Chapter 5
Hannah tossed the papers down on the table in front of him and slid into the chair. “Why are you here? What exactly is it you want?”
“Ye are not exactly the trusting sort. Are ye, Ms. MacPherson?” His cynical laugh tensed her even more. “That is verra wise. Ye will live a lot longer that way. But there is a vast difference between caution and bitterness. Ye dinna wish to become a complete solitary, do ye?”
Her hands tightened into fists. This man had no idea about the complications in her life, and it was also none of his business. She tipped her head toward the photos of Taroc Na Mor. “Tell me why you are really here. I know I ignored the mail. But you are here now. What is it you want?”
He reached across the table and fingered the corner of a picture.
With a heavy sigh, he traced his thumb along its edge as though wishing he could step inside.
Homesickness filled his face. Longing shone in his eyes.
His love for Taroc Na Mor came across loud and clear before he uttered a word.
“When we received no response, it was my duty to find ye and explain all that is yers.”
“So, you are the executor of the estate?” That relaxed her.
Somewhat. Leaning forward, she folded her hands on the table.
This had to be an error. She knew of no relatives in Scotland.
For heaven’s sake, she didn’t have any living ones left in the United States.
Uneasiness rolled across her in waves. Something about this entire business didn’t seem right.
Taggart paused, leaning across the table and turning the photo. “Actually, I am a member of a group who has watched over Taroc Na Mor down through the centuries. I guess ye might say I am a protector of sorts.”
That sounded ominous. “I don’t do cults.” She pushed back from the table. He didn’t seem unhinged, but appearances could be deceiving.
He straightened in his chair and returned the photo to the worn manila packet.
Revealing his perfect white teeth in a blinding smile, he gave a modest chuckle.
“I assure ye, Ms. MacPherson. ’Tis nothing quite so sinister.
We merely tend to the special needs of the estate, and when we can find them, take care of its heirs.
Now tell me, what do ye think? Is it not grand?
Do ye not believe Taroc Na Mor is the most beautiful piece of land on which ye ever laid yer eyes?
Come visit yer property and claim it for yer own. ”
She managed a polite smile, gathered up the remaining photos, and stuffed them back in the envelope.
Time for the same kindness she used to tell difficult things to patients.
Maybe then he would go away. She ignored her stomach’s churning.
His intense gaze, heightened by a gleam of anticipation, wore her down.
His disturbing scent of powerful, never-take-no-for-an-answer male didn’t help.
The sooner Taggart de Gaelson left Jasper Mills, the better.
He needed to get back across that pond to Scotland.
With a quiet clearing of her throat, she placed the envelope on the table and patted it.
“I will admit Taroc Na Mor seems very lovely. But I’m afraid you’ve wasted both time and money by coming all this way.
I’m simply not interested in relocating to Scotland and certainly can’t afford the upkeep of a second home in another country.
My place is here. This is where I am needed. ”
“Say again?” He splayed both hands on the table as though ready to lunge across it.
“Here. On my mountain,” she said while pushing the packet toward him. “My home is here. This is where I buried my husband, and this is where I intend to stay.”
“Ye have to at least see the land. I canna believe ye would toss it aside like scraps ye rake from a plate.” He shoved the envelope back to her.
Perhaps he didn’t have to look the part to be crazy.
She stood and leaned forward until her nose almost touched his.
“If it is my land, I can do anything I want with it, even if it means ignore it. I’m surprised Scotland hasn’t taken it away since I have paid no taxes on it.
Who knows how much money I owe on that land?
I’ll probably have to sell it to pay them. ”
“Taroc Na Mor canna be sold! Are ye daft?” He stood so fast his chair flipped backwards across the diner. “There are no back taxes due. We pay them.’Tis our duty as the Guild of Barac’Nairn.”
“The what?” She eased a step back to avoid the ranting Scot.
His eyes flashed dark and dangerous now that he seemed so aggravated.
If not for the fact he appeared a little obsessed, she would fix him up with Millie.
Her friend had a thing for sexy Highlanders, and this one definitely had a roll-me-in-the-heather kind of look.
“Hannah, is this guy bothering you?” Sheriff Matt appeared, sauntering forward with his hand resting on the sidearm at his hip.
She tossed the man an appreciative smile; then swept her gaze back to Taggart.
Matt would definitely need the gun. The massiveness of the angry Scot dwarfed the sheriff.
In fact, she wondered if Taggart would have to duck to make it through the door.
Probably had to turn sideways too because of those wide shoulders.
“It’s all right,” she said. “We’re discussing some land I wasn’t aware that I owned. Taggart is advising me about Scottish laws of ownership. He is a little passionate about some points I don’t understand.”
“Are you sure?” The sheriff tapped his holster while giving Taggart a warning glare.
“I am absolutely positive.” She patted the man’s arm. A twinge of guilt nipped at her conscience for pushing him off on Lily. Lily could be such a whiny little fussbudget when she didn’t get her way. Hopefully, Matt could hold his own with the daycare worker.
She scooped up the envelope and beckoned for the glowering Scot to follow. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk, and you can explain about this Guild of Barac’Nairn without risk of being shot.”
His plan had failed miserably so far. This coming to Jasper Mills to sweep the illustrious Guardian off her feet.
He had assumed carting her back to Scotland would be easy.
He realized now how wrong he was. Taggart worried a hand through his black, shoulder length hair.
Even the photos had failed to entice her to visit Taroc Na Mor.
The sight of the place should have filled her with longing.
Perhaps the papers had sat too long, and the magic he laced within them went dormant.
He had double-checked and performed the incantations himself.
How had he erred? The yearning flowed in Hannah MacPherson’s blood.
It was in her eyes. Reliable records had also verified her lineage on both sides of the threshold.
She was the last true heir in this world and Erastaed.
Gracie Sullivan had been the first of Hannah’s gifted lineage.
The Guild had sorely fallen short in their protection of their very first charge of the Sullivan line.
They failed miserably again when they lost the thread leading to Hannah’s grandmother and mother.
He had sorted through centuries of false leads before finding Hannah.
It had taken him forever, but finally he had homed in on her like a bee to nectar.
With a covert glance, he studied her as she walked along beside him. Such fire! Born to be a Guardian, she was. Septamus would dearly love her. In fact, the lass would thrill the Draecna of not only Taroc Na Mor but all the realms.
“Taggart!” She whistled and clapped.
“Beg pardon.” He bowed his head. “Forgive me. I was lost in thought. What did ye say?”
“This Guild of Barac’Nairn? Tell me more about this elite group now that we’re out of earshot of Jasper Mills’ busybodies.
” She led the way to an acre of neatly mown grass in the center of town.
White benches were scattered alongside an asphalt jogging path, but she headed for a set of abandoned benches in the shade of a grand old oak.
“As I said before,” he began. “I paid the taxes on the estate. Ye have no worries regarding money and the lands of Taroc Na Mor.” If money was all that troubled the woman, perhaps he could ease her mind, and they would be on their way to Scotland by tomorrow.
As she settled on the bench, three squirrels chased each other down the trunk of the large tree and settled in an adoring heap beside her.
“Friends of yers?” He nodded toward the chattering threesome looking up at her while flipping their bushy tails. The attentive wee beasties affirmed Hannah’s heritage. True Guardians shared a special affinity with creatures on every level in both the realities.
She smiled and held out her hand to the chubbiest of the group.
“I rescued these three from a storm drain a year ago last spring. They seem to have a penchant for living on the edge and have caused a few minor fender benders while crossing Main Street during the busiest part of the day. There’s another oak over on the courthouse lawn that has acorns they can’t seem to resist. Everyone does their best to dodge them, since the whole town knows they’re slightly spoiled. ”
Either the woman deluded herself or feared he would think her strange if he discovered her special abilities.
A nearby rustling in the bushes caught his eye.
He stifled a smile while his heart warmed with satisfaction.
Aye. The heritage flowed strong in this one.
All creatures loved her. “Another of yer friends appears to be coming to see ye. Did ye save that one’s life as well?
” He nodded toward the edge of the park, where a deer nosed its way out of the dense hedging surrounding the well-clipped lawn.
“Oh, not again.” She sprang up from the bench. Both arms waving, she jogged toward the deer, shooing it back into the safety of the woods.