Highland Shadows (Beautiful Darkness Series Book 1)

by Baldwin, Lily

  He snarled at the animal, but it did not move.

  Kendrick’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “They’re not werewolves. They are ordinary animals and mean ye no harm.”

  Another wolf came close and then another and another until he was surrounded by wolves. They nosed his arms and nuzzled his face.

  “’Tis no great surprise, but they like ye. They wish to soothe your sorrow,” Cora said.

  Expelling a breath, Alex opened his arms and welcomed the beasts’ comfort. He pet their long, black backs and scratched behind their ears.

  He shook his head as he stared at the animals. “To think, once I believed ordinary wolves alone had ushered in the darkness.”

  Kendrick stood beside him, the length of plaid now tied about his hips. “Ye weren’t entirely wrong. Vampires like Serge brought the wolves, but now many have redeemed themselves, becoming sentinels of the forest. They’ve struggled to keep the shadows at bay, and are, at least in part, responsible for the return of the fairfolk.” He froze then and angled his head toward the trees.

  “I hear it too,” Cora said.

  Alex’s eyes darted between them.

  “We should not tarry,” Kendrick said. “Cora and I are not the only werewolves in the wood.”

  Kendrick knelt then at Jamie’s side. Tears once more flooded his eyes as he unfolded the top of Jamie’s plaid and cloaked his withered face. “Let no one see him this way,” he said.

  Brows drawn, Alex nodded, then bent down, and lifting Jamie into his arms, he started back up the slope. Kendrick followed, but Cora trailed behind.

  When Alex crested the top and disappeared into the forest, she turned expectantly. A familiar, black wolf sat near the far side of the glade. He rose up on his hind legs and expanded into a dark and powerful man. A gust of wind tunneled through the clearing, lifting long, black hair off massive shoulders. Her gaze passed over his chiseled physique before she met his hard, crystal eyes.

  Beautiful and terrifying all at once, Murdock stole her breath. She had to stop herself from racing back to Alex’s side. “Ye saved his life,” she whispered, knowing his keen ears could hear her words even at a distance.

  His face remained impassive. She shifted beneath his scrutiny. Just as she was about to retreat, he dipped his head in a slight bow, then turned away. The muscles in his back and thighs flexed as he walked from the clearing. Once more struck by his sheer strength, she remembered how he had thundered into the glade to protect Alex and had charged Serge’s wolf without fear. A shiver shot up her back. Kendrick was very lucky to be alive.

  CHAPTER 18

  Kendrick’s hand came to rest on Alex’s shoulder. “I am so sorry.”

  Alex shook his head. “No one is sorrier than I,” he said, his eyes resting on Jamie’s withered form. “I never should have let him come.”

  The morning sun peeked above the horizon. Freshly fallen snow gleamed with blinding radiance upon the jagged rocks of the North Minch shore. Alex’s eyes skimmed the water, searching for any sign of the merfolk, but the waves lashed out, striking the coast. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Swallowing hard, he looked at Jamie’s body waiting on the ground to be lift onto the pyre.

  Cora squeezed Alex’s hand. She hated the sorrow clouding his mismatched eyes, but she could not save him from his grief. His drawn face made her heart sink. She knew the agony of losing one so loved, and Jamie had been as dear to Alex as his own flesh and blood.

  She moved past him and knelt by Jamie’s side. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, but she squeezed them shut against the pain. Still, all she could see in her mind’s eye was Jamie’s winsome smile. Wiping at her tears, she drew a deep breath to calm her racing heart and reached down to smooth back his white blond hair—all that remained unspoiled by Emmanuel’s cruel kiss. But when her fingertips landed, a stirring in the air made her hold her breath.

  She listened but heard nothing beyond their beating hearts and the soft wind. She tilted her head back and smelled the air. The scent of Jamie’s wasted body mingled with the crisp snow and pungent sea. Whatever she sensed could not be heard, nor did it carry a scent. Still, it hovered in the air around her, thickening the breeze and filling her heart with dread. Her eyes flew open and she looked hard at Jamie. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his lips. She reached to touch it, but Kendrick’s hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. He leaned close and whispered. “That’s not Jamie’s blood. ‘Tis Emmanuel’s. It has the power to bind you to him. That’s how Serge made me his slave. He forced his blood down my throat.”

  They locked eyes. “’Tis time,” Kendrick said. And then she knew he too had sensed the same disturbance in the air, which grew with every passing second. She could not suppress the sob that tore from her lips when she realized it was Jamie’s soul that stirred. Alex pulled her into his arms.

  “Move away,” Kendrick said, reaching for Jamie.

  “Nay,” she said, pushing past Alex. She pulled Kendrick aside. “We cannot light the pyre. ‘Twill kill him,” she hissed.

  “Jamie is already dead. Whatever stirs within his wasted body isn’t him, not anymore,” Kendrick whispered.

  “’Tis him, at least some part of him remains. I ken it to be so. Promise me,” she said.

  Kendrick’s nostrils flared. She could hear his thundering heart beat. She knew he wished to refuse her, but instead he stepped back and nodded his agreement.

  She hurried back to Jamie’s side and leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. “Hold tight to your goodness,” she whispered. “And go far from here.”

  Then she drew away, allowing Kendrick to lay Jamie on top of the pyre.

  Glancing at Alex’s resigned expression, she knew his human senses had told him nothing of the uncertain fate awaiting his friend. With torch in hand, he stepped forward to light the bottom branches. But she reached out to stop him.

  “Nay,” she said, clasping Alex’s free hand. “Please, ‘tis more than I can bear. Come away with me. Kendrick will see this done. I have not the strength to watch.” She hid her face against his chest.

  Alex crooked his thumb beneath her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. He stared hard into her eyes, then turned and looked with regret at Jamie, but he passed Kendrick the torch and wrapped his strong arms around her. She could feel his anguish.

  “Come, my love,” he said, leading her away from the shore. When they reached the open moor, they turned back to see a towering plume of smoke coiling up to heaven.

  “I would have wished a different end for him,” Alex said.

  Kendrick came up behind them then. “Be careful what ye wish for,” he said, before turning to Cora. “Close your eyes.”

  “Ye can look now.” This time it was Alex who spoke. He stood holding Kendrick’s plaid in his hand, and at his side was the gray wolf. She went over to the great beast, giving him a hard scratch behind the ear. Then she swung a leg over his back. “Come,” she said to Alex. “He wants to take us back over the moors.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed as he eyed Kendrick’s furry back. “Can he carry us both?”

  “Trust me,” she said.

  Alex looked back once more at Jamie. Then he took his seat behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Hold on tight,” she said. “This won’t take long.”

  Snowy hills passed in a blur. Alex felt as though he were flying. He could feel Kendrick’s strange and powerful muscles shift beneath his seat. It felt as if only moments had past when suddenly Sonas came into view. Cora turned away for Kendrick to change back into his human form and cover himself once more in his plaid.

  When they approached the outer wall, the garrison sounded the alarm and soon the bell began to toll. The gate opened, and Kendrick rushed ahead.

  “Aggie,” he shouted.

  Eager for their reunion, Cora grabbed Alex’s hand and raced after. “Hurry.”

  Still teaming with villagers, the courtyard buzzed with word of Kendrick’s return. Cora watched as he
tore through the crowd. And then the door to the keep was thrown open and Aggie rushed out. From the stairs, she shielded her darting eyes against the bright sun and scanned the crowd. Cora froze and held her breath, waiting for their eyes to meet at last. And then it happened.

  “Aggie,” Kendrick cried.

  A sob tore from Aggie’s throat. She collapsed to her knees, her hands pressed to her heart. He bounded up the stairs, his face twisted with desperate need. A breath away now, she rose up and threw her arms wide. He grabbed her and fell onto his back with his Aggie sprawled on top of him, both sobbing. Then their lips met, and the courtyard erupted with cheers.

  Their reunion became a blur as tears flooded Cora’s eyes. She turned and threw her arms around Alex’s neck. He lifted her into the air, and she raised her face to the sunshine.

  “Saints be praised, ye’re alive,” Fergus said as he bounded toward them. But then he froze, his head jerking around. “Where’s Jamie?”

  The smiled disappeared from Alex’s face. He met Fergus’s expectant gaze and shook his head. Fergus’s eyes dropped to the ground. He fisted his hands, his face red with fury. But then sadness overtook his rage, and his shoulders drooped.

  “Have ye told his mother yet?” Fergus said.

  Alex searched the crowd, then squared his shoulders and started across the courtyard. Cora followed after, staying close to his side. She had never met Jamie’s mother, Moira, but knew her straightaway. Her white blond hair framed sparkling blue eyes, and she gave Alex a winsome smile as they drew closer—a smile which Cora knew Alex would not return. Cora’s chest tightened when she felt Jamie’s mother’s heart start to race. She knew. A sob opened Moira’s lips, but the sound remained trapped. Alex rushed forward, catching her just as her legs gave way. Cora turned away from their pain. Both Alex and Moira believed Jamie was dead, but she knew that was only partially true.

  When the sounds of Moira’s suffering began to fade, Cora turned back to see a woman wrap her arm around Moira’s trembling shoulders, leading her from the courtyard. Drawing a deep breath, she returned to Alex’s side. He had begun to move through the clan answering questions, calming fears, and soothing broken hearts, all of which she noticed he did with his head angled to the right.

  “Alex,” she said.

  He looked at her expectantly.

  She rose up on her toes and whispered a reminder. “Not all of our news is ill.”

  Alex furrowed his brow in question, but then he smiled slowly as her meaning became clear. He grabbed her arms. “Ye must tell them with me.”

  Together they climbed the stairs. He raised his hands to silence the people. Cora looked over her shoulder at Aggie and Kendrick who were still locked in a passionate kiss.

  Alex glanced back, too and laughed before turning to address his clan. “We’ll just let them carry on, shall we?”

  Hoots of laughter rang out.

  He raised his hands again, and once more the people grew silent. “I have news,” he said, continuing to angle his head to the right, showing people his unblemished side.

  “Wait,” Cora said. She stepped in front of him, and rose up on the tips of her toes, looking him hard in the eye. “Your love has given me the strength to accept my true self, wolf and all.” She reached up and cupped his cheeks. “Ye listen to me, Alexander MacKenzie, ye yield to no one.”

  He frowned and grew still, but only for a moment. Then he drew a deep breath. The most exquisite woman he could have ever imagined, both inside and out, was staring up at him with pure love in her eyes.

  He nodded and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Thank ye,” he whispered. Then with a smile so wide it made his face ache, he looked his people dead on. “The fairfolk have returned,” he shouted.

  Surprise widened everyone’s eyes the instant before their resounding joy filled the courtyard. Cora threw her arms around his neck.

  “’Tis all because of ye,” he said. “Ye have breathed life back into our world.”

  She shook her head, tracing her finger down his strong jaw. “If it were not for ye, I would still be locked away in a cage of my own making. Ye never gave up on your clan, and ye never gave up on me.”

  “I always knew ye were a soft lass,” he breathed, pulling her flush against him. “Not to mention a woman of untold strength. Thank ye for loving me.”

  She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “I’ve loved ye from the very first moment I made your heart race with desire.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “’Twas love at first sight then, because I have burned for ye since I first laid eyes on ye.” Then he grew serious. “The sun is only going to shine brighter from here on out,” he promised.

  “I know it will,” she said, her heart brimming with faith. “And to the evil that still stands—take heed, for love has taken the power back.” *

  An excerpt from A Jewel in the Vaults (Flights of Love Series, Book 1) http://amzn.to/1bSs8ih

  Prologue

  Paris, France

  June 1782

  “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”~ William Shakespeare, The Tempest

  “Au revoir, salut,” Claudine Doucet said to her fellow actors as she exited the stage and made her way to the back entrance of the Théâtre du Marcais. Her farewell was met with disapproval as the revelers on stage pleaded with her to stay.

  “Ma chérie, tonight was your night. All of Paris drinks to you. Why must you leave? It is not yet morning,” Luc said, peering around the curtain. She hated to disappoint everyone, especially Luc who was the first friend she had made upon her arrival alone in Paris three years before.

  “I am tired, Luc. I wish to stay, but I must rest,” Claudine said as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and bid him goodnight once more.

  She flung open the door and felt the rush of night air on her neck as she stepped onto the Rue de Tourigny. An irrepressible noise akin to a squeal escaped her lips as she flung her neck back and stretched her arms toward the diamond-studded sky. Decorum and the bone stays compressing her torso restricted her display of excitement, but despite outer appearances, waves of exhilaration coursed through her, chasing away her fatigue.

  She had been born the daughter of a clerk in a small provincial town. Three years ago, on the eve of her fifteenth birthday, her father had knelt on the ground near her mattress and brushed a wayward lock of golden hair from her face. He had said God did not make such a beauty as she to remain cloistered among the trees and fields.

  “Mon enfant,” he had said, his eyes wet with tears. “You must go and make your way in this world, for there is nothing here for you. Let Paris witness your beauty. Fall in love. You are fated for happiness—this I do not doubt, mon bijou.” My jewel.

  How she wished her papa could have been in the audience that night. She closed her eyes against the ache which pushed to the fore of her emotions. She had been in Paris not even a month when she received word of his death.

  “Merci, Papa,” she whispered as silent tears coursed down her cheeks. The glory of the evening returned to her, and she relived her debut performance in her mind. When the curtain fell after the final call, she had sunk to her knees and sobbed while applause still thundered from the audience. She had swum in a sea of flowers cast by admirers upon the stage. The dreams of youth had become her reality, and this realization made her heart quake.

  She scanned the narrow cobbled streets rife with pedestrians and carriages. It was the strange hour where night and morning collide. Some of the passersby were dragging their tired bodies home after a long night of work. Others, more fortunate souls, were clad as she in fine silks, and were returning home after an evening spent enjoying the pleasures and excesses permitted their station in life. For many, their day had just begun as they tarried with wagons and baskets of goods or were rushing to take up their places in one of the factories. She glimpsed some rag pickers going through the streets looking for scraps of metal, glass, fabric—anything that might fetch a price. Greasy bags hung from
their shoulders. They were frail, and hunger flooded their eyes with desperate yearning. She grimaced as she turned away, muttering a prayer of gratitude for her blessings. Her hands smoothed her sapphire blue silk gown over her ruffled petticoat before she stepped toward the coach that waited to bring her to her apartment.

  “Bonjour, Mademoiselle.”

  Claudine whirled around to see a tall man step from the shadows into the soft light of the street lamp. His dark eyes, filled with soft warmth, instantly entreated her trust. She felt at ease despite his being a stranger.

  “Pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle, but do you speak English?” he asked. His deep voice surrounded her. She puzzled over his accent.

  “Oui, Monsieur. A little. But you do not sound English.”

  “And for a very good reason. I am Scottish, lass, and you are lovely,” he said before taking her hand. Then he pulled her yellow glove down, sliding the silk off her fingers. His lips grazed her palm, sending currents of warmth drifting through her body.

  Bowing over her hand, he said, “My name is Lord James MacKenzie.” He glanced up at her. “You were magnificent tonight,” he whispered.

  Lord James MacKenzie was tall and grand, dressed impeccably in a rich velvet coat fitted to his broad shoulders, but it was not his fine attire or obvious wealth that led Claudine to accept his offered arm. His eyes laid his soul bare to her, and she lost herself to the possibility of love she glimpsed in their sterling depths.

  Night began its slow retreat while Claudine and James walked along the river Seine. From Pont Neuf they welcomed the new dawn. The cobbles glimmered as the dusky shades of light caught the fine mist, which bathed the roads and bridges.

  In the weeks that followed, it became their practice. James would wait for Claudine every night by the theater’s back entrance, and they would stroll the cobbled streets of Paris until the sun rose and the need for sleep could no longer be denied. With words of love on his lips, it was not long before Claudine welcomed James into her bed, and from that moment on, she belonged to him.