Page 34 of Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector 2)

Joanna followed Grant’s line of sight and spotted her. The young woman. The girl carrying Grant’s child. She recoiled as a snarling female warrior slit the woman’s throat and threw her poor, lifeless body down into the bloody mud.Oh my God. Oh my God, no!She heard Grant’s bloodcurdling roar and reached for him just as he dove off the ledge. “Grant! Grant—no!”

Then everything went dark.

Chapter 16

“What did the damn stone do to her?”

“I dinna ken, son.” Sarinda stood at the foot of the bed, a washbasin balanced on one hip and a jar of dried herbs in her other hand. “Dwyn has gone to consult with the goddesses. He agrees that the child should have awakened by now.”

“I ne’er shouldha taken her there.” Grant returned to the chair beside the bed where he’d waited since late yesterday for his sweet Joanna to come back to him. She’d cried out for him right before collapsing in front of the Heartstone. Unconscious. Unresponsive. Barely warm to the touch. He’d carried her out of the tunnels through Castle Danu, then brought her to his home. He would stay at her side until she returned to him—or, goddess forbid it, left him permanently.

“She’ll worry after her tour group. After Lucia and Tyler.” Grant scooped up Joanna’s pale, limp hand and held it. “She’ll fret about everything and accept the weight of everyone’s problems as though she caused them. I would take all her worries away,Máthair,if she’d but let me.”

The gentle weight of his mother’s hand rested atop his shoulder. “I know, son.” She gave him a reassuring squeeze as she bent and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Ye’ll have yer chance. The Heartstone would ne’er do her permanent harm. Ye ken that in yer heart, if ye but remember the truth of yer teachings.”

“All I ken right now is that the damn stone and the cruel goddesses are determined to ensure I know nothing but sorrow.” Grant tenderly smoothed a tress of Joanna’s hair behind her ear and rubbed the back of one finger down her cool cheek.

“Hush now,” Sarinda said with a warning glance toward the ceiling. She barely shook her head while hurriedly straightening more herbal jars and lotions on the bedside table. “Angering the great ones is no’ the way to save yer dear lass.” One hand pressed to her heart, her gaze darted around the room.

Finally satisfied that Grant’s words hadn’t stirred any unwanted attention, Sarinda uncorked one of the bottles of herbs and sprinkled a handful of crushed leaves across the steaming water in the basin. The crisp, clean scent of citrus and mint filled the room. “These will put a bit of energy in the air to coax yer lady from her sleep.” She wiped her hands on the cotton cloth tucked into the waistband of the apron she always wore when working with her healing medicinals. “Esme’s tryin’ her hand at a lovely meat pie recipe for yer meal. She’ll bring it ’round t’ye shortly.” She darted a quick look at the open bedroom door, a dubious expression on her face. “They smell a bit—inedible. After Esme leaves, put the pies in the woods for any wildlife brave enough t’eat them and call Mistress Lydia. She’s prepared a hearty stew and some delicious biscuits. She’ll bring them about just as quick as yer ready. I’m afraid our dear Esme still has much t’learn when it comes to conquering the kitchen.”

“Thank ye,Máthair.Whate’er ye say. All I need at this verra moment is for my dear one t’open her eyes.”

“Aye, well…” Sarinda lifted a brow and leveled a stern look at him that he well remembered from his youth. “Yer dear one needs a strong man to awaken to—not one weakened by starvation. Ye will eat or I’ll make ye wish ye had.” She rested a hand to the back of his head, tugged on his tied-back hair, and smiled. “I’ll be leavin’ ye now, but I’ll be back later this evening or afore if ye send for me, ye ken?”

“Aye,Máthair. I thank ye.” Grant spoke without taking his gaze from Joanna’s motionless form. At least she seemed at peace. Still and calm as though caught in a deep, dreamless sleep. Grant leaned forward, resting his head on the pillows plumped in beside her shoulder as he cradled her hand to his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, her steady intake and expelling of air giving him a bit of solace and lulling him into a mindless daze.

“Come back t’me, Joanna,” he said in a whisper broken with desperation. “I beg ye, lass. Come back t’me.”

“You…you’re alive.”

Grant opened his eyes but didn’t lift his head or move. He was afraid to, afraid he’d imagined the voice he’d hungered to hear since she’d collapsed in the chamber. Her whisper was weak. Breathy. But it was still the sweet sound he feared he’d never hear again.

A featherlight touch settled across his cheek. “I saw you jump. From the ledge. But then everything went dark.” Joanna’s voice trembled, wavered with emotion.

Grant raised himself up and brought both her hands to his lips. Those green eyes. Shimmering with unshed tears. Deeper and richer than he’d even imagined. He rained kisses across her knuckles, then smiled. “I am right here,mo ghaol tòidheach. I’ve been waitin’ right here for ye to return t’me.”

“Was she…was she your wife?” Joanna caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at him with sorrow and pain etched across her face.

Uncertainty shot a warning jab straight through Grant’s heart and nearly stole his breath. What all had the Heartstone shown Joanna? Where had it taken her? He swallowed hard, forcing himself to appear calm. “Tell me what ye saw, lass. I’ll answer ye as best I can.”

Joanna’s reddish brows knotted together. She stared off into the distance with a troubled scowl. “I saw…” Her voice trailed off. She coughed, swallowed hard, and wet her lips.

Grant hurried to pour a bit of the fresh ice waterMáthairhad brought in that morning. He unwrapped a straw, bent it, then added it to the glass. “Here, lass. Take a sip. Ye’ve no’ been with us for quite some time.”

Joanna managed several pulls on the straw, then resettled her head on the pillow. She still looked upset as she reached for Grant’s hand and held it tight. “You were a lot younger and in a windowless stone room with a young woman. She looked so young—almost the same age as Esme. She was pregnant. I guess. She wasn’t really showing yet, but she took your hand and put it on her stomach. You both looked so…unhappy. Worried. And then I saw you and your family fighting off invaders. You climbed out the window onto a ledge. Some woman dressed like a warrior grabbed the pregnant girl and killed her when she walked out into the courtyard.” Joanna coughed, nearly choking, obviously struggling to speak through the raw feelings the retelling of her experience stirred. “The warrior woman slit the young girl’s throat and threw her down into the mud.” A tear slipped down Joanna’s cheek and she squeezed his hands. “Then you jumped off the ledge.” Joanna hiccupped back a soft sob and squeezed his hands again. “I saw you die—or at least head that way. How…when…”

Grant took a deep breath as he returned the glass of water to the nightstand. It had been a long while since he’d allowed himself to think back to that dreadful time. He’d worn the mantle of loneliness and pain every day since then, but he’d fought to keep the detailed memories of those terrible moments hidden from the light of day. He just couldna bear reliving the crushing helplessness and pain he’d felt.

“What you saw happened in the year 900 A.D. Sixteen years ago this past spring—by this century’s reckonin’. ’Twas right before the goddesses brought us forward to this time.” Still cradling Joanna’s hand in his, Grant sat straighter in the chair, struggling to keep the weight of what he was about to share from suffocating him. “Leannan MacClendon was the young woman who was murdered. My betrothed. The mother of my unborn child.”

“I am so very sorry.” Joanna’s hitching whisper broke, her face crumpling as renewed tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Aye…well.” Grant leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Why the hell had the stone chosen to show Joanna such misery?

“I don’t understand why the goddesses didn’t bring her forward too. Why wasn’t she in that room with your family, or at least hiding somewhere?” Joanna turned toward him, rolling to her side and resting a hand on his arm.

And that perhaps was the greatest hurt of all. Leannan had refused to listen to him. She’d given up on them when the Heartstone remained cold and withheld its blessing of their betrothal. She’d tossed aside all his assurances without a thought to her actions. She’d sacrificed herself and their child. She most likely wouldha survived if she’d stayed in the hidden room as he’d told her. She might ha’ lived if she hadn’t gone to the bailey and attempted to leave the keep and return to her clan. Then the other clans wouldha given her shelter and helped her raise his child—the child of a protector.

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