Her Bodyguard (2 page)

Despite the fact that Mari didn’t believe this woman possessed supernatural abilities, she nevertheless leaned forward to listen closely to the woman’s response. Billy, Tommy and Bobby McBride caused more trouble in one month than their sisters had in an entire year at their ages.

“You misunderstand.” Roslin motioned for the McBrides to take seats on the stools, then shifted three large pillar candles from the shelf to the center of the table. “You’ll witness no parlor tricks from me. I suggest if you wish to learn what your brothers have planned, you eavesdrop beneath their tree house on an afternoon after school.”

Taking a seat to Emma’s right, Mari shot her a significant look. That was her suggestion exactly. Though how did this woman know about the tree house? Had she been spying on the McBrides? Was that what Mari’s intuition had picked up on?

The seer continued, “I can, however, explain your inheritance to you.”

“Our inheritance?” Mari’s sisters asked simultaneously.

Roslin lit the candles, then took a seat in her queen’s chair. As the melting wax released a scent of sandalwood, she closed her eyes and made three wide circles above the flickering flames. She murmured words in a language that sounded to Mari like the Gaelic heard during visits with their Scottish cousins, the Rosses.

It was as if a light went on in Mari’s brain. “Are you related to the Rosses of Rowanclere? They’ve come for the wedding. Are you with them?”

The seer gave Mari an approving smile. “Not exactly, no. I have sent young Melanie a letter. I hope to visit with her quite soon. In the meantime, shall we proceed?”

“Yes, please,” Kat said.

No, let’s not
. Mari’s pulse began to race.
Let’s go home. Now. Before it’s too late
.

“Emmaline Suzanne, your right hand, please?”

Emma glanced at Mari, then extended her hand across the table. “Hmm…” The seer studied Emma’s palm. Pursing her lips, she traced the lines on Emma’s hand with her index finger.

“What is it?” Kat asked, staring at her sister’s hand, excitement painting a rose stain on her creamy complexion.

“Patience would be a helpmate to you, Katrina,” said Roslin. “Your hand, please.”

Kat plopped her right hand on the table, palm up. The seer bent over it intently, then went completely still. “Maribeth? I’ll see yours.”

Mari hesitated. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and her palm literally itched. She did not want to do this. “No thank you.”

The candle flames flared and outside, the wind began to howl.

“You better show her, Mari,” Kat said.

“I’d rather not.”

“Your sisters need you, child,” the Scotswoman said quietly. “You literally hold their happiness in the palm of your hand.”

Kat reached over, grabbed Mari’s hand and shoved it across the table for Roslin to see. “I’ll work on my impatience, Mari,” Kat said, “but you need to do something about your stubbornness.”

“I’m not—” Mari’s sputtering protest died the moment Roslin took Mari’s hand in hers. A warm, gentle peace flowed into her body, totally banishing the tension that had dwelled within her since the moment her sisters proposed this trip to Hell’s Half Acre.

Having studied Mari’s palm, the seer released her hand and sat back in her chair. “’Tis as foretold. A circle of three in the thirty-third generation. Emmaline, Maribeth, and Katrina McBride, you are the Chosen.”

The sisters exchanged uneasy looks. Though Mari’s newfound sense of peace continued to linger, foreboding once more gnawed at its edges. “I knew we should have gone to the Literary Society meeting instead,” she muttered.

“The Chosen?” Emma asked.

“’Tis about opportunity, my dear. The opportunity for you and your sisters to be of invaluable service to those who follow. ‘Tis about ending the Curse of Clan McBride.”

“The Curse of Clan McBride?” Kat repeated.

Mari sat back in her chair. This. This was the news she’d been trying to avoid. A family curse. It fit.

“Wait a minute,” she murmured, rejecting the notion despite the sense of rightness it engendered. “I don’t believe in curses. It’s nonsense.”

The Scotswoman ignored her. “In ancient days, a fairy prince fell in love with a mortal woman. As fate would have it, she gave her heart to another, a McBride.”

“Of course.” Mari rolled her eyes.

“The prince was mightily displeased, and in an effort to prove the mortal unworthy of the maiden’s love, he put McBride to a series of fearsome tests. To the prince’s dismay, the McBride withstood every challenge, though at great physical cost. Finally, fearful for her beloved’s safety and at substantial risk to herself, the fair Ariel called upon the prince and demanded he recognize that the love she and McBride shared was powerful, vigilant and true, and that no trial or challenge would change it.”

“How romantic.” Kat sighed.

Roslin smiled tenderly at Kat, then continued her tale. “Ungracious in defeat, the prince acquiesced to her demand with a caveat. Since the fair lady claimed her mortal love would outlast a union with a fairy prince, it must be proved. Her children and her children’s children and their children, down through the ages, would be called upon to reinforce her claim.”

Engrossed by the tale, Emma sat with her elbow on the table, her chin resting in her hand. “Could he do that, this fairy prince? How?”

“Aye, our prince has great power and he’s used it in various ways through time. Physical trials. Emotional trials.” She paused, eyed the girls significantly and added, “Runs of bad luck.”

Kat gasped. Mari narrowed her eyes. Emma dipped her head in a considering tilt. “One moment. I assume you’re referring to our father and his brother?”

“The Bad Luck Wedding Dress and the Bad Luck Wedding Cake,” Kat elaborated.

Emma continued, “Both our father and our uncle are supremely happy in their marriages.”

“Yes. But they earned that happiness only after great trial, did they not? They proved their love to be powerful, vigilant and true.”

Apprehension swirled in Mari’s stomach like sour milk. “So what are you saying here, ma’am? Our lives are cursed? You expect us to believe that?”

“Believe what you wish, Maribeth. I but offer the three of you the opportunity to end the curse for all time and save your children and grandchildren from trials and tribulations that otherwise would occur.”

“What do we have to do?” Kat asked.

Nothing! We’re not getting involved in this
.

“Lady Ariel elicited a promise from the prince. When, in any one generation of McBrides, three sisters, three daughters marked with the sign of Ariel, find love to prove the claim of Ariel and accomplish a task of great personal import, the curse will be broken for all time.”

“A task of great personal import?” Mari shot her sisters a pointed look. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

Emma reached across the table and touched the seer’s hand. “What is our task?”

“The tasks are different for each of you. You will choose.”

From within a hidden pocket in her ice-blue gown, Roslin withdrew a blue velvet pouch. “Emma, as eldest, it is your obligation to choose first.”

As the seer opened the pouch, Mari laid a warning hand on her sister’s arm. Ignoring Mari, Emma cautiously reached inside. Slowly, she pulled out a long gold chain, a replica of the one worn around the Scotswoman’s neck. Emma’s stone, however, was a deep, warm red. “Oh, my. It looks like a real ruby.”

Roslin looked at Mari. “Maribeth?”

“No, thank you. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” Kat asked.

“It feels…I don’t know…dangerous.”

Emma glanced up from her necklace. “It’s jewelry, Mari. Not a rattlesnake.”

Kat glanced at the seer and said, “She
hates
rattlesnakes.”

“I just don’t think this is something we should be dabbling in.”

“I didn’t think you believed in ‘this,’” Emma said.

While Mari sought to frame a response to explain her conflicting emotions, Kat reached for the bag.

“I’ll pick next,” she said, then reached into the bag and drew out a second necklace, identical to Emma’s but for the color of the pendant’s stone. This one glowed a deep, mysterious green. “Oh, emerald is my most favorite color. It matches my eyes.” To Mari, she said, “Go on. Your turn. Quit being a ninny. Let’s see what you have.”

Mari sent Emma a pleading gaze. Her older sister said, “Humor her, or you’ll hear about it for months.”

Emma was right. Maybe she should play along. After all, an ancient curse couldn’t be worse than a daily dose of Kat’s whining. Mari reached into the pouch and drew out the third necklace.

“Blue!” Kat exclaimed. “Sapphire-blue. I just knew that’s what it would be.”

Mari couldn’t take her eyes off the pendant as Roslin rose from her seat. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry.

It scared Mari half to death.

The lady placed the appropriate necklace first around Emma’s neck, then around Kat’s. When she came to Mari, she rested her hand on Mari’s shoulder. Again, a peaceful sense of warmth flowed through Mari’s body and she remained relaxed as the necklace settled against her skin as if it belonged nowhere else.

The seer leaned over and blew out the pillars. “It is done.”

For a moment, the McBrides sat in silence. Finally, Emma asked, “But what about our tasks?”

“Wear your necklaces at all times, my beauties. At the proper time, your task will be revealed.”

Oh, no. What have we done?

“Wait,” Mari said, as much to herself as the others. “I don’t believe in this.”

Ignoring her sister’s musings, Emma asked, “Ma’am? A question. You said the daughters were ‘marked with the sign of Ariel.’ Are we marked in some way? Is that why you read our palms?”

“Aye, ye are marked. Extend your hands, all of you, and I will show you.”

Emma and Kat followed the direction immediately. Mari acquiesced more slowly, following her sisters’ glares. Roslin took Emma’s hand and traced a thin line. “Look. This line is unique to you. It tells me you are a nurturer.” She lifted Kat’s hand. “Katrina, this is your unique line. It confirms my earlier sense that you have an adventurous soul. Maribeth, I was not at all surprised to read in your hand that you have the gift of intuition.”

Mari simply frowned in reply.

“Your destiny, however—the mark of Ariel—is written identically upon each of you. Look.” She pointed out a sickle-shaped line on each sister’s hand.

“Why, she’s right,” said Kat. “It’s exactly the same. We’re just alike. All of us. I’ve never noticed that before.”

“’Tis the mark of Ariel.”

Emma’s eyes went round with dismay. “The mark of Ariel.”

Staring at her hand, Kat shook her head. “I guess I’m not really surprised. Somehow, it just seems fitting that the McBride Menaces would have a Bad Luck Love Line.”

CHAPTER ONE

Fort Worth, two years later

LUKE GARRETT WORKED HARD to make sure the outlaws, scalawags, ne’er-do-wells and miscreants who frequented his Hell’s Half Acre saloons recognized him as one of their own. He drank and gambled and gamboled with the working girls. He could cuss like a cowboy, and he specialized in two-hit fights—he hit a man and the man hit the ground.

The more upstanding citizens of Fort Worth knew of him, too. Luke had won a small fortune in railroad stock in a card game a few years back, and he used his money to support civic causes that endeared him to Fort Worth’s city leaders, despite their disapproval of his hands-on involvement with his investments in the Acre. Staid society matrons bemoaned the fact that a man so well mannered, well-educated and well financed made his living in Fort Worth’s tenderloin, thus placing him beyond the pale. Restless wives sighed over the breadth of his shoulders, the swagger in his step and the smoldering look he sometimes tossed their way. Young women simply looked at him and swooned, both attracted and repelled by the danger in his wink, his smile, his notorious reputation.

The image served Luke well both within the boundaries of the Acre and without. The ability to mingle with both levels of society made it infinitely easier to do his job.

Luke wasn’t worrying much about his job on this bright, late-May morning, however. Today, only the mundane tasks of everyday life concerned him. He needed to pay a call on his whiskey supplier in order to ensure that the watering-down incident was never repeated. Also, he wanted to order a new pair of snake-skins at the bootmaker on Main Street. Then after that, he figured he’d stop by the courthouse to publicly register his clandestine purchase of a lot in the high-toned neighborhood going up around Summit Avenue. That’d give the gossips something to chew on.

First, though, he was of the mind to indulge himself, to allow himself time from his busy day for a sensuous treat. He’d heard about a new establishment in town, run by a woman of superior talent and exquisite beauty who was passionate about pleasing her customers. Because Luke was a man who appreciated a variety of passions, he couldn’t wait to take a taste of what the woman had to offer.

Strolling along Main Street, Luke whistled an Irish drinking song and flashed a winsome smile at a young mother guiding a pair of toddling twins toward the meat market around the corner. “Fine-lookin’ family you have there, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “Your husband is a lucky man.”

“Thank you,” she responded, her eyes bright with pride and pleasure.

He gave her a wink, ignored the disapproving frown of an approaching battle-ax dressed in blue and carrying a smoked ham, and continued on his way. His destination was in sight.

The building was an attractive redbrick with green- and-white-striped awnings, located near the very heart of Fort Worth. Facing south, one could see the rising spires of the new St. Patrick’s Cathedral being built just north of the old Catholic church, St. Stanislaus. Looking north, a man couldn’t miss the trio of flagpoles that crowned an-other city landmark—Rachel Warden’s Social Emporium, widely acknowledged to be the best whorehouse in town. Sin and salvation, with Indulgences in the middle.