An original sin, p.9
An Original Sin, page 9
Once again, he glared at her with savage anger. “I willna eat there. They are my enemies.”
“They are my ancestors,” she said softly.
Chapter Five
I gotta tell you, Fortune Cookie made a big mistake. Don’t get me wrong; I think she’s a terrific babe, but sometimes women talk too much. Know what I mean?
Leith tells her he has this thing about the MacDonalds, so what’s she do? Confesses she’s a MacDonald. I love women, but damned if I understand them. Things were going great, too. That scene in the shower was hot.
Relax. I didn’t watch. I have a few scruples. Very few. But I’d stopped to scratch a flea—I hate fleas—and couldn’t help hearing.
Fortune’s a virgin—I love virgins—so I expected a few nerves. I could deal with that.
But now Leith’s gonna be a hard sell. My life would chug along a lot easier if I could do a little mind manipulating. I’ve gotta think of some way to get past this MacDonald thing, and I’ve gotta do it fast. If they split up, it’ll be tough gettin’ them back together again. I might lose. Nah. Never.
Another problem. That jerk of an ice-cream man parked his butt outside the house. I should go out, order a cone, then suggest a few creative uses for it. If he doesn’t do a quick dis-appearing act, he’ll find nuclear plants aren’t the only things that can have massive meltdowns. How does chocolate fall-out sound? I don’t know what game he’s playing, but he’s playing with an expert.
First I patch it up between Fortune and Leith; then I figure some way to go shopping with them. I’ve got gourmet taste buds. Fries and burgers don’t cut it with me. Besides, my weak tummy won’t take too much fast food. So I’ve gotta point them in the right direction when it comes to cat food. It’ll be a real challenge. They’ll want to buy some of that petaisle garbage, and I want steak. Rare. And maybe salmon. Whole.
Hey, I’ll manage it. They don’t call me the Great Manipulator for nothin’.
“A MacDonald! A cursed MacDonald?” Out of all the women in the world, the powers-that-be expected him to teach the joys of sex to a MacDonald? He couldn’t do it. Even if God struck him dead on the spot, he couldn’t make love to a MacDonald. “I canna stay in the same house wi’ a cursed MacDonald!”
“Is that one word, or two?” she shouted back at him. “I’ve never seen such a hardheaded, obstinate man in—”
“Ye’ve ne’er seen a man at all. Mayhap we’re all hardheaded and obstinate when there are cursed MacDonalds nearby.” That hadn’t come out exactly as he’d planned.
A glimmer of laughter shone in her eyes. “Well, at least you admit you’re hardheaded and obstinate.”
Anger heated his face. The last person who’d laughed at him had nursed a broken head. “ ’Tis useless trying to reason wi’ a MacDonald. Now I know why ye’ve aggra-vated me so. MacDonalds are aggravating by nature.” He strode toward the door.
Just before reaching the door, he turned to hurl one last comment her way. She wore a startled look, and he felt an intense stab of gratification. She hadn’t thought he’d leave.
“Leith, wait! You can’t just walk out and—”
Suddenly Ganymede shot between his legs and he tripped, falling hard against the door he’d pulled open. Kneeling, he rubbed the bump rising on his forehead. The cursed cat should stay with its cursed MacDonald owner. They belonged together.
“Are you okay? Let me get some ice to put on that lump.” Her voice had turned soft, worried.
“I dinna need ice. I dinna need yer help.” He couldn’t control the gruffness in his voice. He hated women fussing over him, except in bed, of course.
He used the door to pull himself to his feet, then stumbled down the path with Fortune following. A familiar voice made him look up. Ice-cream truck? He’d seen it somewhere before, heard the same voice singing, but now the singer begged that someone not be cruel. Hmmph. What did the voice know of cruelty? Cruelty was turning a bonny lass into a cursed MacDonald.
“Where does the voice come from?” he asked Fortune, who’d finally caught up with him.
“I think they call it a loudspeaker. It’s a recorded voice made to sound louder.” She attached herself to his arm. “We have to talk about your moving out. You can’t move out. We…we were meant to stay together for some reason.”
“To torture me, no doubt.” He scowled down at her, but his heart wasn’t in it. The fall had given him a moment to calm down. The red haze of fury had lifted, and he could think.
“No, I’m sure—”
“Why not settle your argument over one of my Heavenly Hash cones? There’s nothing like something cold and sweet to cure what’s hot and bitter in your soul.” The deep voice was soothing.
Leith stared at the man. Dark hair that flew in every direction and a fuzzy beard framed a face with eyes…Leith blinked. The bump on his head must’ve addled his wits. He couldn’t tell what color the man’s eyes were, only that they were deep, penetrating, with a hint of mischief. Leith had the uncomfortable feeling they could see to his very soul. He looked away. His soul wasn’t ready for visitors just yet.
“We’ll take two cones.” Fortune glanced at the night-clothes she still wore, then at Leith. “Do you have any money on you?”
He nodded, then winced. His head would ache from that bump. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins.
His enthusiasm for leaving dampened, he paid for the ice cream, then followed Fortune back into the house. Maybe he’d been a little unreasonable. Fortune wasn’t one of the lying, thieving MacDonalds he knew from Scotland. She was right; that had been a long time ago.
A long time ago. All those he’d known were dead, had been for hundreds of years. His brother, the MacDonalds. The pain of that realization hurt worse than the ache in his head.
He had to find a way back, even if it meant living with a MacDonald. He shuddered at the thought.
“You must have a killer headache. I’ll get something for it; then you can lie down. Should I give Ganymede your cone?”
He nodded, then slumped down on the couch and closed his eyes. The lumpy cushions still held the warmth from her body, and he could smell the clean scent of the soap she’d used last night. His body reacted to the memory of last night, regardless of the name MacDonald attached to the memory. His body had no loyalty to clan.
She’d returned. Even with his eyes closed and no sound to announce her presence, he knew she’d returned.
“Here. Take this.”
He slitted his eyes just enough to identify the glass of water she held. He took the glass from her and the small pill she handed him. Probably poison. But he cared not so long as it got rid of his headache.
As he drifted toward sleep, he sensed another presence—intelligent, assessing. The feeling was so strong that he opened his eyes. Only Ganymede sat beside the couch, watching him with large amber eyes.
He forgot about Ganymede as he fell asleep to dream of an endless line of MacDonald hordes waiting to be taught the joys of love, and each MacDonald bore Fortune’s face.
Fortune gazed down at Leith as he slept. She had let him rest for several hours. Too bad she had to disturb him. He looked younger, somehow less threatening, especially with that bump on his head. She fought the urge to smooth his hair away from his face. Maternal feelings? Hardly.
As she watched, he murmured something, then slowly opened his eyes. Those jade eyes still made her catch her breath.
“Feeling any better?” she asked softly.
“Aye.” His voice was husky with sleep. “Are ye still a cursed MacDonald, or was that a wicked dream?”
She sighed. Back to that again. “Sorry, I’m still your worst nightmare. Do you feel up to shopping for food?”
“ ’Tis necessary.” Sitting up, he winced, then glared at Ganymede, who stared blandly back at him. “Leave the cat here.”
“You can try. Blade hasn’t had much luck so far.”
“Ye must be firm wi’ the beastie.” With that manly pronouncement, he strode to the door, flung it open, then waited for her to follow. “This place we can purchase food—”
“I think they call it a supermarket.”
“This…supermarket is close. We passed it last night. ’Tis not a long walk.” He slammed the door shut just as Ganymede tried to follow them. “That should hold the black demon.”
Silence stretched between them during the short walk. Leith had his own thoughts, and Fortune didn’t want to get involved in another discussion about the “cursed” MacDonalds.
How could a man have such intense emotion over a name? She’d never felt that emotional about anything in her whole life. Come to think of it, not much had happened in her life to trigger any kind of emotion—until she met Leith.
She breathed deeply. It was pleasantly warm. The trees, the brief glimpses of the lake, the man walking beside her, all made her feel lazy and…what? She should be frantic, but somehow, right now, she wasn’t. She felt almost content.
“I dinna believe it!”
While Fortune had been lost in thought, they’d reached the store. What now? She looked around.
“Yer cat is a wee spawn of hell.”
“My cat?” She looked down. Ganymede sat by the supermarket door, calmly washing his face. “How did you get out?” She picked up the surprisingly heavy cat. He lay contentedly against her chest and purred. His happy rumble shuddered through her as she glanced up at Leith. “He’s not going to let us go inside without him, you know.”
Leith scowled. “Mayhap we can heave the troublesome ball of hair into yon loch.” The glimmer of admiration in his gaze belied his fi erce pronouncement.
She grinned. “Let’s see how far we get without him.” Setting the cat down, she slipped through the automatic doors with Leith right behind her, but to no avail. Ganymede was trotting happily behind them by the time they reached the first aisle. When they paused at the cereals, the cat leaped into the cart and sat, king of all he surveyed.
Fortune shook her head. “What are we going to do with you, cat? I’m sure you’re not allowed in here. You’ll get us all booted out.” She looked helplessly at Leith.
“We could brain him, then hide his body behind yon Cocoa Puffs.” He grinned happily at his solution.
“Don’t you think about anything but violence?”
His grin died. “Ye dinna know me verra well if ye think I could do such a thing. Ganymede has courage. I admire that in any creature.” His smile returned. “ ’Tis easy to anger ye, lass. I dinna have to work hard at it.”
She hated that he found her so predictable. Not wanting to explore why his opinion mattered, she busied herself with choosing a cereal. With a satisfied exclamation, she whipped a box of Special K off the shelf and studied the label. “We’ll get this. It has all the essential vitamins and minerals without a lot of sugar. At home we have morning foods that are manufactured grains made from scientifically formulated—”
“I dinna know what that means, but I’d guess ye mean the food isna real.” He casually reached for another box of cereal.
“You make it sound like if something isn’t real it isn’t good. Our cereals are much healthier than—”
She finally realized what he’d plunked into the cart. “You have to be kidding. Double Sugar Choco Pops?” She snatched up the box and studied the label. Horrified, she firmly placed the box back on the shelf. “That junk is pure sugar. It would rot your teeth while you were still chewing on it. Yuck!”
With a forbidding glare, Leith returned the box to the cart. “I like sweet things.” His scowl suggested he’d never choose her from a shelf of women. “I willna eat something just because ’tis good for me. Ye have no adventure in yer soul, woman.”
She glared at the offending box. “Being with you is adventure enough for a lifetime.” Some remote corner of her brain responsible for monitoring cosmic truths yelled Bingo.
Carefully, she arranged one box on each side of Ganymede. “There. At least he’s hidden a little.”
They stopped again at the dairy section. Glancing down the row of milk containers, Fortune carefully examined each label, then set a plastic container of skim milk in the basket.
Leith looked suspicious. “Which one is the complete opposite of the one ye’ve chosen?”
“What do you mean?” She busily scanned the yogurt labels.
“Ye’ve probably chosen the healthiest one, so I want the one that tastes the best.”
She abandoned her search of the yogurt containers long enough to throw him an exasperated glance. “This skim milk is fortified with vitamin D and has all the milk fat removed—”
“It looks more water than milk. I’d not want to drink it. I like milk rich with cream that rises to the top. Milk that is whole.” He picked up a carton of whole milk and placed it on the opposite side of the cart from the things Fortune had chosen. “Not filled with…vitamin D. What is vitamin D?”
“Vitamin D is something…that’s good for you.”
He grinned. “Like a warm woman after a cold day of killing and plundering?”
She smiled sweetly. “Exactly.” She suspected that on life’s shelf, he considered her pure skim milk. But what did she care? She’d be surprised if his heart lasted through the bakery section. She’d have to wean him away from all that fat.
Forget it. She wouldn’t be with him long enough to impact his eating habits. Somehow that thought depressed her.
Ganymede joined the fray when they reached the pet section. His howl of outrage made Fortune quickly return the bag of dried cat food she’d tried to sneak into the cart. His cries were only slightly less strident when she piled six cans of guaranteed-to-please-your-kitty food in the cart. As they meandered toward the meat section, the cans mysteriously disappeared one by one.
Fortune got her first real taste of battle when she tried to sneak past the meat section. She knew from experience that Leith’s threat to drag her kicking and screaming to the roasts wasn’t empty blustering. And could a cat cry? She’d swear those were real tears sliding down Gany-mede’s furry face.
Fine. Let Leith fill up on enough fat for a lifetime, because when he reached her time he’d have only healthful choices. Something about that thought bothered her, so she busied herself rooting through the skinless chicken. Leith chose T-bone steak, and Ganymede chose fresh salmon—whole.
And so it went. Leith chose chocolate cream pie and Fortune chose fresh fruit. By the time they reached the checkout counter, the basket resembled an armed camp. Leith’s fatty feast topped off with hot-and-spicy salsa—chosen because the words hot and spicy reminded him of a certain Moira McAllister—protected his end of the basket, while Fortune’s healthy harvest converged at the other end. Fortune decided she held the advantage. With all the leafy green vegetables she’d chosen, she had a veritable forest to hide in.
“You know, you and that cat won’t be able to walk home without bypass surgery if you keep eating that junk,” she grumbled as she pulled out money to pay the clerk.
He shrugged and picked up the bags. “Ye take the cat.”
Ignoring the clerk’s horrified realization that a cat crouched between the spinach and the broccoli, Leith strode from the store, leaving Fortune to lug Ganymede. Luckily, the cat leaped from her arms almost immediately. She would’ve been puffing before they reached home, while Leith strode along under the weight of four bags of groceries as though he carried nothing.
She ran to catch up with him. “I can carry one of those.”
He gazed at her with unexpected passion. “ ’Tis all I have to offer, Fortune. Dinna take it away.”
Pride. He had more than his share.
Fortune remained silent on the walk home. Her nagging guilt wouldn’t go away—probably a product of her society’s attitude. Each person was part of the whole, and therefore had a responsibility toward those around her, etcetera, etcetera. Well, she wasn’t responsible for the grouch beside her, other than making sure he went with her when she returned to her time.
Went with her. At last she’d identified the source of her feeling. The thought of what she had to do made her feel uneasy, guilty. He’d hate her if she didn’t warn him. On the other hand, if she told him, he’d probably leave and never return. What a mess.
When they reached home, a two-wheeled vehicle—a motorcycle, if she remembered correctly—was parked in front. Blade bent over the vehicle while Lily heaved knives into a hapless tree.
“I’ll take these inside for ye, and ye can put them away.” Leith disappeared into the house.
Fortune stood with her hands on her hips. “What if I don’t want to put them away?” she inquired of the closed door.
“Leave that man alone, honey.” Lily had retrieved her arsenal and moved up beside Fortune. “Men like to feel in charge, so a smart woman doesn’t sweat the small stuff.”
“But that’s not being honest.” What you’re planning for Leith isn’t honest either.
Lily threw back her head and laughed. “Nothing’s black or white. Sometimes gray’s the kindest color.”
Fortune frowned. She felt there was a profound truth in Lily’s statement, if she could only find it.
Lily threw a companionable arm across Fortune’s shoulder, blissfully ignoring Fortune’s instinctive flinch.
Fortune drew a deep breath. She’d have to get used to touching. Obviously people in earlier times saw nothing wrong with it. They hadn’t learned that invading another’s space without invitation was unacceptable. Then why don’t you resent Leith’s touch? Why do you find it so easy to touch him?
“Let’s you and I go inside. We can put those groceries away in a snap.” Lily opened the door, then pushed a reluctant Fortune into the house just as Leith emerged.
A small black body trailed at Leith’s heels. Ganymede had found a new hero. Leith and Ganymede had so much in common. Both were demanding males, and both had a death wish where food was concerned.
Resigned, she let herself be guided toward the kitchen.
Leith felt disappointed. He’d expected Fortune to react when he told her to put the food away. In some perverse way, he liked her fiery and disapproving.
