“Caitrina.”
Archibald’s eyes widened. “The faerie?”
“Aye.” The chief must remember Caitrina. She once guided him to the caves to rescue Lady Laurie from the clutches of Maclay. And she was with them in the future when they visited one Christmas.
“And Stephen’s injuries?”
“Cuts from swords. Bruises. Crushed leg. Cannot walk without a crutch.”
“Dammit!” Archibald ran a hand through his chestnut hair.
Munn sighed. “Getting better. The fae pool helps with the healing.”
“Has Maclay been seen?”
“Nae.” Munn shook his head, and the chief seemed to relax.
“Let me go to the keep and tell Isobell the good news, kiss our newborn son, round up some lads, and then we can be off to retrieve Stephen.”
“Needs horses.”
“More than one?”
“Aye.” Munn shuffled his feet. “He found a lass from the future.”
Archibald’s brows rose into his hairline and he gripped the stall half-wall again. “The future, you say?”
“Aye.”
“Then we must travel to the caves in all due haste.”
* * *
Tir-nan-Og
Dugaid paced his mother’s antechamber. He’d always hated the overindulgence cunningly displayed to intimidate visitors. Silver columns and crystal walls, brilliant sapphire gemstones in cut-glass bowls, luxuriant royal blue velvets and silks draped about, all to enhance the silvery splendor of the Fae High-Queen.
A sharp inhale and exhale fortified his patience, and he loosened tight fists. Might as well get this over with. He strode to the open wall draped by lucent curtains and drew aside the diaphanous fabric interwoven with threads of finely spun silver to view the pool beyond where his mother entertained her current lover.
Dugaid ground his teeth. Ach! And legend tells tales of Finvarra’s unfaithfulness. Tit for tat. Aye, Mother?
Oonagh’s gaze reached him. Surprise flared and a pleased smile curved her lips. She whispered something to Gabriel then released the lesser fae from a wanton embrace.
With a tight rein on his control, Dugaid ignored the glare sent his way as Gabriel climbed from the pool and padded past and out of Oonagh’s chambers.
She emerged from the glistening water in all her naked glory. He should look away from her lissome form glimmering with a fine dusting of silver powder. Away from her pert breasts and the smug smile playing on sensuous lips. Away from the gleam of sexual desire in her gaze.
He refused to show such weakness, maintaining a mask of indifference.
“My son.” She glided across the white marble tile to stand before him.
How easily her interest shifted. She caressed the curve of his cheek. Slender fingers skimmed the muscles in his arms, across his chest, stomach, to land on his groin, where she gripped the family jewels. Dazzling blue eyes burned with lust then anger when his cock didn’t harden beneath her palm.
He felt naught but hatred.
“Clothe yourself, Mother.”
She twisted away with a shrug of a slender shoulder as if his lack of desire didn’t matter.
He kenned better. She was an incestuous bitch.
Lounging on the white brocade chaise in the center of the chamber, she positioned her ankle-length blonde hair to best advantage, leaving breasts and feminine mound open to view. She taunted, hoping to get a rise from him. She’d be waiting ’til the world and all its realms no longer existed.
He remained behind an impassive facade.
Oonagh scrutinized him through narrowed eyes then grasped a crystal pawn from the ebony and ivory chessboard. “What brings you to the palace, Dugaid? You have not bothered to visit your mother in many a decade, preferring to cavort with those of the earth realm. Perhaps you are more of their ilk than fae.”
“Unless you care to admit to lying with a human, Mother, which we both ken you will not do, my status as a pure-bred faerie cannot be disclaimed.”
“So why are you here?”
“Aye, Mother. Let us cut to the chase.” He hesitated, locking stares with the bitch. “You will not interfere with Caitrina and the challenge any further.”
“That is none of your affair, Dugaid.”
“Aye, ’tis. I have recently left Torne Castle and Prince Torgil, where I signed a betrothal agreement in fae blood for Caitrina’s hand.”
“You fool!” Oonagh rose and quickly clothed herself in argent silk, meeting him head on. “How dare you go behind my and your father’s back to negotiate a betrothal?”
“Finvarra could not care less. And as for you, I will only provide this one warning. Dinnae interfere with Caitrina. She will be my wife. The mother to my faelings.”
Oonagh snarled, transforming her features into something unexpectedly ugly. “You dare mix your royal blood with that halfling’s?”
“This discussion is at an end. Remember my warning.”
Dugaid slipped into the vanishing, but as he faded his mother let fly a parting volley, “She’ll never forgive your deceiving her.”
Every muscle taut, he appeared in the palace stables where he retrieved his fine stallion and three other mounts then whisked them away to the earth realm. He rolled his shoulders, relieving some of the tension. In time, he would make Caitrina understand why it had been necessary to deceive her these many years. She’d forgive him.
Seeking the hum of fae protection magic—his mother’s magic—he zeroed in on the hidey-hole of the woodland bairns. A child’s voice tittered on the breeze. The imps must be nearby. “I ken you are here. Come out. I will not harm you.”
Three deformed lads slipped from the trees, near to quaking where they stood.
“I have a heroic task for thee.”
Three sets of eyes widened, and the boys shuffled closer. He handed each a set of reins. “Take these fine beasts to the caves of the Gray Women and present them to Stephen MacEwen. Dinnae sell them. Dinnae dawdle. Travel with haste and hand them over to Stephen. Nae other.” Dugaid looked each child in the eye in turn. “Do you understand?”
The three lads nodded, and he handed each boy a silver coin snatched from his mother’s chamber.
“Dinnae fail me.”
The lads grinned. The pudgy fellow stepped forward. “We will do as you request, hoping you will look kindly upon us in the future.”
Cheeky kid. Dugaid chuckled. “Fare thee well.”
* * *
A week had passed and a severe case of cabin fever, or cave fever as it be, drove Jillian bat-shit crazy. Stephen refused to allow her to leave the caves, claiming it was too dangerous to go outside without an armed guard since a madman, more than likely brandishing a sword or some other relic weapon, scourged the countryside. The same man who had supposedly kept her business partner, Laurie, prisoner in these caves several years prior.
A shiver snaked up Jillian’s spine. Could it be true? Laurie had never mentioned it. Why would she? She hadn’t told Jillian about the time travel thing either.
Jillian paced the sprawling outer cavern, frowning. And why did Stephen avoid being alone with her? He seemed to make sure if they were together the two kids, Keita and Duff, were with them, too. They were becoming quite the little family unit. The children had burrowed into Jillian’s heart, but she wanted some alone time with Stephen.
Thank God, each day he was getting better. Stronger.
Stephen entered the chamber with barely a limp, carrying a claymore, a green gemstone that looked very much like an emerald winking from the cross section. She’d seen enough of the Scottish swords used by the men in the Anderson Creek reenactment group to know exactly the name of the long pointy weapon.
“Your recovery has been truly miraculous,” she said. “I’m becoming a believer in your fae healing magic.”
His quick grin was electric, and it sent a shiver of awareness through her body, culminating in the clenching of her sex. She stepped close to Stephen, placed a palm
on his bare chest. The children were off to who knew where, and she was determined to take advantage of their absence. Jillian rolled onto the balls of her feet and planted a kiss on Stephen’s lips.
He stiffened, but then got with the program. The sword dropped with a clatter to the floor and his arms came around her in a crushing embrace. He repositioned his head and sought her tongue. The heady sensation curled her toes. She clutched his firm ass. God, he tasted good from the medicinal herbs the women made him eat. When the kiss ended they pressed their foreheads together and just breathed.
“Ach, lass, you make me want things I must not have.”
“What do you mean?” She leaned back and held his gaze. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but sometimes it only takes a moment to feel an undeniable attraction that might blossom into more. I feel that with you.”
He ran a hand through his overlong blond hair. “You are so sweet…”
“But…”
He opened his mouth, though before he provided an explanation a crashing noise came from the entrance. Stephen dove for the sword, and she swirled to face the opening.
Blaney rolled into the cave, landing at her feet.
“What are you doing here?” Jillian fisted hands on hips. “Where are my things?”
Stephen placed a gentling hand on her arm. “’Tis better for your future things to remain hidden out of the clutches of those who might accuse you of practicing the dark arts.”
“Witchcraft?” At his nod, she swallowed uneasily, remembering hearing stories at a Celtic festival about false accusations of sorcery leveled against women and men alike in Scotland. Many were burned at the stake. “I thought politics were behind accusations of witchcraft.”
“In some cases,” Stephen agreed. “Fear of those different in most.”
“Okay. We leave the things hidden.”
Blaney’s gaze ping-ponged between Jillian and Stephen.
Stephen patted the boy on the shoulder. “What brings you to the caves today?”
“Prince Dugaid sent us.”
Jillian gave Stephen a questioning look. He shrugged and returned attention to Blaney.
“Dinnae ken the man.”
“The Prince of the Dark River. The son of the King and Queen of the Fae.”
“Oh, my,” Jillian squeaked.
“He gave us horses to bring to you,” Blaney said. “He said we mustn’t give them to anyone else. Just you.”
“Where are these horses?” Stephen asked.
“Mack and Cam are tending them at the edge of the wood.”
“You are in luck, lass.” Stephen grinned, squeezing her hand. “With horses, we can leave for Castle Lachlan as soon as we pack provisions for the journey.”
This was good news. Finally. Jillian sighed with relief.
“Can we come too?” Keita begged. She and Duff must have silently slipped into the cavern while they were busy talking with Blaney.
Jillian shot Stephen another questioning glance. She’d hate to leave the children behind, but he’d have to deal with them once she returned to the future. And maybe that was why he kept putting on the brakes. Why should he be with someone who was going to leave him?”
“Aye.” Stephen patted Keita’s blonde head. “You may come with us.”
* * *
’Twas best the children traveled with them. Stephen didn’t ken how he’d keep his hands off Jillian during the journey otherwise. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted another woman. If it wasn’t for Calyn, he’d beg Jillian to stay in this time with him or he’d force the faerie knoll to take them both to her future place.
The three lads faded into the wood while he and Jillian loaded the horses, the bairns’ ability to disappear without sound unnerving. The other two children were bursting with excitement, eager for an adventure.
Stephen placed his hands on Jillian’s waist and lifted her onto the roan horse. Duff found a tree stump and mounted his horse.
“Keita, do you want to ride with me or Jillian?”
The wee lass stuck her thumb in her mouth.
“How about you start out with Jillian and when she grows tired you can ride with me?”
Keita nodded, and he lifted and placed her in front of Jillian.
He was about to mount his horse when an unsettling sensation came over him, as if he’d forgotten something important. “I will return shortly. Must retrieve something from the caves.”
Carefully traversing the cliff ledge, hopeful his leg wouldn’t give out, he wondered what he could have forgotten that made the back of his neck itch. He strode through the outer cavern, through the tunnels, to the kitchen. One of the Gray Women, the one with timeless emerald eyes, sat at the table.
“Good morrow, good sister,” he greeted.
She inclined her head, and he glanced around, searching for whatever drew him back to the caves.
“These are what you seek.” She pointed to two leather sheaths on the table from which she removed two short, ornate knives etched with flowers. Each handle decorated with small emeralds matching the one in his claymore.
“I dinnae understand.” He picked one up, measuring its heft and balance. “’Tis too light for my hand, too beautiful, but I thank you just the same.”
“Foolish lad. They are for your lady-love.”
He stiffened. “Calyn does not deserve such a generous gift. Nor can I afford such.”
“These are not for Calyn but Jillian. And they are a gift from me and my sisters.”
The air whished from Stephen’s lungs, and he staggered back a step. What did this woman ken? Was she a seer?
“Dinnae look so startled. You ken you have fallen in love with the lass.”
“But I am handfasted to Calyn.”
“Though your future is not yet set in stone, ’tis unlikely you will share it with that unfaithful wench.”
“But—”
“The tips are dusted with fae magic. See Jillian learns to use them.”
Moisture blurred his eyes, making him blink. When his vision cleared, the woman had gone, leaving behind the exquisite knives.
CHAPTER TEN
Taking one of the B&B’s horses for meandering trail rides in the forest behind the Whispering Pines Inn in Anderson Creek was nothing like riding cross-country in the wilds of Scotland 1513. Jillian shifted her weight in the saddle, trying not to wake Keita, who snuggled on her lap. Because of the children, Stephen’s healing leg, and her inexperience, they halted every couple of hours to rest, eat a snack, and take care of personal needs. With the days getting shorter, Stephen had said they would stop early afternoon since they had much to do before nightfall. When they finally halted for the day, Jillian had sore muscles she’d never known existed.
Stephen limped over. Even he suffered from the arduous activity. He collected the sleeping Keita. “You must be tired, too. I will come back and help you dismount once I have settled her on the bedroll.”
“No need. I can get myself down.” Or so she thought until her jelly legs gave out and she crumbled to the ground in an aching mess. She hauled herself up while Duff slid from his horse, also wobbling when he hit the dirt.
“I am hungry,” the boy whined.
Jillian’s stomach growled in commiseration, but several tasks needed accomplishing first. “After we set camp.”
The lad groaned, but he and Keita helped with the chores. After packs were unloaded and horses cared for, Stephen made a small fire, and Duff heated oatcakes. Jillian hadn’t thought she’d ever wish for pre-packaged backpacking meals, but she did now.
After the sparse meal was finished and the extra food and cooking gear stowed, Stephen dropped onto the blanket beside her. “I have a gift for you from the Gray Women.”
“For me? Really?” Her eyes widened. “I can’t imagine why they’d give me a present.”
His impassive expression made her feel jittery. Her fingers trembled. He placed a tied roll of deerskin between them then released the knot and sp
read the leather flat to display two sheaths containing ornate handled knives.
She locked gazes with Stephen. “What are these for?”
“Protection.”
“I don’t know how to use them. Even if I did, I don’t think I could.”
Stephen unsheathed one of the knives and held it out to her. “Take it.”
“Don’t want to.” She shook her head, lips pressed tight into a frown.
“Take it,” he repeated, his tone firm. She hesitated, but finally gripped the handle. “Be careful of the sharp tip. ’Tis coated with faerie dust.”
She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help it. Even though she’d started to believe in magic, faerie dust seemed over the top. “Now what?” she asked. “I feel squeamish just holding a weapon.”
He ignored the complaint and stood. Grasping her left hand, he hauled her up beside him. “I stuffed moss into a cloth and hung it on that tree trunk to use as a practice target. Since you accepted the blade with your right hand that must be your dominant side. I will train you to throw from the right.”
“I can’t do this.”
“You can. We need you to ken how to handle the knives. If something happens to me, if I am injured or killed, you will need to protect yourself and the children.”
“I’m not sure.” Now was a fine time to wish she’d gone to martial arts classes with her brother years ago.
Stephen grasped her arm with a firm grip. “I have faith in you. You can learn to throw.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Stephen’s encouraging smile did funny things to her insides. He believed in her. She could see the confidence in his gorgeous blue eyes. He made her want to believe, too. It was a new experience having a man show faith in her. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint.
He grasped the second knife. “They have good balance.”
Keita and Duff sat on a nearby log to watch. Jillian tilted the knife in her hand from side to side as Stephen had done, unsure what she was supposed to feel. The blade was beautiful, etched with flowers, and from the handle glinted several small emeralds. The knives should be displayed as works of art, not used as weapons.
“Since the handle is heavier than the blade, you will need to throw from the blade. Grasp it like this.” Stephen demonstrated.
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 7
