Текст книги "Secrets of the Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Jack buckled his pack shut, then walked over and picked up his rifle. He opened and closed the breech to double-check that the weapon wasn’t loaded, then replaced the regular scope with a night-vision scope. He slipped the rifle into the sheath attached to his pack, then clicked the remote to turn off the television before heading into his bedroom to change.
He wasn’t proud that he’d been avoiding Megan for the last three days, as well as ignoring the three notes she’d left taped to his door asking him to dinner three nights in a row—including tonight. But until this dragon business was settled one way or another, he was in no frame of mind to deal with their relationship.
Assuming there was a relationship to salvage when he got back. Killing the dragon would likely drive the last nail into the coffin of his and Megan’s future, which meant he was about to condemn himself to weekend visits with his son.
Kenzie’s time was up and Jack hadn’t heard anything, though the man had kept his promise that there wouldn’t be any more break-ins. In fact, the police business had been downright slow lately. It might have something to do with the two-foot snowstorm two days ago, or maybe the small army of state police cruisers in town all week investigating Peter Trump’s death had put a damper on crime. Ethel certainly wasn’t complaining. And Simon was back on the job, sporting four stitches on his left cheekbone. He was all but strutting around, having discovered that a facial scar received in the line of duty was a total chick magnet.
Dressed in thin long johns and clothes that afforded him easy movement, Jack grabbed his gear and headed out to his snowmobile. He secured his pack to the rear of his sled, started it up, and raced across the cove toward Bear Mountain, veering north to land well away from Matt and Winter’s cabin.
It was maybe an hour shy of sunset, and Jack wanted to start his trek up the mountain while he still had some daylight left. He reached shore at a point of land where a crooked old cabin was tucked in the pines, and parked between it and an even more rickety shed. Settling his pack on his back, he slipped into his snowshoes, pulled out his rifle and loaded it, then found a trail heading up the mountain on the other side of the shed. The trail looked plenty wide enough for a snowcat to maneuver up. But no one had been here since the snowstorm; the only tracks he saw were from four-legged creatures.
So where, he wondered as he trudged up the mountain, would he choose to live if he were a dragon?
Megan heard the snowmobile start up and immediately ran to the lakeside window, where to her dismay she saw Jack heading onto the lake. She gasped when she noticed what looked like a rifle sticking out of his backpack; she ran out on her deck and uselessly shouted at him as he zoomed away.
“Dammit to hell, Jack,” she cried, watching helplessly as he shot across the cove toward where Talking Tom’s cabin stood empty. “How do you always know exactly where to go?” She rushed back inside and dialed Camry’s cell phone.
“You need to meet me at the resort’s garage right now,” she said when Camry picked up, not even giving her a chance to say hello. “We have to borrow the snowcat again and get up to the cave! Jack just left on his snowmobile in the direction of Bear Mountain, and he’s got a rifle with him. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
“You think he’s hunting the dragon?”
“Kenzie’s week is up. Where else would Jack be going with a rifle?”
“But we’ll never get there in time, Meg. And it’s not five o’clock yet, so the garage will be full of workers. I can’t just waltz in and take one of the groomers. Besides, you said Jack took his snowmobile. He’ll be there before we can even get the snowcat started.”
“His sled does okay on the wind-packed lake, but it isn’t designed for the powdered snow he’ll find in the woods. He’s going to have to snowshoe up the mountain, and then he still has to find the cave. Just steal the damn thing when no one is looking. We have to get up to the cave now!”
“Okay, okay. But meet me where Matt’s road hits the main road instead of at the garage. I’ll grab the snowcat, head straight through town, and we’ll approach the cave from the opposite direction. If we’re lucky, we’ll get there before him.” There was a sudden pause. “Um…then what?”
“Then I guess I introduce Jack to William.”
The trail Jack was following broke into a high meadow just as the sun set over the mountains on the west side of Pine Lake. The first thing he noticed was the construction going on at the top of the meadow, where a cliff jutted more than a hundred feet above the trees. He also heard gushing water on the other side and knew it was Bear Brook making its way down to the lake.
Jack also felt a bracing energy humming through the air, and realized he was looking at the future home of Megan’s sister and brother-in-law. He remembered now that Megan had said Winter and Matt were living in the cabin by the lake only until their house was finished. Which looked to be a couple of years away at least, judging by the size of the foundation tucked against the cliff, as if they were going to make the sheer granite wall part of their home.
If he were a dragon, he wouldn’t live anywhere near a construction site that was bustling with workers all day. So where, Jack wondered as he scanned the mountaintop, would he want his lair to be? It should be high enough to see anything approaching, preferably a cave, or at least an outcropping of ledge for shelter, probably with a southern exposure.
Jack scanned the meadow again in the waning twilight, aware of the absence of tracks large enough to belong to the creature he and Megan had seen on the lake. But then, Kenzie had said the dragon was sick, so maybe the beast was already dead.
Hoping he was that lucky, Jack started up the northern tree line of the meadow. A half hour and a couple of miles later, he came to a groomed snowmobile trail. He stopped and took out his water bottle for a long drink while deciding in which direction to go.
Not wanting to risk meeting any snowmobilers who might wonder what he was doing up here at night carrying a rifle, Jack continued straight across the trail and plunged back into the woods before turning south, aiming toward another sheer cliff he could see in the distance.
He was closing in on it about an hour later when he stopped and went perfectly still. There was just the slightest of breezes, but it was enough to carry the faint scent of the slime he’d found at the break-ins. Since he was heading into the breeze, Jack knew he was going in the right direction.
Despite it being totally dark out but for the moonlight filtering through the trees, he quickened his pace, bringing his rifle to his chest and working the bolt to slide a shell into the chamber. He kept his finger on the safety and his eyes semifocused to watch for movement.
The smell grew slightly stronger as he got closer to the cliff. But it was another twenty minutes before he found a well-trodden path, which he followed directly up to an opening in the cliff. Jack stopped just outside the entrance to the cave, quietly slipped out of his snowshoes, and listened for any sounds within.
Not hearing anything, he quietly stepped into the mouth of the mountain. There was a good chance Kenzie Gregor was inside, and an even better chance the man would do everything in his power to stop Jack from killing the dragon.
Using his rifle to lead the way, with one finger on the safety and another on the trigger, he silently inched deeper into the winding cave. He was just reaching in his pocket for a small penlight when he realized that instead of getting darker the farther he got from the entrance, it was actually getting lighter. The smell of kerosene and wood smoke mixed with the foul odor of slime.
Damn, the dragon wasn’t alone.
The winding corridor he’d been following suddenly opened into a cavernous room so tall he couldn’t see the ceiling, and large enough that he could just barely see the far end. Light from a small fire reflected off the dark walls, and several lamps were strategically placed on ledges. But it wasn’t the dragon curled up on a large nest of straw that nearly brought Jack to his knees.
No, it was seeing Megan sitting next to the beast.
Kenzie was nowhere in sight; Megan was completely alone with the creature, and utterly defenseless. Jack raised the butt of his rifle to his shoulder. “Slowly move away from it, Megan,” he said softly, walking to the center of the cavern. “Please, sweetheart, just stand up and back away.”
She turned at the sound of his voice but didn’t seem overly surprised to see him. She did stand up, but instead of backing away, she stepped directly between Jack and his target.
“His name is William Killkenny,” she said. “And he’s a nobleman from ninth-century Ireland.”
Jack lowered the barrel of his rifle but kept the butt at his shoulder.
“He’s here because he heard that Kenzie might be able to help him become a man again.” She glanced over her shoulder when the dragon groaned in his sleep. “A witch turned him into a dragon to teach him a lesson,” she said, lowering her voice and stepping closer, though she stayed between Jack and the beast. “It seems William burned her cottage in the forest because he thought she was disrupting his hunting. In retaliation she put a curse on him, claiming that until he learned how to treat defenseless old women, William Killkenny would roam the earth as a monster.”
“Know why a dragon?” Camry asked, walking around Jack, her arms full of straw. She set it down next to the sleeping beast, then stood beside her sister. “Because back in the ninth century, dragons were everyone’s worst nightmare. Even though they’re mythological, they were the big, bad boogeyman parents used to keep their children from straying into the woods. So instead of turning William into a frog or something, she turned him into a nightmare.”
“Which doesn’t make sense, when you think about it,” Kenzie Gregor said, walking past Jack. He was carrying two buckets of water, which he set down by the fire before going to stand beside Megan and Camry. “It’s impossible for a man to make amends when he’s a frightening creature, since no one will let him get close enough to give him the chance.”
Jack could only stare at the three of them in silence. Did they honestly expect him to believe the dragon was a ninth-century nobleman, much less that he’d traveled through time to get here?
“I know what we’re telling you is unbelievable,” Megan said, stepping closer, her large green eyes shining with…aww hell, she looked close to tears. “Which is why I’ve been so reluctant to say anything to you.” She stopped directly in front of him. “You see, my whole family is…well, we’re sort of…different. The magic is real, Jack. My father and Callum and Morgan, and Robbie’s father, Michael, are from twelfth-century Scotland. And Matt and Kenzie are from the tenth century.”
For the life of him, Jack still couldn’t say anything.
Megan rubbed her arms as if chilled, though it had to be near eighty degrees in the cave. “You have my word that our baby will be normal, just like you and me. I don’t possess the magic, I’m only a child of it. As are Camry and all my sisters, except Winter. Winter is…she’s a…”
“She’s a drùidh,” Camry said. “And so is Matt. And the old priest who lives up on TarStone used to be a drùidh until he turned his power over to Winter. Father Daar’s real name is Pendaär, and he’s eighteen hundred years old. He’s also the reason we’re all here, if you ask me.”
“You told us your great-grandfather was a shaman, Jack,” Megan said, looking utterly vulnerable. “You must have seen the magic at work. Things had to have happened that you didn’t understand and couldn’t explain.” She gestured toward the dragon. “William is just one of those things. He shouldn’t exist, but he does. And for him to die as a dragon would be tragic.
“Please don’t kill him, Jack,” she whispered. “Help us save him, instead. If you possess even an ounce of your great-grandfather’s gift, or if you can just remember what herbs he used, please help us save William so he can live long enough to learn his lesson.” She reached out and touched Jack’s chest, tears running down her cheeks. “He deserves to die as a man, not as the nightmare he is.”
Jack blew out a deep sigh, wondering what had made him think he could have killed the dragon even if no one had been here when he found it.
“I won’t kill him,” he said, holding his rifle out from his side.
Megan threw herself against his chest with a sob of relief. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, hugging him tightly. “I’ve been an idiot for not telling you before now. I-I was scared.”
“Of what?”
She looked up into his eyes. “I was afraid you’d think I was…that I was too weird to love,” she said with a sob, burying her face back in his chest.
He tucked her head under his chin and held her, watching as Camry and Kenzie—who looked decidedly uncomfortable—got busy all of a sudden. Kenzie poured one of the buckets of water into a pot and set it in the fire, and Camry, making a disgusted face, picked up the dragon’s tail and stuffed straw under it.
O-kay. He wasn’t going to kill the beast, but was he going to help them save it?
“Megan’s been teaching me how to read,” Kenzie said, somewhat defensively.
“To read?” Camry echoed, spinning around in surprise. “That’s the big secret? But that’s not something to be ashamed of. You live in this century now, Kenzie, and if you can’t read, you’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”
Jack asked, “Gregor, what happens if I do manage to save your smelly friend? What’s to stop him from breaking into the shops again? I imagine a healthy dragon won’t be easy to control.”
“I’ve already decided to leave Pine Creek,” Kenzie said, his expression hopeful. “My calling is not here in the mountains. I’m afraid William Killkenny is only the first of many displaced souls who will be seeking me out in hopes I can help them transition back into human form.”
“Why would displaced souls think you can help them?” Jack asked in surprise.
“Because up until this past winter solstice, I was just like William. I’ve led countless lives as various animals, though never as a mythological creature.” He eyed Jack directly. “If I can get William well again, I intend to take him and the old priest with me, to find a new home of our own. Somewhere by the sea, I’m thinking.”
Megan broke free, catching Jack by surprise. “You’re leaving?” she cried. “But why?
“Because I must, lass. Destiny is calling me.” He smiled at her. “But Maine has a wonderfully rugged coast, I’ve heard, much like Scotland’s. I’ll still be close enough for you to visit.”
Jack slid back the bolt of his rifle, emptied the chamber and magazine, and put the bullets in his pocket. He slid off his backpack, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves as he walked over to where the dragon was sleeping.
He visually inspected the horse-size creature from nose to tail, noticing the slime oozing out from under its scales like sweat. It was a decidedly strange-looking animal, now that he was seeing it close up. It looked…well, it looked exactly like a nightmare should look.
The beast had pointed ears about the size of a man’s hand, with two short appendages between them similar to giraffes’. Its head was shaped like a horse’s, only its snout flared to huge nostrils. It had scales for skin, like a fish or snake, which directly contradicted the slime. Unless the foul-smelling stuff was a form of sweat, and the beast was already sick at the time of the break-ins.
Jack took hold of its nose and peeled back its lip to see inside its mouth. The gravely ill dragon never even opened its eyes. Jack sat down beside it, placing his hand on its side where he thought the heart should be. Feeling a strong, powerful thump, he slid his hand along its torso, stopping at its distended belly, and felt a violent, gurgling rumble under the scales. He wiped his hands on the straw before turning to the silent threesome watching him expectantly.
“Okay, Gregor,” he said, “I need you to find me a few things in the forest.”
When Gregor nodded, Jack looked at Camry. “How did you and Megan get here tonight?”
“By snowcat. It’s parked a couple hundred yards away.”
“Good. I need you to go to my house and get a few things. Under my bed is an old leather satchel. Could you get it and some of the old wool blankets in the closet in my bedroom?”
Camry nodded.
“And while you’re there, grab the six-pack of beer out of the fridge.” He eyed the dragon, then sighed. “I think we may be in for a long night.”
Camry ran out of the cave. Jack rattled off a list of plants that Kenzie should be able to find in the woods in the middle of winter. “You might have to dig in the snow for some of them. Will you recognize the plants I just named when you see them?”
Kenzie also nodded, grabbed the empty bucket, and strode out the cave entrance. Jack wiped his hands on his pants again as he walked over to Megan, and took hold of her shoulders.
“I intend to go to my grave claiming I’m not a shaman,” he told her. “But I do seem to…know stuff.” He pulled her into his embrace. “Thank you for trusting me with your family secret.”
“My father and Robbie would have told you before we got married,” she said into his shirt. She leaned back and looked at him. “We are still getting married, aren’t we?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “I’m still waiting for you to propose to me.”
“For me to propose? But I’m a traditional girl. You have to do the asking, and I’m supposed to decide whether or not you deserve me.”
Jack choked on a laugh. “Traditional?” he sputtered. “There isn’t one traditional bone in—”
She grabbed his cheeks and squished them together to shut him up, and pulled his head down to give him a kiss that was anything but traditional. In fact, it was downright hot. And needy. And really quite demanding.
Deserve her? Hell no, he didn’t deserve her, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell her that.
A loud, rumbling groan came from the bed of straw, and Megan finally broke the kiss and buried her blushing face in his chest. Jack held her tightly against him and chuckled. “You want to know what’s really wrong with William?” he asked, gently rocking her back and forth as he eyed the restless dragon.
“What?” she asked into his shirt.
“William Killkenny is paying the price for his crimes. He’s got a bellyache.”
She popped her head up and blinked at him. “A bellyache? You mean he’s not dying?”
“I’m not saying he couldn’t,” Jack said. “If he truly is from the ninth century, then he’s not used to modern food, especially doughnuts and candy bars. Not only has he stuffed himself full of refined sugar, he’s taken in a fair amount of modern chemicals and preservatives, which his ancient system doesn’t know how to digest.”
“Then how are we going to cure him?” Megan asked, looking as if she already knew the answer and didn’t like it.
“We clean out his innards.”
She backed away, shaking her head. “Oh, no. We are not giving him an…”
Jack burst out laughing. He walked to the fire, grabbed a stick, and lifted the pot of boiling water out of the flames. “No, I think we can avoid that particular procedure. We’ll just steep some herbal tea, get it down his throat, and wait for nature to run its course.” He laughed at her horrified expression. “Hey, that sort of thing doesn’t make you queasy, does it? Because in about three months, you’re going to be experiencing it firsthand—although on a decidedly smaller scale.”
She lifted her chin. “I’ve been babysitting little Angus for Robbie and Catherine all fall, and I’ve changed dozens of diapers.” She got a sudden gleam in her eyes and stepped toward him, lowering her voice. “But let’s not tell Camry exactly what we’re doing, okay? Let’s just surprise her.”
Jack grinned broadly. “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t tell Camry. Or Kenzie.”
Chapter Twenty-five
I t was late the next afternoon before a very silent Camry stopped the snowcat in front of Megan’s home, and an equally silent Jack and Megan climbed out. But just as soon as Camry drove off—speeding straight down the camp road toward Main Street—they both burst out laughing.
“When I’m ninety years old,” Megan chortled, “I’ll still remember the look on Cam’s face when she finally realized what was happening.”
“She sure can move fast when she needs to,” Jack said, his arm coming around Megan’s shoulders as he guided her up the porch stairs.
“We are sooo going to pay for this,” she said, turning the doorknob, only just now realizing that she hadn’t locked up when she’d left in such a hurry yesterday. Was it really less than twenty-four hours ago? It seemed like a lifetime, she was so tired. “Do you think they’ll be able to get the smell out of the snowcat?” she asked with a giggle.
Jack pulled her to a halt just as she started to open the door. “Whoa. You won’t get the smell out of your house if you go in there with your clothes on.”
“You want to undress out here?” she squeaked, looking around.
Jack started peeling off her jacket. “The only other person living out on this point is the chief of police,” he drawled, tossing her jacket in the porch corner, then grabbing the hem of her sweater. “And I’m pretty sure it’s his sworn duty to protect your modesty,” he continued as he pulled her stinky sweater over her head.
Megan shuddered when the foul smell brushed over her nose. Since he was doing such a fine job of undressing her, she decided to do the same for him. But he captured her hands when she tried to unzip his jacket, and held them to his chest.
“If I go in with you, I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning,” he told her, his steel blue eyes locked on hers.
She wiggled free and unzipped his jacket. “I imagine your house is quite cold by now,” she said, slipping the jacket off his shoulders. She let it fall to the porch and immediately started undoing the buttons on his shirt. “And I have this really big hot water heater, so we can scrub each other silly without worrying about running out of hot water.” She sent his shirt after his jacket. “And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sleep in a real bed with you.”
He swiftly pulled her undershirt off over her head. “Okay, get ready. We’ll strip down to our underwear, then get in the house before our skin figures out it’s suppose to goose-bump.”
She had to giggle at that. “How come you’re not yawning every five minutes? You’ve been up as long as I have, and did most of the work.”
He tapped the tip of her nose, then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. “Because I’m not growing a baby.” He stopped to pat her stomach. “How is he, anyway?”
Megan slipped out of her boots. “Shhh. He’s having a nap.”
“Oh,” he said, bending down to unlace his own boots. “We’ll probably have to burn our clothes and use a whole bottle of shampoo to get the smell out of our hair. Slip off your pants and run inside.”
“Okay, on the count of three, we run,” Megan said without bothering with her pants. “Okay…three!” she shouted, giving Jack a nudge and bolting into the house.
He was one step behind her, when Megan suddenly skidded to a stop. “Mom! Dad! What are you doing here!”
Could it possibly get any worse?
Jack gathered his clothes, boots, pack, and rifle in his arms, and walked home barefoot. Yes, Laird, I was trying to strip your daughter down to her birthday suit on the front porch so I could have my wicked way with her—first in the shower and then in an honest-to-God real bed for a change.
Jack took his own porch stairs in two strides, dropped his boots, and discovered his main door was locked when he ran into it trying to rush inside. He tossed the rest of his clothes in the snowbank, including his pants this time, then blatantly mooned God and Frog Point when he bent down to retrieve his key from under the mat.
Dammit to hell. He couldn’t lose the image of Grace MacKeage staring at him and Megan in shocked surprise, and the stove poker falling out of Greylen’s hand with a clang.
Instead of turning toward his bathroom, Jack went to the cupboard, pulled down the scotch, and drank straight from the bottle.
There hadn’t been any vehicles parked in the driveway, so how had they gotten here? Jack took another swig of the scotch, relishing the burn sliding down his throat as he walked to an east window. He looked outside and spotted a snowmobile parked on the lake in front of Megan’s house. Well, that explained that. He wrenched open the woodstove door and set a match to the waiting kindling.
Taking another swig, he walked back out onto his porch, grabbed his rifle and pack, and set them inside. No need leaving a weapon available, in case the laird decided to come over for a little fatherly chat. Jack went back to the woodstove and added some logs, then stood naked in front of its stingy heat. How was he going to marry Megan without ever having to face Grace MacKeage again?
The whiskey finally reached his tired muscles, and Jack knew he’d better get in the shower while he still had the strength. Dammit to hell, Megan was supposed to scrub his back—and he had intended to thoroughly scrub her front.
He turned on the shower, waited until the water ran hot, and stepped under the spray. Maybe he could sneak over later tonight, after her parents went home.
He snorted, dumping half the bottle of shampoo down over his head. The way his luck was running, he’d probably crawl into bed with Camry.
Despite his total exhaustion, Jack came fully awake when his blankets moved and a slightly chilled but sweet-smelling body slid into bed beside him. He smiled into the darkness. “Have you no shame, woman, sneaking over here after what just happened at your house?”
She snuggled against him with a shiver. “You seem to have more than enough shame for both of us,” she said with a giggle. “I didn’t know a person could turn that red. Or that every inch of skin blushes,” she finished, her cold hand sliding down his torso and finding a particularly sensitive area.
Jack sucked in a gasp and quickly chased after her wayward hand. “How come you’re so cold?” he asked, pulling her hand up and holding it against his chest.
Her toes started a slow, sensuous journey up his leg. “I just threw on my boots and bathrobe to run over here.”
Jack rolled to face her, tossing his leg over hers while still holding on to her hand. “What time is it?” he asked, gasping again when her lips brushed his collarbone.
“It’s three hours past our shower date,” she said between kisses, her lips traveling up his clean-shaven jaw to his mouth. “You have a very comfortable bed, Jack,” she whispered, continuing her journey to his cheekbone and then his ear. “Let’s see if our magical place is just as beautiful on a real mattress. Will you take me there?” she whispered directly in his ear.
“S-sure,” he half-growled, half-yelped when she softly bit his earlobe. “Okay, that does it,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him until she was straddling his waist. He released his grip and immediately captured both her breasts in his hands, making her moan, first in surprise and then pleasure as she leaned into him.
She wiggled provocatively, lifted up on her knees, and with Marauding Megan determination, settled down over his shaft with another sweet sound of pleasure.
“You seem to have started without me,” he barely got out when she began moving on him.
She groaned, increasing her tempo. “You’re catching up quickly, though.” She dropped her head back to arch her breasts into his hands, her own hands bracing herself on his chest as her fingers flexed into his muscles.
He felt her muscles tightening, her body pulling in on itself, and he let go of her breasts to take hold of her hips. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he desperately petitioned. “Make it last.”
“Next time,” she said even more desperately, grabbing one of his hands and pushing it down between them. “Come with me, Jack. Now!”
With a growl of resignation and no small amount of anticipation, he gently began to intimately caress her. She always promised to go slow next time, and when next time came, she was even more demanding.
Maybe he’d get her calmed down in thirty or forty years.
Every coherent thought in his head suddenly vanished when Jack felt her heading into their magical place, dragging him with her on a cresting wave of blinding heat. His shout of release blended with hers, and together they traveled through the cosmos, flying hand in hand, their three hearts beating as one.
Megan collapsed on top of him with a groan, snuggling her head under his chin with a sigh. “Okay,” she muttered against his neck. “You deserve to marry me.”
He pulled the blankets up over them. “That’s it?” he said, holding her in place to catch every last lingering contraction. “That’s your proposal?”
“I am not asking you to marry me, Jack. I’m telling you we’re getting married in March, on the spring equinox. My family’s got a thing for the solstices and equinoxes. You got a problem with that, Coyote?”
“No, ma’am.”
She dropped her head down to his neck with another yawn. “Good. Because William and Kenzie and Father Daar will want to attend, so we need to have it before they leave.” Jack felt her smile against him. “I’m going to be the first one in my family to have a dragon as a groomsman.”
Jack snuggled her against him with a resigned sigh. He’d bet his boots he was going to be the first one in his family, too.
Epilogue
A t precisely 7:08 p.m. on March 20, the exact time of the vernal equinox and during one of the worst spring blizzards in recent history, Jack finally kissed his very pregnant bride in front of an eighteen-hundred-year-old priest, two drùidhs, six time-traveling highland warriors, and a whole slew of MacKeages and MacBains—none of whom thought it at all strange to have a dragon in the wedding party.
Well, a few of the spouses did—especially Walter Sprague, Elizabeth’s husband. The poor high school principal had nearly fainted when William had walked into Gù Brath’s huge living room with Elizabeth on his arm, then taken his place beside Kenzie and Matt, the other two groomsmen. Jack had considered asking Simon to be his best man, but seeing how there was to be a mythological creature in attendance, he had asked Robbie MacBain instead.
