Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(27)
“Oh really?” Joanna turned for a brief moment and aimed her sunglasses at Grant in what he was certain was a warning glare. Without another word, she turned back to Miss Lydia. “It’s good to meet you too, thank you.”
“Good. Now that we all know each other well enough, we best be on with it.” Sarinda beamed at Joanna while nodding at Miss Lydia. “Miss Lydia and I have a full day planned for your group of ladies. Don’t we, Miss Lydia?”
“Absolutely!” Miss Lydia took Joanna’s hand, pumped it up and down briefly, then held on tight, patting the back of it as though consoling an ailing friend. “Wool cardin’. Spinnin’. Batchin’ up the dye out of local plants. Weavin’ the material in a particular pattern. Just about every step they’d be interested in except for shearin’ the sheep.” Miss Lydia glanced over at Grant and smiled while still patting Joanna’s hand. “And Grant’s going to see to it that you have a fine day at Highland Life and Legends while we’re making expert cloth makers out of your ladies. He tells us the only time you’ve really been here at the park is when you’re working. High time you discovered the more relaxing side to the sights we have here.”
Joanna extricated her hand from Miss Lydia’s grasp and folded her arms across her waist, her coffee cup hugged against her middle. She faced Grant, aiming her sunglasses at him again with disturbing accuracy as though centering him in her sights.
“Really,” she said in a cold, deadly tone.
I wish she’d remove those damn glasses. ’Tis like looking down the barrel of a gun. Grant nodded, bracing himself for the backlash that Joanna’s tone warned was imminent. “Aye. ’Twas quite the surprise t’myself as well. Máthair and Mistress Lydia took it upon themselves t’plan this fine day.” It might be cowardly, but at least now Joanna would ken that he had nothin’ at all to do with whatever the women had planned. He’d choose cowardice every time when it came to the plottin’ of women who knew him entirely too well.
Joanna didn’t acknowledge Grant’s confession or if she did, her reaction was hidden by the impenetrable black plastic of her huge sunglasses. She turned back to Sarinda. “I really can’t let you accept full responsibility for this bunch, Mrs. MacDara. Not for an entire day of their tour.” She jerked her head toward the chattering seniors, who were gradually inching closer so they wouldn’t miss a single tidbit of the conversation. “I know you handled them yesterday, but I don’t think you realize what you’re getting into, taking them today. They’re a real…handful.”
“Call me Sarinda, child,” Grant’s mother insisted while sparing a knowing glance first at Miss Lydia and then at Grant. “And I’ve put the fear o’ the gods and the sting of m’switch into four boys that I raised to men and one girl child that I’m still molding into a strong young woman. I think I can handle seven mature ladies hell-bent on havin’ a fine time afore they go to their graves.”
Grant inwardly groaned, but bit the inside of his cheek and remained silent. ’Twas too damn dangerous to speak with this many women about. He’d ne’er survive it.
Sarinda grinned. “?’Tis all settled then. Off wi’ ye now.” She stepped forward and poked a finger into the center of Grant’s chest. “Take yer lady o’er to a fine breakfast at the inn. Mabel’s got a fresh batch of parritch made and some hot bannocks just waitin’ to be buttered and smothered with Master Ted’s fresh clover honey. He had an early batch this spring and saw fit t’give it to us.”
“Aye, Máthair.” Grant nodded obediently and held out his hand to Joanna. “Come, lass. Let us be about the day.” And escape afore these plotting females think of any other ways to torment us, he added to himself.
Joanna turned without a word, ignored Grant’s hand, and took off at a brisk pace across the round cobblestoned meeting area that served as the hub for all the streets and avenues at the front gates of the park.
“Ye best hurry and catch her, boy. Appears she’s as sweet as yerself when she’s no’ had enough sleep.” Sarinda shooed her son away with both hands as she joined Miss Lydia and the other ladies.
Aye, we’re a match all right. A few broad strides easily brought Grant to Joanna’s side. As they walked, the silence between them grew heavy, taking on a life all its own. Grant rolled his shoulders against the prickling sense of doom settling all around them.
“Are ye vexed wi’ me for some reason?” He didna wish t’ask the question, but battles were easier when faced head on—even so, he swallowed hard and braced himself for whatever she answered. He couldna imagine what he’d done wrong, but ye ne’er knew for certain with women—or at least that’s what his newly married brother Alec had told him.
Joanna remained silent. She picked up her pace and turned up the short brick-covered street housing all the food and concession establishments at the park.
“So yer just tired then?” Grant forced himself to keep his voice calm, frustration building as Joanna continued to ignore him. Why the hell was she no’ talkin’ to him? “Are ye a wee bit hungry? Is that the problem, or have ye merely not had enough of that godforsaken muckwater ye fancy so much?” He hadna been around the woman first thing in the mornin’ that much. Usually, their paths didna cross until well into Joanna’s day. She’d seemed fine yesterday morning, but mayhap today was different since she’d had no sleep. Or maybe she was a wee beastie at the start of the day and yesterday morning’s decent mood had been a strange rarity. He could live with that. His little sister, Esme, was just the same.