DevilsHeart Read Free Page B

here somewhere. I must have led you the wrong way.”
    He held up his hand as though to command her silence and,
much to her annoyance, it worked. She bit her lower lip.
    “You need help, Leah. Let me repay you. Rest assured you
will be taken care of if you come with me.”
    Her stomach churned. This was all too weird. Was she missing
something? “Who are you exactly?”
    He enclosed the stone in his fist and clasped his hands
behind his back. “I am David, Mormaer of Carron.”
    Mormaer?
    She’d been fascinated by Scottish history for most of her
life, especially the medieval period. Early in the Middle Ages, a Scottish
mormaer was most likely the Gaelic equivalent of what the English called an
earl. As such, if this man were a mormaer, he would control a vast amount of
territory, answering only to the king.
    But that wasn’t possible. First of all, no one used that
title any longer and, second…
    Second, nothing. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
She would not let this weirdo reenactor, who couldn’t bother to break character
long enough to even utter the word “sweater”, suggest she’d lost her mind.
“Look, I’m happy to have helped your little boy, but I don’t need rescuing. I’m
sure the house is here somewhere.”
    David pressed his lips together and nodded. “Well, then,
lass, I wish you luck. Know I am forever indebted to you and am always at your
assistance. You only need to send word.” He stretched his arm out and opened
his palm for her to take the amber stone. “Here. You will eventually need
this.”
    He crooked his finger at his friend who shook his head in
seeming disbelief as they passed her and stepped back onto the trail.
    Panicked, Leah gripped the stone in her hand and stared
after the men. “Wait!”
    David turned, his eyebrows raised.
    “What do you mean I’ll eventually need this?”
    He gave her a sympathetic smile. “You are on Graham land,
lass. Everyone knows about that old witch and her stones.”
    Witch? Stones? She resisted the urge to roll her
eyes. This whole medieval fantasy bit was getting old. “You’re telling me this
stone is the reason my house is no longer here?”
    He shrugged. “Either that or you are a wee bit daft and what
I should be doing is delivering you to the convent on the other side of the
loch so the sisters there may care for you until your family arrives.”
    If anyone was the crazy nut job, it was this guy. She loved
history too, but he was taking it to a whole new level of obsession. And there
was no way in hell she was going anywhere with these people. They could be part
of some crazed cult. “I am not insane.”
    David crossed his arms and perched one black-leather-clad
foot upon a rock at the side of the pathway. “You do not strike me as daft, no.
But I can conceive of no other explanation. Either you have been the victim of
black magic or you are touched in the head.”
    She opened her mouth to protest, but then her gaze was drawn
back to his boots. Like the old woman’s earlier, they struck her as handmade. A
simple leather sole covered the bottom and several laces wrapped around his
ankle. They bore a striking resemblance to those in the historic costume books
she would check out from the library when she was a kid.
    This guy was hardcore. He probably had made the shoes
himself in his spare time between his work as a computer programmer and
traveling to reenactment gigs. She gave him credit for his unwavering
dedication to his hobby.
    But right now she needed help. Not a weekend of playing the
part of a medieval maiden in distress with a bunch of crazy strangers until
they deemed it was time to return to the real world. “Would you please drop the
act for just one minute? I promise I won’t tell any of your reenactor friends
you broke character. I need to talk to the twenty-first century David right
now.”
    He drew his brows together. “Twenty-first century?”
    “Yeah, twenty-first century. Now do you have a phone