“So you learnt the brat was Maclay’s and kilt the wench.” Calyn’s da spit the words.
“Maclay killed your daughter.” Stephen spoke calmly, refusing to be goaded by the older man. He hoped to get out of the cottage without a fight.
“Says you?” Ciaran joined his da. “The sheriff may see it differently.”
Stephen ignored the veiled threat and held the bairn out to his grandfather.
The man stared at the wee lad with disgust. “I dinnae want Maclay’s bastard. I dinnae want anything born of the slut.”
How could the man be so cold? “So you admit Calyn was with child before the handfasting.”
“Said nae such thing. She was your wife, the bairn is your problem.” The older man cursed under his breath. “More than likely ’tis a changeling.”
“You cannot mean to abandon the wee lad.”
Calyn’s da shoved his sons aside and hurried from the cottage, a hobble to his gait.
“We will seek reprisal for Calyn’s death.” Ciaran raised a fist in the air. “I swear it. We will see you destroyed, MacEwen.”
“Not now. The man is too well-loved by the chief.” The other brother tugged on Ciaran’s arm. “Come. Let us be away from here before we are blamed for any of this.”
Ciaran tossed off the grip and stormed from the cottage, his brother at his heels.
Now what was Stephen to do with the bairn? He glanced at the innocent within his arms. Could he take him to the future too? Would Jillian accept the lad?
She had such a kind heart. A love for bairns. She wouldn’t want the wee one to be deserted in the wood. Nae. But if Jillian refused to accept the lad, Stephen would need raise the child alone. Could he manage?
What if Iain and Patrick cast them out when he arrived with Maclay’s spawn? Nae matter. Stephen would convince Jillian they should raise the bairn as their own, with or without the clan’s approval. That was, if he figured out how to get the lot of them to the future.
Determined the lad shouldn’t pay for the means of his birth, Stephen bundled the bairn for warmth and placed him in the basket then strode out into the cold night air. A waxing moon lit the yard, and he bounded for the darkened area provided by a nearby structure. Once again sticking to the shadows, he stole into the trees where Keita and Duff waited.
Before he secured the bairn to his horse, a large man of tall stature stepped from the gloom cast by a dense fir grove. Stephen froze. The inability to reach for a weapon with the basket in his arms left him at a disadvantage.
“’Tis the man who gave us the pretty garments for Jillian to wear to Castle Lachlan,” Keita blurted.
If he helped them before, perhaps…
The stranger wore black leather and a dark mask covered most of his face. He approached at an unhurried pace, arms hanging loosely at his sides. He might pose a threat. Why wear a mask, if he did not?
“I mean you and the bairns nae harm.” The man stopped a short distance away.
No visible weapons draped the man, but that didn’t mean a blade or thrice weren’t hidden within his garments. The stature of the man seemed familiar, though Stephen couldn’t offer a guess as to why, or from where he recognized him. Maintaining a cautious guard might prove best.
He made quick work of lashing the basket containing the bairn to the horse, keeping the stranger in view while working the hemp.
“Come with me,” the man offered when Stephen finished. “I shall see you and the bairns safely to the future.”
* * *
Caitrina emerged into substance at the well a half-day’s trek from the Caves of the Gray Women. The very spot where Jillian arrived in the past. Excitement surged within Caitrina’s fae breast. Naught remained to stop her from winning the queen’s challenge. Soon, her freedom would be won.
She spun in a circle of bliss. To finally realize her heart’s desire. To once again frolic amongst other faeries in Tir-nan-Og. To enjoy the royal status of a Princess of the Fae.
An unexpected ache over her heart slowed the rotation of joy to a stop. Douglas, her human lover, could never join her in the faerie paradise. She wiped a teardrop from a moist cheek.
She couldn’t think about the loss of her love now. She needed to see Stephen and the bairns through the portal to the future and ensure he and Jillian conceived a child of their own.
Where was Munn anyway? Stephen’s wee party should have arrived here by now.
As if she’d conjured the brownie, he appeared in a whirl of snowflakes, spinning and spinning until the frenzy petered out.
“What took you so long?”
“Not my fault. Took time.” He lowered his gaze, nudged a toe into the mud. “Needed to find the well.”
“And where are the others?” she demanded. “If you have screwed this up on me, I will see you banished to the Sands of Time forever.”
“Gone. Disappeared.”
“Impossible.”
A violent shudder shifting the forest floor forced Caitrina and Munn to collapse to their knees. The ground quaked and split. Smoke fouled the air.
Within the smoldering haze materialized three fae horses carrying Stephen and the bairns and… Dugaid. Oonagh’s son. The Prince of Darkness.
“Danu be damned!” Caitrina rubbed tired eyes, wishing her vision mistaken.
She rose to her feet as the Dark Prince strode forward, his face still masked. He grasped a lock of her hair, twirling the curl around a finger before she had the thought to pull away. The rogue leaned in close and murmured, “Be careful who you curse, princess. The goddess is always watching. As am I. Remember that.”
“You are the one thwarting me.” She pretended to ignore the thrill from his breath teasing her flesh. The ache at her core. “You want me to fail.”
“Nae, lass. I am your champion. Always.” Impassive amber eyes held her gaze for a second. For a minute. For a lifetime. She forgot to breathe and wavered.
A grin displaying perfect white teeth burst onto his face as he supported her weight. She wanted to scratch away that masculine arrogance, but didn’t dare.
Without uttering another word, he released the hold on her hair, set her aright, and turned on a heel, leaving her bereft. The air buzzed with dark magic, the tone shrill to those sensitive to such sounds. She and Munn slammed palms over their ears. With a wave of the prince’s muscular arms, the others traveled forward through the time gate, leaving Caitrina alone with the damn brownie, cursing the prince.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jillian strolled through the product displays in Foxglove’s gift shop, searching for a perfect ornament for the garden she planned to install behind the inn for Mairi. She selected a birdhouse from a table containing avian gifts. Holding the wooden structure in her hands, she smiled. Crimson hollyhocks graced a lime green exterior. It would create quite the picture in a bed of summer blooms.
The crunch of a vehicle’s wheels on gravel grabbed her attention and drew her to the open doorway. Kyle’s yellow Jeep careened into the parking lot. What on earth—
A blond-haired man wearing sunglasses, black jeans, and a black t-shirt slipped out of the truck’s passenger seat, pushed forward the back of the seat, and retrieved…a baby from an infant carrier. When he turned around, she gasped. My God, it was Stephen. And Keita and Duff leaned out from the backseat and waved. They wore twenty-first century clothing, too. How had Kyle found them? Why hadn’t he called to say they were here?
She dropped the birdhouse on the counter, ran through the doorway and across the crushed stone, ready to leap on Stephen, but his hands were full—the baby.
Jillian stopped short, unsure what to think, trying to keep the dismay—inner turmoil—from showing on her face. She attempted to peer into the backseat without appearing too obvious. Had he brought Calyn? “You brought your child. Did you also bring your wife?”
Stephen flinched. “I have much to explain.”
I just bet you do. Before she could offer the retort, Keita and Duff ran from
the other side of the Jeep, rocketing for her, faces bright with exuberance. Jillian threw open her arms to catch them in a three-way hug fest.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured for their ears only.
“’Tis so warm here. ’Twas snowing when we left. Kyle purchased new garments for us so we will fit in and took us to a barn for ice cream…” Keita prattled. “Chocolate ice cream with fudge on top. He said it is your favorite. He said we are going to live in a big house with you and Stephen and we can have ice cream whenever we want.”
Stephen stepped forward and tilted his head to the side, seeming wary, perhaps unsure of his reception. Meanwhile, Kyle sauntered around the front of the Jeep as if he hadn’t just blown Jillian’s world apart with one of those smart bombs. Her brother could have, at the least, warned her about the baby.
“I found them wandering, lost, near the train tunnel on the bike trail,” Kyle said. “Figured they belonged to you. Took them shopping. They cleaned up real nice, don’t you think?” He grinned and Groucho Marxed his brows. “By the way, the hole you fell into is gone. Disappeared. Why do so many weird things happen around you and your friends?”
Jillian snorted. She couldn’t help it. Weird was an understatement. She glanced into Stephen’s eyes and fell into two compelling pools of blue. Lost herself. Why had he returned if he fathered a child with Calyn and couldn’t stay?
“I hope you are happy to see us,” he said, his voice rough.
“Of course. I’ve missed the children and…” Her throat went dry and her voice sounded as gravelly as Stephen’s had. “Thank you for bringing them to me.”
“I ken I owe you explanations. Might we find a quiet place to speak? Just the two of us?” He turned to her brother and held out the baby.
“No way. Not me.” Kyle threw up his hands, palms forward, and backed away.
Duff frowned and rolled his eyes to the side with a tilt to the head. He accepted the child from Stephen and cradled him in the crook of an arm as if he’d done the same many times before. Stephen had a son.
“Keita and I will watch wee Malcolm.” Duff cooed softly to the infant.
“Malcolm,” Jillian repeated. So that was the child’s name.
Stephen winced. “’Tis a long story.”
“Perhaps we all should hear the tale,” Iain said. “A clan meeting in my private chamber in one hour, where you will explain yourself.”
She hadn’t heard Iain’s approach or that of Mairi, Patrick, and Laurie as they joined the gathering in the parking lot. Stephen pursed his lips before giving Iain an abrupt nod.
“Come, Jillian. Let us go to the inn now so we can get these bairns settled and have tea,” Mairi suggested.
“I think whisky may be required this night before the telling is done.” Patrick clapped Stephen on the back. “Glad you managed to return to us, cousin.”
“You may not feel the same after you hear what I have to say.”
Jillian chewed the edge of her lip. What had Stephen done?
* * *
Stephen regrouped with the others in the chamber outside Iain’s study at the inn after putting Keita and Malcolm to bed. Though still young, Duff had become a man during the fight with Maclay and deserved to participate in the clan meeting.
Jillian sat on the other side of the chamber with Laurie and Mairi. Stephen understood her attempts to avoid him—she wouldn’t even look his way—but it had to stop, and before Iain arrived and called the meeting to order. He needed to explain things to her privately before sharing the sordid details with the rest of the clan members present.
“Do you think you can lure Jillian away from the others?” he whispered to the lad leaning against the wall beside him.
With a grin, seemingly pleased to be part of a conspiracy, Duff sauntered across the chamber to Jillian. He said something that Stephen couldn’t hear and the two of them disappeared into the passageway.
Stephen waited a moment then signaled to Patrick his intent to step out of the chamber. With a soft stride, he followed after two of the four people who meant the most to him. He prayed he could keep them in his life after he shared what needed to be said.
Halfway along the passageway, Jillian had stopped and stood alone in front of a closed door. She spun toward him, palm pressed to her breast upon his approach. “You startled me.”
“I did not mean to cause discomfort. Where is the lad?”
She blushed. “He needed to use the um…you know…loo.”
“And I need to speak to you privately. Duff can find his way back to Iain’s study.” He grasped her elbow. Thankfully, she gave a quick nod instead of pulling away and allowed him to escort her to the front of the inn where they found an empty chamber.
Several of those upholstered chairs and wee tables were scattered about the interior. He seated her on a wide chair covered in a pale blue velvet, and knelt before her. When he gazed into her brown eyes, he became mired in his thoughts. How would he explain all that had transpired since they parted?
“I dinnae ken where to begin,” he said.
“The beginning is usually best.”
“I think I would rather tell you the most important thing first. Tell you what is in my heart.” He held one of her delicate hands within both of his palms. “I love you. I wish for you to wed with me.”
“But—”
“The bairn is not mine. Calyn was with child before the forced handfasting. Her father and brothers tricked me. I have never had carnal knowledge of the lass.”
Jillian’s brows scrunched tight. “But the baby. Why then do you have the child?”
“’Tis a long story, as I told Iain. The short of the tale is both parents are dead and Calyn’s family refused to care for the wee lad. They wanted him dropped in the wood as were Keita and Duff. They claim he is a changeling. I am hoping you will accept the bairn and raise him with me as our own.”
Jillian’s face brightened with a tentative smile. “I think I would like that.”
Stephen relaxed back on his heels. He prayed the last bit of the tale wouldn’t change her mind. “There is one other thing you must ken before you agree. Maclay is wee Malcolm’s father—thus the name.”
“I don’t care. I love you, Stephen. I have room enough in my heart for all three children and any others we are fortunate enough to bring into this world.”
He lunged over Jillian, and the chair groaned beneath his added weight. They both laughed. Kissed. Slid to the floor, laughing and kissing and holding each other in a loving embrace filled with hope for the future.
Still, she hadn’t quite agreed to wed with him. “You will be my bride, aye?”
The kiss she planted on his lips and then took deeper was answer enough.
When they realized they’d been gone too long, they rose, and Stephen wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they strolled back along the passageway. He stopped Jillian short of returning to the others. “There is something more, sweetling. Some of the others may not want Maclay’s bairn living amongst them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, they can’t blame the child for the father’s sins.”
“I hope you are right. If you are not, will you consider making a new life with me somewhere else?”
“I will. I love you, Stephen. But let’s pray it doesn’t come to that.”
Stephen gave her a loving squeeze and they entered Iain’s study to find the chief seated behind the large desk with Mairi at his side. Patrick stood in back of a wide chair where Laurie sat next to Duff. Douglas, Finn, and Elspeth had joined the group.
Jillian dropped next to Duff on the wide chair and Stephen took the spot next to Patrick behind his future wife and son. God willing.
“Since everyone is here except Caitrina, who I doubt will join us, let us begin.” Iain inclined his head to Stephen.
“Maclay is dead.” He stated the detail that would be of the most significance to those gathered.
“Are you sure?” Finn slid forward in his chair. �
�I had thought I killed him, but still he lived and continued to harass our people, reiving cattle and plundering villages.”
“My claymore pierced the man’s belly.” Stephen placed a palm on Duff’s shoulder. “And our lad here dealt the final death blow to the head. The bastard will nae longer trouble Clan MacLachlan.”
Everyone started talking at once. Patrick kissed the top of Laurie’s head. He thanked Duff for his part and welcomed the lad to the clan.
When the voices quieted, Iain pinned Stephen with a questioning stare. “We are all relieved to hear of Maclay’s demise, but what of your handfasting to Calyn and your return to us with a bairn?”
Jillian glanced over a shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.
“Calyn’s bairn came too early to be mine, proving her family’s deception and nulling the handfasting.”
“Then why do you have the bairn?”
“The wee lad’s father and mother are both dead. Maclay killed the lass before coming after me at the faerie hill.”
A collective gasp sounded in the chamber.
“Why didn’t you leave Maclay’s spawn with Calyn’s family?”
Stephen raised a brow. “How do you ken the lad is Maclay’s son?”
“Why else would you have named the child Malcolm?”
“Ach, well, Calyn’s father accused the bairn of being a changeling and wanted him dropped in the wood. I could not allow such a loathsome thing to occur.” Stephen swallowed hard hoping he didn’t have to take Jillian away. “Jillian has agreed to wed me, and we will raise wee Malcolm as our own. We understand you may not want him raised amongst your family and we will leave if that is your command.”
“Dinnae be foolish,” Mairi said, rising. “The child is naught but an innocent.”
“Do you agree, Iain?” Stephen asked.
“Aye.” He looked at his son. “Patrick?”
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 20
