Read Online Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles by Leigh Morgan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leigh Morgan
Ads: Link
Telling himself to shut-up, he continued. “If I read the tenor of Shay’s message correctly, you may feel very alone in that room. I’m offering to stand by your side and help come up with a plan to keep you from being abducted that makes sense for you. I may be the only one who gives your feelings on the matter of your safety any consideration at all. Trust in that.”
It seemed to Jesse like a lifetime passed before Taryn inclined her head at him like a royal princess and took his hand in hers. Squaring her shoulders, as she tossed her long golden-blond hair over one shoulder she said, “Okay, Galahad. Let’s go.”
She’d left off the ‘ Sir ’ but Jesse didn’t argue the point. He simply led her through the communal family room, kitchen, formal dining room and the foyer, where she grabbed that damned leprechaun stick from Finn’s 1920’s art-deco umbrella stand on their way to the library.
Taryn stopped abruptly just short of the library. Mary Campbell’s voice was clear and precise as she spoke about some kind of treasure. Jesse looked at Taryn, allowing her whatever time she needed to prepare herself. She didn’t look at him for three long seconds. When she did, the expression on her face wasn’t angry, but earnest, almost pleading.
“Can I borrow your gun?”
Jesse laughed softly. Brushing a quick, sincere kiss across her pliant lips he answered her.
“No.” he said, a hand at the small of her back lending support and stopping a hasty retreat as they entered. He was suddenly feeling more lighthearted than he’d been since he found her, knowing that they could face whatever came together, as a team.
In that moment, Jesse knew with a quiet certainty that everything was going to be alright.
One look at Mary Campbell’s face and Taryn knew nothing was going to be alright again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mary was getting into what Taryn referred to as ‘her snooty-scholar-rant’, which wasn’t fair given the fact that Mary was never snooty and always the consummate scholar. But, Taryn thought with a wry twist to her smile that was tempered with exasperated love, parents and their passions will contort their offspring’s view of reality every damned time, having come in second and sometimes third to those passions too often.
“She’s on a roll.” Taryn said, more to herself than to Jesse.
Jesse raised both eyebrows and gave a slow whistle Taryn took to mean he was suitably impressed. “She sure is.”
Expounding on myth and legend in general and then narrowing her comments to James Campbell’s area of expertise, Celtic myth, Mary’s tone was professorial and precise. “There are all kinds of myths and legends in the Celtic pantheon. Some are well known like the myths of Ceridwen and Epona, others are more obscure and multifaceted like the tripartate Morrigan. Some are merely conjecture, the kind of thing that titillates scholars, armchair historians and those searching for a tie to the old ways of their ancestors. Stories that capture and captivate the collective unconscious have always been, and will always be, the core of who we are as a people.”
Shannon O’Shay spoke, capturing the attention of the room. He had the demeanor of a man who had somewhere else he needed to be but was polite in his attempt to steer the conversation away from the land of all things fae. “Your enthusiasm is contagious, Mrs. Campbell, but could you get to the part where any of this has to do with that bracelet you’re holding or the attempt to take Taryn this morning?”
Taryn saw the silver and gold chain in her mother’s hand and something like hot solder seared through her heart as it burned a path to her gut. She hadn’t seen that bracelet since she was seventeen when she had her first and last argument with her father.
That much loved scrap of metal catapulted her back in time. It was as if she had that fight yesterday. Her father
It seemed to Jesse like a lifetime passed before Taryn inclined her head at him like a royal princess and took his hand in hers. Squaring her shoulders, as she tossed her long golden-blond hair over one shoulder she said, “Okay, Galahad. Let’s go.”
She’d left off the ‘ Sir ’ but Jesse didn’t argue the point. He simply led her through the communal family room, kitchen, formal dining room and the foyer, where she grabbed that damned leprechaun stick from Finn’s 1920’s art-deco umbrella stand on their way to the library.
Taryn stopped abruptly just short of the library. Mary Campbell’s voice was clear and precise as she spoke about some kind of treasure. Jesse looked at Taryn, allowing her whatever time she needed to prepare herself. She didn’t look at him for three long seconds. When she did, the expression on her face wasn’t angry, but earnest, almost pleading.
“Can I borrow your gun?”
Jesse laughed softly. Brushing a quick, sincere kiss across her pliant lips he answered her.
“No.” he said, a hand at the small of her back lending support and stopping a hasty retreat as they entered. He was suddenly feeling more lighthearted than he’d been since he found her, knowing that they could face whatever came together, as a team.
In that moment, Jesse knew with a quiet certainty that everything was going to be alright.
One look at Mary Campbell’s face and Taryn knew nothing was going to be alright again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mary was getting into what Taryn referred to as ‘her snooty-scholar-rant’, which wasn’t fair given the fact that Mary was never snooty and always the consummate scholar. But, Taryn thought with a wry twist to her smile that was tempered with exasperated love, parents and their passions will contort their offspring’s view of reality every damned time, having come in second and sometimes third to those passions too often.
“She’s on a roll.” Taryn said, more to herself than to Jesse.
Jesse raised both eyebrows and gave a slow whistle Taryn took to mean he was suitably impressed. “She sure is.”
Expounding on myth and legend in general and then narrowing her comments to James Campbell’s area of expertise, Celtic myth, Mary’s tone was professorial and precise. “There are all kinds of myths and legends in the Celtic pantheon. Some are well known like the myths of Ceridwen and Epona, others are more obscure and multifaceted like the tripartate Morrigan. Some are merely conjecture, the kind of thing that titillates scholars, armchair historians and those searching for a tie to the old ways of their ancestors. Stories that capture and captivate the collective unconscious have always been, and will always be, the core of who we are as a people.”
Shannon O’Shay spoke, capturing the attention of the room. He had the demeanor of a man who had somewhere else he needed to be but was polite in his attempt to steer the conversation away from the land of all things fae. “Your enthusiasm is contagious, Mrs. Campbell, but could you get to the part where any of this has to do with that bracelet you’re holding or the attempt to take Taryn this morning?”
Taryn saw the silver and gold chain in her mother’s hand and something like hot solder seared through her heart as it burned a path to her gut. She hadn’t seen that bracelet since she was seventeen when she had her first and last argument with her father.
That much loved scrap of metal catapulted her back in time. It was as if she had that fight yesterday. Her father
Similar Books
