“Here,” his ma said, handing him a stack of dirty dishes. “Take these to the sink, and bring back a couple of beers for me and Gene.”
“One for me too,” Michael said, turning to Sky. “I’m not legal, but my folks let me have a beer now and then, so long as I’m with them.”
“Legal?” Her brow creased.
Michael nodded. “I suspect the proverbial plot is about to thicken. Do you want a beer, Sky?”
“Och, aye.”
Struan set cold longnecks in front of everyone before taking his seat. “All right. Tell us what is so terrible that you think we’d vote you off the island.”
She blinked. “Vote me off . . . Are we on an island then?”
“It’s an expression.” Michael twisted the cap off her Blue Moon for her. “We’re not going to send you away. Relax.”
“You canna say for certain without first hearing my tale.” Her lips thinned, and doubt clouded her expression. “Have you heard of the Tuatha Dé Danann?”
“Sure. Mythical beings, faeries.” Gene nodded. “What about them?”
“They are no’ a myth. Madame Giselle, the fortune-teller I mentioned earlier, is the daughter of their high king. Her true name is Áine, and she loves to meddle in the affairs of her mortal progeny. Many years ago, Giselle sent my mother from her century to the past to save the life of my foster brother. A few years later, my cousin Robley made a bargain with Giselle to visit the future in exchange for stealing an item from the fae realm that she coveted. He came to your time, stayed a while, and then he was sent back to us by a fae warrior charged with enforcing fae laws. Haldor, the warrior, also sent the woman who is now my cousin Robley’s wife back to our time. ’Tis complicated. Then—”
“Wait. Too many names to follow, but . . .” Struan’s ears rang from the blood rushing through his veins. “You’re telling us that it’s possible to . . . Your cousin came here . . . and then returned?”
“As did Erin, his wife.” She nodded. “My foster brother also came to your time and returned to ours. He too brought a woman home with him.” Her eyes widened. “Och, I must contact Meghan’s kin. You said ’tis the year 2014, aye? According to Meghan, ’twas 2011 when Hunter brought her home with him to our time. Her family will want to hear she’s well, and—”
“Why your clan?” He frowned. “What connection do you have with the fae?” Goose bumps rose on his forearms and at the back of his neck. How was all this, including him and the Gordons, connected?
Sky paled. “I . . . some of us carry fae blood. My foster brother is Áine’s direct descendant many generations past. Haldor, the fae warrior, claims kinship with Lady Erin. My mother also carries fae blood, but we dinna ken the source. Mayhap we ne’er will.” Her eyes met his for a moment. “So you see, I too have fae blood, and with that blood comes certain abilities.” She squared her shoulders, looking as if she were bracing herself for the impact of their reaction.
“No shit.” Michael’s eyes went wide. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Nay, I dinna mind.” Sky rubbed her temples and closed her eyes.
“What are your fae abilities?”
Her eyes opened and sought his, even though it had been Michael who asked the question. Struan couldn’t take the intensity of her stare and shot up, heading for the fridge and another beer.
“Like my mother, I have the ability to discern whether or not someone speaks truth or falsehood. I can read people’s emotions, and occasionally I’ll have a vision of things to come. Though that happens only when those I love are being threatened or are in some kind of danger.”
“Damn,” Michael blurted.
“Watch your mouth, Michael,” Marjorie scolded. “Too many foul words are polluting the air in here.”
“Sorry, Mom, but . . . This explains so much. I think we must have Tuatha Dé Danann genes too.” Michael raked his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “Isn’t that how we started working at Renaissance festivals in the first place, Dad? Your sister Marilyn was a psychic, and she started out as a fortune-teller at the fair in Virginia. Right?”
“It’s true,” Gene said.
“And don’t you have some ability?” Michael persisted. “You knew Aunt Marilyn was sick before she went to the doctor.”
Gene nodded. “Occasionally I get flashes of things I shouldn’t have any way of knowing.”
“That’s why we’re magnets for time-travelers,” Michael exclaimed. “Oh, man. This is epic. It explains why I’m so intuitive. I pick up on emotions too, only probably not as well as you do, Sky.”
“’Tis likely. The MacKintosh are no’ the only Scottish clan to claim fae ancestry.” She shifted. “When my cousin came to your time, he landed in a place called Minnesota. Do you ken where that realm might be? ’Tis also my mother’s homeland.”
“Of course we know where Minnesota is,” Marjorie told her. “It’s smack-dab in the middle of North America and right on the Canadian border.”
“Is that near here?” Sky’s tone was hopeful. “Robley met another time-traveler there, Connor McGladrey, and ’tis his daughter Meghan who is now my foster brother’s wife. ’Twas just by chance that—”
“By chance?” Struan barked out a strangled laugh. He stared out the small window above the kitchen sink. He couldn’t take it all in, but one thing he knew for certain, none of this was by chance. Was this woman meant to return him to his century? He’d always known he should’ve died at Halidon Hill. He’d been living on borrowed time ever since. Was his time coming to an end? “None of this is by chance, lass.”
“I agree,” Michael said, his tone filled with excitement.
“This is the anniversary of the day you came to us, Struan,” Marjorie added. “It’s July 19.”
Silence descended, and a shiver of dread crept down his spine. “Tell us the stories of each of your family members who have time-traveled, Sky. I’m interested to hear about the others who have experienced what I have.” He doubted he’d gain anything from the tales she had to tell, but he needed time to process what she’d revealed.
“If you wish.” Sky gave them the historical accounting for each of her relatives who had time-traveled.
“That’s a lot to process,” Struan said once she’d finished. Truth be told, he just couldn’t take in any more. Thank heavens it was almost time for their last jousting performance of the afternoon. “We need to get ready for our next show.” Struan nodded toward the wall clock.
“Right.” Gene pushed himself up from the table. “We’ll come up with something you can do to earn a living while you’re here, Sky. With your abilities, maybe you can work the fairs as a fortune-teller.”
“I canna tell anyone’s future, only whether or no’ they speak the truth.” A look of utter confusion and fatigue settled over Sky’s features.
Struan recalled feeling the same way. He’d understood English well enough, but many of the words his new family had used held no meaning for him back then. “You look as if you’re about to fall asleep sitting up. Ma will show you where you can rest, and we’ll talk later.”
“My thanks. I am exhausted.” Sky yawned and covered her mouth. “’Tis been a most trying day, and I am grateful to have . . .” She frowned. “Made your acquaintance does no’ sound right for the occasion. I’m glad to have fallen in with folk who are so accepting, and . . .” She yawned again.
Gene smiled down at her. “We understand what you’re trying to say. You’re welcome here.”
Struan spared her a nod and left the trailer. Now he knew the source of her look of disappointment. She’d sensed the lie he’d told about his father being no one of importance to the Sutherlands. So what? It wasn’t her business anyway. A twinge of guilt shot through him. She’d revealed her fae abilities to them, taking what she believed to be a great risk. Yet he hid the truth of his origins from her.
“Time to get back into the can,” he muttered, heading for his armor. Performing at the fairs helped keep h
im in shape, but he far preferred his true calling, and longed to return to their farm in Virginia where he had his forge.
There he created medieval home decor, and the armor and weaponry that kept the Renaissance and medieval reenactors and theaters all over the world supplied. He also dabbled in gold- and silversmithing, creating Celtic brooches, pendants, rings, belt buckles and bracelets.
“What do you make of Sky’s sudden appearance on the anniversary of your arrival here?” Michael asked as he tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle.
“I have no idea what to make of it or of her.” Struan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t really want to think about it right now.”
“Can’t say as I blame you, son. It’s spooky as hell if you ask me.” Gene helped him into his armor. “Promise me you’ll stay here with us,” he said, his voice gruff. “Don’t want to lose you.”
“I promise.” Struan’s throat closed up and his eyes stung. “You heard what she had to say about the treachery of her time. My century was even worse because of the constant conflict with the English and the Bruce’s recent death. I have no interest in returning to the past. None.”
CHAPTER THREE
I have so much to do,” Sky said, rubbing her aching temples. “I must search this fair for Madame Giselle, and I need to find a way to Minnesota to seek out the McGladreys. How am I to manage?”
Marjorie set about cleaning up from the meal they’d just shared. Sky guessed the woman to be in her fifties, though she still moved like a much younger woman. She wore a long skirt of linen and a loose chemise-type blouse with short sleeves. Sky envied her. The garments looked soft and light. Much cooler and more comfortable than the heavy velvet she wore.
“Nothing has to be done today,” Marjorie said. “Once I’m finished here, we’ll get you settled for a nap. In the meantime, tell me a little about yourself, Sky.”
She’d been far more forthcoming with the Gordons than she’d ever been with strangers before, but her truth was all she had to offer in exchange for their hospitality and help. For certes, at her ma’s insistence, she had a few gold coins sewn into hiding places in her gown, but she’d need them once she returned to her own time. She didn’t ken whether or not such coins would do her any good in this century anyway. She’d seen the paper currency Robley had taken with him to the future. “’Twould be my pleasure. Ask any question you wish, and I shall answer as best I can.”
The older woman smiled warmly. “For starters, tell me more about your family. How many brothers and sisters do you have, and how old are you?”
“I’ll be one and twenty this coming autumn. I have one older foster brother and three younger brothers. Two of them are twins.” Her voice broke. “I also have two younger sisters, many cousins, and . . .” She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat.
“We live on an island in the middle of Loch Moigh. ’Tis quite lovely, my home.” When had the tears started? Her chest ached. She longed for the gently rolling hills of home, with her clan’s kine and sheep dotting the fields. How sorely she already missed the loch, sparkling like the rarest sapphire under a blue sky.
“I must get back to my time. I need to prevent a war between the Erskines and my clan. At the very least, I must prevent Oliver from stealing my dowry. With my disappearance, the Erskines will surely claim my kin took me away, thus breaking yet another marriage contract.” Her hands curled into fists. “Those deceitful, ruthless curs.”
“Of course you must return, and if such a thing is possible, we’ll help you find the way.” Marjorie folded the cloth she’d used to wipe the counters and placed it over a small rack. “Let’s get you out of that gown and into bed.”
“You are most kind to offer such hospitality.” Sky swiped at her cheeks and sniffed. Marjorie handed her a soft piece of something she assumed was meant to wipe her nose.
“If I suddenly appeared in your time and in your country, what would you do?” Marjorie asked.
Sky let out a strangled laugh. “You ken from the tales of my family we’ve oft dealt with that very thing. We would take you in, of course. You would be safe and well protected.”
“Exactly. Things happen as they should, as they are meant to.” Marjorie canted her head and peered into Sky’s eyes. “You’ve come to us because we are the kind of people who will take you in and make sure you’re safe as well.”
“I . . . I hope I can repay you somehow. I’m no’ able to tell fortunes, but I sew, embroider, bead and I can spin, weave and felt wool. Mayhap we will find a way for such skills to contribute to your family’s coffers. I’m also a healer like my mother, and my cousin has been teaching me midwifery.”
She stood up and began to unlace her gown. “This velvet is very heavy, and ’tis so warm here. I fear I’m no’ used to such heat.”
“As far as adding to our coffers goes, I’m certain you’ll find your way. Struan certainly has. He’s a blacksmith, and he makes Renaissance home decor, armor, weapons and jewelry, which he sells online and at the fairs we visit throughout the year.”
Marjorie’s eyes sparkled, and the lines at the corners of her blue eyes creased. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for more appropriate clothing. There’s an outlet mall not too far from here. You and I will take one of the trucks and make a day of it.”
Sky could no longer think straight, much less decipher Marjorie’s meaning. “Outlet mall?”
“You’ll see.” Marjorie’s eyes lit with excitement.
She helped Sky out of her things until all Sky wore was her chemise and the sgian dubh she always kept strapped to her calf.
“Let me show you to the bathroom . . . er . . . I think you’d call it the garderobe, and then I’ll take you back to Michael’s room. Ours is at the very front of the trailer and his is in the back. You’ll have plenty of privacy, and you can sleep for as long as you like.”
Sky nodded and followed along through the narrow passage toward the rear, stopping at a door midway. Too tired to be impressed by the garderobe, she closed the door to the tiny chamber and used everything the way Marjorie had instructed. Then she washed her face and hands and followed the older woman to a small chamber at the very end of the camper. A narrow bed came out from the wall, with another cot fastened to the wall above it. Michael’s things were strewn everywhere.
Marjorie gathered armloads of clothing, books and other items Sky couldn’t identify. She transferred the clothing to a large basket placed in the corner, and then she set the rest of the items on a small chest of drawers. “Teenagers,” she huffed.
“How old is Michael?”
“Seventeen, and Struan is twenty-four.” Marjorie began stripping the linens from the bed.
“My twin brothers are but a year older than Michael,” Sky said. “I can make up the bed, Marjorie. I don’t wish to put you to any trouble, or to take the lad’s bed from him.”
“It’s no trouble. You’re our guest, and Michael can always bunk with Struan in his camper. He’s over there all the time anyway. Wait right here.”
Sky nodded again. Her parents hadn’t raised her to be pampered. Though they had servants, Sky had been taught early on how to do for herself. Her mother had insisted upon it. When Marjorie returned with fresh linens, Sky took them from her. “Let me make the bed. You’ve already done so much for me.”
“If you insist.” Marjorie moved to the sliding door separating the chamber from the rest of their wagon. “Get some sleep, Sky, and don’t worry. You are safe with us.”
“My thanks, Marjorie.” Sky’s eyes burned, as she sensed the warmth and sincerity emanating from her new friend. Marjorie closed the door behind her, and Sky was left alone to ponder all that had happened to her in the span of a single day. Nay, not even a full day yet. At least she’d escaped Oliver’s ruthless, greedy plot. She made the bed, settled herself onto the comfortable pallet and covered her eyes with her arm.
Her knight had lied to her about his father being no one of import to the Sutherlands. Why? Was it
simply because his lineage had no bearing on his life in this century? Mayhap thinking about his kin caused him grief, and he didn’t wish to speak of those he’d lost.
She turned onto her side, pulled up the covers and shut her eyes. She had no right to pry, and certainly no reason to suffer disappointment at his response. Yet she had. She’d sensed his wariness and resentment toward her easily enough. Indeed, ’twas those very reactions that had prompted her to reveal so much about herself. Surely he kent she was no threat to him. ’Twas no fault of hers she happened to land in the middle of his jousting match.
Sighing, she tried to fall asleep, but her mind would give her no peace. Struan’s image filled her thoughts. His deep blue eyes shone with keen intelligence, and his thick blond hair fell almost to his shoulders. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and so very powerful, he stole her breath.
Once again she was struck by his resemblance to the Sutherlands who were kin to her. When she’d been a wee lass of seven or eight, she’d been completely besotted with her aunt Elaine’s husband, Dylan. In her childish way, she’d believed her uncle to be the strongest and most comely man in all of Scotland, and she’d staunchly defended him against any who disagreed—much to everyone’s amusement.
Struan could be her uncle Dylan’s brother, so close in features, coloring, height and build were the two. Mayhap her attraction to Struan was naught but an echo of her infatuation with her uncle. Aye, that must be it.
Sky rose up and punched the pillow a few times, wondering what the casing held. Sadly, not goose down as she was accustomed. Settling herself once again, she yawned. On the morrow, she’d search for Madame Giselle, and then she’d find a way to journey to Minnesota so she could talk with Connor McGladrey and his wife, Katherine.
Meghan had said many times that her father had made an extensive study of the Tuatha Dé Danann and their ways, especially after Robley’s appearance in their midst. He’d collected all the lore there was to be found on the subject. If anyone could help her unravel things, ’twould be Connor.
The Highlander's Vow (Loch Moigh #4) Page 4
