Chapter 17

“Hush your mouth, young lady, and breath normally, please.” Dr. Lester Farthingham rudely pressed the cold stethoscope harder against her chest. “I can’t hear a durn thing when you’re talkin’, so hush it!”

Joanna grit her teeth and crossed her eyes at Lucia and Tyler. Seven-year-old Tyler giggled and snorted out loud until Lucia shook him by the shoulder and fixed him with the type of warning look that only a mother can give. “Go downstairs and ask Esme if she needs your help with the icing bowl. I think she finished the cupcakes for you to take to school tomorrow.”

“To the icing bowl!” Tyler shot out the bedroom door.

“Oh, to be seven again and have my only care in the world be licking the icing bowl,” Joanna observed.

“What part of ‘hush it’ do you not understand, Ms. Martin?” The old doctor glared at her over the rims of his glasses, his scraggly gray mustache accentuating his displeased scowl.

“I said I feel fine.” Joanna politely pushed Dr. Farthingham’s stethoscope away. Lucia was too freaking overprotective. It had been her overly paranoid idea to have the doctor show up at Grant’s house just to make sure Joanna checked out okay. “I just got a little dehydrated during the hike with Grant and had an attack of claustrophobia while we were exploring the cave. That’s all it was. I’m all good now.”

Well. Sort of good. Still gotta wrap my mind around all the weirdness Grant showed me. It made her queasy just to think about it. She wasn’t about to tell the doctor what had really happened. He’d lock her up in a loony bin and throw away the key. Besides—she felt a kind of odd certainty about the whole thing that she just couldn’t explain. She had to protect Grant and all he’d shown her. He hadn’t asked her to, but she felt it deep in her bones. I’ll make him a deal. As long as I never have to go back there again, my lips are sealed.

“Healthy folks your age don’t usually pass out and remain unconscious over twenty-four hours under such circumstances, young lady.” The blustering doctor glared at her, his black-rimmed glasses still perched on the end of his bulbous nose. His bushy gray brows knotted together like two fierce caterpillars wrestling for the best spot on a leaf. “Is there a chance you might be expecting?” His voice took on the standard “you can tell me anything—I’m a professional” tone.

“I always practice safe sex, Doc. Trust me, there is absolutely no chance I’m pregnant.” Well…there might be a kinda sorta chance, but hopefully not. No condoms yesterday—risky, but surely just that once…er…several times, but just one day will be okay.

Dr. Farthingham chuckled as he removed his stethoscope and tucked it into his worn leather bag. “I delivered a healthy nine-pound girl to the Carters last week. They always practiced safe sex too.”

“So, did she check out okay, Dr. Farthingham?” Lucia asked as she plopped down on the bed beside Joanna. “Her energy level still seems a little sapped and that’s just not like her.”

“She just needs to build her strength back up,” the doctor answered while tucking all his tools back into his bag. “Layin’ in the bed without any fluids or nutrition takes a toll and weakens even the healthiest of bodies.” The gruff old doctor made his way to the door, his short stature and rolling gait reminding Joanna of an overweight bulldog guarding his territory. He paused just outside the doorway and frowned back at her. “Tell Grant MacDara I’ll be havin’ a long talk with his mother about him not havin’ enough sense to get the proper medical care for folks when they need it. I won’t waste my breath talkin’ to him. I know it won’t do a damn bit of good.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Lucia smiled and nodded. “I’ll make sure Grant gets the message—clearly.” As soon as Dr. Farthingham was out the door and down the hall, Lucia leaned closer to Joanna and gave her a dirty look. “Grant MacDara’s got a royal ass-chewing coming from me too. I can’t believe he let you lie here since yesterday without medical attention. Now out with it. What the hell happened? You’ve never fainted before in your life.”

“I told you. I got dehydrated and then had a panic attack in the caves. You know I’ve always been a little claustrophobic.” The lie was weak and Joanna knew it, but it was the best she could do with the circumstances as they were. She hadn’t had a chance to go over all the Highland protector ground rules with Grant. They needed to have another talk about all she’d seen, what the stone had actually done to show her the past, and whether she was in any danger now that she knew the MacDaras’ story. Kind of like “we can tell you but then we’ll have to kill you”–type shit.

Time to change the subject and distract Lucia and disable her own mounting panic. “Did the Knitting Chicks get safely back home to Tennessee? I kind of abandoned them.” She made an apologetic face. “Sorry.”

Lucia rolled her eyes, rose from the bed, and refilled the half-empty glass of ice water sitting on the bedside table. “Yes. All the ladies made it back to Tennessee just fine. Annamae and Georgetta both emailed and said the group plans on coming back next year because they had such a great time.” She handed Joanna the glass and stood with arms crossed, waiting for her to drink. “Drink up, sweets. We wouldn’t want you to stay ‘dehydrated.’ ”

“Sarcasm makes you look old and bitchy. You know that, right?”

“You scared me, Joanna. I can’t handle another scare with you. Please. Don’t ever do that again.” Lucia took the glass from her and turned away, but not before Joanna spotted unshed tears shining in Lucia’s eyes. “You’re the only family that T and I have.”

“That old bastard is a meddlin’ fool.” Grant stomped into the room, coming up short when Lucia whirled around and faced him. He sheepishly ducked his chin in a polite nod. “Beg pardon, Mistress Lucia. I thought ye’d gone down to the kitchen with young Tyler.”

“For your information, I agree with that ‘old bastard.’ You are now number one on my shit list, buddy.” Lucia jabbed the air with her finger, aiming it at Grant’s chest and closing in on him with every word. “You should’ve called him sooner. What the hell is wrong with you? What if Joanna had needed immediate medical intervention? If you don’t treat her right, you won’t only have Tyler’s BB gun to worry about. I’ll make you wish your ass was back in Scotland.”

Joanna scooted up higher and elbowed the pillows tighter behind her back, thoroughly enjoying the show. Except the part about Scotland. That shot might hit a little close to Grant’s heart. But the man might as well learn right now, Lucia could be a tigress if properly provoked. Poor Grant. Doesn’t stand a chance. She winked and blew him a kiss when he looked her way for help.

“I’d ne’er let any ill befall Joanna. Surely, ye ken that.” Grant sidled his way around the room, giving Lucia a wide berth as he made his way to the bed. He slowly lowered himself and sat on the edge of it, scooped up Joanna’s hand, and clutched it to his chest. “Ye have no idea how dear this woman is t’me.”

Lucia sucked in a deep breath but before she unleashed another rant, Joanna interrupted. “We’re all good here, Lucia. Please. Let it go.” She held out her free hand to her friend and wiggled her fingers. “Come on. I need a truce between you two. I’m happier than I can remember being in a very long time. Let’s not spoil it with fussing over what could’ve or should’ve happened, okay?”

Lucia didn’t answer, just folded her arms across her chest again and glared at Grant.

“By the by, Taggart will be stoppin’ by later. You and the lad will still be here, aye? He asked after ye.” Grant visibly brightened and smiled as though he’d just told Lucia she’d won the lottery.

“You’d better teach him that I’m not that stupid or that easily distracted.”

Oh shit. Lucia’s in a ripe mood. Joanna wasn’t surprised. Lucia was as protective of her as she was of Tyler and once someone landed on her shit list—much less the number-one slot—he’d have one hell of a time getting back on her good side. “Lucia. Come on. For my sake? Truce?”

Lucia’s eyes narrowed as she took in a deep breath, then seemed to forcibly assume a more relaxed stance. “No, Mr. MacDara. Tyler and I will be leaving in a little while. He’s got baseball practice. His first game is tomorrow and this is the first year he’s played baseball instead of T-ball.”

“I see.” Grant didn’t say anything else. Apparently, Lucia’s mood and her calling him “Mr.” had been an effective warning.

“What time’s the game tomorrow?” Joanna nudged Grant. “We could go. Cheer on T.”

“Aye.” Grant risked a sideways glance at Lucia. “That is…if it would be okay with his mother.”

“Of course it would be okay.” Lucia snorted like a bull preparing to charge, then strode closer to the foot of the bed. Locking her glare with Joanna’s innocent gaze, she jerked her thumb toward the door. “T would love it and you know it. Game’s at three. We’ll see you both tomorrow.” Shifting her glare to Grant, her expression softened the barest bit. She lifted her chin and barely shrugged. “And you can tell Taggart he’s welcome to come tomorrow too. If you want. And he’s not busy.”

Grant agreed with a slow, purposeful nod. “I’ll personally see to it that the man is there, Mistress Banks.”

“Great.” Lucia gave Joanna one last stern look, then strode out the door, bellowing for Tyler to “come on” before she’d even hit the staircase leading to the kitchen.

“That woman is a great deal like Máthair, I fear.”

Joanna swung her legs off the side of the bed and hopped to her feet. “Yeah, you should probably keep that in mind. You’re going to have to do some serious damage control to get back on Lucia’s good side.” Calm, quiet Lucia might seem like the reasonable one, but she held a grudge forever.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Grant rose and rounded the bed. “I thought I’d take ye to see the colt today if yer up to it. I always keep m’promises.”

Joanna didn’t answer. The we need to talk song was stuck on a repeating loop through her mind. Had been ever since she’d opened her eyes that morning. Dark fingers of niggling doubts had started picking away at her newfound euphoria. What exactly did all the Heartstone stuff entail? And what about loving a man from tenth-century Scotland? A man tangled up in druidic myth and legend? A man expected to serve some trio of goddesses with an ancient hammer like Scotland’s version of Thor?

Padding across the room to the armchair in the corner, Joanna sorted through the neatly folded pile of clothes that Lucia had been kind enough to bring over while she was still deep in Heartstone nightmare-land. She gathered up a change of clothes and draped them across one arm, picking away imaginary threads from her favorite dark T-shirt. She had to ask him. She had to know. Knowing was always a hell of a lot better than imagining the worst. “Could they snatch you up and send you back there at any time? Or send you somewhere else even?” There. I said it out loud. She prayed he’d say “no,” but deep down she already knew the answer. They’d jerked his ass across the centuries once and left the woman he loved behind. If they decided their precious rock was at risk, they’d damn sure do it again.

Grant crossed the room, took the clothes out of her arms, and placed them back on the chair. He lowered himself to the padded bench at the foot of the bed and gently pulled her into his lap. “ ‘They’ who? What are ye really asking me, lass? I see fear in those lovely green eyes. Talk t’me.”

You made me love you before I knew, she wanted to scream out at him at the top of her lungs. Instead, she whispered the words, struggling to hold on tight and not plunge into the abyss of hysteria. “I don’t want to end up like Leannan.”

“What?”

Be clear. Settle this now. “I know we’re not married or even engaged.” She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Damn, I suck at this. She’d spent her life hiding her true feelings about anything. How the hell was she supposed to know how to make Grant understand what she meant now? She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and started all over again. “Look, I know we’re really just at the beginning of all things serious when it comes to this relationship, but…”

“But…” Grant patiently prompted, settling her more comfortably on his lap.

“But I already know I love you and I don’t want them to ever take you away again.” She reached out and cupped his jaw in her palm, adoring the rough stubble rasping against her skin. “I don’t want those goddesses of yours to ruin what it’s taken me a lifetime to find.”

“I canna tell ye what the future may hold for us, dear one.” Grant covered her hand with his, then turned and pressed a kiss into her palm. “There have been times over the past sixteen years…” He paused, brows knotted together as he stared down at her hand. “I willna lie t’ye. There have been times since they brought us to this century that the goddesses have required one or another of us t’travel back to the past—temporarily. Sometimes we must go wherever or whenever it takes to ensure the survival of the druid clans and the safety of our cause.” He finally looked up and gave what Joanna was sure he meant as a reassuring smile but as far as she was concerned, it fell a little short. “All I can tell ye for certain, to reassure ye about the goddesses and put yer heart at ease, is that Dwyn has said they’ve already given their blessings to the two of us.”

A dark shadow crossed his face as he looked back down and sadly shook his head. “They withheld their blessing from Leannan and m’self even though she carried my child. I’ll ne’er understand their reasoning and I damn sure can ne’er explain it.” He lifted his gaze, and one corner of his mouth barely lifted in a smile. “But they’ve seen fit t’bless you and me, so ’tis my utmost hope that they’ll leave us the hell alone and that I willna be called t’travel across the centuries for quite some time—if ever again.”

“I hope so.” Joanna tensed against another unbidden thought. Might as well get it all out in the open. “By the way, I wasn’t fishing for a serious commitment right now. I’m not one of those women. Nice and slow is fine by me. Okay?”

Grant scooped her up into his arms, then turned and lowered her onto the bed. Hovering over her, a suggestive smile playing across his lips, he undid the buttons of her oversized sleep shirt. As he neatly peeled her shirt away from her breasts, he bent and kissed the valley between them with a long, heated kiss. Moving over to one side, he mouthed her nipple, gently catching it in his teeth, then treating it to a warm, wet caress of his tongue.

“Aye, lass,” he said as he fondled her other breast. “Nice and slow is fine by me as well.”

Joanna yanked away Grant’s kilt, reached down between them, and wrapped her fingers around his swollen cock. “What about the colt?” she whispered, as she rhythmically pulled and released his velvety hardness.

“Later,” Grant replied. “When we’re finished with nice and slow.”