Falling for Angels - Hazel Hunter Page 0,25

Wardrobe Challenged. Get out of my–”

Teague knocked me to the ground, which started to shake. The sound of a bunch of horses thundering toward us told me that the clan was coming to the rescue. Only the kid tugged his blindfold down, and then…holy Toledo, I didn’t care about the calvary anymore.

How could I have not realized how perfect and handsome he was? My heart melted. Forget Griogair. Teague was everything I’d ever wanted, and I’d happily spend the rest of my life adoring him.

“I will love you forever,” I told him.

Teague kissed my brow. “No, you willnae.”

The last thing I remembered was his glowing fist coming at my face.

I woke up in my own bed with a sore jaw, a horrible headache, and my husband’s arms around me. I remembered that magnificent druid boy’s face, but then everything about Deb came back, too.

“We saved the druids,” Griogair told me, “but your friend and the shifters escaped. Master Teague asked if you’d forgive him. I’d ken why, love.”

“The little snot used his power on me.” I explained what had happened before I admitted, “I hate that it happened, but he probably saved my life.”

My husband smiled. “For that I shall thank him every day of mine.”

Chapter 21

Topline

There’s no such thing as sleeping in late for an equine vet who got drop-kicked via unsolicited time travel to medieval Scotland. Sure, I was fine with joining the immortal McGillean Clan and caring for their horses. I’d fallen for Conor, their big, surly stablemaster, who looked a bit like James McAvoy and was a marshmallow. With the horse-control superpower we shared we’d even caught a herd of runaways, and discovered their alpha stallion, Velvet, was a half-human shape shifter.

Only problem? Twenty-eight of the runaways were very pregnant.

“We don’t need more guards,” I told Conor after I finished my dawn rounds. “We need two dozen extra stable hands—by tonight.”

He handed me some morning brew. “How ken you ’twill happen so soon, Jamie?”

“Besides all the milk-filled udders, swollen teats, and tailheads in my face? Call it a hunch.” I also had to bring up something we avoided discussing. “The foals’ topline isn’t horse. They’ll be one-quarter human and calpa. We need some druid help.”

In the great hall we found the laird and the druid headman standing and glaring at each other while Coach and Doc Ivers talked to them in low voices.

“Uh-oh. The bill for the last rescue mission just came due,” I murmured to Conor.

“’Tisnae your affair,” Kendric told the laird. “We shall deal with Ruith.”

“Your facking demon druidess took over our angel, and meant to kill another,” Gill said flatly. “She’s ours.”

Gayla came over to us. “Everyone’s v salty this morning, guys.”

At Conor’s look of puzzlement, I added, “Very salty. They’re all pretty upset.”

“You should maybe come back later,” Gayla suggested.

“Can’t.” I glanced at Conor, who went to the laird while I braced Kendric. “Hey, Master Gowan. Our mares are ready to deliver, and their offspring won’t be entirely horse. Can your people help us?”

“Aye.” He stopped looking like he wanted to turn Gill into a toad. “Shall you permit the halfling to attend the foaling?”

“The herd loves Velvet,” I admitted. “But he’s lived wild, and his stallion instincts are to protect. He probably wouldn’t let us near the mares.”

“Maybe you could ask the stallion,” a testy voice said.

I turned to see Lacey glaring at me, and Velvet in human form beside her. “Does he speak enough English now to understand?”

“Help sisters. Stay man. No be jerk.” The halfling eyed Kendric, who had been teaching him druid stuff. “Say yas, K-poppa?”

The headman smiled. “Aye, lad. You may help.”

After acquiring our new stable hands and instructing them, Conor and I went to take a nap (okay, we had some afternoon delight first.) Delivering so many foals would be a marathon, plus after we’d have to monitor the new mothers and the little ones for twenty-four hours. We woke and dressed in our oldest clothes and boots before we walked out to the breeding pasture, where our new hands, Kendric and a dozen druids stood in the big foaling pen we’d built. They had torches ready, and had spread plenty of hay.

“They’ve no’ made a sound for hours,” Kendric told us.

The entire herd stood near Lacey and Velvet, who knelt by a pair of mares who lay on their sides. From the puddles on the ground they must have ruptured their membranes, so they’d deliver in about twenty minutes. Then gushes of fluid began splashing