Jillian frowned and stared at the floorboards. A light fog settled over the still night, wrapping around them. The only sound was their heavy breathing and the lapping of oars drawn through the water.
“Shit!” Jillian cursed as they approached the mainland beach. He followed her gaze to the shore they’d just left. Shite was right. Although they couldn’t see through the accumulating fog the men who carried bouncing torches marking their progression from the castle toward the beach, ’twas certain the sheriff had discovered their escape.
Stephen turned his attention to their small craft, and with one massive tug on the oars, they hit the shallows. He hopped over the side into the water and dragged the currach across the surface and onto the shingle. Grasping Jillian’s hand, he assisted her over the side and together they raced up the hill toward the stables. Halfway there, he stopped short.
His lady bumped into his back then gasped.
A red-haired woman, richly garbed in green velvet and fur, sat a magnificent white steed with golden bridle and golden bells plaited in its mane. The beast stomped a hoof and snorted steam from flared nostrils, impatient for action. The lady murmured something in an ancient tongue and the animal calmed.
A beauty that matched this woman had been described to him enough times by Archie and Alexander Campbell for Stephen to ken the lady wasn’t of this world. She was one of the Sithichean—a faerie. Two of the fine horses the bairns of the wood had procured for him and Jillian—what seemed like a lifetime ago—were held by reins grasped in the gloved hand of the enigmatic woman.
“What the hell are you doing here, Caitrina?” Jillian demanded.
Stephen scrunched his eyebrows. His lady seemed acquainted with the fae woman. And more than displeased by her presence.
“There is nae time for chat. We must fly before the sheriff arrives.”
She didn’t truly mean fly, did she? He hesitated, but when Jillian hurried into action and mounted, he followed her lead, and together they shadowed the woman at a gallop across the mist-shrouded moor.
The sound of men, horses, and tack carried a distance on the humid air. Stephen urged the fleet horse to greater speed. Jillian kept pace. The fine steeds outdistanced their pursuers. At the tree line they slowed. Reining the horses onto a game trail, they rode deep into the wood.
“We need to find a hiding place to wait for the full moon,” Stephen called to the fae woman.
She slowed—then halted. “There is nae need to wait. I will see you through the portal.”
He and Jillian stopped beside her, Jillian guiding her horse close to the other woman. “I don’t understand, Caitrina. How did you get here? What do you have to do with all of this? Did you push me into that well?”
“We dinnae have time for explanations. Let us ride for the Sithichean Sluaigh.”
Jillian’s forehead scrunched tight.
“Dinnae be dense, Jillian. The faerie knoll. The time gate. The portal to take you home.”
“We can’t leave without the children.”
“You must.”
“But—”
The sound of hooves smacking the forest floor ended the women’s debate. They encouraged the horses to a run and rode as if chased by a banshee—a harbinger of death.
Jillian followed Caitrina and Stephen through the thickening fog onto an unremarkable hill, but then everything changed. A fierce tingling danced across her skin. Magic?
“Fae magic protects you.” With a wave of an arm, Caitrina made an encircling motion, defining the perimeter of the hill where they stood. “As long as you stay on this knoll, you are safe from the sheriff and his men.”
Jillian twirled around. The faerie hill seemed charmed, brightly lit within a circle of thick mist. The grass at their feet was the softest spring green. The air crisp and clean. Hundreds of miniature white lights flickered around them, dazzling the senses. The lights sparkled in the grass and up high in the branches of the single tree upon the hill like dancing fireflies.
She imagined her expression matched the awe exposed on Stephen’s face.
“Well, Isobell said she wanted my stay to be pleasurable.” Jillian placed a palm on his chest, stepped into him and, filled with pleasant thoughts of their earlier lovemaking, kissed a pair of fine lips then smiled into his compelling eyes. “It certainly was that. And memorable? I’m afraid it will be that, too, thanks to the sheriff.” She shot an angry look over his shoulder at Caitrina. A faerie? Jillian could hardly believe her business partner was a damn faerie. “Now, get us out of here, Caitrina.”
“No!” her business partner shouted. “Be gone!”
Jillian and Stephen startled. Caitrina stared toward the edge of the knoll where a young woman stood holding a lantern high overhead. Her angry face eerily gleamed in the amber light.
Stephen took a step forward. “Calyn?”
“How can you leave me swollen with your bairn, Stephen MacEwen?” the woman cried, a protective hand splayed over an extended belly. “I ken you plan to leave. I mourned you, believing you dead on the battlefield. Grieved your death until my brother, Ciaran, returned with news you lived and traveled with another woman. With that witch.” She pointed an accusing finger at Jillian.
“What the hell?” Jillian jerked her gaze to Stephen’s and stepped out of his reach. “Do you know her?”
He stiffened. A mud puddle stained moisture-filled blue eyes. Guilt. How could she have been so misled? The pain in her chest unbearable, she wrapped trembling arms around herself in a hug of self-preservation. She’d almost rather die than be betrayed by the one she loved.
Unable to bear his visage, she glanced off in the distance and her heart thudded against her ribs. Keita and Duff were being held back by Maclay.
Abruptly, the ground fell from beneath Jillian’s feet. She dropped downward. Oh shit! Everything around her spun much as it had when she fell into the well within the tunnel on the bike trail. She plummeted down…down…down into darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“No!” Stephen lunged for Jillian. He couldn’t lose her now. Not after having found his one true love. Not with her believing the worst of him. Sudden nausea made him stagger and he couldn’t grab hold of her fading form. Everything reeled. Slid sideways. When the motion stopped, she was gone.
Stephen stared at the spot where Jillian had stood moments before. Everything within him froze. She’d left him behind. She’d gone to her future place without him.
He spun on the faerie. She could help. Send him forward to Jillian. The fae woman frowned, furrowed her brow, and then her form diminished as well.
“Dinnae leave!” His plea went unheeded. The faerie vanished before he could stop her.
The knoll returned to normal. Fae magic spent. Dry amber grass replaced that of spring green. No longer did a tree stand upon the mound; no twinkling lights.
Keita and Duff broke away from Maclay, ran to Stephen, and clung to his legs. He squatted and wrapped his arms around the bairns. Held them tight. Fog rolled across the knoll, twirled its moist embrace around the three forlorn humans huddled together in grief. Was there any point in living without Jillian?
He should be concerned about Maclay’s presence. But he couldn’t shake off the despair and bother to fight the renegade outlaw. Ignoring raised voices coming from within the fog, Stephen hung his head and permitted tears to escape. The voices moved closer and became difficult to ignore. The mist thinned.
“Stephen MacEwen, you are under arrest for complicity with a practitioner of the dark arts.” The sheriff stood to his right.
“You weren’t supposed to arrest him. Just the witch.” Calyn’s annoyed tone came from the left, her lantern cutting through the dwindling haze.
The sight of her swollen belly up close jarred Stephen. He blinked, hoping she was naught but an apparition. A trick of the fae. That she would disappear.
Nae. The lass remained.
The bairns’ small hands clutched the fabric of Stephen’s trews. “
You cannot take him. We won’t let you.” Duff’s voice quivered yet his chin held firm as he and Keita stared at the sheriff.
“Nae worries, lad. Nary a soul is taking Stephen anywhere other than Castle Lachlan without my consent and I won’t be giving such,” came the voice of reason. Thank the good Lord. Archie was among those scattered about the knoll.
“MacLachlan, this is none of your affair.” The sheriff’s fisted hands shone in the light from Calyn’s lantern.
“Says the man who, once again, allowed Maclay to evade justice. You should have taken him into custody, Ninian, rather than accuse my man and a guest of my house of something as ridiculous as witchcraft.” Archie held the reins of the three horses, Stephen, Jillian, and the faerie had ridden onto the mound. “This is my land. I am lord here.”
“But you saw the two women disappear,” the sheriff asserted.
“Did I? Are you sure?”
“Aye. How can you doubt ’twas the work of the devil?”
“I believe the women slipped away, concealed by the fog. Dare you gainsay me?”
The sheriff threw up his hands and stomped off. Shortly thereafter, the sound of horses and men faded into the night.
Archie placed a hand on Stephen’s arm. “Let us return to Castle Lachlan and talk.”
Duff released Stephen’s leg and climbed onto the smallest of the three horses. Stephen lifted Keita and placed her behind the lad.
“What about me? I. Am. Your. Wife.” Calyn huffed.
Stephen pinned her with a frustrated glare. “Handfasted wife.”
“What does it matter? You are my husband.” She rubbed her rounded belly. “And soon, we will have a bairn.”
Sadness stole over Stephen; an unwanted future with Calyn unfurled within his mind. His heavy sigh was heartfelt. Without further comment, he lifted her by the waist onto the horse he had previously ridden. She attempted to rub against him as he placed her on the animal, but he kept her at arm’s length. He could barely stand to touch her. How could he have impregnated the lass?
He couldn’t resign himself to the handfasting. He needed to learn what had actually happened the eve before he woke in Calyn’s bed.
The clinking of tack as Archie and the other MacLachlan clansmen who’d ridden with the chief mounted their horses demanded his attention. Solemn-faced, they waited. After strapping his claymore to the saddle, Stephen mounted the white steed belonging to the beautiful faerie. A shift of weight on the leather triggered a sweet womanly scent. His nostrils flared at the unusual fragrance. He glanced around half expecting the faerie to reappear.
Disappointed when she didn’t, he was thusly taken by surprise by a phantom touch of a feminine hand grazing his cheek. He unintentionally jerked on the reins. The horse reared, tossing Stephen from its back. He fell, arms flailing. Expecting to hit the hard ground, ’twas alarming to continue falling as everything around him spun wildly.
Excitement ignited his soul in a jolt of awareness that crowded out an upsurge of fear. The Sithichean Sluaigh was taking him also. He embraced the swirling maelstrom with joy as he fell. Down…down…down, he plunged, deeper and deeper into a void of darkness. Abruptly, bright multi-colored lights flashed, making him shut his eyes. Intense heat scorched his flesh. He sucked in a deep breath and prayed he’d survive this trial and be reunited with his only love—Jillian.
* * *
Jillian landed on her butt in a pile of raked autumn leaves just beyond the garden gate at Foxgloves. Thank God. She’d returned home. On the other side of the metal grille, freshly planted yellow, purple, and orange mums accented the flowerbeds lit by pathway lights. Had she made it to the correct time? Seemed like nothing had changed in the garden other than the addition of the mums.
Rising on trembling legs, she stumbled to the gate and clutched the cool metal for support. At the other end of the garden, lamps burned in the windows of her partner Laurie’s big house. Jillian staggered over the path to the mudroom door. She didn’t bother knocking. Just let herself in. Voices coming from farther within the house spurred her forward.
She stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at the normal twenty-first century family scene, feeling lost and out of place. Everything in the room was so bright and clean. Stainless steel appliances so modern. The family sat at the table in the nook beyond—Laurie and Patrick, the twins, and little Allison—eating dinner. The wholesome scene so completely normal, yet utterly strange to Jillian.
She swallowed uneasily, wondering how long she’d been gone. It seemed like an eternity. Did time pass here at the same pace as in the past?
The conundrum was more than she could handle tonight. Jillian thought to turn away and slip out of the house, but Allison caught sight of her. The girl reached forward with both arms. “Auntie Jillian!”
Patrick swung his head in her direction and grinned. Laurie gaped then punched her husband in the arm. “How did she sneak in without you noticing?”
“I kenned she was there. Did not wish to startle or frighten her off.”
The couple seemed surprised but not as shocked as Jillian would have expected.
“Come, Jillian, sit with us.” Patrick stood and pulled out an empty chair. “You must be starving. Traveling through the gate makes a soul ravenous.”
So they know. “I’m not hungry.”
“Of course you are.” He loaded a plate with pasta marinara, added garlic bread, and placed the dish in front of her along with a bowl of mixed salad. “Eat. Will make you feel better.”
Nothing could make her feel better.
Young Iain handed her a container of parmesan. “It’s better with cheese.”
“Thank you.” The boy’s smile made her think of Duff. And of Keita. Her heart wrenched. She would miss them.
Iain scooted back to his seat and poked his twin brother in the ribs. “Told you Aunt Jillian would come back.”
She wasn’t really their aunt, though the children had always addressed her as such.
Laurie placed a glass of red wine in front of her with a wink. “It’s even better with chianti.”
Jillian nodded and took a long sip of wine. Several more sips smoothed the edges of her frayed nerves. Allowed her to breathe more easily. The MacLachlan children chattered amongst themselves, relieving her of a need to master conversation. Jillian felt Patrick and Laurie’s expectant gazes glance her way throughout the meal. Why had she come to their house instead of slipping unnoticed into her room at the inn? Because Laurie was her best friend and Jillian needed answers only Laurie and perhaps Patrick could provide.
After some whining about wanting to stay with the adults and some bribing by said adults, the children scattered to other parts of the house. Jillian accepted another glass of wine and stared into the ruby liquid. It was question and hopefully answer time, but where to begin?
“That is a lovely burgundy gown you’re wearing. If I’m not mistaken, it belongs to Isobell.” Laurie broke the silence.
Jillian jerked her gaze to her friend. So much for being in control of the conversation.
“So let me guess,” Laurie continued. “You’ve been a guest at Castle Lachlan.”
“I have.” Jillian nodded.
“Anything you want to tell us, hon?”
More than you can imagine. Jillian curled into herself and burst into tears.
“Oh, sweetie. It can’t be that bad.” Laurie squatted in front of Jillian and embraced her in a consoling hug. Patrick stood behind his wife, his expression one of concern.
“Everything is such a mess.” Jillian sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About the time travel.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
“Yes.” She waved an arm. “The past. Castles. Sexy Highlanders.”
Laurie snorted. “Would you have believed me? Would knowing our garden gate could take you to the past have changed anything?”
“I didn’t go through the gate. I fell into a well in a tunnel on the bike trail in West Virginia.�
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“We know. Your brother has been frantic about you. He’s had the local authorities searching the trails and woods. Patrick, Finn, and Douglas went to search, too. All they found was your bike and panniers.”
Jillian inhaled a loud sniffle. “Then they found my cell phone?”
“Aye. Do you want to tell us what happened to upset you so?” Patrick asked.
“Besides the fact I was accused of witchcraft?” Jillian gazed past Laurie to her husband. “I fell in love with your stupid cousin, Stephen, but the lying dog neglected to inform me of his other woman friend. The one who is pregnant with his child.”
“That doesn’t sound like Stephen,” Patrick and Laurie said in unison.
“Well, it’s the truth. I’ll never forgive him. Not that I’ll ever see him again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stephen landed hard on his arse in a wood of which he recognized naught. Winded on the strange trip through time, he sucked in great gasps of air. The unexpected prick from a blade tip in the center of his chin made him stiffen. Shite! He must not have made it to Jillian’s future place. She’d claimed men didn’t carry swords in her time. A droplet of blood slid along the curve of his neck. ’Twas definitely a Highland claymore piercing his flesh.
Even in the dark, the holder of said sword appeared taller than most men of Stephen’s acquaintance—a giant of a man. A powerful warrior indeed. Stephen remained still not wanting to startle the man and get his throat slit. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir.”
“Aye. That I do.” The man chuckled—a dark sound prompting a shiver. “Perhaps you can enlighten me as to who you are and to why you stalk this property.”
The crescent moon shed some light, but not enough to make out the man’s features. From whence did he hail? His speech was that of a lord. Who is he?
Lacking knowledge of the lay of land, confronted by an unknown giant of a man, and without his claymore for defense, Stephen held limited options. Should he reveal his identity? The disclosure could go for him or against him.
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 16
