Kanyth (Immortal Highlander, Clan Skaraven Book 4): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  They found the great hall crowded and noisy as clansman came and went carrying blankets, food and clothing. Clusters of women and children with soot-blackened faces sat where they had found space on the floor between the pitiful heaps of their belongings. One middle-aged woman held a hen which she kept stroking like a puppy. Several villagers in singed garments stood speaking emphatically to the laird. Another old man holding a squalling infant wandered aimlessly until a maid guided him toward one of the back passages.

  “Heavens,” the nurse said as she took in the chaos.

  “The heavens didn’t have anything to do with this,” Perrin told her as her stomach sank. There had to be half a village milling around the hall, and everyone looked so messed up. “We’ll talk to the druid later.” She could live with a weird scar. “Right now, these people need help.”

  “I don’t see anyone with dire injuries, lass.” Emeline nodded toward the biggest hearth. “Besides, the druid has come all this way to see you. It would be rude to put him off.”

  Perrin looked to see Kanyth standing alongside Bhaltair Flen. The old druid was shaking the snow from a wool cloak, while the weapons master watched everyone around them. Their gazes met, and all the voices and noise around Perrin seemed to fade to a low murmur. So did her dread. If Kanyth didn’t want her, then why was he looking at her as if she were a big box of candy and he was five years old?

  She was probably doing the same thing—with sparkles dancing in her eyes, no less. It simply wasn’t fair that he had those wide shoulders and the incredible muscles and the ridiculously handsome face. She ached in places that had never done that. Just looking at him felt hot and dirty.

  His mouth curled on one side, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  You had your chance last night, Mister.

  Deliberately Perrin turned to smile at Emeline. “Change of plans. I can’t do this, not with him here. He’s a bad man. But since you’re here he’ll try to be sweet to me again, so that you’ll think he’s a good guy, and I’m nuts. Then I’ll punch him, and break my hand and his nose. Probably only my hand. But I’ve got two of them. You knocked him out cold with just a bowl, right?”

  “Don’t look at the bad man,” the nurse advised as she hauled her over to the druid. “Fair morning, Master Flen. You know my friend, Mistress Perrin Thomas.” She ignored Kanyth as she gestured toward the stairs. “We should go up to her chamber to talk.”

  The weapons master took a step toward Perrin. “You’re needed, Emeline. I’ll escort them.”

  Oh, would he? Perrin thought. He sounded so nice, just as the nurse had predicted. Her druid ability was up and running again for sure. Not that she cared. Nope, she was studying the tips of her borrowed slippers, which wouldn’t protect her toes at all if she kicked him. Then again, she had dancer’s legs, which were long and strong and could inflict some serious damage. Then she felt a warm, calm feeling spreading through her, and her desire to break all her toes kicking Kanyth’s testicles into his tonsils waned.

  “Say hello to the druid,” Emeline murmured.

  When Perrin finally felt steady enough to look up she saw how closely the old druid was watching her.

  “Hello, Mister Flen. I’m not comfortable with calling you Master. I think we met at Dun Mor, but I probably didn’t say much. I’m the shy Thomas sister, always hiding in a corner which, apparently, I don’t do anymore, thanks to… Anyway, all these village people have much bigger problems than me. Why don’t we chat later?”

  “I think no’, lass,” Bhaltair said and then folded his cloak over his arm as two shrieking children dodged around him. “Yet I wouldnae mind a quieter spot to talk.”

  “’Tis quiet in my chamber,” Kanyth put in.

  Perrin remembered not to look at the bad man. “It’s not your chamber anymore.”

  “Cousin Emeline,” Maddock said as he came to join them. “We’ve a crofter’s wife close to birthing, and she’s just puddled the floor. Might you tend to her?” He glanced at Perrin. “You willnae mind sparing her while the druid speaks with you, Mistress?”

  Perrin couldn’t argue with that. “Of course not, my lord.” After the nurse departed she smiled brightly at Bhaltair. “Tell you what, there’s a nice little room off the gallery upstairs where we can talk. It’s right where this all started yesterday.” The druid gave her a puzzled look. “Okay, short version. I hope. First, I’m running away from this guy, and then I’m being grabbed, possessed, marked, shown a terrible future and then, well, apparently lots and lots of screaming on my part. Perfectly understandable, considering. But I’m much better now.”

  Bhaltair’s brows arched. “And you’re the shy sister.”

  “I was before the marking thing,” she admitted, glaring at Kanyth. “Now I have no filter. I just say what I think.” As both men started to speak she held up her hands. “Everything I think.”

  Kanyth rubbed a hand over his face. “The Gods despise me.”

  “Not only them,” Perrin advised him brightly.

  “Well, despite your, ah, troubles, you seem in fine mettle.” The old druid offered her his arm. “Come, lass. We’ll sort this out together.”

  Walking upstairs with Kanyth following them made Perrin appreciate the anti-stalker laws in her time. With every step she could feel his gaze on her back, and probably her backside. Did the man think he could feel her up with his eyes? Then again, he was a man and she had a very nice backside. He did, too. She was pretty sure she’d grabbed it last night. She might mention that any moment, too, so she bit her lip.

  Don’t say it.

  Bhaltair studied the gallery before stepping into the steward’s room, and there lowered himself onto the nearest chair and sighed.

  “Join us, Clanmaster,” he told Kanyth, who was hovering on the threshold. “To fathom this wholly I’ll need speak with you both.”

  Perrin waited until the weapons master came to stand across from the druid before she moved as far away from him as she could and still be in the room. She probably looked silly, sitting like that behind the steward’s little desk, but she wanted furniture between them. Furniture she could throw. That might be a way to keep quiet, too.

  “You ken that I’ve ever served the forge,” Kanyth said. “Since my birth, which you likely watched.”

  Oh, yes, let’s go right to how important you are. Perrin studied the half-written parchment on top of the desk. It’s all about you. Except everything happened to me. You didn’t even break a sweat. Not that I’m going to say that.

  “I didnae have the honor to be present on that day, Clanmaster,” Bhaltair said, rubbing his knee absently. “’Tis rare to be born thus possessed, but you’ve done well with it.”

  Sure, tell him how wonderful he is, because I won’t. She picked up the ink-stained quill pen the steward had left beside the parchment and twirled it in her fingers. Don’t say it, don’t say it.

  The old druid regarded Perrin. “In the time of the first Pritani tribes, ’twas common for battle spirits to mark a warrior’s potential mate.” His gaze dropped to the feather pen she’d turned into a little baton. “’Tis a sign of worthiness.”

  Perrin’s shoulders shook as she tried to hold back, but then she saw how Kanyth was looking at her. As if he felt sorry for her, or she were somehow undeserving of his precious mark. Either way, it was pretty clear that he’d already voted her off Mate Island.

  “Mistress, do you understand what I’ve said?” Bhaltair asked, as if she were stupid as well as pathetic.

  That did it.

  “I need his forge to tell me I’m worthy?” She made a rude sound. “Please. I studied at Juilliard. I worked as the principal dancer for a huge European tour company. I performed in Paris and London and Madrid to sold-out houses. Critics have compared me to Sylvie Guillem and Martha Graham. I’m basically an international phenomenon. And him?” She jerked her chin toward the weapons master. “He hammers stuff.”

  Kanyth’s eyes narrowed, and he made a low so
und in his throat.

  “Steady, lad. Lass, you mistake my meaning.” The old druid kept an eye on Kanyth. “The mark signifies the warrior’s worth—strength, ability, wealth—all that which he may offer his lady.”

  “He’s not offering. I’m not his lady or even Pritani. We’re total strangers, and I’m fine with that. Forever. I need to get downstairs and help Emmie deliver a baby, so.” She held out her palm. “Would you please get this off me now?”

  “That I cannae do. Pritani battle spirits dinnae heed druid magic, or druid kind, for that matter.” He sounded rather miffed about that. “’Tis said that if you refuse to mate, in time the mark and its sway may fade.”

  Perrin dropped her hand. “It comes with sway? What sway?’

  The weapons master looked up at the ceiling and muttered under his breath before he addressed Bhaltair. “She’s druid kind. Surely your magic may release her.”

  “Hold up,” she interjected. She knew when someone was trying to change the subject. “How exactly is it swaying me? Is it the talking thing? Because I’d really like to stop now.”

  The old druid looked pained. “The mark gives the forge power over you. It may speak or act through you, or compel you to serve it in some manner.”

  For the first time since she’d run her mouth to Emeline Perrin didn’t know what to say. Then again, she’d never been a possessed servant.

  “’Tis why we must end this, Flen. Look at her.” He gestured at Perrin. “I’ve sturdier twigs in my kindling pile.”

  “You don’t want me because I’m not sturdy?” she demanded. “Oh, well, that explains everything. Hendry and Murdina starved me to turn you off, not to control my sister. Got it. Although you might have mentioned that last night before you climbed in bed with me and asked me to teach you to–”

  “Perrin,” Kanyth said through his teeth. “’Tis no’ about that.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m over it.” She adjusted her sleeves. “I think I’ll go help the other victims now. But if I see a nice, single, sturdy girl, I’ll send her up with some chains.”

  Kanyth strode up to the desk and grabbed hold of it, making the wooden top crack in half.

  “I cannae take a mate.”

  “No one wants to mate with you,” she shouted back.

  Sparks burst in the air between them and rained down to bounce off the table, leaving little black, sizzling marks.

  “Calm yourselves,” the old druid said and marched over to them, his expression stern. “’Tis plain you must be parted before this discord between you grows yet more violent. Lad, go back to your clan. Lass, you shall return to your time.”

  Kanyth said “I cannae” at the exact same moment she said “I can’t.”

  She couldn’t look away from him, because in that moment she saw the man she’d kissed last night. That dreamy, handsome, smiling man who had made her feel as if she might spontaneously combust. He kept up the staring contest for another minute before he shook his head and backed away from the broken desk.

  “Look, I have to stay,” Perrin said, and blinked hard. She wasn’t going to cry. Rowan never cried. “I don’t want to, but I had a vision yesterday, and it was bad. I can’t go anywhere until I figure out what it means. But if he leaves, then it can’t come true, so he should definitely go.”

  “I willnae return to Dun Mor without you.” The weapons master sounded tired now, and then simply walked out of the room.

  “Better get another chamber,” Perrin called after him.

  “Gods save me,” Bhaltair muttered, rubbing his eyes.

  “Here we go again,” Perrin muttered, all the fight in her congealing into a depressed sludge. She pressed the heels of her hands against her burning eyes. “What’s wrong with me? Why does he make me so angry?”

  “You both resist the will of a powerful battle spirit,” Bhaltair said and gently touched her arm. “Dinnae despair. We shall fathom another solution. Yet until we can, you should keep your path from his.” He paused. “Now, tell me of this vision.” He shook her arm a little. “Lass?”

  Perrin heard the druid, but she couldn’t see him anymore. Ice shot out around her, sweeping away the furniture and walls and castle. She stood on the bank of a lake, its frozen surface sparkling like a sheet of gray and blue diamonds in the sun. Snowy wind tugged at her skirts as it dusted the ice. She glanced back to see the McAra’s row of huts behind her, and heard the distant, keening cry of a hawk.

  What am I doing at the loch?

  The sound of water sloshing drew her gaze to a jagged hole in the ice just a few yards away from her. The white face of a young girl came up out of the dark water. Blood streaked down her forehead as she gasped for air. Her hands clawed at the sides of the ice as she sank back under the surface. Air bubbles rose and broke, and then the frigid water smoothed out.

  Without warning, Perrin snapped back into the steward’s room, where Bhaltair held her up by the arms.

  “Drowning,” she said numbly, and wriggled out of his grasp. “A girl, in the loch. She’s going to fall through the ice.”

  “You foresaw this drowning?” the druid asked. When she nodded he reached out to her. “Take my hand, and remember it for me.”

  Through the narrow window came the piercing cry of a hawk, exactly as it had sounded in the vision.

  “Oh, God. It’s happening right now.”

  Perrin hauled up her skirts and ran.

  Chapter Fifteen

  KANYTH LEFT THE castle to walk the grounds and let the snow pelt him for a time. He never unleashed his temper. The druids had pounded into his head the dire consequences if he lost control of it. Now he’d inflicted that on Perrin, as evidenced by the sparks that had come from the clashing of their wills, both fueled by the seething forge. What doubts he’d had about the choice had been crushed in that moment.

  His battle spirit had warned him: You the flame and she the iron.

  The quarrel had changed everything for him. He couldn’t leave the dancer unguarded now. She barely understood that she’d been chosen as his mate. How could he sicken and appall her with the rest of the burden he’d dropped on her slender shoulders? Nor could he leave her behind as Flen had advised, or permit her to return to her time. The forge would never release her, and even a small fit of anger could…

  Kanyth felt his chest burn and swung around to see Perrin run from the stronghold to the stables. He started after her, quickening his trot to a run as he saw Bhaltair limping far behind in pursuit. As he entered the stables he had to dodge Perrin on a bare-backed mare. Her skirts were puddled around her hips and her long, bare legs clasped the mount’s sides. Had it all become too much for her?

  “Lass, you cannae–”

  “No time.” She leaned forward and the mare galloped away.

  He would let her go, Kanyth decided. Chasing after the lass had brought him nothing but grief and trouble. She couldn’t go far, not in that thin gown. He’d enjoy seeing her trot back shivering and white-lipped with cold. No, he wouldn’t, but he’d feign the pleasure as he wrapped her in his tartan to warm her. She looked beautiful wearing it. The dark blue of the weave exactly matched her eyes.

  Gasping for air, the old druid staggered to a stop before him. “Her eyes. Changed,” he wheezed. “Vision.”

  “What do you say?” Kanyth grabbed him as he tottered to one side. “Perrin had a vision?”

  “She saw. A lass.” He gulped. “Drowning.”

  “Facking druid gifts,” Kanyth cursed. He ran to the nearest occupied stall, guiding out a muscular black destrier, and bridled him before mounting. “In the loch?”

  Bhaltair nodded.

  Kanyth picked up the reins and urged the horse into a fast run as he followed the mare’s tracks in the snow. They led him to a muddy trail on the forest’s edge, where more tracks pitted the slush. Ahead of him the mare’s churning flanks came into view. She rode as if the famhairean chased her. As he caught up with her she reined in the mare and jumped down.

&nbs
p; “My lady, wait,” he called to her.

  He caught her mount’s bridle and held onto her as he dismounted. Quickly tethering both horses to a branch, he turned to see Perrin climbing down the bank. Without hesitation she rushed out onto the ice-covered water, slipping and nearly falling.

  She’ll end herself, trying to save another.

  He raced after her, but stopped short of the frozen edge that had already cracked under her weight. Water bubbled up from the fissures as they spread. The loch could not harm him, but the cold of it might kill her even before she could drown. If he went after her the ice would collapse under them both.

  “Perrin,” he said, keeping his voice soft and soothing. “Come here to me, and step lightly.”

  “I can’t. There’s a girl in the water.” Perrin righted herself and moved toward a dark rift in the ice. “She’s hurt.”

  A sharp sound made her halt, but then she got down on her hands and knees.

  “Perrin, no,” Kanyth said, but she was reaching into the water.

  He scanned the surrounding shore until he saw another spot with thin ice. Jerking off his tartan and tunic, he ran down the bank. With his sword he hacked through the thin ice, and then thrust his hand into the water as it welled. His arm disappeared as he shifted into his traveling form and dove in.

  Sluggish, frigid currents buffeted him as he moved back toward Perrin. A beam of thin light revealed Perrin’s searching hand, the red-stained water beneath it, and the still body of a maid sinking. He flashed through the loch, caught her around the waist and dragged her up. But before he could crest the surface, there was a muffled splash above him, and Perrin dropped past him. He streamed downward, with the maid still clamped to his side, and grabbed the back of Perrin’s gown. In the next instant they were all at the edge of the loch and Kanyth carried the two women out.

  Coughing and gasping in air, Perrin put her arms around the drowned lass, and lowered her to the ground. She wiped the dripping hair back from the maid’s face, tilted her chin up, pinched her nose and then kissed her.