In the exact center of the round room, smooth stones had been carefully laid to form a circle within the circle of the room.
The Fae loved their circles—from the standing stones they’d left in the Mortal world to their ceremonial buildings, stone circles were the rule. Even their most precious Fountain here in Wyddecol, where the Souls of Fae and Mortal alike danced as they waited their turn to reenter the living world, was encircled by a ring of massive stones.
Colin stepped into the circle and seated himself on the floor to wait out the next few hours.
This might well be some sort of religious experience for the Fae, but for him it was nothing of the sort. The only positive as far as he could see was that while he was inside the RoundHouse, it was if the curse that had plagued him for ten years no longer existed. He neither felt nor heard a single soul calling out for its mate. It was the only place he’d ever found where he could let down his barriers and completely relax without fear.
For that reason alone, he almost looked forward to this experience.
As before, to his left a covered pottery bowl held fresh drinking water. He lifted the lid and scooped the accompanying cup inside, downing a long drink.
The water was unusually cold, sliding soothingly down his already parched throat. Apparently Odirn had changed it just before his arrival. He knew from experience it would be warm soon enough, so he enjoyed one more cupful before it too absorbed the heat of his surroundings.
The oppressively hot moisture closed in around him as if he were breathing underwater. He already felt the drips of liquid clinging to his lashes and nose hair. Though he’d initially had a difficult time believing how thirsty he would be in this room, after months of this he now knew from experience it would be so. It was the warning he’d been given before his first Communion and the one he’d quickly seen the wisdom of obeying.
Drink the water.
Preparations made, he laid his palms on his crossed legs, closed his eyes, and forced his mind to empty as he’d been taught.
Unlike in his prior Communion experiences, the void filled his mind almost immediately.
As if he were actually in another place, he could feel the enormity of the dark surrounding him while he floated, weightlessly suspended in a vast nothingness. Beside him, a river of sorts flowed. A river not of water but of writhing, swirling colored mist, so thick it looked as if he could capture it with his bare hands.
The river enticed, beckoning to him, and he moved toward its bank without thought.
“Stop right there!” A voice rang out in the dark, its sheer strength of will forcing his compliance. “The Time Flow of the All Conscious is not meant for you at this time, Guardian.”
Before him, silvery strands of mist gathered and swirled, gradually coalescing into the wavering shape of a woman.
Colin found himself unable to focus on her face, as it continually morphed from child to maiden to crone and back again. His breath caught as he remembered when he’d seen the like of this before.
“Yes,” the apparition sighed as if it had read his mind. “Regretfully, I am the one who taught her that trick.”
“Who . . .” He paused. Not a who. Too powerful to be a who. “What are you?”
“I am the Earth Mother, Guardian. I’ve come to see to your guidance personally.”
“Yer no her. You canna be.” He’d seen the Earth Mother as she’d walked the parapet of the Hall of the High Council, council members trailing after her like ducklings behind their mother.
“That one?” The apparition laughed, the sound like a thousand tinkling bells. “She’s but a physical representative of me in her world. A holder of a title, much as one might name a queen or a princess or even a general. She’s naught but a mere woman. I am the Earth Mother, the goddess, the very one they think to honor with the title they have given that one. Waste no more thought on her. She is of no importance. Now, what knowledge is it you’d seek from me?”
There was only one question, really. “How do I return to my own time?”
Now. Quickly. Before the lives of his kinsmen were forfeit.
Again the laughter like bells. “Only she who summoned you has the Magic to take you back.”
“She who summoned me,” he repeated slowly. Abby? How? Why?
“You try my patience, Guardian. Have the Fae grown so weak in my absence?” The mist shimmered, the silver shifting to gold and back again.
“I’m no a Fae,” Colin insisted, chafing under the accusation of weakness.
“So you like to claim. But we both know you’re as much Fae as you are Mortal. Your veins run strong with the blood of my chosen, the Royal House of Wyddecol. Could it be you’re simply incapable of reason?”
“I reason quite well, my lady.” Colin stiffly held his temper in check. This Earth Mother person could insult him all she liked. Of all the things he might be, he was not a slow learner. One round with the Faerie Queen had taught him all he needed to know about minding his tongue in the presence of this kind of power.
“Oh, very well. I see your mind is but ill informed, not incapable of reason. And, as you acknowledge, you have already demonstrated the ability to learn from your mistakes.” The mist shifted closer to his face, wispy tendrils caressing his cheeks. “She needed you, Guardian, and she wished you to her side.”
Abby had wished him to her side? With Magic. Faerie Magic. This changed everything. If Abby had the power of the Magic, and she’d used it to bring him forward to her time, she had to know it. Her pretense of having no knowledge of how he’d gotten into her home, into her bed, was just that. Pretense. Which left him only one question for which he needed an answer.
“Why?”
“Why, why, why, indeed! You have so much to learn, Guardian.” The apparition sighed impatiently. “You question me like a small child would question his mother. Perhaps, as any good mother should, I will simply show you and allow you to learn for yourself. The lessons we experience for ourselves are our best teachers, are they not?”
In the space of a heartbeat, the apparition was gone, leaving him floating there in the vast nothingness. Alone, with the great roar of absolute silence pressing in on his ears.
Silence, broken by a gasp.
It was his Abby, he knew immediately. He heard the beating of her heart as if his head lay nestled against her breast.
He felt her.
“Abby!”
His hand fisted as a stinging pain sliced into his palm, but he knew instinctively it wasn’t his pain he felt, it was hers, just as it was her fear speeding up the beat of his heart.
She was frightened and in pain.
The Earth Mother’s words floated to him again. She needed you and she wished you to her side.
She’d needed him enough to call him to her, and he’d abandoned her. Now she was frightened and in pain because he’d failed to aid her, just as he’d failed to aid his kinsmen.
Colin’s eyes flew open on a roar of rage.
Someone had dared to hurt his Abby!
The door of the stone RoundHouse flew open and Odirn leaned inside. “Guardian?”
Colin ignored him, instead reaching for the bowl at his side and tipping it up to his lips. The shock of the cold water running down his cheeks and onto his neck banked his anger but did not extinguish it.
He rose to his feet, pulled off the now-soaked robe, and tossed it to the floor before stalking out the door to claim his plaid.
He’d made it halfway down the path before he glanced at the hand he yet held in a fist.
There, in the center of his palm, the skin splayed open, strangely white against the crimson of his own blood oozing out.
Someone had dared to hurt Abby. And whether or not she’d tricked him, what was important now was that she needed him.
No one in either the Fae or Mortal world had the power to stop him from going to her this time.
Thirteen
How long he’d stood motionless in the shadows of the woods he cou
ldn’t be sure. What Colin did know was that Abby had gone into the large house at the edge of the forest well over two hours ago and though all those who had accompanied her inside had reappeared and headed into the center of the village, she had yet to come back out.
An unaccustomed sense of indecision rolled over him in a wave, and he briefly considered going inside to find her for himself.
No. He had a plan and he’d stick with it. He’d wait here as he’d originally decided he would until she came outside. Then he’d confront her, preferably with others around. He’d reasoned it would be harder for her to angrily refuse to talk to him if there were observers.
Not that he had reason to suspect her of being irate with him other than what he’d experienced in the visions that had plagued him prior to his decision to confront her.
But since so very little had gone according to his expectations in the past few months, he felt the need to err on the side of caution.
He’d fully expected Pol to insist he remain in Wyddecol, but once he had shared his vision from the RoundHouse, Pol had surprised him by handing him a packet of paperwork detailing all they’d learned in their investigation and showing him exactly where to find Abby.
He’d expected a fight and gotten none. He didn’t want to blunder into the reverse here.
The front door of the big house opened and at last Abby emerged. Her long brown hair was pulled up and fastened at the back of her head, the curls jauntily swinging back and forth. She looked to be in a hurry, the thin shoes she wore flapping noisily against her feet with each step she took.
As she reached to open the gate, he prepared to step out into the lane but stopped when the door to the house opened again.
“Abigail! Wait a moment!”
Jonathan Flynn. Colin recognized him immediately from the surveillance photographs included in the packet Pol had given him. This was the man who’d arranged for Abby to be in Scotland. The man Pol suspected of having ties to the Nuadian Fae.
“Abigail!” He called out again, a big smile creasing his face as he drew close to her. “I feared I’d missed you and I wanted to chat about our next move on the site.”
For Abby’s part, her entire posture had stiffened at the man’s first hail. It appeared obvious to Colin that she had no desire to speak to her employer at this moment.
“Hi, Jonathan.” Abby dropped her hand from the gate, crossing her arms in front of her. “I’m just headed down to the pub for a bite. I’ll be back in an hour or so and we could talk then, if you like.”
As for Flynn, he didn’t seem to be picking up on the silent messages Abby was sending. In fact, he seemed a tad too determined altogether for Colin’s liking.
“I’ll join you. We can take my car and drive over to Aviemore for a nice dinner, just the two of us. How does that sound?”
“I can’t.” Abby appeared as surprised by her hasty refusal as Flynn.
“Why not?”
Insistent bastard! The lady had said no. Why she refused was none of his business. Enough of this.
Colin stepped from behind the shelter of the trees, silently making his way toward the oblivious couple.
“I can’t because . . .” She paused, brushing a hair away from her face as she dropped her gaze to the ground. “Because I. . .”
“Because she’s joining me this evening.”
Abby spun on her heel, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Colin!”
Once again, his expectations were off the mark. Rather than greeting him with a rebuke, she threw herself at him.
He opened his arms and she was in them, her soft fingers locking at the back of his neck, the expression on her face all the thanks he needed for intervening in her interaction with Flynn.
Holding her close as he did, it seemed only natural to dip his head, to capture her mouth with his as he had so many times in his dreams. Her lips, so soft as they brushed against his, sent a reverberation of familiarity zinging through him, like a sip of his favorite whisky after a long, hard ride. The feeling persisted even as the kiss broke.
“What are you doing here?” She made no move to back away, her eyes staring up into his, a thousand questions brimming in them.
He’d come for her. To keep her from harm. To demand the truth of why she’d brought him here. To insist she return him to his own time. So many reasons had brought him to her side.
But this was neither the time nor the company in which to confront her with any of them. That was a conversation for after they’d rid themselves of this overzealous intruder who thought erroneously to spend his evening in her company.
From what he’d seen and overheard, providing her an excuse to get away from Flynn seemed the obvious course of action.
“Yer late, Abby. I grew tired of waiting for you at the pub.” She had said she was on her way to the pub. That should satisfy the pushy man.
She nodded her head up and down, her eyes reflecting her understanding before she turned away.
“Colin, this is my employer, Jonathan Flynn. Jonathan, this is Colin, my. . . my boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. An odd word, not one he’d heard before, but the meaning seemed clear enough from Flynn’s look of shock. He could be that for now if it was what she needed of him. Her boyfriend.
“I was unaware you had any social attachments, Abigail.” The chide in Flynn’s voice was unmistakable as he extended a hand to Colin. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. . . .” Flynn left the word hanging, waiting, the question clear.
“MacAlister. Though there’s no a need for formalities between us, sir. No with my Abby being in yer employ.” Colin smiled broadly, possessively snaking one arm around Abby’s waist as he accepted Flynn’s hand.
Nuadian!
The knowledge spread over him in a jolt of recognition. Only the years of discipline spent as a warrior allowed Colin to maintain his outward show of calm and friendliness. The man whose hand he held was Fae. Full-blood. Without a doubt Nuadian.
And without a doubt, the source of danger to Abby.
“The pleasure is all mine. Shall we go, Abby?” With a nod of farewell, he steered her away from Flynn and down the cobbled street toward the center of the village. Behind him, he could swear he felt the Fae’s anger seething.
Abby was silent until they were well away from Flynn’s hearing. “How did you know where to find me? And why? Why did you find me? What are you doing here?”
“Finding you was easy enough. You’d told me you were coming to Scotland this summer.” That would hopefully satisfy her for the moment. Somehow he didn’t think she’d react well to learning she’d had people watching her every move for months. “And as to what I’m doing here, I’m taking you to eat, am I no?”
The sounds of music and laughter spilled from a doorway just ahead of them, along with an enticing smell that set Colin’s stomach rumbling.
He held open the door, allowing her to enter first, and followed her to a small table in one corner of the crowded room.
She was quiet again until after the serving woman handed them a sheet of paper printed with the pub’s fare. “No, I mean, why did you come looking for me at all?”
He absolutely intended to tell her everything. This very night. Just not yet. For now he simply wanted to enjoy the feel of being in her company again.
“Is being yer boyfriend no reason enough to come to call on you?”
Her cheeks colored a delightful pink and her eyes danced away from his for a moment.
“Okay. I totally deserved that. I do appreciate your not giving me away when I introduced you to Jonathan. I suppose you’re going to want an explanation for that now.”
“Only as much as yer willing to tell.”
“Have you decided then, dearies?” The serving woman had returned, a pencil and pad in her hand, an expectant smile on her face. “We’ve a special on the haggis tonight. Comes with tatties and neeps, fresh from my own garden.”
“I think I’ll give that a try.” Abby returned
the woman’s smile before turning her attention to him. “Classic Scottish fare, probably sounds like regular home cooking to you.”
“So you might think.” In truth, he’d found the food in this time both challenging and absolutely fascinating. There was so much variety to it, in so many combinations, and all of it with special names and ingredients he’d never tasted before. In those first two weeks, he’d paid little attention to the foods his cousin had served him, and certainly the foods he’d eaten in Wyddecol were nothing like here in the Mortal world. “I’ll have the same, thank you.”
“As to the whole boyfriend excuse, there’s not really much to tell.” Abby picked up the thread of their conversation as soon as they were alone, launching into a litany of praise that sounded more memorized than from the heart. “Jonathan is a great guy and a dedicated researcher. He’s given me the chance of a lifetime by allowing me to participate in his archaeological dig. This experience, and the paper he’s chosen me to write summarizing the findings from the expedition, will help me considerably in working toward my graduate degrees and, depending on what we find here, maybe even in my career beyond school.”
“But?” Obviously, in spite of the halfhearted positives she mouthed, there had been some reason she had so desperately wanted to leave Flynn behind.
“But,” she repeated with finality. She smiled and paused to take a sip from the mug of beer the serving woman had delivered to their table as if trying to decide how much to say. “I’m a little uncomfortable that Jonathan sort of seems to think our relationship might have the potential to be more personal than professional.”
“And does it?” Based on her earlier actions, he thought he knew the answer but he wanted to hear her say the words.
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head emphatically, setting the long tail of curls swaying back and forth in a tantalizing dance at her shoulders. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; like I said, he’s a great guy. I’m just not, you know, into him.” She shrugged one shoulder and looked down at her beer.
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