Page 15 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

“Thank you for not saying I look just like my grandmother.” Aggravated with herself for mentioning Inga, she got to her feet. “Is it all right if I walk around a bit? I’d like to see what’s out there.”

“There isn’t much beyond the walls, but sure, go ahead,” Olivia told her.

Stepping out of the solar, Grace made her way to the edge of the nearest low wall.

The castle’s many towers partially blocked the view, but from what she could see a blurry dark green smear like an impressionist’s idea of a forest surrounded Dun Talamh.

On both of the encircling walls dozens of large, armed men wearing the McKeran tartan stood watch, which seemed rather excessive to her.

How could anyone or anything attack a place no one could reach except through an inner passage?

Keep criticizing them. You might even forget how stupid you were last night.

Taking in a deep breath, Grace could smell Farlan’s wonderful scent all over her clothes. She really needed to ask Olivia if she could wash up and borrow some clean clothes. The longer she remained covered in that man’s smell, the stronger the urge to run and find him grew.

I’m not sorry about what happened between us.

Grace hadn’t slept with a man since she’d spent last summer on the Riviera and had a brief fling with a handsome jetsetter.

It had been disappointing, as sex usually was for her, but at least afterward he held her.

Because she liked that more than anything else, Grace had been tempted to stay with him.

Yet because she couldn’t rely on anyone for anything, she’d allowed herself to be embraced only for a few minutes before climbing out of bed and dressing.

Farlan held me all night. I fell asleep in his arms. I never do that.

“Everything beyond the walls is an illusion created by the enchantment that keeps the castle and all of us cut off from the real world.” Olivia came to stand beside her, her expression growing sad as she took in the view. “Most of the vassals don’t like looking at the forest.”

“It’s like a gigantic backdrop from a shoot,” Grace murmured. “Does it bother you?”

“Alec and I are very familiar with being locked away from the real world, so no, it doesn’t.” She saw her expression and grimaced. “We both dealt with a lot of abuse during our childhoods.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she was, because her own could hardly be called joyous.

The petite woman shrugged. “Therapy helped me a lot, and I think I was able to do the same for Alec. Being with him more than makes up for back then.”

She thought of how Tonje had sounded the few times they had spoken on the phone over the last nine years, and the loathing she’d clearly heard in her mother’s voice.

She’d recognized it because she’d heard it throughout her own childhood, although she’d kept telling herself that despite that Tonje loved her.

As she got older, and looked more and more like her grandmother, her mother would criticize her incessantly.

Now she wondered if Tonje had been justified in hating Inga.

What kind of person ran away from a granddaughter she’d never met?

In all the crap Tonje had in her house, there wasn’t a single picture of me. Did she burn all of my childhood photographs, the way she did Inga’s?

Suddenly aware of how long and awkward the silence had grown, she asked Olivia, “Are you sure you want to leave this place? If the enchantment allows you to live forever, then you’ll never die.”

“I don’t know that immortality is such a great deal when we can’t leave the castle.

The unfairness of the situation aggravates me, too.

” The surveyor turned her back on the forest illusion.

“Ava told you about the MacBren, right?” When Grace nodded she said, “The laird and his brothers didn’t murder that man and his wife.

None of the McKeran wanted to start a war with their clan.

Tasgall just refused to marry the MacBren’s daughter.

” She shook her head. “This is all some kind of massive cover-up for what really happened back then. ”

“What purpose would it serve to lock away everyone?” Grace asked.

“I’m not sure,” Olivia said with a long sigh.

“They had already set up the clan to be responsible for the murders. The king at the time was supposedly furious, and Laird MacBren’s clan even sieged the castle and killed a lot of McKeran men.

If someone wanted them dead, they should have just let events play out instead of cursing them. ”

By silent mutual consent they retrieved the dishes and leftover snacks and walked down from the rooftop to the kitchens. The number of people working startled Grace, who got a first-hand look at how much food had to be prepared to feed everyone in the castle.

“Do you bring me a new kitchen maid, Lady Olivia?” a hard voice asked.

“That’s Doon, our cook,” the surveyor murmured. “All bark, no bite.”

Grace turned to see a tall, raw-boned woman in her forties with a runway-ready body.

The cook stood kneading a small mountain of dough on a huge wooden board.

She had very muscular arms, and except for her graying red hair, which she wore braided around her head, she looked exactly like the editor-in-chief at Vogue.

A smudge of flour on her cheek added a charming note to otherwise stern features.

“I can boil water and wash dishes,” she told Doon, “but otherwise I’m not much of a chef. Every time I try to cook, food burns.”

“Aye, so our healer claims as well.” The big woman covered the dough with a piece of linen and came over to inspect her, making tutting sounds as she did. “You’re too pretty, wench. You’ll first scorch the hearts of every scullery lad here.”

She suspected she’d just gotten a genuine compliment wrapped in a complaint. “I can wear a sack over my head, if you like.”

“’Twould be a crime,” Doon told her, her expression finally softening. “You may call me Cook.”

The other woman’s gruff tone and complimentary judgment made her swallow a chuckle. “I’m Grace.”

“Grace, och, there’s a fitting given name.

Welcome to Dun Talamh.” The cook regarded Olivia.

“Tell the laird with those eyes she’d make a fine watcher.

Now get on with both of you. I’ve bread to bake and lazy maids to beat.

” She said the last four words loudly, sending the women working around the tables into a sudden flurry of activity.

From there they walked outside, where the surveyor introduced her to Eachann, the head gardener. The old man proudly showed off the clan’s gardens, including one devoted to every seed carried into the spell trap by birds and other animals from the outside world.

“We’ve a grand crop of persimmons, thanks to Lady Liv,” the old man told her. “She named the first seedling to me after she came to us.” Someone called his name from one of the sheds, and he apologized before hurrying off.

Grace regarded the persimmon tree, which was much larger than any she’d seen in California. It also had hundreds of ripening fruits on its branches. “This was a seedling eight weeks ago?”

“Yes. Things from the outside world have been growing faster lately.” She didn’t sound so happy about that.

“How much faster?” Grace asked.

“Crazy faster. Persimmons usually take two to three years to bear their first fruit.” Olivia gestured at the tree.

“The buds for these appeared two weeks after we planted the seedling, which had already grown to half this size. Something weird has been happening with time here. There is no time here, according to the clan, but I don’t know—I think the enchantment is out of wack or something. ”

Something made Grace glance back at the castle, where in one of the windows she saw a fair-haired woman watching them.

She wore a dark gown and had a funny hood over her hair, but she could have been Inga.

An instant later she vanished. Since she’d only spent a few minutes with her grandmother Grace wondered why she’d be checking up on her.

“Did you want to go and visit Mrs. Holm?” the surveyor asked.

“I’m sure she needs some time to process what I told her.

” Hopefully she’d take a few years with that, because she really didn’t want to deal with her again.

“I’d really love a chance to wash up and change into clean clothes.

” She glanced down at her dirty, torn suit.

“Can I borrow something to wear from Doon? Aside from her height, she’s about my size. ”

“We’re the same height, so I brought you some of my things,” a low voice said from behind them.

Grace turned to see Inga approaching with several garments tucked over her arm.

She wasn’t wearing a dark gown now, but the light-colored dress she’d had on in the hall.

She also looked paler and had a distinctly pink nose and swollen eyelids, so she had been crying for some time.

She probably wanted sympathy, but the knife of Grace’s anger still twisted in her chest. For a moment she considered telling her grandmother what she could do with her cast-offs, but that would only reveal how upset she was.

From now on she’d keep up the brick wall so Inga wouldn’t have any excuse to talk to her .

“I’d rather borrow clothes from someone else, thank you.” She started to walk back toward the stairs and halted as Inga caught her arm. “Please don’t. I dislike being touched by strangers.”

“I deserve every bit of your scorn, I know,” the chatelaine said, quickly snatching away her hand.

“I want to explain why I behaved so badly. Finding out that Tonje is gone was such a shock for me. For the last seventy years I’ve been hoping against hope to return to our world so I could see her again.

In my mind, she’s still a little baby. You wouldn’t believe how adorable she was, all big eyes and the cutest little face. ”

As her grandmother babbled on about Tonje, Grace stared past her at a stone ledge on the other side of the roof.

She imagined her adorable mother sitting there, all three hundred pounds of her, while she sucked the raw oysters that had killed her from their half shells.

She’d probably hurl curse words at the mother who had abandoned her in between taking slugs from her bottle of designer champagne.

The slurping sound of Tonje eating wasn’t real, and yet it seemed to slither against Grace’s ears like tiny, slimy worms trying to crawl into her skull.

I need to find my guy, right now.

“Excuse me, I have to go,” she said to Inga, silencing her.