by Mary Morgan
Her brother sheathed his sword and motioned for the other guards to lift the giant. “Darren will go with ye to fetch what ye require. Ye can tend to his injuries at Kileburn Castle.”
“I am…nae going there,” she sputtered. “If ye worry about my honor, then let Darren stay behind. Furthermore, I have my sheep to care for.” Erina dared not speak of her recent problems of unlatched gates and missing animals, or it would give her brother more reason to have her come and live with him.
Graham dismissed her with a wave of his hand and walked away. “Darren will return with ye to your cottage to fetch what ye require. And in the morn, I will send two men to bring your sheep inside the keep.” He glanced over his shoulder. “There will be nae argument, Erina. If ye wish to see the man live, then ye can tend to his wounds at Kileburn. Or I can order another to see to his injuries.”
She was not about to leave the wounded man in the care of a healer who insisted on bleeding everyone, regardless of their injuries. Tapping her foot to temper her anger, Erina blurted out, “Dinnae forget my dog, as well.”
“Ye mean that large beast. Aye, he is welcome,” Graham shouted back.
Brushing past Darren, she gave a short whistle and Oberon trotted forth from the trees. Reaching for the horse’s reins, she mounted quickly and took off down the path along the river. It did not take long for her brother’s guard to catch up with her. Keeping her focus on the trail to her cottage, Erina breathed in deeply the cool air and tried to relax her shoulders. Brushing aside the horrific skirmish from earlier, she made a mental list of items to take back with her. The head wound would require comfrey, marigold heads, salves, and clean linen. “He’ll most assuredly awake with a pounding headache,” she whispered, and prayed she had enough willow bark for tea.
As she approached a dip in the path, Erina maneuvered her horse through a thicket of birch trees and descended the hill toward her home. Thane lifted his head and barked in greeting.
Dismounting, she quickly went to her pen of sheep. After making certain all were present, she then ruffled the fur on Thane’s head. “We are taking a journey, my friend,” she said, moving along toward the cottage.
She quickly entered and pulled forth her box of herbs and salves from the wooden cabinet. Reaching for fresh linen and a few more items, she removed her satchel off the large hook on the side and placed the wooden box securely inside.
Darren stood motionless outside her front door, reminding her of the stone statues her brother had described once on his journey to Rome. She rolled her eyes, trying hard not to laugh. Did the guard fear stepping inside? Mayhap her heathen ways offended him. Graham often chided her for not seeking out the church. He once blamed her troubles on her lack of devotion to the Catholic religion. Moreover, she argued that Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth could not agree on which religion was the wisest, which inevitably ended in heated debate about loyalty to the rightful queen.
Approaching the man, she tapped him on the arm. “Ye may take the wooden chest. I shall go change and fetch some clothing to take with me.”
“Aye,” he clipped out.
His stern look frightened her, so Erina smiled to break the tension. “What troubles ye, Darren?”
The man waved his hand outward. “Your brother is correct. Ye should not be living here alone. ’Tis easy for any to take advantage of ye.”
First her brother and now his guard. How many more felt the same at Kileburn? Erina leaned against the door. “I have never feared living here, Darren. This has been my home since I was a wee bairn. Did ye ken I was born in the forest?”
Darren snapped his attention toward her—one of horrified shock. “Nae.”
Arching a brow, she continued, “Och, aye. My mother fled the laird’s home—my father’s, in terror after she sought him out near her birthing. She wished to appeal to him one last time. If the babe was a boy, she requested he take him into his care. When first she told him of her condition, he became furious and banished her. He claimed she enchanted him with lustful images of her body. She left, her heart torn, and sought refuge with my grandmother.” Erina backed away from the door and folded her arms over her chest.
“However, as the months passed, my mother hoped he might have softened his heart. For ye see, it was more than the one time in the laird’s bed, and she truly believe he cared for her. Especially, since he had requested only her after his wife’s sudden death. Against my grandmother’s wishes, my mother went to see him. His mood had not lessened over time, and he beat my mother. In pain and grief, she could not make it back to my grandmother. Giving birth beside an old oak, my mother wrapped me in her frayed plaid and took her last breath.”
“Sweet Mother Mary,” muttered Darren, raking a hand through his hair.
“Aye, I believe Mother Mary and the Goddess Brigid were there, since I lay in my dead mother’s arms for two days. If not for my grandmother searching for my mother, I would have been food for the wolves. So ye see, Darren, why I have nae yearning to live at Kileburn. My grandmother recanted the tale to me only once, but it was enough to put the fear of the place into my verra bones.”
He straightened and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “By my honor, all shall welcome ye at Kileburn, or suffer the wrath of my blade.”
A smile curved her lips, and she quickly turned from his intense stare. “Have nae worries. I have nae plans on staying long at my brother’s home. Once the giant awakens and is in good health, I shall take my leave.”
No sooner did she utter the words than a fierce wind slapped at her face, taunting her. Dead leaves swirled in the air, and she tried to sense their meaning. Out of all death comes rebirth. Would the injured man die? She glanced down at her hands. What if she caused him grave harm? Yet, the omen could be for her. Did the ancients mock her words? Once inside the castle, would she be trapped inside the cold stones of Kileburn, only to have her brother marry her off to a neighboring clansman?
Ignoring the fear and sudden doubts, Erina made her way back inside the cottage, silently making a vow she would stay no more than five days at Kileburn.
****
Jumbled images flashed through Rory’s mind, and he tried to separate one from the next. Laughter, rich and warm, coursed through his veins, followed by violent screams. A kaleidoscope of the past unfolded in a blur, yet, he was unable to grasp them for long. They eluded him, like a feather on the wind. Only one vision remained fixed within his mind. Erina walking toward him before someone bashed him over the head.
Her beauty undid him, and he found himself spellbound. How could he forget such loveliness? In truth, he had not. He had merely kept it hidden, tucked away, safeguarded. And when she stepped into his view, the world could have dissolved and Rory would have never noticed. He remained rooted within the trees, as if seeing her for the first time.
Nonetheless, he tried to grasp a fragment of another time—their first encounter. And it did not begin in the woods.
The more he attempted to sort the order of their past, the more the pain intensified. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the shadows that teased him on the outer reaches of his mind. What was wrong with him? Groaning, he rolled over onto his side—trying to open his eyes.
“Shh…” Her soothing voice brushed against his face.
Soft fingers traced along his forehead, and Rory flinched. As he fought the deep abyss, he grasped her hand and opened his eyes, squinting in the soft daylight streaming inside the chamber. Shimmering pale blue eyes stared at him. She tugged at his firm hold, and he released her hand.
Her steps swiftly crossed the room.
“My apologies,” he muttered as he made an effort to sit up. The room spun, but Rory managed to settle his feet on the cold floor and braced his arms on the bed. “Where am I?”
“Ye are in my brother’s home,” she replied, wringing out a cloth in the basin.
Kileburn Castle? How could this be? Not once did he visit the keep. During his time with Erina, her brother had been aw
ay in the northern Highlands, and they never ventured near his home. “Does your brother have a name?” Though he knew the answer before she spoke.
“Graham MacIntyre, Laird of Kileburn,” she responded. Moving to his side, she surprised Rory by placing the cool cloth on the back of his neck.
The scent of rosemary and lavender filled him, and his heart beat rapidly with her nearness. Gone was the torn, dirtied, and bloody gown he recalled earlier. It was replaced by a tawny material with hues of gold, which accentuated the vibrant colors of her rich auburn hair. The gown clung to her in places he had long buried within his mind. They returned with a vengeance—memories of their lovemaking under the night sky and another that was spent by the river near her cottage. He had traced his tongue over every inch of her body. Aye, those he could summon, but the other memories were fragmented, elusive. Her fingers deftly examined the back of his head, and he fought his growing lust by digging his hands into the furs on the bed.
“Ye are healing faster than I would have thought,” she declared, continuing with her examination. She leaned back and eyed him with curiosity.
“Or perhaps it is the skill of a good healer,” he uttered softly. When he noticed the fading bruises on her face, his anger surfaced. Rory reached out and gently traced a path along her cheekbone with his fingers. “Who dared to touch ye?”
Erina grimaced. “Vile men, intent on having their way. Thankfully, my brother and his guards arrived. Graham banished them by sending them on a pilgrimage to the North—minus supplies and horses.”
“I would have beheaded them.”
She smiled, and his heart stopped. “Would ye? And what is your name?”
He leashed his inner beast, although, he longed to kill the men who had hurt his Erina. “Rory…Rory MacGregor. And who do I have to thank for tending to my injuries?”
Arching a brow, she responded, “Erina.”
Reaching for her hand, Rory lifted it to his lips, his gaze never wavering from hers. “My thanks, Lady Erina.”
Her mouth parted, and her eyes widened. “Only…Erina,” she murmured.
Rory ached to pull her onto the bed. To feast on her tempting body and sate appetites from long ago. A blush stained her neck, and he knew how far it extended. Slowly and with great effort, he released her hand.
Removing the cloth from behind his neck, she walked back to the table, folded the item, and placed it beside the bowl. “I shall have someone bring ye some broth and bread. I assume ye will want to continue on your journey come the morning.”
“And wine,” he added.
“Nae, willow bark tea and honey.” Erina moved toward the door.
“Wine would help ease the pain,” he argued.
Erina turned around. “Humph! Not according to my healing practices. And ye are in my care until ye venture out of Kileburn.”
Curious, he asked, “How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days,” she answered.
Blessed Danu! He’d slept soundly without the dreams. But why so long?
“Now ye can understand why I cannot fathom your wound healing so quickly. I was worried when ye did not wake. Aye, Darren has strength, but ye should have awakened within hours, or even a day.”
She shook her lovely head. “I feared I would have to break my vow and remain longer.”
“Vow?” he asked in amusement.
She bit her lower lip. “I had nae desire to stay here any longer than five days.”
Rory leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees. “Why, may I ask? Are ye not welcome in your brother’s home?”
Erina glanced swiftly around the room and a frown marred her features. “This is not my home, and the sooner I depart, the better for everyone. Though, my brother would rather see me safely hidden within the walls.”
In all their time together, Erina never mentioned her dislike for the place. And she spoke little about her brother. Was it possible she feared him? “Are there nae healers here?”
Her smile lit up her entire face, banishing the sorrow. “My brother trusts only me and another. However, Brother Michael is away in Edinburgh. Though I do hear he is returning soon.”
She turned to leave and then paused. “I am happy to see ye are awake and healing. If our paths dinnae cross again, I wish ye a safe journey.”
Stunned by her words, Rory stared at her retreating form, wishing he could stay far away from the enchanting Erina MacIntyre.
Raking a hand through his hair, Rory made to stand. Dizziness plagued him, but he would not spend another moment lying vertical. Questions continued to surface as he slowly made his way across the chamber to the arched window. His chief concern was the timeline. Something went horrifically wrong. Did he enter too soon? Or too late?
Uncertainty taunted the warrior. Decades of training had not prepared him for an alteration in the timeline. No! He was the one to set the events in order.
Duty demanded Rory return to the Brotherhood, and desire beckoned him to remain and see where the path would lead.
A choice. Another chance to save the woman he loved. Yet, this time, he’d seal off his emotions from the siren who tempted his soul. Fates be damned. If they saw fit to send him to a new dimension within the loom of Erina’s life, so be it. Rory no longer cared about the risks involved. None of this was his doing. Did they not order him to return and mend the wound within his soul?
And this time, Rory would do all in his power to see Erina live. Nonetheless, he must determine the month. Convinced he’d arrived in the correct year, he had to obtain the month. His length of stay determined with the necessary information. His initial time in Lindane consisted of a mere three months.
He prayed his presence here would be short.
Rory leaned against the cool stone wall. “We did not meet in the woods, Erina MacIntyre, therefore, ye are safe from my charms. Pressing his palm over his heart, he tried to ease the pain of their first meeting—one that unfolded in glorious details.
“For the love of the Goddess, stop your barking, Thane. I have nae wish to scare all the fish away.”
The animal kept glancing at him and back at his mistress.
Rory chuckled softly while he continued to watch the beguiling lass near the banks of the river. Standing barefoot on a smooth rock, she attempted to harness a fish to her rod. She had taken a portion of her gown and tucked it inside her belt, exposing a fair amount of her shapely legs.
He found her to be intriguing as she continued her attempt at catching a fish. Unable to stop himself, Rory stepped forward from the pine trees and caught the attention of her dog.
A low growl ensued from the animal, and Rory halted his stride. The deerhound posed no threat, considering his age, and he knew him to be blind in one eye. He reached out to the animal within his mind, but was rewarded with a sharp bark.
“For the love of Mother Danu, what now?” Erina shifted her stance to glance over her shoulder. Her mouth gaped open and then losing her grip, the rod slipped into the river. “Bloody hell!”
“Do ye not think it wise to fetch your rod from the water?” asked Rory, arching a brow at her language.
She turned her back on him. “Ye should, since ye were the cause of my misstep.”
Rory crouched down on one knee. “What do ye think, Thane?”
The dog gave a bark and then dashed over to edge of the river.
Standing, Rory smiled. “Then I shall retrieve the lady’s fishing rod.”
Erina let out an unladylike snort, but continued to keep her back to him.
Stripping free from his plaid, Rory hesitated on removing his linen shirt. Unsure of what the lass’s reaction to the tattoos covering his upper body might be, he deemed it best to keep it on. Instead, he opted for taking off his trews. He despised wearing them anyway. The material was too confining in this century. Tossing them aside, he strode toward the river’s edge and removed his boots.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the water, Rory bent down. Thane took his place besid
e him, and he gently ruffled the fur on his head. “Watch and learn,” he whispered to the animal.
Taking two fingers, he dipped them forth and swirled them around.
“Is it too cold for ye?” she teased, looking at him over her shoulder.
He gave her a sideways glance and then stood. “I had to warm it a wee bit.”
“Ye daft man.”
Ignoring her comment, he dove into the river, and heard her gasp. Opening his Fae senses, Rory instantly spotted the rod buried at the bottom. He quickly retrieved the object, and swam to the surface.
Her face lit up in the most glorious smile Rory had ever seen on a human.
“Ye are my hero, my knight!” Clasping her hands together in glee, Erina slipped on the stone and fell head first into the water.
Dropping the rod, Rory dove back under. Bringing her into his arms, he cradled her against his chest and brought her to the surface. Erina gasped for air, sputtering out water and wrapped her arms around his neck. He gently brought her to the side of the river where they could stand.
“Can…cannot swim. How can I thank ye?”
Rory was helpless. Desire drummed into every cell of his body. He longed to lick the water from her berry-red lips. To tease his tongue inside the warmth of her mouth and give her pleasure.
“A kiss from the maiden?” he asked in a low voice.
Her lips parted, and he feared her response.
Slowly, she brought his head down and Erina placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank ye, Sir Knight.”
As she leaned back, she gave him another one of her radiant smiles, and his soul was lost to Erina MacIntyre.
Letting out a curse, Rory shoved the agonizing memory away. It was lost among the stars—a fragmented piece of history that would never befall either of them again.
Chapter Seven
“If a Fae dreams, he risks the danger of walking between the realm of reality and hidden dimensions—lost forever in a cavern of bleak despair.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
