Grace who spun around and took a step toward the priest, her fists balled at her sides.
“We are not telling her to stop seeing Matt,” she hissed. “She’s had enough bad news without realizing she has to spend the next two thousand years alone!”
“Gregor’s away on business,” Grey said, unable to stifle his smile as the old priest backed away from Winter’s formidable mama. “I believe he’s gone for a few days.”
It was Grey’s news and not Grace’s threatening stance that seemed to make Daar back off.
The priest sighed, walked over to the woodstove, and peered into the pan of soggy bacon. “My breakfast is ruined,” he muttered.
“So’s my daughter’s life!” Grace shot back, going to the pegs on the wall and taking down her jacket. “I want to leave now,” she said. “I have to go to the gallery and explain this to Megan.” Grey helped her slip into the jacket, then turned her to face him. “Megan will worry herself sick if she doesn’t hear from her sister,” Grace continued as she buttoned up her jacket. “She was likely in on Winter’s spying this morning.”
