Falling for Angels: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  The MacMaren had promised to stop stalking me after the fight with my guy, but I caught him watching me again. Deb liked it, but I didn’t want a replay of the throw down.

  I gestured for him to follow me until I found an empty corner where we could talk. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve a boon to ask.” He hesitated, looking down at his boots before he added, “I cannae reckon another way to save Lady Deborah.”

  I relaxed a little. “Tell me.”

  “Release Deborah’s spirit in the dungeons.” As I started to tell him hell no he held up one of Kendric’s spell spheres. “Permit her fight, and she shall drive out the dark druidess. You may then capture Ruith’s spirit in the sphere, as Master Gowan said he taught you.”

  “Or we fail, and her sister possesses me,” I countered. “At which point she uses my druid power to kill everything breathing.”

  The MacMaren drew his sword. “No’ if I first take your life.”

  I thought of Griogair, who would definitely gut the laird for that. Then I thought of Roxanne, and how helpless she felt, unable to fight because of the life she carried inside her.

  Yeah, he will kill you, Deb said inside my mind. But I think I know how to trick her into giving up my body and keep her from possessing yours. We just need to be smarter.

  I listened to what she had planned, and knew it might be the only chance we’d have to get rid of Ruith and stop the attack.

  “All right, we’re in,” I told the laird. “Here’s how we’re going to do this.”

  The MacMaren followed me down to the dungeons, but stayed back in the shadows as I approached Ruith’s cell. My skirts swirled around me, and the tartan I’d stolen from my husband’s trunk and wrapped around me felt too hot and itchy. I showed Ruith my empty hands before I got almost close enough for her to touch me.

  “You’ve lost my sister’s mark,” the druidess said as she came to the bars.

  “She tried to take me over, so Kendric got her out. She’s dead for real now.” I glanced over my shoulder before I said, “Look. I don’t want to die, and I can’t go back to my time. So, I let you out, and you let me live—that’s the deal.”

  When she nodded I unlocked the cell door, but as soon as I opened it she grabbed me by the throat. She then screamed with pain and snatched her hand away.

  “Oops.” I pulled down the tartan to expose the mistletoe vines wrapped around me. “Now, Sinclair.”

  The MacMaren came striding in, but instead of hurling the spirit sphere with Deb inside at Ruith he grabbed me by the arm and threw me across the room. I hit hard and heard bone snap as pain roared up into my shoulder and neck. The last thing I saw was the laird turning into Velvet as he reached for his mother.

  Not Velvet, my horrified conscience whispered. Iloren.

  I came to in the infirmary, where I saw Kendric and Andrea working feverishly on a girl covered in blood. I sat up and saw it was Hannah. Next to her Coach lay on a cot, her head wrapped with heavy bandages.

  “What happened?” I asked as I climbed off the table.

  “Velvet’s brother pretended to be the MacMaren to get inside the castle. When Isabel and Hannah realized he wasn’t the real thing he nearly beat them to death. Then he attacked you.” The doc covered Hannah with a blanket. “You have a concussion and a broken arm.”

  I looked down at the sling holding my splinted arm, which only then began to throb. “But he had feet, not hooves.”

  Andrea sighed. “Velvet does, too. Remember, they’re half-druid.”

  “What else?” It probably couldn’t be worse.

  “We found the real Sinclair MacMaren. Iloren attacked and left him for dead. He’ll likely lose an eye, but his other wounds shall heal.” The druid finally looked at me. “And Ruith escaped with her son.”

  I looked at my palm, hoping to see Deb’s mark, but that was gone as well. Since her soul had been in the spell sphere I’d given to Iloren, he’d probably destroyed it. “This is all my fault.”

  “No, my lady. The shifter deceived everyone.” The MacMaren stepped inside, claw marks slashed deep into his handsome face, and a bandage covering one eye. “Ken that Deborah yet lives. I feel her. We mustnae surrender hope.”

  That one shred I could cling to. “Then we won’t.”

  Chapter 33

  Legacies

  “I need to hit something, Mr. Smith,” Roxanne said as I sat down beside her in the great hall. The wrath in her sweet doe eyes dulled as she added, “Only I think I’ll punch a hole through the world, so maybe not.”

  I folded my huge paw over her delicate little hand, and rubbed my cheek against her silky black hair. “Keep it one hundred, Mrs. Smith.”

  My wife smiled wanly at my use of her saying; in her future the words meant to remain true to your heart no matter the trials you faced. Since coming to my time Roxanne’s druid blood had awakened, bestowing immense power in her arms and hands. That gift had permitted me to teach her to forge faster and better than any blacksmith alive. While she was dangerously strong, her gentle nature balanced her power. She could likely snap me in half with two fingers, but I loved her with all my being.

  Many reckoned us foolish for marrying. Artair, our village headman, predicted my lady would soon tire of me and our simple life. Then too were the great differences in our fate. Druids return after death to live again, but mortals such as I have but one life. Yet I cared only to be with my lady for every day and night left to me.

  Everyone fell silent. Master Gowan’s mate Andrea, who had become the clan’s healer, came into the hall. Blood stained her leather apron, and she looked weary.

  “I’m sorry to keep you all waiting,” she said. “Lady McGillean has a severe concussion and a bad laceration on her scalp, which I’ve repaired. I believe she will survive the attack by the halfling calpa Iloren, but we’ll know more when she wakes up.”

  Roxanne got to her feet. “What about Hannah?”

  Sorrow flickered across the healer’s face. “She has extensive internal injuries to her lungs, liver and spleen. They’re far too serious for any druid intervention, and she’s too unstable to survive any surgery I might attempt. We’ve made sure that Hannah’s not in any pain.”

  Many of the Angels in the hall began weeping. Roxanne sank down next to me and buried her face in her hands. I pulled her onto my lap, and held her against my heart. As my wife tucked her head under my chin, our unborn child shifted between us.

  “I know this news is distressing,” Andrea said, “but this is the kind of damage the shape-shifters can do to mortals. We need to make absolutely sure that no more calpa get inside the castle. I’ll have an update on my patients after the evening meal.” With that she left.

  As everyone began speaking, Sorley stood and held up his hand for silence.

  “I ken the need for vengeance,” the war master said. “Yet the healer’s advice, ’tis sound. We must fortify the keepe. I need the strongest among us to work with our builders to seal off with stone the entries we dinnae need use.”

  My wife lifted her face to regard me. “I think he’s hit our line, honey.”

  I glanced down at her wee belly mound, but I knew my wife. Getting with child had never kept her from working the forge. To deny her this would be the same as spitting on her and the poor hurt lasses.

  “Aye,” I told her. “Only promise me you’ll say if ’tis too much for our bairn.”

  Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “You are too lit, Mr. Smith.”

  Some of the village men came along as we followed the clan’s builders to their work yard, where the stone they quarried awaited knapping. Most appeared too heavy for even Roxanne to carry, but then Gabrielle joined us. Every man present stepped back as she approached the largest rock and hiked up her skirts. One of the masons marked the stone face before hurrying behind the lady.

  “I think she’s still angry about being duped by Iloren,” my wife said.

  Gabrielle kicked the mark. Dust flew up a
s the massive stone flew to the other side of the yard, crashed against the quarry pile and fell apart in several pieces.

  “Mayhap a wee bit,” I told Roxanne.

  A few minutes later all the stones had been reduced to sizes small enough to fit on a horse cart. The men and I began loading, but my wife went over to Gabrielle, who stood at the edge of the yard staring out at the loch.

  “They should send those two against the evil druidess,” Artair said to me as he and Callum, our shaman, hefted a stone together. “They’d feed her to her bastard spawn until he choked.”

  While I usually ignored the village headman, today I felt little patience with his needling. Since our boyhood he took every opportunity to remind me that my màthair had been unwed when she’d birthed me.

  “Or they might use you as bait,” I said. “The shifters maynae mind the taste of arse.”

  “The rocks, they’ll no’ float onto the cart, lads,” Callum said as he went to fetch another stone.

  “I only hope the bairn favors your lady in size,” Artair said, smirking. “Else whelping your get ends her.”

  The headman also knew that due to my size my màthair had nearly died birthing me. Everyone in the village did.

  “She’s stronger than us both, and our bairn shall have her druid blood. When mere mortals as you and I end after but one life, they’ll have as many as they wish.” I turned my back on him, and walked to where Roxanne and Gabrielle stood staring at one of the cracked rocks. The newly-cleaved side appeared smooth, with spiral marks etched deep into the face.

  “Look at this, honey,” my wife said. “How could it be carved on the inside?”

  “’Twas likely hidden by shifts in the earth,” I told her. “The elders tell stories about the Still people. They dwelled here long before the first druid and mortal tribes came, and used such marks with their magic to enchant the island.”

  “This stone looks exactly like what the clan used to build Dun Dorchas,” Gabrielle said. “It’s also identical to what Deb saw inside that cursed sea cave. She showed me everything she saw before Ruith drove her out of her body.”

  “Our legends say never to enter the marked caves,” I admitted.

  “Maybe Kendric should take a look at it, Coco,” Roxanne said, and her friend nodded and hurried off.

  My wife and I and the men finished loading the carts, and watched as Artair drove it up to the castle. When I proposed we return to our chamber to wash and rest Roxanne grinned at me.

  “We’d better take some food, too,” she said, twining her fingers with mine, “because once we get naked we’re not going to want to leave our room.”

  As we walked out of the yard, Callum joined us. “Lad, a word before you go?”

  I glanced at my wife, who nodded and continued up the trail to the castle. I watched until she had gone safely inside before I regarded the shaman.

  “I’ll no’ tussle with the headman over his spite, if such worries you,” I told him.

  “We’ve graver threats. I’d also likely tear off his head.”

  “You dinnae ken how Artair’s envied you since boyhood,” Callum said. “Your màthair loved you; his hated her mate and son. He wished to be a smith, yet his proud sire wouldnae permit that. He leads by fear. You earn the respect of all.”

  The revelations astonished me. “He’s headman, and I but a nameless bastard.”

  “I vowed I’d never betray your màthair’s confidence. I feared ’twould compel you leave us, and you belong here.” The shaman sighed. “Yet ’tis time you learned the truth. Iagan, your sire came to the island to see the signs left by the Still People. He gave his heart to your màthair, and pledged to wed her once he’d finished his travels. Before he could return to her, a storm struck the reach, and his ship sank.”

  At least my father had meant to marry her. “So, I’ve blood kin among the Pritani on the mainland. Where dwells Iagan’s tribe?”

  “In the north country,” Callum said. “Only they’re no’ Pritani. They’re druid kind.” He smiled a little. “As you’ve ever been, lad.”

  I should have been furious, but the delight flooding through me had me laughing and hugging the shaman. Then I ran for the castle, and caught my wife in the passage leading to our chamber.

  “What was that for?” Roxanne gasped after I finished kissing her breathless. “We have all night.”

  “You’re wrong, my lady,” I said, cradling her lovely little face. “We have forever.”

  Chapter 34

  Promises to Keep

  I tapped on the door of the McGillean’s chamber before I brought in everything Doc Ivers had prepared for Coach Jennings. Gayla followed with a tray of food and brew for the laird. I also had brought some news, both sad and inexplicable, which no one else had wanted to deliver.

  “My ladies.” The laird, who had been stretched out on his bed next to his injured wife, sat up. His haggard features creased even more as he frowned at the linen strips and herb tincture I carried. “’Tis time to change her bandages?”

  “Yes, my lord.” I put the medical supplies on the bedside table. “I also need to talk to you.”

  “Maybe it can wait, Coco,” Gayla said as she set his tray by the hearth. “I mean, it’s not like so random, and maybe he had, ah…” She finally caught my glare and shut up. “Sorry.”

  I regarded the laird. “Hannah died a few a hours ago.”

  “Gods.” Gill bent over to press the heels of his hands against his eyes, and for a moment I thought he might start crying. Then he stood, his shoulders straightening and his haggard face showing only resolve. “Iloren shall answer for what he did. I swear it.”

  I nodded in agreement. “There’s something else, my lord. Sinclair came into the infirmary and said he wanted to sit with her while the doc told everyone. When Andrea came back, he was gone—and so was Hannah.”

  The laird peered at me. “He took the body?”

  Gayla made a face. “Maybe it’s one of his clan things. Like he wanted to bury her at sea.”

  “We don’t know for sure that Sinclair took her,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense that he would, especially when burying her is something her husband and her friends should do.”

  A soft moan came from the bed, and he spun and hurried over to Coach Jennings. I followed and looked down, but she showed no signs of regaining consciousness. The doc had told me to check her pulse, which felt sluggish when I pressed two fingers against the proper spot on her wrist. Her skin felt cool, almost cold, and some patches of fresh blood stained the bandages around her head.

  Maybe she had heard me.

  “We’ll find them, Coach,” I told her before I looked at her husband. “I should check her wound and change her dressing.”

  Gill took his wife’s hand in his. “Isabel, if you can hear me, ken that I shall do all to save our clan. We’ll fight the facking calpa until the last McGillean falls. Only remember that I cannae endure without you. You must come back to me, Wife, or I shall go with you.”

  He meant every word of that, too; I could hear it in the new, steely edge of his deep voice.

  “My guy is taking late watch, my lord,” Gayla said, “so I can sit with her tonight, if you want to deal with the Sinclair weirdness.”

  “My thanks, lass. I’ll send a man to stand guard outside.” The laird took down his sword from the wall rack before he stalked out. Only then did Gayla and I both let out a breath.

  “They are so my couple goals.” She glanced at me. “What are we going to do if we lose Coach and Gill, too?”

  “I know what we won’t do: give up.” I looked down at the woman who had been the true Angel for all of us. “You either, Isabel. We need you.”

  Once I finished changing Coach’s bandages I stepped out to see Caroline’s husband standing guard. Since he was actually two brothers whose souls shared the same body (one by day and the other by night) it took me a minute to remember which name to use.

  “Hey, Ruiseart.” I closed
the door to the laird’s chamber. “If Isabel gets any worse, send Gayla down to get me or Doc Ivers.”

  He nodded, and touched my shoulder. “Keep heart, Lady Gabrielle.”

  As I headed downstairs I felt pretty wrecked. I’d never wanted to be in charge of the Angels, but since we’d come back in time I’d taken on more and more of the responsibility to give Coach a break. At times I’d wished I could be two people, at least until I’d taken on my bae Deb’s soul to bring her back from the sorta-kinda afterlife. Thanks to that whack job Iloren psyching me out she was gone again. I hoped she and Hannah would at least find each other in the Grove of Stars.

  When I came into the great hall I saw Gill had gathered his chief clan guys along with Doc Ivers, Kendric Gowan and some of the Angels. Tory gave me a wan look as Val paced. Olivia, who had shifted back into her adult form, sat holding Teague’s hand. Roxanne and her big husband stood by the hearth, his huge hands linked over her pretty baby belly. Jaime and Lacey were talking in low voices with Conor and Velvet.

  The laird had assembled the Angels with the strongest gifts, I realized, but hadn’t ask me to attend, which troubled me. On the other hand, maybe he’d just assumed I’d come down after tending to Coach.

  Gill walked to the center of the hall and held up his hands for quiet. “My thanks for answering my call.” He saw me and frowned slightly before he said, “Griogair and Morven have gone to track the Sinclair. I’ll no’ pass judgment on the laird until he returns and explains himself to me.”

  Some of the guys looked pissed about that, but no one said anything.

  “The shifters attack us again and again,” the laird said. “They gnaw away at this clan with every life they steal. Our lass Hannah. My wife, who maynae ever awake.” His gaze shifted to me. “And Deborah. ’Tis time we stop defending our ground. We must attack.”