The Jewel of Grim Fortress

by Victoria Zak

  As the laird slumped over in tremendous pain, Paisley picked up his dagger and pursued him.

  3

  On guard and ready for battle, Kincaid unsheathed his daggers and followed the fiery torches down the long darkened corridor. A loud crash echoed from the end of the pathway, reaching Kincaid and sending a chill down his spine. “Bloody hell!” He ran like the devil toward the crash, opening bedchamber doors as he passed by. But behind every door there was no sign of the laird, nor of what had made the crash.

  When he approached the last unopened door, he heard voices. An angry male voice dominated the silence then he heard it.

  Nay, it couldn’t be.

  Without hesitation, he kicked down the door and fixated on what was taking place in front of him… Laird Maclean on his knees crying out in agonizing pain. Dumbfounded, he crossed over the threshold. With eyes wide with shock he stared at the lass standing behind the laird with a dagger to his throat.

  “Paisley! No!” Kincaid screamed. His voice rumbled through the solar.

  As if her trance had been broken, Paisley looked up from the laird and locked eyes with Kincaid. Kincaid swallowed hard as she pinned him sternly with her blue eyes. She remembered everything, he thought.

  Treading softly he sheathed his weapons and entered the room. She looked so fragile, so delicate, yet he knew she was deadly. “Ye dinnae have to do this. Put the dagger down.”

  Unsure of herself, Paisley glanced down at the jeweled dagger then to the suffering laird. Kincaid could only hope that she would do the right thing and

  put the weapon down. “Killing the Laird Maclean will no’ bring back yer clan.”

  Paisley felt the strength wash from her body. The dagger clanged as it bounced off the stone floor, and Paisley dropped to her knees sobbing.

  Through labored breaths she tried to talk. “Ye… ye have no right being here.” She shook her head.

  Kincaid sighed in relief when he heard the dagger hit the floor, yet his heart ached to see the weeping blonde-haired beauty so broken. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright. As he walked toward her to do just that a sparkling light shined in his face causing him to squint. He threw his hands up to cover his eyes from the glare. Then he realized it was coming from the dagger. As he reached for it, the weapon teased him as its jeweled hilt shimmered from the sunlight shining through the window.

  As if time had frozen, he watched as the laird’s hand wrapped around the dagger. With all the strength he had left, the laird gripped the dagger and plunged forward. “Paisley, move!” Kincaid screamed.

  Her head shot up just in time to see the laird advancing on her. She stood while Maclean stumbled and clenched his chest as if he was having a heart attack. “Ye wench!” He coughed and spat blood, then froze. His eyes widened and he fell forward on top of Paisley. They both tumbled to the ground and lay motionless.

  As fast as he could, Kincaid ran towards the bodies, but a bright white light coming from Paisley suddenly filled the room, making him skid to a halt. He threw his arm over his eyes to protect himself from the blinding light. A deafening boom rang out, cracking the stronghold’s foundation and the room swayed, making it hard for Kincaid to keep his balance. A cloud of dust and debris rose up from the fractured walls of the solar leaving behind thick white air like the mist hovering over the Highlands.

  Deafened by the boom, Kinkaid’s ears rang through the fateful silence.

  When the quake settled and Kincaid was able to open his eyes, he staggered to Paisley. After what seemed to be like a lifetime passing him by, he finally reached her. He threw the laird off her like a sack of grain and his heart sank. The hilt of the dagger protruded from her chest. His knees buckled and he fell beside her. “I’m too late,” he whispered. Anger began to billow up inside of him as he saw the dagger. Ever so gently he pulled it from

  her chest and bashed the jeweled hilt into the ground. Shards of red, blue, and green scattered across the floor. He cradled her in his arms and brushed the hair from her face.

  Paisley coughed and opened her eyes. “Aye, ye’re five summers too late.”

  Amazed, Kincaid peered down at her and smiled. She was alive. “What were ye thinking, lass?”

  “What was I thinking?” Irritated by his remark, Paisley sat up. “What were ye thinking, abandoning me and my clan when we needed ye the most?”

  It was apparent that she hadn’t forgotten their time together over five years ago. In a way it made him happy, but on the other hand it would have made his life easier if she had forgotten him. “Paisley, there’s some things ye do no’ understand aboot me.”

  Shaking off the aftereffects of the blast, she stood, dusting off her dress.

  “Oh, but I do know. Ye run when life gets rough. Ye left me, Kincaid, when I needed ye the most.” Her words cut deeper than any blade. He had left, but her accusation was unfair.

  “Believe what ye like, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for ye. Ye needed me help.”

  “I… I needed yer help? Nay, I had the laird right where I wanted him and ye,” she jabbed a finger at his chest, “ye had to come and ruin everything. I did no’ need yer help.”

  Kincaid grabbed her wrist and pulled her close until they were only a breath apart. He peered down at her sternly with his mismatched eyes. “I do no’ see how killing the laird was going to help ye,” he seethed.

  “Ye know nothing. I had a plan.” Paisley jerked her hand from his grip and began to walk away.

  Annoyed with the lass, Kincaid exhaled and stared at where there once stood a ceiling. “And where do ye think ye be going? Ye just killed the laird.”

  Paisley stopped in mid-stride. She swung around. “I… dinnae know yet.”

  Exasperated yet quite amused by her tartness at him, Kincaid had to chuckle. Aye, the lass still had the fight in her. This was good, because seeing her on her knees, weak and crying was not the lass he remembered. Taking in a deep breath he turned around to face Paisley’s infuriated scowl. “The Clan Maclean will want justice for their laird’s murder. They’ll want ye hung from the highest tree. And ye’ll have to explain this.” Kincaid motioned to the rubble lying around them.

  Paisley looked around at the chaos she’d created and placed her hands on her hips. “I suppose ye’re right. They’ll have me plagued as a witch, not a druid.”

  “Aye. There’s only one option here. Ye’re coming wit’ me.” Kincaid crossed his arms over his chest. Leaving here with Paisley was going to happen even if he had to take her kicking and screaming and by the looks of it, it might come down to just that. Oh, how he loved a good fight.

  They turned towards a cracking sound coming from the rubble. Kincaid grabbed Paisley and pushed her behind him, protecting her from what lay ahead.

  “God’s Bones! What the devil just happened?” Cailean climbed over shattered stone and splintered wood, trying to make his way to Kincaid.

  Kincaid sighed, thankful when he heard his friend’s voice. “‘Tis Cailean.

  He’s harmless,” he comforted Paisley.

  “Och, brother, what happened? Me ears are still ringing.” Cailean shook his head and stuck his finger in his ear to relieve the pain.

  Paisley walked out from behind Kincaid’s broad shoulders and Cailean sighed. “It was my doing. I---”

  Kincaid glared at his brother in arms. This lass was off limits. “She’ll explain everything later. We need to leave Mull now before Clan Maclean finds out that their laird is dead. We need to get to the ship.” He turned to Paisley with hope in his eyes. “So what say ye?”

  Cailean flinched as a mass of stone fell right beside him. “I say she has no choice in the matter. If we dinnae leave now the Macleans will find our bodies buried under rubble.”

  The keep moaned and swayed below them. It was only a matter of time before the fortress would collapse completely. They had to get out and fast.

  Kincaid held out his hand to her. “Cailean’s right. We must g
o.”

  Paisley swallowed hard and took his hand. “I know a secret passage that leads straight to the cliffs.”

  More rubble rained down. “Then what are we waiting for, a busted skull, man? Let’s get the bloody hell oot of here,” Cailean cried out as he shielded his head from falling debris.

  Paisley ran toward the corridor leading the way, Kincaid and Cailean close behind. The keep shook and she lost her balance. Before she tumbled to the ground Kincaid grabbed her waist and pulled her against his chest. “I

  have ye, lass,” he whispered in her ear. Paisley quickly pulled out of his embrace and if looks could kill, Kincaid would have been dead. “How many times do I have to tell ye? I dinnae need yer help.”

  “Could ye two stop yer bickering before we’re all crushed?” Cailean pointed to another smaller corridor about a yard away. “After ye.” He bowed his head to Paisley. She pushed her way past Cailean, rolling her eyes.

  The passageway was narrow and dark and was threatening to give way.

  They reached the end, where there was a shadow of an arched door. Paisley pushed with all her strength but the door wouldn’t budge. Kincaid squeezed by her and said, “Here, let me try.” He groaned and grunted as he pushed but there was still no movement, not even a creak. “Cailean.” Kincaid nodded toward the door.

  “Aye.” Cailean slid on the other side of Paisley and granted her a grin.

  The three of them pushed at the door with all their might. Paisley groaned, “Mayhap if Cailean took his hand off my arse we could open the door.”

  Frustrated by the fact that they might not make it out of the keep alive and that he might have to break his best friend’s hand, Kincaid shouldered the door. It swung open, sending the three of them tumbling to the ground.

  He never dreamed that Paisley would be in his arms again. Now the weight of her body on top of him just like the day when they were out by the jetty years ago had awoken more than just a memory. The vision that had come to him years ago tore him away from her. He knew that would be the last time he would see her, yet fate had granted him a second chance and led him straight back to her. Mayhap the visions weren’t so bad after all.

  Wide blue eyes bored down at him. Her body was so delicate, yet he could feel her strength and magic. She propped herself up by her arms, the top of her dress gaped open and he couldn’t resist a peek at her supple breasts. “Kincaid, ye lads need to mind yer manners around a lady.” Paisley slapped his chest. Acting as if her slap had wounded him, he grinned and watched the blonde beauty get to her feet. Just as feisty as he remembered, he thought.

  Once on his feet, Kincaid surveyed his surroundings. The sea breezes whirled around him as he searched the sea for his ship. “There,” he said, pointing at a ship off in the distance.

  Looking down the steep cliff into the ocean, Paisley said, “Please do no’

  tell me that we have to jump.”

  Walking up behind them, Cailean adjusted his weapons, preparing for the jump. “Aye, we jump or we stay here and deal wit’ them.” He turned and pointed to at least fifty Macleans closing in on them, swinging their claymores.

  In a different situation Kincaid would never have refused a good fight.

  However he had to keep Paisley out of harm’s way. The fight would have to wait.

  “Aye, we jump.” He grabbed Paisley’s hand and gave her a reassuring nod. They both leapt from the cliff, arms and legs airborne, rapidly descending through the air. Like a rock thrown into water, Kincaid and Paisley plunged into the ocean. Breaking through the surf, Kincaid gasped for air as he frantically searched for Paisley, but she hadn’t come up as quickly as he would have liked. “Paisley!”

  Coughing from behind him grabbed his attention and he whirled around.

  Thank the Gods it was Paisley. Spitting out the salty sea water that stung her mouth she treaded the small waves crashing into her. “I’m here.”

  A minute later Cailean surfaced, shaking his head like a wet dog. “Bloody hell, what a rush!” He slapped the water.

  “Can ye make it to the ship?” Kincaid asked Paisley. Shivering, she nodded her head yes and began to follow Kincaid, with Cailean close behind.

  They had escaped the Maclean men just in time. Paisley was no longer a prisoner.

  4

  Paisley had never been as happy as when her feet reached solid ground on the ship. Fatigued from fighting against wave after wave that battered her to the bone, Paisley barely made it up the ladder and into the boat. One minute more in that blasted ocean and she surely would have died. But fate had different plans for her as she stood shivering, with her wet dress stuck to her. Water dripped off her long blonde hair to join the pools of sea water collecting at her feet.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Kincaid walked off to the back of the ship.

  “As if I’m going anywhere,” she huffed under her breath. Just then Cailean leapt onto the boat shaking the water off his body. “Are ye part dog?”

  Paisley asked irritably as she wiped the beads of water from her face.

  Cailean shrugged his shoulders. Straight white teeth shimmered as he flashed Paisley one of his famous make-the-lassies’-knees-buckle smiles.

  “Wolf, to be precise,” he said as he strode off to find the captain of the ship.

  Paisley stood in amazement. A shifter… who would have thought? She had heard tall tales about how some people could shift into animals, but she had supposed they were just that, tall tales. A gust of wind blew over the deck, causing her to shiver and rub her arms for warmth. Where’s Kincaid?

  As if he could read her thoughts, he appeared, holding a gray woolen blanket. “I couldn’t find dry clothes for ye. This will have to do.” He wrapped the blanket around her.

  “Thank ye.” Paisley snuggled into the warmth.

  “We need to talk.” The sternness of his voice worried her and made her

  feel as if she was a child about to be punished. She raised her chin and straightened her back. “Aye, we do.” She was not going to let him intimidate her. Putting up with Laird Maclean’s unsavory ways for five summers was enough hell to go through. She was free now and freedom had never felt so good.

  “I found a private spot for ye behind these crates. Ye can undress while I stand guard.”

  “Undress?”

  “Aye, if ye stay in those wet clothes ye’ll catch yer death.”

  “How can I trust ye no’ to peek?”

  “Ye have me word, lass.” He smiled and Paisley lost all thought. His smile warmed her more than the woolen blanket and in more places than just her skin. For a moment she cared naught if he chose to peek.

  Shaking her head, perturbed with herself for thinking of Kincaid in that light, she walked behind the crates and began to undress.

  Standing guard with his back to the crates, he crossed his arms. “So, Druid, what in the devil happened back there at the keep? I’ve never seen anything like it before,” he asked over his shoulder.

  Stepping out of her soggy dress, Paisley froze. How was she going to explain when she herself didn’t understand fully? There was only one way out of this mess; she was going to have to use her magic, manipulate his mind. Not that she liked the idea. Tricking Kincaid into believing nothing had happened back at the keep and that they would part ways as soon as they docked was an insult to his intelligence. Yet, it had to be done.

  Wringing out her shift, she cleared her throat. “What do ye mean?”

  “Lass, I think ye know.”

  Not trusting the men around her, she slipped her shift back on and wrapped the blanket tightly around herself. Stepping out from behind the crates, she shoved her balled-up, wet dress into Kincaid’s chest. “The shift stays on.” She walked over to the side of the boat and looked out over the choppy waters as if she was deep in thought. The sun now slowly hid behind the night clouds. Purple and orange hues swept through the billows like a paint brush stroking the Highland sky. A canvas of perfection.

  Kin
caid walked behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She turned around and met his mismatched eyes. He towered over her, dominating the space between them. His long raven-black hair was still wet

  and clung to his neck and broad shoulders. She grinned and took his right hand in hers, never taking her eyes off of him. “Kincaid, close yer eyes and think back to a time---” Her words were interrupted when Kincaid grabbed her wrists. “Yer magic does no’ work on me, and frankly I’m quite disappointed that ye would believe me to be a fool.”

  Paisley struggled against his hold. “I’m sorry. I… I was just trying to protect myself.”

  “Paisley Shaw,” he released her hands and cupped her face. “Ye do no’

  have to protect yerself from me. Ye can trust me.”

  She felt so small next to him, so broken. The wind blew and she could taste the salt in the air reminding her of happier times. No matter how much time had passed, her heart still ached for her sister and her family. She missed Gillie’s teasing, her father’s protectiveness, and her druid culture.

  Paisley knew she had to tell him the truth. She took a step back, breaking his hold on her. “The day ye left, Clan Maclean attacked my home, killing everyone but me and me sister. Somehow the laird knew of our magic. Gillie married him. She dinnae love him. She did it to protect me, even though she would never admit it.” A shiver ran down her spine. “Kincaid, the laird drove Gillie mad, she jumped off the cliff to end her suffering.” Paisley paused and a tear ran down her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kincaid said sorrowfully as he brushed the tear away.

  “When Gillie died the laird set his eyes on me.” She looked at Kincaid.

  “There’s only so many spells to ward off the laird until ye have to seek drastic measures.”

  Kincaid smirked.