“Diana—no,” he managed to rasp.
She stopped, her face still white with fury, as he stumbled to his feet, hissing in pain at the effort. Tamhas was striding toward Diana, and though he clutched his abdomen and his face was going pale with blood loss, a dark, eager look filled his expression.
Artair met Diana's eyes. She gave him a small nod, seeming to know what he was thinking as he charged toward Tamhas from behind, using his preoccupation with Diana to his benefit.
He’s my kill.
“Tamhas!” Artair shouted, because even though Tamhas was a bastard, Artair’s honor wouldn’t allow him to stab him in the back.
Tamhas turned, lifting his sword to strike, but Artair used his remaining strength to lunge forward, plunging his sword into Tamhas’s heart.
He took dark pleasure in the way Tamhas’s eyes widened in surprise, how he sank to his knees as his blood spread across his chest.
“My Diana did kill yer rapist of a brother,” Artair rasped, fighting past his growing weakness and pain to speak. “And it was yer sister who alerted us tae yer presence. She kens what a monster ye’ve become. Now ye cannae harm anyone else.”
He saw one last trace of defiance in Tamhas’s eyes, one last flare of rage, before his eyes fluttered shut, and he slumped to the ground, lifeless.
Only then did Artair succumb to his own injury, stumbling to his knees. With a strangled sob, Diana rushed to him, pulling him into his arms.
“Artair,” she gasped. “Hold still. I’m going to get you help.”
He fought to find words, to tell her how much he loved her, but his pain swelled, and her lovely, grief-stricken face dissolved to blackness.
Chapter 27
For the next several days, Diana remained at Artair’s side, gripping his hand, her emotions ranging from relief to anxiety.
During the battle, she had sensed that something was wrong, that her Artair was in fatal danger—maybe it was her magic, maybe it was pure instinct. She'd left the manor, mounting a horse as she murmured the words of a Locator spell. Seall dhomh Artair Dalaigh.
The spell led her to the sound of swords clashing in the heavy fog that bathed the land—to Artair and Tamhas.
Latharn and Keagan had found her in the glen with Artair after he'd slipped from consciousness; they’d carried him back to the manor and sent for a local healer. The healer had successfully stopped his bleeding and cleaned the wound, binding it securely. When the healer told them that Artair would recover, Keagan had reached out to steady Diana as she swayed on her feet with relief.
“But he’ll need much rest before he’s fully recovered. Make certain he imbibes hot broth and apply honey or wine to the wound as it heals,” the healer told them, before leaving.
Diana hadn’t left his side, feeding him herself and cleaning his wound whenever he drifted to consciousness, murmuring words of the two Healing spells she knew.
She’d told him what happened in the battle's aftermath during his moments of consciousness. His men had soundly defeated Tamhas’s men, who were taken by surprise at the number of men who’d come to Artair’s aid. Not long after Tamhas’s death, his men had surrendered on the battlefield. Laird MacGreghor had sent Tamhas’s men back to the border with a message of warning: anyone who retaliated or continued to harm and steal from the locals would suffer the wrath of the MacGreghor clan.
Artair had given her a smile after she’d informed him of this, relief flitting across his pale, handsome features before he drifted back to sleep.
Drostan MacGreghor, his wife Liusaidh, Niall, Caitria, Liosa, and Keagan had all visited Artair during his days of drifting in and out of consciousness. Niall had supplied Artair with penicillin that he’d smuggled from the twenty-first century; Diana had nearly kissed him in gratitude.
Liosa stayed at his side almost as long as she did, and Keagan had to constantly remind her to take breaks and rest for the sake of their unborn child.
“Do ye think I was harsh with him? When ye both first arrived and I slapped him?” Liosa asked Diana one evening as they both sat at Artair’s side. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she studied the pale face of her brother.
“No,” Diana said firmly, reaching out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I think you were upset, and he understood why.”
“I’m not letting him slip from my life again. He’s going tae be a part of my child’s life as his uncle,” Liosa said fiercely.
“Artair’s not going anywhere,” Diana said, smiling. “He loves you so much. That’s why he fought Tamhas and his men.”
“Donnae flatter my sister, Diana,” Artair rasped, his eyes fluttering open as he gave them both a weak smile. “She’ll never forget a compliment and use it against ye.”
Liosa laughed, looking relieved that Artair was awake, and leaned forward to embrace him.
Diana watched, beaming, as Liosa and Artair traded good-natured barbs. Artair was still pale, but he looked well on the way to a full recovery.
After a full week had passed, Artair was getting impatient with his confinement, so they began to take walks around the manor for him to regain his strength.
As they walked, he would tell her more about his years growing up at the manor, pointing out the places where he and Liosa would play as children, and which exits he’d used to sneak out of to go riding or hunting with friends.
But Artair never asked her about her intentions of staying—or leaving this time. She realized that she was waiting for him to ask her to stay, because she already knew what her answer would be. She’d had a lot of time to think while sitting at his bedside as he drifted, and she knew that her life in the future would be an empty shell without Artair. She wanted to stay here, to make a life with him.
But as the week wore on with Artair never bringing up the matter, her hope of him asking her to stay had begun to ebb.
At the end of the second week of his recovery, he came to fetch her from her chamber. She looked up at him in surprise. It relieved her to see him looking handsome and healthy.
But as she met his eyes, she noticed that he looked nervous.
“Artair?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Will ye take a ride with me? And before ye ask, I’ve already spoken tae the healer. I’m well enough tae ride.”
She gave him a nod, still puzzled over his obvious nervousness. When they mounted his horse, he didn’t tell her where they were going.
“Ye’ll ken when ye see it,” he said cryptically, as they rode away from the manor and into the surrounding countryside.
She looked around. There was something familiar about her surroundings, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. But as they approached a looming manor in the distance, her heart leapt into her throat.
The manor was the same crumbling family manor she was restoring in her own time. In this time, it was smaller and hadn’t yet fallen into disrepair, its stone exterior intact and gleaming in the sun.
Artair slowed down the horse to a trot, dismounting and helping her down. She shook her head in amazement as he tied up his horse.
“How did you find it?” she asked in disbelief.
“I remembered something yer aunt told me in yer time. When I showed her where my manor was on a map, she told me it wasnae far from the manor ye were restoring. I kent it wasnae likely, but I had Latharn and some of my men do a search for unoccupied manors in the same area as yer manor while I was recovering in my chamber. Latharn found it and described it tae me. It was a risk, and I kent I could have been wrong, but it sounded like yer family's manor. Latharn located the owner of the lands—he resided in Inverness and was on the verge of renting the lands. I suspect he's an ancestor of yers. We're still working out the details, but I purchased the land from him—and that includes the manor."
Diana shook her head, overwhelmed at the steps Artair had taken to obtain the manor—all while he was recuperating.
She looked back at the manor, her mind still reeling. She knew her family's home had
fallen into periods of disuse, during which times they'd still owned the lands: this time period was one of them.
“Artair, this is amazing,” she whispered. “But . . . I don’t understand. Why did you purchase it?”
Artair didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered himself to one knee. The world tilted around her as Artair gave her a sheepish smile.
“Niall told me this is how men propose in yer time,” he said. “Am I doing it right?”
Diana smiled as her eyes filled, her heart picking up its pace.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You’re doing it right.”
He took a breath, then reached for her hand.
“I love ye, Diana. My fierce, golden witch. My heart. I want tae build a home with ye—here. A life with ye. I want ye tae be my wife. My lady. My family. Will ye stay with me in this time, my love? Will ye marry me?”
Her heart swelled at the open look of vulnerability—and love—in his eyes.
“Yes, Artair,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you. I want to be yours. Always.”
Artair stood, swinging her up in his arms as he kissed her. She returned his kiss, joy flooding her body in a dizzying rush.
It struck her then that this was the reason she’d always felt such a pull toward the manor in her time. It was why it always filled her with a sense of . . . home. Because it would one day be her home, only in another time. Her home with the man she loved.
* * *
That evening, as Diana got dressed for a celebratory dinner with Artair and the others, she froze when she saw her aunt appear like an apparition on the edge of the manor grounds.
Diana smiled, glad that the Summoning spell she’d performed earlier had worked.
She tugged on a cloak and hurried outside, approaching her waiting aunt. Kensa stood with her back to her, her long, dark hair whipping around her in the wind.
When Diana reached her side, she could see that Kensa looked considerably younger than her actual age of forty-seven; she looked to be in her mid-twenties. It was a side effect of her abilities, something that only happened to a small percentage of stiuireadh—the appearance of rapid aging and de-aging whenever she traveled through time or performed one of her more powerful spells. Diana had only seen such an effect on two other stiuireadh when she was younger, and even though she knew the cause, it was always startling to see.
Pushing aside her slight surprise, Diana linked her arms with Kensa's.
“Did you know that I would fall in love with Artair?” Diana asked, by way of greeting. "Artair's purchasing our family's ancestral manor—which you told him about."
“I told him about the manor. But only as an observation. Believe it or not, I didn't intend for you two to end up together,” Kensa said with a wry chuckle. “But . . . I did notice the attraction between you two back at my cottage. I didn’t need magic to see that. It wasn't me that purposefully brought you two together. That was the two of you on your own. Or just . . . fate.” She turned, giving Diana a wide smile. “I’m so happy for you, niece. Artair is a good man.”
Diana beamed, resting her head on Kensa’s shoulder.
“Will you tell Aunt Maggie? And handle things in London for me?”
“Of course,” Kensa said. “Your aunt will be annoyed. We both know she’s not a fan of magic or time travel. But I think she’ll understand.”
“Kensa . . . I want to apologize,” Diana said in a rush, lifting her head from Kensa’s shoulder. “For avoiding you after my parents died. For pushing you away. Magic was so entwined with my grief . . . it wasn’t until I embraced my magic that I let go of that pain.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Kensa reassured her. “Your path has led you right here where you belong. What do you plan to do in this time?”
“I think I can use my law background to help Artair manage the manor's property records and taxes, along with the tenants. And," she added tentatively, "I’m thinking of helping other travelers if I can. Ones who arrive in this time. I have magic . . . I might as well use it to help."
Kensa widened her eyes, looking pleasantly surprised.
"Oh, Diana," she said. "That would be wonderful. I can visit you from time to time and assist you.”
"I'd like that," Diana said. “I’m wondering if I already have some of the same instincts that you do. When I met Artair’s close servant and friend, Latharn, something struck me about him. Something familiar.”
“Ah,” Kensa said, nodding with understanding. “That was your magic reacting to someone else who will soon be affected by time travel. It could mean he will travel himself, or he'll become involved with another traveler."
“Do I have to do anything?”
“No. You would know if you did. I often have visions of those I’m meant to help: I see them in my dreams or in my Conjuring spells. Whoever will affect this Latharn, she’s likely already on her way here. And I suspect it may indeed be a 'she.’”
They stood in companionable silence for a moment as Diana considered her words, wondering about the identity of this mysterious traveler was who would enter Latharn's life.
The sound of an approaching horse pulled her from her thoughts. She turned as she saw Niall and Caitria approach the manor on horseback. Artair had sent for them so they could join their celebratory dinner, along with Liosa and Keagan.
Liosa and Keagan had been delighted over the news of their engagement. Artair told her that they were going to move into Artair’s manor after he and Diana moved into her family's ancestral home. Liosa and Artair wanted to remain close together after so many years of separation. They were having a trusted steward handle the transfer of their manor to one of Keagan's relatives.
“I should head back inside,” Diana said, glancing back at her aunt. “Do you want to join us?”
“No, I need to return,” Kensa said. “But summon me for your wedding. I want to see my niece get married."
“I will,” Diana promised. She moved forward to embrace her aunt, who held her tight before pecking her on the cheek.
“Now get back inside,” Kensa said. “Your handsome Highlander is waiting for you.”
Diana gave Kensa’s hand one last squeeze, turning to make her way back to the manor.
When she glanced behind her, Kensa had vanished.
Diana entered the manor, finding the others gathered in the dining room. Artair strode toward her with a loving smile.
“I was wondering where ye were,” he said.
“Just saying goodbye to someone,” she said. At his confused frown, she added, "Kensa. I summoned her."
"Ah," he said. "I hope ye thanked her for bringing us together."
"My aunt, the time-traveling matchmaker, didn't know we would end up together," she said with a chuckle. "We did that all on our own."
"Aye. We did," he murmured, pulling her close for a brief but searing kiss.
“Brother, can ye at least wait for the wedding tae kiss and moon about yer bride?" Liosa asked, with an exaggerated groan.
Artair laughed, keeping his eyes trained on Diana.
“I cannae help myself, sister," he said. He lowered his voice, his next words for her ears only, making her heart fill with joy. "I love ye, my golden witch. Always.”
And, ignoring the mock groans of Liosa and the others, he pulled her in for another searing kiss.
Chapter 28
Latharn watched from the rear of the great hall of MacGreghor Castle as Diana and Artair sealed their wedding vows with a kiss. Everyone in the great hall cheered as they broke apart, flushed and smiling, as Drostan MacGreghor ordered everyone to feast and make merry.
Latharn smiled, watching as the guests swarmed Artair and Diana to offer their congratulations. He wished he could stay and enjoy the wedding festivities. It was good to see Artair so happy. But Latharn needed to leave the celebration early; he had a long journey to make.
During Artair’s long absence, he’d learned something that shook his entire world.
The family h
e’d always known, who loved him and he loved in return, whom he’d worked as a servant to help support, wasn’t his true family. He was the son and heir of the chieftain and Laird Seoras MacUisdein, whose brother had murdered him and took leadership of his clan, and his castle, for himself. His uncle had then murdered his two brothers, but his mother had smuggled Latharn out of the MacUisdein lands when he was still a babe, sending him off to live with a loyal servant, Cahir, on distant lands.
He was only supposed to live with them temporarily, but after his birth mother died while under imprisonment, Cahir had raised him as his own. He’d gone his entire life thinking he was a man of humble birth. He'd secretly longed for more, but contented himself serving as Artair’s most trusted and loyal servant.
Perhaps he would have persisted in his ignorance had it not been for his mother’s deathbed confession. His father—the man he'd thought was his father—had died of illness several years ago. She’d told him everything, begging him for forgiveness, telling him they’d only withheld the truth from him to protect him. They loved him like he was their own, and if his uncle knew he was still alive, he’d send men to kill him.
She was telling him now because she’d learned that his uncle had recently died, and there was a dispute over who would assume leadership of the clan.
At first, he’d been furious with his parents for withholding such a secret, until he considered the sacrifice they’d made. Had his uncle discovered they were hiding him, they—and his entire family—would have been killed. He’d thanked his mother, told her he loved her and forgave her.
And he knew what he had to do.
He'd only lingered behind to help Artair with Tamhas and his men to perform his final duty as his servant. He’d told Artair what he'd learned a fortnight ago, that he would be leaving his service to claim his birthright. His mother had told him that there were still men loyal to his slain parents, who had never considered his uncle a legitimate leader; they would follow Latharn if he returned.
Artair's Temptress: Highlander Fate Book Five Page 16
