Page 18 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
“There, now,” he crooned as the dead woman collapsed into a pile of crumbling ash and bone. “See? You’re much slimmer now.”
W alking into the stronghold by herself was the best moment Grace had had since kissing Farlan for the first time last night.
She didn’t have to listen to Tonje’s fan girl of a mother; it was a big castle and they could certainly learn to avoid each other.
Today could be lesson number one: I don’t give a damn what you do, or why you do it.
Go spin your fairytales about my mother to someone else who might believe she was an angel.
I know better. What Grace really wanted to do was shout at Inga to leave her alone, but if she did that they might think she’d gone crazy and lock her up.
The part of her heart she had guarded since childhood replied with the usual advice: You’re making yourself sick. Stop thinking about it.
Although Grace hid her emotions, she wasn’t vicious or pitiless.
She knew if she told her grandmother the truth about Tonje that it would destroy her—assuming she’d believe her adorable little girl was capable of such behavior.
At the same time, listening to the chatelaine go on and on about how much she loved and missed Tonje made Grace sick.
Her grandmother had built up a dream of her long lost daughter, and had no idea the kind of nightmare she’d spawned.
All things considered, it was better to let her delusions remain intact.
It’s just like it was dealing with Mother. Say nothing no matter what she does. Don’t show any emotion. Be the brick wall.
She walked faster once she climbed down the roof stairs to the next level, and from there followed the labyrinth of passages that took her deeper into the stronghold.
At one point she realized she was lost, but kept her expression composed each time she passed one of the men standing guard.
They all nodded to her, and she sensed the weight of their stares on her back after she went by, but no one tried to speak to her or stop her.
I could have any of them if I want.
It wasn’t vanity, just a fact of life. Grace had always known that her physical attributes were rare gifts, but she had never used them for anything but making money.
Here in the spell trap they gave her power as well as the means to gain protection for herself.
If she picked out the largest, meanest guy at Dun Talamh and seduced him–
As if answering her thoughts, a huge man appeared in front of her and whispered, “My lady. ”
The clansman stood so tall she had to drop her head back to see his face, which was inhumanly gorgeous.
With his jewel-like eyes, flawless features and faintly glowing flesh he made even the clan’s stunning war master look like a plain cousin.
In the real world he would have commanded millions from designers and marketers for just his face.
She gave his hyper-muscular body the once-over, but despite all his male beauty and physical impeccability being so close, her own body didn’t react in the slightest. Only the contrary; she had grown acutely wary, the same way she did walking home alone after a late night gig.
Although he looked benign, she knew he wasn’t, even if she couldn’t say why.
Why am I only attracted to Farlan? Why do I think this man is so dangerous I should turn and run?
Grace didn’t run. “Hello. I’m Grace Johansen.”
“Rory McKeran, the clan’s armorer.” He bowed to her, and continued speaking in a whisper. “May I be of service to you, Mistress Johansen?”
No, something inside Grace said flatly. Never ask him for anything.
“I’m fine, thanks. Nice to meet you, Rory.” She walked around him and kept going until she was out of sight, and then stopped and wiped some cold sweat from her brow. He’d been perfectly polite; why was she so afraid of him ?
It’s just instinct. I should never, ever mess with that man, she thought, and the voice inside her seemed to agree by chiming in with, Never indebt yourself to him, either. His bloodline runs black.
A memory of the stone wall collapsing on top of her and Farlan came back, which made no sense at all.
“Okay, time to stop acting crazy,” she told herself.
Grace continued on, wandering aimlessly now.
She could get lost in this place and not find her way out for days.
That prospect might have scared her, but for the guards stationed throughout the castle.
They all looked at her, but they didn’t ogle, and most just nodded a little to her.
When she reached the first level and walked past the great hall and into a back passage, several guards she passed looked slightly alarmed, as if she were going in the wrong direction.
“You’re about to enter our garrison hall, my lady.
” The laird’s senior chieftain—Darro?—intercepted her.
Almost as large as Rory, he had enormous hands and so many muscles he could have competed and won any body-building meet.
“Females may only visit by invitation, at night, and at such time must be escorted by a McKeran. Thus I must ask you halt or alter your direction.”
He wasn’t just there to stop her from making a blunder, but she couldn’t read anything from his pleasant expression .
He’s like me, Grace thought. “What do you really want?”
His placid eyes, the same color of brown as her own, narrowed slightly. “I’d keep you company, if you’d welcome a new friend.”
“I don’t have any friends. If I did, I wouldn’t have sex with them.
” She waited for him to reply, and when he didn’t she took in a breath, held it for ten seconds, and exhaled silently.
“I’m sorry if I insulted you. I would like to be alone now.
Preferably somewhere I can wash and change into some clean clothes, please. ”
Darro gestured to his left. “This way, my lady.”