Page 6 of Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector 2)

Just thinking about Joanna soothed him. Even now, when all seemed doomed t’go straight t’hell in a handbasket, the thought of her made the tightness in his chest seem…less. The lovely scarlet-haired lass eased the ache from the raw, gaping hole where his heart had been afore the cruel goddesses had ripped it from him. None of the lasses he’d met in this time had come close to making him feel whole again or as though he remotely belonged in this century. But Joanna Martin…aye, now that lass was different indeed.

In his defense, he had planned on fully wooing her at some point—but when he was ready, not when a gaggle of old women decided to toss her in his lap. He rubbed his cheek.The lass’s fine bosoms felt even better than I ever imagined, that’s for certain. When she’d buried his face betwixt her breasts, he’d hardened to an alarming level. Then she’d nearly snapped his cock off at the root in her struggle to stand. Grant rubbed his crotch at the painful memory.

“Instead of yammerin’ at us with empty threats, ye should be haulin’ yer arse over to Mistress Martha’s B&B. Ye ken that’s where she’s takin’ them. Ye must strike whilst the iron is hot, man.” Ramsay leaned sideways, shoved a hand deep in the pocket of his jeans, then pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them to Grant. “Here. Take the Jeep. Ross and I’ll take the truck back to the keep. ’Tis high time ye did something about this woman, brother. High time, indeed.”

“Go after them?” Grant closed his hand around the keys and squeezed hard. He wished it were Ramsay’s neck crackling in his grasp instead of the bits of metal. “And pray tell, what do ye advise I do once I meet them at Mistress Martha’s? The woman’s had her fill of me this evenin’, or have ye gone blind?”

“Yer a fool, Grant. Just pull yer head outta yer arse and apologize for shamin’ her here in the restaurant,” Ramsay said with a thud of his mug to the table. “Beg forgiveness for yer…awkward social clumsiness,” he added with a proud bob of his head. “Aye…awkward social clumsiness. That’s what our dear little sister Esme would call it.”

“Aye,” Ross chimed in with a grin that set Grant’s blood to boiling even hotter. “Ye sat there and let that beauty slip right out of yer arms and hit the floor.Máthairand Esme both wouldha boxed yer ears for such.”

Grant turned without another word and stormed out of the restaurant before he forcibly shut his brothers’ mouths with his fist.Damn them both straight to hell.He wouldna go so far as t’say that his nettlin’ brothers were right, but he would admit that if he didna go and attempt to leave sweet Joanna with a better impression of himself than she currently held, his days of spending time with the beauty until he was ready to make her his own would be over. The air betwixt them would be too strained, thanks to the foolhardiness of this evenin’.

He steered the Jeep through the back alleyways to Mistress Martha’s bed-and-breakfast. The much shorter route still might not get him there before the tour bus, especially as fast as the lass usually drove, but he should at least arrive before Joanna and the herd of old women disappeared into their rooms. From what he’d observed of Joanna’s previous tours, it took the poor wee lamb a good hour or so to get her charges off the bus, their luggage unloaded, and everyone checked in for the night.

As he braked and slowed the Jeep up even with the stop sign at the corner, the tour bus passed in front of him.Good.He’d get there nearly the same time she did. If he offered to unload the luggage whilst she settled the old hens into their rooms, perhaps she’d forgive him for acting so poorly in the restaurant. Grant dipped his head in a decisive nod.Aye.That’s what I’ll do. Surely, then all would be settled between them and back to the way they used to be.

Grant shifted in the seat and rubbed his thumbs against the worn leather of the steering wheel.Is that what I really wish?He slowly shook his head, fighting the possible repercussions of such thinking. She was such a tempting lass. Fiery hair. Flashing eyes. Curves that made a man ache to sink into her. And from the conversations they’d shared over the months—quick-witted, kind, and a genuine pleasure t’be around. But what would happen if he showed her his heart? What would happen if he showed her the Heartstone?

“Surely, she’d accept the stone and the truth of the MacDara legacy.” He knew as soon as he’d said the words aloud that they were a lie. What woman of this century would understand? Aye…Sadie, Alec’s wife, had finally understood, but it had been no small task for Alec to make her see. But Joanna? Doubtful. Maybe even impossible. His Joanna was different. And that truly bothered him no small amount. He’d survived the loss of one great love. He couldna bear such pain again and he feared the risk, especially if the higher powers had noticed his interest in the girl and decided to withhold their blessings yet again.

Surely, the damn goddesses and the dreaded stone’s attentions were busy elsewhere by now, nettling other lives with heartache and ruin. Besides—’twas high time they left him the hell alone. They’d murdered his betrothed and taken his unborn child. Torn him away from all he’d ever known. They’d taken enough from him. “Cruel and heartless demons, they are,” he muttered under his breath.

But surely now they ken I meant what I said. Surely, I’m finally free of them.Grant sat taller behind the wheel, his earlier tension shifting to a determined knowing.

He pulled the Jeep around the corner, spirits lifting when he spotted an empty parking spot right behind the tour bus.Perfect.

Grant’s pleasant realization was short-lived as Joanna rounded the side of the bus and saw him. The woman froze in her tracks as though she’d just walked up on a wild animal. Her wide-eyed look of surprise quickly shifted to a scowl in the glaring headlights of the Jeep. The woman was clearly anything but pleased to see him.

Hell’s hounds and damnation.Grant hurried to shut off the engine and exit the vehicle before Joanna could bolt. This century didna seem t’take to a man chasing a woman down and holding her fast o’er his shoulder until she’d heard all he had to say, so he’d have t’keep his wits about him.I best get me arse in gear afore she escapes.He jogged around the Jeep, placing himself between Joanna and the bright headlight currently turning her a pasty white. Surely, the infernal things would flicker off shortly.

He dipped his head and held out his hand. “I thought it only right that I stop by here and help ye get yer ladies settled in after the kerfuffle at the diner. ’Twas a sorry incident, indeed.”

The headlights finally clicked off, but there was still enough light coming from the bed-and-breakfast’s security light that he could tell Joanna had a fair-sized case of the red arse. Whether her ire was directed at him or the ladies from her group, he didna ken. All he knew for certain was she looked sorely displeased and her fair cheeks were stained a rosy red.

Joanna glanced down at his hand, then shifted in place as though she’d rather be anywhere but standing in front of him. She finally looked him in the eye and forced a smile that looked like she was clenching her teeth. “It wasn’t your fault, Grant. Thanks anyway, but I’m sure you’ve got much better things to do on a Friday night than play bellhop.”

Embarrassment…or ire…Grant wasna certain which colored her features an even deeper shade. Joanna slowly backed away, one hand barely touching the side of the bus while her feet gingerly searched for the broken curb behind her. “I’m sure we’ll bump into you tomorrow at the park. Thanks again, but I’ve got this bunch handled.”

“Nay…” For every inch Joanna shifted back, Grant edged forward.Lore, she’s even lovelier when her color runs high.He gently tapped on the rear hatch of the bus. “I insist. Ye must allow me t’help ye. I canna go home and no’ be able to truthfully defend m’self against whatever scurrilous tales Ramsay and Ross have already told Esme andMáthairabout me.”

“Scurrilous?” Joanna repeated. Her frustrated look shifted to a lopsided grin of amusement.

Good. She’s calmin’ herself.“Aye,” Grant said with an exaggerated nod.Now what the hell do I say?’Twas one thing t’tease and flirt with a lovely lass and easy enough t’talk about everyday matters. But when it came to tryin’ to draw her closer—a woman of this wretched century—what exactly did a man say?

He nodded again and started over. “Aye and for certain, those two brothers of mine will have my entire family believin’ I didna give a whit about yer arse hittin’ the floor so hard that it made yer teeth rattle.” He clamped his mouth shut.Sons a bitches. I canna believe I said that.

Joanna huffed out a giggle and a bit of the tension seemed to melt from her stance.

Lore, what a beauty she is when she laughs.“Have I e’er told ye that when ye laugh, it reaches clear to yer eyes? Makes them spark wi’ fire. Even in this darkness.”

Joanna cleared her throat and looked down at her feet. All mirth left her just as quickly as it had appeared. “Uhm…no. I’m pretty sure I’d remember it if you had said something like that.”

Hell’s demons. I shouldna have said that either.Grant squared off behind the bus, grabbed the handle of the hatch, then looked back at Joanna. “Be a good lass and hit the button t’unlock this beast and I’ll have the bags carried into Mistress Martha’s lobby in no time at all.”

Three of Joanna’s elderly charges came toddling around the street side of the bus and one of them tapped Grant on the shoulder. “I’m Hazel, president of the Alverest Knitting Chicks and Textiles Club, and my bags have the red, white, and blue ribbons tied to the handles. If you’d be so good as to pull them out of there, I’m quite able to carry them myself, thank you.”

Grant had no doubt the woman was quite capable of totin’ her own bags. If not for the skirt and blouse she wore, he’d have mistaken her for a good-sized man. Grant straightened, politely nodded at each of the ladies, and said, “I’m Grant MacDara, and ’tis my pleasure t’help ye all with yer bags.”

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