Page 18 of Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector 2)

And then he pounded and drove into Joanna with a force and passion she’d never known.

Her world exploded in sensory bliss. Wave upon wave of excruciating pleasure washed across her as Grant hammered harder and drove deeper with a rumbling growl.

World spinning, Joanna gave herself over to mind-numbing ecstasy, coming hard, then coming again in rapid succession. Off in the distance, Joanna thought she heard a scream. A familiar scream. Then she realized why the scream sounded so familiar.

It was hers.

Chapter 8

“So…” Grant’s mother stood beside the MacDaras’ housekeeper, Miss Lydia Higgins, who was more like family, quite grandmotherly in fact. Arms crossed and fingers drumming atop her sleeve, Sarinda gave Miss Lydia a smug look that Grant knew all too well. “So, Ramsay and Ross tell me we’re about t’meet the one woman who could quite possibly tame this braw beastie son o’ mine. Can ye believe that, Lydia?”

“Is that so?” Miss Lydia replied in a singsong tone that grated on Grant’s nerves. “Then it’s a good thing we decided to take Joanna Martin’s group off her hands again today. She can spend the entire day with Grant and start teaching him to heel.” She poked Grant with her elbow and gave him a serious scowl. “Don’t screw this up, boy.”

He was too tired for these two and their teasing games. He’d left Joanna’s bed but a scant hour or so ago, and barely made it back to the park in time to shower and don fresh clothing before Joanna and her tour group arrived for their second full day at Highland Life and Legends.

Both Sarinda and Miss Lydia, on the other hand, were obviously looking forward to spending time with their special guests again today and had taken the opportunity to clothe themselves in the period dress of Highland women ready to go about their daily chores—yarn dyeing, in fact. They had a full day planned for the Alverest Knitting Chicks and Textiles Club and in Grant’s opinion, they looked entirely too damned pleased with themselves and the plot they’d cooked up betwixt them.

“That’s quite enough, thank ye.” Grant raked his still wet hair back from his face and secured it into a tangled ponytail knotted at the base of his skull. “I’m in no mood for either of ye nor yer infernal nettlin’. The both of ye need t’find someone else t’poke.”

“Dinna use that tone with me, boy. Ye ken good and well how to speak to yer mother.” Sarinda stretched as tall as her petite, barely five-foot frame allowed and gave him a look that still had the effect of making him tighten his buttocks in preparation of getting his arse tanned.

As if reading her son’s mind, Sarinda continued, “I’d sooner take a switch to yer arse now than I did when ye were a wee’un, aye? ’Tis time t’pay the piper for the song that kept ye dancin’ ’til the wee hours of the mornin’.” She shook a stern finger at him, but delight sparkled in her pale blue eyes. “Dinna be pissy with me because ye’ve had no sleep.” Sarinda chuckled and nudged Miss Lydia with her elbow. “He was the same way as a lad. If the boy didna sleep, the devil himself couldna get along with him.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Miss Lydia said. She looked at Grant and nodded. “A lot.”

Carolina Adventures’ compact black shuttle bus pulled through the main entrance of Highland Life and Legends, easing through the sliding electronic gateway of black iron bars centered between two medieval towers. A kilted security guard held the bus at the checkpoint for a brief moment while he spoke to Joanna through the driver’s window, then pointed to a parking area reserved for VIP guests.

“Thank the goddesses,” Grant said under his breath. At least now,Máthairand Mistress Lydia would have someone other than himself t’keep themselves entertained.

“Mind yer manners,” Sarinda said with a stinging pinch of the tender flesh of Grant’s underarm.

“Dammit,Máthair!” Grant jerked out of her reach and strode across the cobblestone greeting center of the bailey to the curb, where the bus had come to a stop and sat with lights flashing to warn of passengers exiting the vehicle.

Glaring back at the still grinning women, Grant pointed them toward the bus. “If the two of ye can see fit t’be civil, come help me properly greet our guests and get their day started.”

The sliding door to the bus opened and the Alverest Knitting Chicks and Textiles president, Hazel Abraham, was the first to emerge. “Step lively, ladies,” she called back up into the bus, then turned and winked at Grant. “We’re already running quite late this morning.” She leaned close and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And we’ve all got a pretty good idea as to why. The rooms in the bed-and-breakfast aren’t exactly soundproof.”

Grant pretended not to hear Hazel’s comment, smiling politely as he helped each lady step off the bus. The last Knitting Chick in line was Georgetta. She grabbed his hand with the strength of a man and shook it. “Holy Moses, you shook the house last night, and Joanna looks like she’s been rode hard and put up wet. Good job, son!”

Grant grit his teeth and held his breath to keep from groaning out loud.Damned old women. Coarser-talkin’ than any bunch of warriors.If they had kept up that banter during the short ride from the bed-and-breakfast to the park, Joanna would be in a mood for certain. He steeled himself and looked up into the bus. Joanna was the last one on board.

She sat in the driver’s seat with a large travel cup of coffee clutched to her chest. She’d slicked her hair back, its usual fiery red coloring a deep, rich burgundy this morning since it looked to be quite wet. She’d twisted it to the top of her head in a messy bun with dark curling tendrils framing her face and throat. She wore a pair of black sunglasses so large that the upper half of her face was hidden. Her pale cheeks and lips attested to the absence of even the slightest makeup, and the holes in her ears were a dead giveaway that she’d forgotten her earrings in her haste to get dressed.

Grant peered closer, eyeing her oversized black shirt and the loose black lounge pants she wore. Although he was no expert on this century’s form of women’s clothing, there was a distinct possibility that she had her sweatshirt on backwards.

Grant couldn’t help but smile.Aye. He’d done well by his lady. He held out a hand to help her disembark and waited. “Good mornin’ t’ye, lass.”

Joanna took a long gulp of coffee, then hugged it back to her chest. Slowly, she looked down at him from the top step of the bus. All he could see in the ebony lenses of the glasses were his twin reflections, but he could tell by the tilt of her head and the hard line of her lips that a storm was brewin’.

Joanna took hold of the safety rail and eased down the steps. When she reached the bottom, she looked up at him, cocking her head as though studying his face. “Have you any idea what it’s like to be trapped in a bus with seven old women who haven’t had sex in twenty years or more and are determined to relive ‘the wild nasty,’ as they so grossly called it, through you?”

“I canna say that I do,” Grant said with a glance back at said women impatiently milling about on the sidewalk. “But I do ken verra well what it’s like t’be nettled and fretted with first thing in the mornin’ after a verra short night.”

He gave Joanna his most understanding smile, took her hand, and steadied her as she stepped off the bus. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but instead he hurried her around her tour group, shielding her from them by placing his body between her and the chattering mob of nosy hens. He came to a stop in front of his mother and Mistress Lydia. “Ye ken m’mother, but I dinna believe ye’ve met our housekeeper, Mistress Lydia Higgins.” He fixed both his mother and Miss Lydia with a warning, narrow-eyed look that he prayed they’d take to heart. “Mistress Lydia—this is Mistress Joanna Martin.”

Miss Lydia bobbed her head and smiled. “Good to meet you, young lady. I’ve heard lots of good things about you.”

“Oh really?” Joanna turned for a brief moment and aimed her sunglasses at Grant in what he was certain was a warning glare. Without another word, she turned back to Miss Lydia. “It’s good to meet you too, thank you.”

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