My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts) by Maeve Greyson

Author:Maeve Greyson [Greyson, Maeve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2015-03-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The more Trulie thought about it, the madder she got. We will be married. Then the clan will respect ye.

“Yeah, well it will be a cold day in hell before I follow a marriage edict just to win a popularity contest.” Trulie snorted as she picked up the pace. The sooner they packed up and left the keep, the better.

Trotting along beside her, Karma acknowledged Trulie’s statement with a single wag of his thick tail. He loped ahead of Trulie as the long, narrow hallway made a sharp turn to the right.

Thank goodness Karma led the way. The flickering torches ensconced every so many feet did little to beat back the shadows of early evening. Trulie pulled the boxy wool jacket tighter about her and shivered. The keep hadn’t seemed nearly this damp and chilly before. All the more reason for them to pull up stakes and head back to a nice, humid summer in Kentucky.

Karma sat patiently waiting beside the broad oak door leading to their suite of rooms. A twinge of regret stabbed through Trulie. Gray had set them up in the nicest level of the keep. Even the serving girls had said so.

“It doesn’t matter,” Trulie informed the panting dog.

She grabbed the iron ring bolted to the door and shoved. Karma wiggled through the doorway in front of her, touched noses with sleepy-eyed Kismet, then curled up on the rug of pelts spread before the hearth.

Granny and Coira sat opposite each other on the pair of cushioned benches angled in front of the low burning fire. Neither of them looked up as Trulie plowed into the room.

Trulie waited. She wasn’t stupid. She knew full well Coira and Granny had nearly broken their necks racing back to the rooms ahead of Trulie. The pair must’ve been standing just outside the main hall eavesdropping on the stellar marriage proposal, because Coira had been extremely pale when Trulie had stomped through the kitchens and barked out the barest details of her troubling vision. She was too pissed off to go into any great detail. In her current frame of mind, the thirteenth century could go straight to hell.

Now the white bib of Coira’s apron rose and fell rapidly. Granny swallowed hard and kept pressing one hand to her chest. Both women were clearly out of breath.

As minutes passed, Coira’s cheeks grew a brighter scarlet. Trulie crossed her arms and tilted her head, studying Coira more closely. “If you keep holding your breath, you are going to pass out.”

The girl’s body visibly deflated as Coira shook her head. She pulled the rough linen stretched across the wooden frame up from her lap and held it closer to her face. She scowled down at the small patch of colors knotted across the cloth. “I dinna ken what yer talking about. I’m just sittin’ here tryin’ to keep this stag from lookin’ like a Highland coo.”

Granny rhythmically patted a bent hand atop one knee. She stared into the hearth and didn’t say a word.

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