Page 12 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

She had no reason to believe that, and yet she did.

The memories of sex with Farlan covered her like Japanese fairy feather silk, clinging to her skin everywhere and yet adding no weight to her emotions or her thoughts.

That, too, seemed like armor. She had been on her own for so long she automatically assumed she would have to get herself out of this mess, but having this man with her seemed oddly reassuring.

She’d also made that outrageous offer to him last night, assuring him she’d have sex with him whenever he wanted her, and do anything he liked for him, if he’d do the same. That wasn’t like her at all.

I can’t stay with him. I don’t know anything about him. I’ve been foolish just because the man is attractive and was kind to me—or maybe it’s this place and the magic here. He’d told her she was caught in an enchanted time trap.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her head to look at the man sleeping beside her, and the sight of him shook her.

Just watching him made her skin prickle with nerves; she became suddenly aware of the slight soreness between her thighs, which seemed to be disappearing.

He’d called himself a McKeran, and claimed he worked as the seneschal of the McKeran Clan.

Had he told her that last night? Her memory had gone patchy again. Why was her entire body humming now?

He’s really good-looking, and I’ve gone without sex for too long. That’s all it is.

In the faint glow from the white lights he seemed young and carefree, his mouth curved slightly, as if he were having a nice dream. He smiled a lot, she recalled, almost compulsively, as if it was his version of her brick wall. She wondered what motive he had for always hiding his real emotions.

Who hurt you, Seneschal?

This close she could admire his long, dark eyelashes, the straight slashes of his brows and the way his hair curled a little around his ears.

Asleep he looked younger, almost boyish, and she found that very endearing.

His mouth looked a bit swollen, and the moment she thought that twin, aching pangs seemed to pierce her nipples.

He had lavished them with a lot of attention last night, just as he had practically every other inch of her body.

She’d loved all that he’d done to her. She ached for him even now.

Farlan slept on, oblivious to her and her wicked desires.

Grace wanted to regret it—knew she should, too—but recalling the hours and hours of slow, sensual pleasure they’d shared made that impossible.

Maybe what she was experiencing now was simply the aftereffects of so many orgasms. He’d been well-satisfied too, which was probably why he was sleeping like the dead.

She’d behaved with uncharacteristic abandon, pouring out all her most fervent desires and accepting his, as if nothing else mattered.

Tonje, who had always refused to let Grace date or have a boyfriend, would have called her a filthy slut.

I needed him. He wanted me. It was totally consensual.

She carefully eased out from under his arm so she wouldn’t wake him, and groped around their makeshift bed in the dark until she found all her clothes.

As she got dressed torches appeared in the reassembled hall, and flared to light, adding a warm glow to Farlan’s big, muscular body.

Unlike most other men he looked beautiful naked, all powerful lines and sleek skin.

She went still as he stirred, murmuring something under his breath before turning over and pillowing his head on his arms. That put on display his tight, perfect buttocks, which should have sported at least one mark from last night.

I suppose the magic of this place heals love bites, too.

Why had she done that? She’d never before used her teeth on a lover.

Most of what she’d done last night had been her first attempts, come to think of it.

Her former lovers had always preferred her to be passive in bed, like a doll, and when she’d tried to take the initiative they’d grown either nervous or offended.

She’d often wondered if they had even realized how passionate she could be, or what a wild imagination she had.

This man had not only enjoyed that, he’d encouraged her to do whatever she wanted.

Farlan liked everything I did. I know it. He would have pushed me away if he hadn’t.

Uncertainty filled Grace as she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t taken advantage of the man.

He’d called her his sunshine, hadn’t he?

Why would he do that if she’d forced the sex on him?

Once she finished dressing, she stepped into her pumps.

She knew it was bad manners to leave like this, but she couldn’t face him right now.

She wasn’t sure the woman he’d been with last night was really her.

Don’t be ridiculous. Who else could you be? Stop with the drama.

She walked silently the same way she’d come into the passage, but something happened and threw her back to the other end, where she nearly collided with two men and a tall, black-haired woman in medieval clothing.

The woman had a shrewd, penetrating gaze and radiated confidence.

One of the men looked so handsome he seemed to be a computer-generated facsimile of what a perfect specimen would look like; the other man was a foot taller and probably seventy pounds heavier.

The second man wasn’t quite as attractive as the first, but had a calmness to his expression that seemed reassuring.

Both men bore more than a passing resemblance to Farlan as well.

Grace retreated behind her emotional brick wall as she regarded the other woman. “Hello.”

“Hi, I’m Ava Travars. This is Darro and Alec McKeran.” She said that in a voice that wasn’t Scottish but had a definite southern American twang. “You must have just gotten here last night.”

She frowned. “I read about you, Agent Travars. The local news said you died in a car accident.”

“I’m still kicking, just trapped in here.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked her over from head to toe, and a faint line appeared between her brows. “Ah, have we met somewhere before now?”

“No, sorry. Farlan found me, and explained what’s happened. My name is Grace Johansen.” She gestured behind her. “We were trapped in there all night.”

“All right, then. Guys, go wake up our seneschal and bring him to the hall to report to my man,” Ava said, and then smiled at Grace. “You look hungry and thirsty. How about we go get you some breakfast?”

“That would be nice, but first I’d like to meet Inga Holm,” she told her. “She’s my grandmother. ”

Ava snapped her fingers. “That explains why you look so familiar. Come on and we’ll find her.”

Walking away from Farlan made Grace glance back over her shoulder, but it was probably for the best. She needed time to think about what she’d done, and how to handle the seneschal from this point on.

I didn’t do anything wrong. I can just be casual about the sex. Maybe if I don’t make a big deal out of it he’ll want to be with me again.

“I know that being caught in the trap is hard to handle at first, Miz Johansen,” Ava said, startling her, “but don’t worry. If you need a break, or want me to explain anything, just say the word.”

“I came here to find my grandmother, and as long as I can do that, I’ll be fine,” she told her, taking care to keep her tone bland and her expression controlled. Although these people seemed nice, she had no intention of trusting anyone.

Except Farlan.

They walked a maze of corridors until they reached a series of arches surrounding a huge room where women in medieval dress were setting long picnic-type tables with platters of food and elongated wooden bowls.

A tall blonde woman stood at the far end of the room attending to the table atop a raised platform, and when she lifted her head and looked at them she froze.

Her beautiful face looked exactly as it did in the locket photo, although her eyes were blue, not brown.

She was the same height and weight as Grace, with a nearly identical willowy build.

I could be her sister instead of her granddaughter. Suddenly a wave of shyness came over Grace. Will she like me? What do I say to her?

“Inga, I have someone who would like to meet you,” Ava said as they approached the platform. When they reached her she smiled. “This is Grace Johansen. She’s your granddaughter.”

The chatelaine seemed to move in slow motion as she came closer, peering at her face. “Tonje had children?”

“Just me.” She took in a deep breath, ready to tell her grandmother how often she’d imagined this meeting, how much she admired her, and all the other things she’d dreamed of during her childhood. “I’ve so wanted to–”

“Did you come with your mother?” Her excitement plain now, Inga looked past her, even standing on her toes as she peered at the arches. “Is my darling girl here? It’s been so long.”

Her darling girl? Was she serious?

“I’m afraid Mom isn’t here. She never believed the message you left behind for her, Grandmother.” She pulled out the locket, unfastening it and showing it to her. “I did.”

“I don’t understand.” Inga’s face paled. “If that’s true, then why would Tonje let you come here alone?”

She thinks I’m lying. Something heavy and dark began to rise inside her.

“The police gave the locket to her a long time ago,” she told the chatelaine. “My mother tossed it in the trash, but I took it out again and hid it. I kept it safe for years.”

“No, you’re mistaken,” Inga told her. “Tonje loves me. When we get out of this place, she’ll tell you herself.”

“She can’t,” Grace said. “Mom died a week ago.”

The chatelaine stumbled backward as if she’d hit her.

“Why would you say such a thing? It can’t be.” Horror filled her expression as she shook her head and backed away again, this time tripping over her own feet. “Tonje can’t be dead. Not my little princess.”

Contempt cast an icy net over the weighty anger inside Grace.

She should have brought a picture of her mother, so Inga could admire all three hundred pounds of her little princess.

Maybe dressed in one of the brightly colored caftans she wore while lounging around the Nightmare McMansion, like a beached whale that had been caught in a designer silk net.

“I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Would you like to know how she died?” And how she lived? She thought, and how she was as a mother to me? Ask. Just ask.

“I think that can wait,” Ava said, stepping between them and shaking her head a little at Grace. “This is a lot of sad news to manage. Why don’t we all sit down?”

“I can’t. No.” Inga turned and ran out, leaving the sounds of sobbing in her wake.

Grace stared at the arch through which her grandmother had disappeared, fighting the urge to follow her.

She wouldn’t come back, she thought, because Inga was a coward who couldn’t handle the hard things in life, just like Tonje.

She’d probably go get drunk and scream at one of the maids.

Just like her mother had done to her whenever she lost it over something stupid and pointless.

There you go. I did this all for nothing.

She actually wanted to go and find her grandmother and tell her everything now.

Such as how much her darling Tonje had hated her for disappearing.

How she’d driven off Grace’s father with her endless drunken binges and selfish tantrums. All of Inga’s photos and clothes and belongings that she’d burned over the years, and how she’d forced Grace to stand there and watch and listen as she ranted.

How detestable she’d been to her own daughter simply because she resembled Inga.

The heaviness inside her doubled when she thought of all the years she’d wanted to meet her grandmother, to the point of getting herself trapped forever in this place.

Inga was supposed to be her family, the one person who would always be happy to see her, and love her completely. Like that was ever going to happen.

Why did I even bother? I gave up everything for this, and it was all a waste. Just like my modeling career.

“Sorry about that, Miz Johansen,” Ava said, dragging her back to reality.

Grace shrugged. “Not a problem.”

She wasn’t going to waste a single tear over the long-awaited reunion.

When was the last time she’d cried? Years and years ago, when she’d spent her first week in New York, scared and lonely and at the mercy of people who just wanted to work her until she dropped.

A demented homeless man had cornered her while she was waiting for the subway, and for a few minutes she thought he might push her onto the tracks.

When she called her mother to ask if she could come home, Tonje had told her, You need to pay me back for all I did to take care of you.

Only Grace had never been able to pay her back. Nothing had ever been enough to settle the debt that only existed in her mother’s mind.

“I imagine finding out your mom passed away shocked Inga,” Ava was saying. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Don’t bother,” Grace said. “We’re strangers, and I don’t have anything else to say to that woman. I am a little thirsty, though. May I have some water, please?”