The Highlander's Quest: A Sutherland Legacy Novella (The Sutherland Legacy Book 0)

by Eliza Knight

  As much as he wanted to walk away, maybe even toss her back into Loch Alsh to swim back to her family, at the same time, he wanted to pull her closer. To feel that lush body against his once more.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She covered her ears and shook her head. “Will ye just stop?”

  “What?”

  The lass let out a loud groan, whirled on her heels and stomped away.

  Alistair stood there, dumbstruck, now more certain than ever that she could hear his thoughts.

  And if that was the case, then she’d heard every lusty, wicked thing he’d contemplated when he looked at her, when he touched her, when her tongue slid seductively over his.

  But how was that possible?

  Was she just good at reading faces? He’d heard of her mother before. A great warrior. And Lady Julianna de Brus had aligned herself with Ronan Sutherland, another great warrior, and the younger brother of one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. The Sutherlands had fought in all the major battles, right alongside William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, and this lass was descended of these two powerful families. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had superior people-reading skills.

  Reading minds was far-fetched. Aye, there were plenty of legends and lore about folks who could do so, but those were just stories.

  Alistair was a lot more logical than that. At least, he liked to believe so.

  Walking away from Sir Alistair was difficult, because every part of Julia’s body wanted to wrap itself around him. To feel those hard, sensual muscles pressed to her frame, to have his lips sliding over hers, his hands stroking her back. Zounds, but her entire body was on fire with a yearning she didn’t know what to do with.

  She ached for more, feeling like there was an irresistible itch than needed to be scratched and she just couldn’t reach it.

  What would her mother think? Her clan? To know that she was allowing desires of the flesh to keep her unfocused? That she’d lost the king before she’d ever met him. That in less than a fortnight, she’d completely undone whatever her mother, father and relations had done for Scotland.

  Did it matter now that her father and uncles had fought alongside the Bruce and William Wallace for the country’s freedom? Did it matter that her mother had been the personal guard of the Bruce for nearly all her life? Nay, none of it mattered when she’d been able to singlehandedly destroy all they’d worked to protect.

  Whoever had the king had not just taken him for fun. This was not some whimsical jaunt across the country. They had bad things planned. And it was only the frantic whispers of a little boy in her mind that let her know they’d not yet done the thing she feared worst of all.

  These were sobering thoughts. After walking for over an hour in silence, they stopped to rest once more, the grass and heather-covered mountains of Skye rising up all around them.

  “Where do ye think they are taking King David?” Alistair asked.

  “I canna be certain, but I think they might be going to the Fairy Pools.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling.” Her stomach clenched as she stretched out the kinks in her body. A restless energy filled her. A need to run and never stop, until she found the lad safe and sound and returned him to his castle and the regent.

  “Do ye often trust your feelings?” Alistair asked.

  Julia jutted her chin forward, and reluctantly looked at him. “What do ye mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “A warrior’s instinct is often right.”

  She swallowed, trying not to show that what he’d said affected her. “Do ye think me a warrior?”

  “Is that not what ye claim to be?”

  She nodded. “I just didna think ye took me seriously.”

  He frowned. “I admit I didna at first, but ye’ve more than proven yourself.”

  “Ye’ve yet to do the same.” Julia watched with humor as the man did a double-take, jerking his gaze toward hers.

  “Well, I will endeavor to prove myself worthy, my lady.”

  Julia burst out laughing. “So serious. I jest.”

  Alistair passed her a wry smile. “Did ye nae say this was no time for jesting?”

  Julia turned somber for a moment, nodding. “I did. But I’m learning something along the way, and that is if I remain serious, I doubt myself.” She shielded her gaze from his, looking toward her boots and the grass that covered the tips. “Already I’ve… failed.”

  Alistair cleared his throat. “Nay. Failing would have been to remain at Dunfermline, or perhaps to have returned to Eilean Donan and refused to leave the walls. Failures refrain from action. Ye but misjudged, and so did I. Which is why together, we’ll make sure the king is returned to his throne.”

  Julia swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “I appreciate that.”

  “We make a decent team.” He winked, arresting her with that one conspiratorial expression. “For certes no other lass would have swam Loch Alsh with me.”

  Julia’s face heated all the more. Her hair was still slightly damp from that swim, but her chemise had dried and the chill had left her skin. “I’m not like other lasses, Sir Alistair.”

  “That I know.” He winked again. “Ye’re better.”

  6

  Julia’s instincts about the king being taken to the Fairy Pools were realized a day later. Wee burns trickled in winding paths cut through the earth, the long fingers stemming from the pools themselves. The sound of waterfalls echoed on the wind.

  Merida’s sniffing grew frantic, and her pace increased as she ran forward and back.

  “We’re close,” Julia said.

  Around a bend, they were met in the road by a woman garbed in a flowing, hooded green robe. She stood in the center of the road, unmoving. Eyes on them. Her expression was unreadable. They halted their mounts, both of them stiffening. Merida sniffed around the woman’s hem but didn’t seem at all disturbed by her presence.

  She looked like a priestess, the kind Julia had heard about in stories when she was a child. The kind she knew lived in an abbey nearby. Her mother had taken her there once to pray.

  “Come.” Her sharp gray eyes met Julia’s. “We’ve been expecting ye.”

  Alistair sidled his horse closer in a sign of protection. “Who are ye?” he asked.

  “I am the Priestess Daria, Sir Alistair Campbell, and I swear no harm will come to ye or Lady Julia.”

  He stiffened beside her, his leg touching hers sending a jolt through her body. “How did ye know our names?”

  The priestess did not answer his question but turned her gaze back to Julia. “Come. We’ve been expecting ye,” she repeated.

  “I dinna like this,” Alistair said in a low tone.

  “Do ye trust me?” Julia met his gaze, touched his hand where it rested on his horse’s mane.

  “Aye.”

  “Then let us see what the priestess wants.”

  Alistair pressed his lips together tightly but nodded all the same.

  Without waiting for confirmation, the priestess turned around and walked back up the winding road. The way her robes flowed in rippling green around her ankles made it look like she floated rather than walked.

  The impression was mesmerizing, and a lightness centered in Julia’s chest. She didn’t know why she trusted this woman, but there was something about the voice that she recognized. Perhaps because it was so much like her dream where she was called to the Fairy Pools, the night of the king’s abduction. Or maybe it was simply from memory. Perhaps Priestess Daria had been at the abbey when she’d come as a child.

  There was a power in the earth, a magical pull that seemed to fill all of Julia’s senses. She breathed in deep of the summer air, letting the slight breeze wash over her skin. She felt free here. At peace, as though what she’d come for was soon to be within her grasp.

  Oddly enough, the closer they’d gotten to this ancient and magical place on the Isle of Skye, the less Julia had been able to hear Alistair’s inter
nal thoughts, but, too, the wee king’s frantic thoughts were lessened. Was he asleep? Lethargic? Or was the power she’d been gifted with only temporary?

  They kept on their horses, and at another bend in the road, a second priestess joined the first. More of them came after every twist, until six priestesses walked in a line leading toward the pools, the sounds of the falls growing louder, beckoning her.

  They passed many smaller pools and trickling burns, crossed over them, and at last came within sight of a larger pool with falls tumbling down a rock face at least a story high from another pool above. The water was a rich blue, turquoise almost at its center.

  The priestesses held out their arms, pointing toward the center of the water. “Within the pools is what ye seek.”

  “Dear God in heaven! The king!” Alistair shouted, leaping from his horse, but suddenly one of the priestess’ was by his side, stopping him from jumping into the blue.

  “Wait,” the priestess ordered, her voice calm and reassuring.

  Alistair looked ready to lift the woman off her toes and toss her into the crystalline depths, but then an air of peace came over his face, and he seemed almost to be sleeping with his eyes wide open.

  Julia tried not to be disturbed by the sight of him like that, and instead dismounted herself.

  “Ye have been marked,” the woman said, meeting Julia’s gaze. Her eyes were the lightest of blue, almost white, and her hair glowed white like the clouds above.

  The mark… on her hip. Julia nodded. What did the priestess know of it? She’d been worried when they swam across the loch that Alistair might have seen it through her wet chemise, but if he did, he did not remark on it.

  “Show us,” several of the priestesses said, their whispers on the air silky and enchanting.

  “What?”

  “Show us,” Priestess Daria said. “Sir Alistair canna see. He is in a trance. Trust us.”

  Julia glanced at Alistair, still trying to comprehend the look of serenity in his eyes. Slowly, she lifted the hem of her gown and chemise to show them the mark on her hip. What had once looked like a welt had completely formed into the lines of a dagger, faint but distinct.

  “The dagger. She’s the one,” the priestess said to the others. “Go into the pools, child. There ye will find what has been seeking ye. The heart of Scotland. The one who holds the stone holds the soul of this land, the protector. Beware the contender, for they will try to destroy us all. The safety of the country, the soul of this earth, is in your hands now.”

  Julia’s thoughts raced just as Alistair’s had. Was it possible they’d truly come all this way, only to find wee King David’s body at the bottom of the pools? What did they mean the heart of Scotland? Was that not the royal bairn?

  Not wanting to waste another moment thinking rather than acting, Julia stripped off her weapons, gown, boots, armor and hose and dove into the pools’ depths. The water looked warm and inviting, but was crisp and chilly as it washed over her skin, soaking through her chemise. She dove down to the bottom, able to see clearly as she went. She slid her hands over smooth rocks and earth.

  What was she searching for? She didn’t know. But there was no body—and then suddenly she felt drawn to her left. Swimming that way, something blinked bright in the depths of the pools. What was it?

  Kicking her legs, she propelled herself forward, brushed away some of the sand, and saw with a surprise a green gem, the most vibrant emerald she’d ever seen.

  An emerald. The moment her fingers brushed the gem, a great jolt burst through her. Shocking enough that she sucked in a lungful of water. With the gem clutched in her hand, she sputtered and kicked her way to the top, trying to force herself not to suck in more water as her body fought her mind in order to cough and expel the water already there. At last, her face burst through the surface and she coughed and coughed, floating on her back until the water was gone and she could suck in great lungfuls of blessed air.

  Julia floated toward the edge, completely exhausted, skin tingling and body aching from having nearly drowned.

  Alistair pulled her from the water, the priestesses nowhere in sight.

  “What the bloody hell were ye doing in there?” he asked.

  “What?” Julia looked around, trying to find the hooded women, but they’d disappeared. “Where did they go?”

  “Where did who go?” Alistair glared down at her like she was mad.

  Julia searched his gaze, trying to decipher if he was jesting with her. He wasn’t. ’Twas as if he had no memory whatsoever of the women who’d led them to the pools.

  “What’s that?” He nodded toward her hand.

  Julia lifted the gem, seeing that it was attached to a gold chain. “I… dropped it in the water.” She didn’t know what compelled her to lie, but it came easily. Without looking at him, she pulled the chain down over her head, tucking the emerald inside her chemise where it rested between her breasts.

  Only then did she realize how very naked she must look in only her soaked chemise. Alistair was staring at her the way he had before when they swam across the loch—with intense longing. But there was no time to do as her body wished and return his longing with another bone-jarring kiss, like they’d shared before. So, she pushed to her feet and rushed toward where she’d discarded her clothing and tugged her gown down over her head. This time, she put her armor on over top of it. No sense in hiding it now.

  “How did we get here?” Alistair was glancing around the pools as if he’d never seen them before.

  “Merida, remember? We chased her here. False alarm I suppose.” She rolled her hose up over her calves and slipped into her boots, tying one and then the other before she noticed Alistair was completely silent.

  She turned around and saw him staring at the opposite bank of the pools, up a little on the rise where the falls cascaded.

  “Not a false alarm,” he murmured.

  Merida was on all fours, growling, her hackles raised.

  Across the pools was a small child, perhaps five summers old, staring at them with fear in his eyes.

  “He says give it to him,” the boy called out over the tumbling of the water.

  “King David,” Alistair started to hurry up the rocky rise.

  “He says stay back.” The wee lad held his hands out and shook his head. “Else he’ll gut me.” Tears tracked down the child’s sweet face. “I dinna want my guts spilled.”

  “Never,” Julia said clearly. “We’ll not let him hurt ye.” Then she glanced up at the rises that surrounded them, turning in a circle. “Come out and face us, ye cowards!”

  Laughter sounded from behind the lad, and then a man appeared, along with a woman, and someone in a hooded black cloak. The man pushed the lad down the rise until they stood on the opposite bank of the pools.

  “Hugh,” Alistair growled, but Julia couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the woman.

  “Lady Melia?” Julia’s voice held all the surprise she felt, as well as the betrayal.

  The woman across the pond, tall and graceful, smiled in a way that sent a chill down Julia’s spine.

  “It was ye.” Julia’s voice broke. This woman who had been a close confidant to her mother for so many years. A dear friend of their family. Slept in their home. Mourned with them. Comforted Julia when her first husband had died. “Ye poisoned my mother… and now ye’ve taken the king.”

  How was it possible that none of them had seen this coming before?

  Melia shrugged daintily as though they were discussing nothing more important than the weather. “Everyone has to find a way to survive.”

  “Ye will not survive this,” Julia warned, and she meant it. Whatever happened, she would see that Melia was put in her grave.

  “Give us the stone.” Melia put her hand on the king’s shoulder. Both of them held the child still, and Julia could see from a distance that the lad was trembling.

  “What stone?” Julia pretended not to know.

  “The one ye’re hiding
between your breasts,” Hugh said with a sneer. “Give it to the lady.”

  “Only in exchange for the king.” Julia had to get him back no matter what. No stone was worth the price of his head, even if the priestesses seemed to think the emerald held the soul of Scotland.

  “Aye. An exchange,” Melia said.

  Beside Melia, the man Alistair had called Hugh jerked to face her. “What? That was not part of the plan.”

  Ah, they had not discussed this before. A rift between the two of them would be to Julia and Alistair’s advantage.

  Melia lifted her arm daintily, snapped her fingers, and the man in the hooded cloak stepped behind Hugh, who flung around and tried to shove him away. The mammoth of a man reached forward, not fazed in the least by the blows Hugh tossed him, and lifted Hugh a foot off the ground by his head.

  With a simple twist, he snapped Hugh’s neck and tossed him to the ground as though he were simply discarding garbage.

  “Such a waste,” Melia said to the man’s body. “I really did enjoy our friendship.”

  Beside her, King David burst into tears and Julia’s heart lurched. The child had been through more than anyone should endure in a lifetime in just a few short weeks.

  Julia pulled the necklace from her bodice, but not from around her neck. “Is this what ye’re looking for?”

  That got the vile woman’s attention back. “Aye, indeed it is.” Melia’s eyes glittered with greed. “Let me guess, ye’ve got a mark on your right hip?”

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “Nay.”

  Melia’s smile faltered. “Interesting,” she mused.

  “Do ye?” If she could keep Melia talking as she inched slowly around the pools, maybe she could distract her enough that Alistair could sneak around the opposite side. Wishful thinking, probably, but it couldn’t hurt.

  “I do. And if ye dinna, then it means I am the rightful owner of that gem. The priestesses visited ye, did they not?”

  “What concern is it of yours?”

  “The fate of Scotland, of course.” Melia grabbed hold of the bairn king’s shoulder and yanked him closer to her. “His life.”