Chapter Eleven

Not caring that he was getting dirt and blood all over his recliner, Trace clenched his jaw and shifted the ice pack on his knee—the one Fiona had negligently tossed at him on her way by—as he tried to stay focused on what Kenzie and William were saying. He might be keeping his mouth shut, but that didn’t mean he had to like that Fiona was kneeling beside the couch to suture what appeared to be nothing more than a scratch on Mac’s shoulder. It was bad enough that William and Kenzie had carried the drùidh upstairs—while Trace had dragged himself upstairs—but the two warriors hadn’t even bothered to thank him for keeping their sisters safe from the demons.

Which Mac the Menace had brought here, he might point out.

And he sure as hell didn’t like how Gabriella kept fawning over the jerk, dabbing Mac’s brow and constantly asking if he was in pain. Christ, he was tempted to cram a pillow down over the bastard’s face the next time he moaned.

“We still don’t know why they’re after Mac,” Kenzie said, “or who they are. But what really worries me is they don’t seem to be afraid of him. Nor do they seem even to care if they incur his father’s wrath. Titus Oceanus isn’t exactly known for his leniency when it comes to dealing with anyone who threatens his family.”

Trace took another sip of Scotch—which he’d had to find and pour himself—and glared toward the couch. Dammit, Fiona should be tending his injuries.

“There seemed to be more than one entity controlling the demons,” William said, “as there were at least three separate waves of attacks.”

Didn’t either of them see that Gabriella had contracted a horrible case of hero worship? And Mac sure as hell didn’t seem inclined to quell it; in fact, he appeared to be encouraging her, holding the girl’s hand and sucking in a shuddering breath each time the needle pierced his ugly flesh.

Why in hell wasn’t Fiona putting a stop to Gabriella’s foolishness? She certainly was bright enough to know that Maximilian Oceanus was a pompous ass.

The bastard had better not suddenly decide he could fall in love with the new and improved Fiona Gregor. She was his tenant, dammit; he was the one bringing her out of her shell, and he wasn’t about to let some love-starved pond scum of a drùidh reap the benefits of his hard work.

Trace absently rubbed Misneach, sleeping on his lap, pleased that at least the pup knew where to place his loyalty. Probably irrevocably gun-shy now, if not also deaf, the little Chesapeake had been the only one to notice that Trace was injured and had even tried licking the blood off his face back in the safe room. And when he’d set Misneach down when they’d finally heard Kenzie and William shouting for them overhead, the loyal little pup had lifted his leg and whizzed on Mac’s one remaining … flipper.

Only to everyone’s surprise, the flipper had magically turned back into a human hand just as soon as the warm urine had hit it.

Hell, if Trace had known that was all it would take, he would have volunteered.

Seeing that Fiona was finally done, Trace started unbuttoning his shirt so she could rub horse liniment on the bruises on his ribs. A soak in a hot bath was out of the question until the electricity came back on, and he’d have to ask Gabriella to hunt around for some kerosene lamps, so they could conserve the battery in the lantern.

Only Trace suddenly stilled in the middle of trying to pull his shirttail out of his jeans without disturbing Misneach. He blinked at Kenzie and William. “Come again? Did you just say you think the tooth fairy was leading the demons?”

Kenzie didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “I would offer to bring Mac to An Téarmann to recuperate, but it appears he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch.” He leaned forward on the footstool he was sitting on next to the woodstove. “I’d hide that trident if I were you, though, the moment he falls asleep. When he gets his strength back, there’s no telling what sort of havoc he might wreak.”

William snorted. “Aye, there’s a good chance he’s still a wee bit miffed at ye for rejecting his sister’s marriage proposal.”

“Is he miffed at you for rejecting Carolina and for marrying Maddy?”

“Nay,” William said with a chuckle. “Mac likes me.”

“Lucky you,” Trace muttered.

Kenzie stood up with a tired groan when he saw Fiona heading to the kitchen. “If you’re done here, sister, go upstairs and pack a few of your things, and I will take you to An Téarmann.”

She spun toward him in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“We’ll return in a few days to get the rest of your belongings.”

“But I’m not moving back to An Téarmann. This is my home now. I mean, that’s my home now,” she said, pointing at the ceiling.

Kenzie gave her a gentle smile. “I’ve decided this may not be the best arrangement for you after all, so you can live with us until I’m able to find a better one.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve decided that you aren’t the boss of me anymore. And neither is Matt. I will live where I want, and say and do and think what I want, from now on, just like any other twenty-first-century woman.”

Trace very nearly jumped out of his chair, he was so pleased.

Not because he wanted her to stay or anything but because she was very politely telling her brother to go to hell.

Kenzie pointed at the ceiling rather … pointedly. “You will do as you’re told and go get your things, and we will discuss this at home.”

Fiona folded her arms under her breasts and arched a brow. “Exactly which part of ‘you’re not the boss of me anymore’ didn’t you understand?” she asked ever so softly, obviously trying to rein in her anger. “Because I have to tell you, I’m damn tired of sitting through your one-sided discussions. You and Matt can discuss my arrangement until hell freezes over for all I care, but it’s not going to change the fact that neither one of you men knows shit about what’s good for me.”

Wow. When the woman decided to break out of her shell, she came out swinging! Christ, he wanted to kiss her again.

“Your language is unbecoming!” Kenzie snapped, his anger growing in direct proportion to his realization that he’d lost control of her.

She actually laughed. “Are you sure it’s my language you find unbecoming, or is it my unwillingness to jump at your command like a clueless eleventh-century lass?”

Hell, she was even starting to sound like a Mainer.

Kenzie was so taken aback that he seemed to have been rendered speechless.

“Gabriella, get your coat,” William growled as he stood up and used his bloodied sword to point toward the kitchen.

“Nay.” The girl thrust her chin out defiantly. “I believe I’ll spend the week here with Fiona and help her take care of Mac and Trace.” She walked over and looped her arm through Fiona’s. “Friends do not abandon friends.”

Instead of also being rendered speechless, William turned a thunderous glare on Trace, pointing his sword at him. “This is your fault, Huntsman. We leave these two perfectly obedient women in your care for one day, and suddenly, the only word they seem able to utter is no.”

Trace grinned at the confounded warrior. “Kind of dents the ego, doesn’t it, when a woman tells you no? I would think you’d be used to it by now, seeing as how you’ve been married to Maddy for over a month and a half.” He turned his grin on Kenzie. “And how’s your campaign coming along to get Eve to have her baby in a hospital? Has she agreed with you yet that just because the MacKeage women all had their children at home, that doesn’t mean she should?”

“Are ye saying you won’t burn down your house to make Fiona leave?” the vengeful highlander ground out.

Trace looked directly at Fiona when he heard her gasp. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I like having a tenant I can count on when things get scary.” He continued to answer Kenzie even as he continued staring into Fiona’s no longer vulnerable but definitely wounded eyes. “Especially when that tenant handles a gun better than you do, Gregor, and knows that retreating is not an act of cowardice but one of intelligence.”

Giving her a wink, he looked at Kenzie and William. “I realize you might have a hard time wrapping your ancient minds around the concept, but today wasn’t the first time a female has pulled my neck out of the wringer. I’ve fought side-by-side with women in Iraq and Afghanistan, and for the record, I don’t have a problem facing screaming demons with either one of your sisters. In fact, Killkenny,” he said, giving the wide-eyed Gabriella a wink as he slid his gaze to William, “neither do I have a problem with Gabriella also becoming my tenant, should she decide to move in with Fiona.”

William’s hand on his sword flexed. “Ye overstep your bounds, Huntsman!”

“Not by twenty-first-century rules, I don’t. When we were waiting for you to finally come to our rescue, Gabriella just happened to mention that her birthday is next week. And in this century, eighteen is the age of independence.”

“Are ye deliberately trying to anger us?” Kenzie asked tightly. He lifted a brow. “Or maybe you’ve decided ye like having a clean house and home-cooked meals.”

“Personally,” Mac said from the couch, “I think he’s looking to get himself some milk without having to buy the cow.” He snorted. “Or should I say goat?”

“Enough!” Fiona snapped. “You will all shut the fuck up, or I swear, I’ll find my gun and shoot every damned last one of you.”

“Sister!” Kenzie shouted, taking a step back. “You will mind your tongue! Where did you even learn such a word?”

Equally shocked but utterly enthralled, Trace could only gape at Fiona as she shot her brother a scathing glare. “You’d be surprised at what a camp whore learns,” she hissed, “other than just how to pleasure a man.”

Kenzie took another step back, his knees obviously gone weak as he staggered into the wall. “What are ye saying?” he whispered.

Her brother’s shock apparently doing nothing to quell her anger, Trace saw Fiona’s hands ball into fists. “I’m not the innocent little girl you remember, Kenzie. I grew up the day you walked away from Mama and Papa and me, and I grew wise the day that bastard caught me alone in the woods and turned me into a whore.”

When Kenzie slid down the wall to squat on his heels, his face as pale as snow, Fiona took a hesitant step toward him. “I honestly tried to be the baby sister you and Matt remembered,” she said huskily. “And for a while, I actually became her—to the point that I even began fearing men again. But even worse than losing her virginity, when a woman’s innocence is stolen from her, she can’t ever go back to pretending she is something more or anything less than she is.”

She took another step forward and held her hand out, and Trace was proud to see that it wasn’t trembling even a little. “Where you and Matt left to find your destinies, mine was thrust upon me.” She snorted. “Several destinies, actually, and always at the hand of some man. Well, brother, I’m done. My future is in my hands now, and if I screw up, then I have no one to blame but myself.” Her mouth curved upward. “And if all of my dreams do come true, they will be all the sweeter for being mine alone. I will have children again, and I’ll raise them to know that the only thing they need to fear is their mama’s wrath, if I ever catch them being afraid of anything.”

That said, she started toward the kitchen but then stopped and faced Kenzie again, her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. “Please tell Eve and Winter for me that I thank them for speaking their minds. I realize now that as long as I continued living with you or Matt, I would have continued trying to be your baby sister.”

Fiona walked over to Trace and lifted Misneach off his lap. “There are enough like-minded males in this room already,” she muttered, heading to the kitchen again. “I don’t need any of you corrupting my pet. Come on, Gabriella,” she said as she walked past her gaping friend. “We’ll go upstairs and build a fire and make ourselves a cup of tea. But first, grab that unopened bottle of Scotch in the cupboard next to the sink and bring it with you.”

The porch door closed a moment later, and the ensuing silence lasted several more moments until it was broken by the sound of the ceiling creaking over their heads.

“Holy Christ,” Kenzie whispered. He raised pain-filled eyes first to William and then to Trace. “I thought she’d only been raped. One time. I thought some man had caught her alone in the woods and that … that she had …” He dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “She called herself a whore.”

Mac sat up on the couch, cradling his arm against his side. “You didn’t know Fiona had gone missing for nearly seven months?” he asked softly.

“Nay,” Kenzie said, not looking up. He ran his hands through his hair and then held his head as he stared at the floor. “What kind of hell was she forced to endure for seven months?” He looked up, his haunted gaze focused inward. “I thought I killed the bastard who’d raped her, but … hell, it appears he was only the first of many.”

Trace quietly closed the footrest on his recliner and stood up, then limped over and pulled the highlander to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But you need to realize that what didn’t kill your sister only made her stronger.”

“And now she’s fighting to remain strong,” Mac said as he limped over to them. “And if you truly love her, you’ll not only let Fiona go forward on her own terms, you will help her. But only when she asks, Kenzie, and then only what she asks for, instead of what you believe she needs.”

Although he hated like hell to admit it, Trace found himself agreeing with the drùidh. “Your sister is a lot stronger and smarter and more capable than most men I know,” he added. He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “And a hell of a lot prettier.”

“Aye,” William said, even as he glared at Trace. “Fiona proved her mettle today.”

“She called herself a whore,” Kenzie whispered, apparently unable to get past that. He looked at Trace. “You’re attracted to her, Huntsman, and she seems to trust you. Ye must help us show Fiona that she isn’t a whore.”

“You’re not getting it, Gregor,” Mac growled. “It’s you who needs help, because you obviously can’t let go of your guilt for leaving home to go find your destiny.”

“I didn’t leave to find anything but freedom,” Kenzie hotly countered. “And I abandoned my family even though I suspected our father was starting to lose his mind.” He waved angrily toward the ceiling. “Fiona was twelve! You heard her; she grew up the day I walked away and left them without protection. I was the worst kind of coward, running from my responsibilities.” He spun away from them, his hands clenched at his sides. “I sold my soul for the dream of becoming a warrior, wanting to be some village’s hero.”

Trace snorted. “Welcome to the club.”

“You were fifteen,” Mac said. “What did you know, other than your dreams?”

Kenzie threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I must go apologize to her,” he said. “And ask her forgiveness and beg her to let me make this right.”

When he started toward the kitchen, all three of them moved to block his path. “The only thing you’re going to do,” Trace said, nudging him down onto the stool beside the woodstove, “is call your wife and tell her you’re going to be late getting home from work tonight.” He limped over and grabbed the bottle of Scotch off the table beside his chair. “And like those two smart women upstairs, the four of us are going to toast our good fortune that we all survived to fight another day.”

“Here’s the thing,” Fiona said, smiling when Gabriella took another sip of tea and started gasping for breath again. “I’m worried that having freedom and knowing what to do with it are two very different things.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” the girl choked out with a violent shudder. “Freedom means we can do anything we wish now,” she said before lifting her cup and taking a noisy slurp.

Waiting for her friend to catch her breath again, Fiona sipped her own tea, relishing the warmth spreading through her slowly relaxing muscles. “But what is it we want?” She shot Gabriella a grin. “Other than to have children, that is.”

“I told Maddy that I might like to be a nurse, like she is,” Gabriella said. “Only Maddy said there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t be a doctor.” She snorted and then immediately covered her face when tea shot out of her nose. “Omigod, that burns,” she muttered, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “Only William walked in just as I asked Maddy how I could go to school to be a doctor and raise children at the same time, and he said that it wouldn’t be a problem because I wasn’t allowed to talk to boys.”

“You’re going to have to talk to at least one if you want to conceive a child.” Fiona drained what tea was left in her cup. They were each on their third cup of the Scotch-laced tea—and they’d each taken a good swallow directly from the bottle while they waited for the woodstove to get hot enough to boil the water. That one swig had gone a long way toward calming Fiona’s nerves, but hadn’t done much to lessen her embarrassment.

She couldn’t believe she had spoken so crudely downstairs, much less that she’d actually told Kenzie some of what she’d gone through a thousand years ago.

What must he think of her? What must they all think of her, knowing she’d spent months serving every need a man had? She wondered if modern wars had women who traveled from battle to battle, cooking and washing and tending the wounds of the warriors by day and warming their beds by night.

And if so, had Trace had ever sought them out?

Fiona reached for the simmering kettle on the stove. If he truly had changed his mind about her continuing to live here, he certainly must have changed it back again now that he knew why his kiss hadn’t shocked her.

“What do you want to be?” Gabriella asked.

“Be?” Fiona repeated, at a complete loss as to what they’d been talking about.

The candle cast enough light for her to see the girl’s frown as she held her cup out for a refill. “Other than to have another child, what do you want to do with your life?” Gabriella asked. “You have to earn a living if you don’t intend to get married.”

Fiona picked up the Scotch and added some to each of their cups. “I have no idea.” She set the bottle back on the table and suddenly grinned. “But I like children; maybe I can take care of other women’s children while they go out and earn their livings. Surely there’s a need for such a service. In fact, there’s an interesting television show every weekday in the afternoon that I’ve been following, and on it, a woman is trying to find someone to watch her two-year-old child so she can go to work.”

But then Fiona frowned again. “Only the child’s father—she isn’t married to the man and he just found out he is the father—is trying to take the little girl away from her, claiming she’s an unfit mother. It seems the person she had been leaving the child with drank too much, and the little girl wandered off and got lost for an entire day.”

Wide-eyed and utterly intrigued, Gabriella leaned forward in her chair, not even noticing that she spilled tea on her bosom. “There’s a television show that follows people around, letting us see what’s going on in their lives?”

“I started watching it when I lived with Matt and Winter, and Winter explained that it’s only pretend. You know, like a play. Didn’t you have minstrels come to your village and act out stories of great battles or what was happening at court?” Fiona leaned back in her chair with a smile. “I saw one once, when Matt and Kenzie and I snuck down to a nearby village. That was the only time Papa ever took a switch to me, but it was worth it. I don’t think I’d ever laughed that hard in my life.”

“Then you should write to that woman and tell her that you will take care of her child,” Gabriella said, waving her cup and spilling the tea on her lap this time. “And that way, the father won’t take the little girl away from her.”

“I can’t write to her; it’s only pretend.” Fiona leaned forward again, warming up to her idea even as she formed a plan. “But I could put a notice in Eve’s store that says I’m willing to take in children who live here in Midnight Bay. Why, there’s no reason I couldn’t watch three or four babes. Damn,” she said, plopping back into her chair again. “I would need to ask Trace first, wouldn’t I? He might tolerate having animals around, but men feel differently about children.”

Gabriella waved her concern away. “He won’t even be here during the day when they are. Hey!” she cried, standing up and spilling her tea all over the floor. “If I move in with you like he suggested, together we could probably watch ten children. And we could even make enough money to buy a vehicle of our own.”

Fiona shook her head. “I’m certain we need to ask Trace first.”

Noticing that all of her tea was gone, Gabriella grabbed the bottle of Scotch and poured some into her cup, then sat down. “We can still live together, though, can’t we, and take care of each other’s children while we become working women?”

“I doubt a modern husband would let an unwed mother live with you, Gabriella.”

Gabriella grinned. “Just as soon as you figure out how to have a babe without a man, you can tell me, and I’ll do the same.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t need a husband to live happily ever after any more than you do.”

“Oh, Gabriella,” Fiona said on a soft sigh. “There’s more to marriage than just cooking and cleaning and having sex. Remember that powerful yearning your mama spoke of? Well, it’s all tied up with love. You’ll always feel like something’s missing if you have no one to be … intimate with. Unlike lions in Africa, women need someone to hold us in the middle of the night when we’re frightened and to share our joys and sorrows.” She leaned forward. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Gabriella nodded vigorously.

“I came close once. I stayed with one particular warrior for almost a month, and we grew quite comfortable together. I even talked myself into believing he would take me home with him,” she said softly.

“And did he?”

“Nay; he was killed in battle.” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “And I moved to another man’s tent that very night.”

“What was it like being a wh—a camp follower?” Gabriella whispered, her cheeks turning pink. “I remember when William escorted Mama and me to her sister’s wedding when I was eleven. I snuck out of our tent one night to see what all the noise was down in the woods, as William had pitched our tent well away from his warriors. The camp appeared quite festive, with the women laughing and the men teasing them.” She frowned. “But I remember thinking, where are the children? If those women were having sex every night, how come they didn’t get pregnant?”

“They did,” Fiona told her. “But once a woman became too heavy with child to keep up with the demands of constantly moving, she was abandoned and left to find her own way home—if she dared go home at all.”

“But that would mean the men abandoned their children, too.”

Fiona snorted. “There was little way to know who had fathered the babes.”

“But why didn’t they let the women stay? As soon as they gave birth, they would have been able to keep up again.”

“Children were strictly forbidden in camp, as young ones are unpredictable and might get in the way. And sound carries on clear, windless nights; a crying infant could give away a battalion’s position to the enemy.”

“And when you became heavy with your babe, you were abandoned?”

Fiona nodded. “It took me three weeks to make my way back home, but I managed to get back just in time to have Kyle.” She dropped her gaze to her empty cup. “Only I had no strength left to get out of bed, and I wouldn’t stop bleeding,” she whispered. She looked at Gabriella. “I tried to explain to Papa how to take care of my son, but he had become so mad by then that he couldn’t remember from one feeding to the next that he had to give Kyle only goat’s milk.” She shrugged. “And then one night I went to sleep and Mama came to me in my dreams, and I simply didn’t wake up. And two weeks later Kyle died, and I held him in my arms again before he returned to earth as someone else’s child—because, he told me, he still had earthly lessons to teach.”

“And that’s when you became a hawk?”

Fiona poured more Scotch into her cup without bothering to add any tea. “Aye, within days of Kyle leaving me.” She smiled sadly. “I went in search of Matt and found him lying on a battlefield, bleeding to death. All the people in the village where he had been living had been slaughtered.”

“And you saved his life,” Gabriella pronounced. “And then you came to this century as a hawk with him, and Kenzie came here as a panther.”

Fiona shook her head. “Nay, I didn’t travel to this time with them, because I didn’t approve of why Matt was coming here. He was seeking out Winter MacKeage—another powerful drùidh, although she didn’t know it at the time—to help him keep his promise to make Kenzie human again.” She waved her cup in the air. “I didn’t come to this century until William did, and then only to show him how to get here.” Fiona stood up when Gabriella gave a loud yawn. “Come on, my new roommate, it’s been a long day, and it’s time we got some sleep.”

Gabriella drained the last of the Scotch in her cup and stood up, only to giggle when she staggered and bumped into a table. “Oh, these old floors are really slanted. We’ll need to have Trace fix them before we bring children here.”

Fiona wrapped an arm around her unsteady friend and guided her to the couch. “I’m sure he’ll put that right at the top of his list of things he must do.” She turned Gabriella around and let her fall back onto the couch. “Just after he repairs his hidey-hole, digs his tunnel out again, gets his truck running, shovels the snow out of the driveway, and catches the skunks and puts them in the back of Madeline’s truck.”

Gabriella grabbed a throw cushion and hugged it to her face, then plopped sideways with a sigh. “If we ask him nicely, maybe Mr.—I mean, maybe Mac can use his magic to remove all the snow from the dooryard,” she murmured. She smiled up at Fiona. “Don’t you think he’s handsome? I know you don’t like men,” she rushed to say, “but if you did, wouldn’t it be exciting to fall in love with a drùidh?”

Fiona snorted. “About as exciting as childbirth.”

“You know who else is handsome?” Gabriella asked.

Fiona took the blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around her. “No, who else is handsome?”

“Maddy’s brother, Rick. Have you met him?” Gabriella grabbed Fiona’s hand to keep her from straightening away. “He’s Trace’s fishing partner, you know, and he lives with all of us at Maddy’s mother’s house. I slept in Sarah’s room at first, but when I started having bad dreams and would wake up screaming … well, Rick suggested I take his room over their garage.” She smiled crookedly. “Wasn’t that nice of him? And sometimes, when I’ve had a bad dream and can’t get back to sleep, he brings me downstairs and makes me hot cocoa.”

She pulled Fiona closer. “And a couple of times, he’s even given me a bottle of something he calls beer, saying it will relax me.” She fell back against her pillow with another sigh. “It tasted similar to the mead I used to sneak out of my papa’s cup when he wasn’t looking, only I think the Scotch we put in our tea works better. I feel as if even my bones have melted, I’m so relaxed.”

Fiona patted her shoulder, deciding that the Scotch had certainly relaxed the girl’s tongue. “Your dreams will all be pleasant tonight, I promise,” she whispered. “And in the morning, we shall put our minds together and come up with a plan we can present to Trace before we implement it.”

“Mama told me that when she wanted Papa to let her do something, the less she told him, the better,” Gabriella said without bothering to open her eyes. She sighed again, snuggling into her pillow. “And that she always made him think it was his idea.”

“I believe I like your mama,” Fiona said, walking out of the room.

She went to her cupboard under the attic stairs, pulled out the mattress of sea grass she’d made, and dragged it to the front room next to the woodstove. Fiona finally lay down with a tired groan and stared up at the ceiling. She touched her fingers to her lips as she remembered Trace’s kiss down in the safe room.

And how very much alive and very womanly it had made her feel.

Or, rather, how womanly he had made her feel.

She slowly rubbed her finger back and forth over her lower lip and smiled at the realization that Trace Huntsman desired her. And to her surprise, Fiona found herself wondering if that wonderful, exciting sensation she’d felt in the pit of her stomach when he’d kissed her—which had spread through her like warm, soothing Scotch—might in fact have been her own desire for him.

Lord, she hoped so. Because if what she felt toward Trace really was desire, her prospects of becoming a truly modern woman, one who could choose to be intimate with a man, meant that her new life had just gone from a curse to a blessing.

And this time, by God, she intended to have some say in the matter.