Through Time-Pursuit

by Conn, Claudy

  For a few moments all three were busy eating their meals and sipping their drinks. Royce finally gave up thinking about how many women Chance had probably had. Instead, she busied herself with lathering ketchup onto her chips and then licked the ketchup off before she ate one.

  It was then that Chance put his drink down and watched her eat with an odd look in his eyes. Suddenly he got their attention with, “Well then, ’tis time ye knew that the Fallen Druid wasn’t always evil.”

  Royce plopped a chip in her mouth and motioned with her hand for him to continue. Trevor knew better and sat back to wait.

  Chance didn’t smile as he added, “His woman was taken by a neighboring clan—thugs they were. The leader of that clan wanted her and took her by force—raped her. She was a frail thing and thought she had brought shame to her husband. She killed herself.”

  “Oh … how awful,” Royce said in a hushed voice.

  “Aye then, all that was done before he could conjure enough white magic to save her—to get into their stronghold, which had been protected by black magic. I doona know if ye ken what it is for a man to know his woman is being … hurt and not be able to save her. And then, by her own hand, she was gone. She was the one woman in all the world that he adored, and his thoughts turned dark.” Chance shook his head. “I knew him then—we were friends of a sort. I … understood him.” He shrugged and took a long gulp of his Guinness. “He lost all semblance of himself. He went on a killing spree using black magic, and it sucked him in deeper each day as he put that clan, one by one, to death.”

  Trevor said quietly, “I can feel what he felt …”

  “Of course ye can, but that is just it—black magic plays on that, draws ye in, and then owns ye.” He took a moment, and both Trevor and Royce waited until he started again. “As it happens there is a clan—a good clan, the MacCleans—dear friends to your Fae Prince Breslyn, who decided he posed a threat to them. They requested Breslyn’s help to defeat him and end the Fallen Druid’s tormented life.”

  “Yes, but Breslyn is a Fae—we don’t kill humans …” Trevor frowned.

  “No, but he trained his friends the MacCleans. He showed them how they might be able to defeat the black magic the Fallen Druid lived by, and once that black sorcery was defeated, it was the MacCleans that would do the rest.”

  “Sad … all sad …” Royce whispered.

  “Aye, considering what the man suffered, but necessary in the end, for he lost sight of the innocents.” Chance leaned back against his hardwood chair.

  “And this Peckering—how did he have it?” Royce asked.

  “You should know this. It is a part of Fae history. The Peckering is a Hallow with powers of Light and Dark. It had been given to the Fallen Druid’s ancestors to keep safe for the Seelie Queen when it appeared the Dark King might use time in a manner that might cause … problems. However, the Fallen Druid used the Peckering unwisely to gain Dark powers before he died. It was not meant to be used in such a pattern, and in the end, unable to make it do what he wished, he hid it away. It was never found.”

  “Why have I never heard this story?” Trevor asked, shaking his head. He looked around and saw the waitress, who winked at him. He frowned and said, “Don’t bother calling on her. I’ll just get us three more pints from the bar.”

  “Hmm, and some cheese, Trevor …” Royce called after him and turned back to Chance. “I don’t know how we are supposed to find something that has been missing for centuries.”

  He took a chip off her plate, dipped it generously in ketchup, and put it to her lips. “I noticed you like a bottle of ketchup with your chips …” He smiled.

  Bold—he was always so bold.

  Outrageous, considering that he knew she was still annoyed with him.

  Just what did he think he was doing? Was he flirting with her?

  She allowed him to feed her, accepting the challenge. Without hesitation she slowly, suggestively sucked the chip into her mouth, and her eyes never wavered from his oh so blue, deep blues.

  What she saw in the depths of his eyes sent a shiver through her.

  * * *

  Chance silently berated himself. He was letting this Fae beauty get to him. He was walking around with a damn hard-on all the time, and just now when he looked into her eyes, he thought he might go off! What was wrong with him? He wasn’t a youth to be so shaken by a beauty! He had been with more beautiful women than he even wanted to think about, but this wee lass, this Seelie Fae did something to his insides. He found himself thinking about her when she wasn’t near. He found himself hanging on every word she said, and when he saw that young lad … touch her, he couldn’t believe the jealousy that came over him.

  This was madness, he told himself; he just coona get so involved. It would never work. The lass wasn’t the sort to kiss and walk away. She was a forever type. He could feel her aura, and it was one that nested and took all matters of romance in a serious vein. He wasn’t serious.

  He had never been serious about love and romance, and he damn well wasn’t going to start now. Och no, that wasn’t what he had in mind with any one woman. He liked them all too much to give up any for one. No … no, och no, but … there were times, like now when her voice whispered in his head, that he thought …

  Bloody hell! Devil take him for a fool. He dinna want to set up house—whist no!

  But then she laughed, and it went through him. Her sparkling eyes looked so openly up at him, and he wanted so badly to kiss her!

  He wanted to undress her, touch her, and hell and brimstone—he wanted to ram his rock-hard dick into her and savor her in every imaginable way. Aye, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman before her.

  He had to keep her at a distance—aye, that was the trick of it. He turned and looked at Trevor, who slid three pints across the table. Trevor was so young, and it had appeared he had been willing to give up his forever for Lana …

  What made a man want to do that? And the answer giggled across the table as she teased Trevor. Then her eyes met his, and Chance had to remind himself to breathe. What the hell was he going to do?

  She laughed with innocent abandon and hadn’t a notion what she did to a man like him … how she filled a man with lust. He looked at her full breasts and the nipples that protruded from her cotton top. He wanted to touch her breasts and lick those hard rosebuds. Och no, but her mouth … Bloody hell, he had to stop!

  If he dinna get this under control, he would be lost to her, and he so dinna want to hurt the lass … och no, and that was how it would all end, for eventually he would move on … that was what he always did.

  * * *

  Royce knew she was suffering more than what her humans would call ‘puppy love’. Oh yes, it was her first infatuation … well, perhaps not her first; she had thought she was in love with Breslyn for a time when she was younger …

  But this, this was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She was nearly consumed with ‘feelings’ for him. She desired him with every fiber of her being. She had no experience in the bedroom and wished now she had listened to Breslyn’s sister and had taken a lover or two. She was determined to get into Chance’s bed, and she so wanted to please him.

  She sighed. What did she know besides what her friends had described? Well, that was quite a bit actually. Oh, what was she thinking? This had to stop. Look at him, she told herself: he was big, he was absolutely smokin’ hot, he would take her and take her and make her love him, and then he would move on …

  He wasn’t the sort to stay. Would she survive his departure? Would it ruin her for all time?

  “So what do we do next?” Trevor asked.

  “Huh?” She came out of her reverie and frowned.

  “The Peckering? How do we go about finding it?”

  “We go to the Highlands,” Chance said, giving them both a slight smirk before he downed his remaining beer.

  “Why the Highlands?” Royce asked.

  “Because the castle still
remains where it has always been,” he answered quietly.

  “His castle?” Trevor looked surprised. “So then he had family that inherited and carried on?”

  “Aye, that he did. He didn’t have a direct descendent, but he had a brother, and the Druid line prospered.”

  “So what is the name of the clan?” Royce asked curiously.

  “MacBathe, and when we tell them you both may be able to find the Peckering, which I believe is hidden away in their castle, they will help us find it.”

  “Well, then what are we waiting for?” Trevor said, ready to move even though he hadn’t finished his beer.

  Chance looked at Royce. “M’princess has to finish her chips …”

  * * *

  She did—she hurriedly gobbled what was left of her double order of chips—but when he had called her ‘his princess’ something inside her turned into mush.

  She told herself to be honest and admit that whenever he called her ‘his anything’ she felt a rush of heat. Love? Was that love or infatuation?

  She wasn’t sure; she only knew it was definitely ‘something’.

  He took her hand, and she pulled it out of his grasp. “No—you take too much for granted.”

  He frowned. “I doona know what ye mean, lass.”

  “Well, for one thing. I am a part of your team, but I am also independent. I am fully capable of taking care of myself. I don’t like the way you came down on that young American tourist. He was only tipsy … meant no harm, and I am quite used to taking of situations like that,” she said as Trevor went to pay their bill.

  “Are ye now, but here is the thing, lass. I doona like anyone putting their hands on ye.”

  “Why?”

  “Because ye are under m’protection while ye are a part of our team,” he answered simply.

  She felt as though someone had just pricked a hole in her and all the air inside her body was being sucked out! “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Well, you don’t have to go that far. Perhaps I wanted to stop and chat up those men!”

  “Did ye now …?” he said, looking stormy. “Better think twice then—do ye want to chat up silly young men or accomplish yer mission?”

  She gave him a cold look and a cold shoulder as she walked towards Trevor.

  Trevor opened the door for her, and she stepped out, but even as Chance took her hand against her will, the clouds opened up and they were drenched before he could shift them off.

  Grinning, Chance looked her over, bent, and whispered in her ear, “You look lovely in the rain.” He paused as she tried unsuccessfully to pull her hand out of his grip, which only served to send her jacket askew and give him a full view of her wet top, and then added, “… with your clothes soaking wet against yer body …”

  Before she could respond, he put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder and shifted them to the Highlands of Scotland, which, as it happened, was also having a downpour.

  * * *

  They stood on the stone front patio of an enormous castle, and Royce grimaced at Chance and said, “You think you could have shifted us inside?”

  “That would have been rude.” His blue eyes twinkled as he looked her over and smirked.

  As he pounded on the huge brass knocker, she mumbled, “Yeah, like you would care.”

  He chuckled and started to bang on the huge oak door with his fist.

  She took a moment to look around at the architecture. She could see that it dated back to ancient times, and although it had been obviously renovated and restored, the family had maintained its original lines, its turrets, peaks and battlements. She said softly, “Magnificent.”

  He shot her a quick appreciative look and said, “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh take a break from yourself,” she retorted.

  “Would you two give it up?” Trevor complained.

  A young serving maid in a black skirt, white blouse, and a white apron appeared. She was not unattractive, and when she looked at Chance her stern expression changed. Royce thought that the tenor of her voice was invitingly husky as she asked, “Yes … may I help ye?”

  “Here to see his lordship,” said Chance, smiling softly at her.

  The woman appeared as though she was ready to melt into Chance’s arms, which supremely irritated Royce. However, there was nothing she could do. She folded her arms across her midriff and said, “It is pouring rain out here—do you think you could invite us in and out of the weather?”

  “Oh … oh … yes, of course,” said the maid, who stood aside and allowed the three to enter.

  “Now …” Chance murmured to the maid, “could you announce us to his lordship?”

  “Is he expecting ye?”

  “No, he isn’t, but he will be glad to see me all the same,” Chance answered confidently.

  “Well, then—of course.” She spoke only to Chance, glanced warmly at Trevor, and acted as though Royce didn’t exist. “Who shall I say …?”

  However, the lord of the manor was already taking long, hard strides towards them, his arms opened wide. He barked a hearty laugh, clasped Chance around his chest, and shook him as best as he was able.

  “Ye ole dog—why dinna ye tell me ye were cooming?”

  “Dinna know.” Chance turned to his companions and only introduced them by their given names. However, after a moment he said, “Aye then, I see ye know just what my companions be.”

  His lordship studied Royce for only a moment, time enough for her to return his scrutiny with one of her own. He was elderly, but he was still a mountain of a Scotsman and obviously fit. He had a ruddy, manly face, not quite handsome and yet attractive. His hair was white, and he wore it slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. She guessed he was in human years nearing sixty.

  His hazel eyes glittered appreciatively when he walked towards Royce. He smiled sweetly and said, “May I?” as he pointed at the gold torque at her neck.

  She nodded, and he touched it thoughtfully before he remarked, “Well now, Chance, what have ye brought me—not only a beauty, but a Seelie princess.”

  Even though the maid had left them earlier, Chance frowned and said, “Best be talked about in private.”

  “Yes, yes … where are m’manners … coom …” He led them down the corridor to a set of double doors that he opened wide. Inside a fire blazed and a large manuscript lay open on his desk.

  Royce had already blinked herself dry, but the fire was inviting, and she went right to it and spread out her hands.

  Lord MacBathe glanced from her to Chance. Then he looked at Trevor, who had gone to take a stand beside Royce.

  “I have not entertained a Seelie Fae in my home for some years. And now—a prince and a princess … from different Houses.” He nodded towards Trevor and added, “He isn’t comfortable in the company of humans, but she … quite a different story, eh?”

  Chance sighed. “Aye, she is that and more than ye have time to hear.”

  “Right then,” said his lordship, moving over to a cupboard and producing glasses. “What would ye be drinking, wee Princess?”

  Royce turned to him and smiled. “Do you have blackberry brandy? I am partial to it.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said softly. “Your queen is partial to it as well.”

  She left the fire and walked right over to him, surprise filling her mind. “My queen visits with you?”

  “From time to time,” he said, and his bushy eyebrows drew together as he looked away. He poured her libation and handed it to her. He glanced towards Trevor. “And you, young Prince?”

  It was clear Trevor was sincerely out of his comfort zone. He did not deal with humans in general, and Royce suspected he was confused—as was she—at MacBathe knowing they were Fae. He put up his hands and said, “I’ll have whatever Chance is having.”

  “Aye … so shall I,” MacBathe answered. Without asking Chance what it was he wanted, he took out a bottle out and poured.

  Chance raised his glass and said w
ith a grin, “To ye, Doug MacBathe. Nothing gets by ye, does it?”

  “Not much, but tell me, do … what brought you to me now?”

  Royce watched the two old friends as she sipped her blackberry brandy. They were easy with each other, and she wondered what their backstory was. Trevor leaned into her and said, “What do you think, Red?”

  “I think he is just the man to have on our side, don’t you?”

  “Well, for a human, I suppose. He is at least a Druid high priest …” Trevor answered thoughtfully.

  Royce rolled her eyes. “Trev …” she objected.

  Chance spoke quickly, bringing MacBathe up to date, and his lordship held both of the Milesian’s shoulders and squeezed as he expressed his sympathy for the loss of Chance’s sister.

  “Aye … it will never be the same without her … and m’da … he is just so broken up.”

  “And ye, ye want yer ounce of blood?” MacBathe said on a sigh.

  “Och aye, but an ounce—nooo, I want to drain him.”

  “Right, but tell me more and how I can help.”

  “In a nutshell all wrapped up for ye, Doug, the Dark Prince Pestale is still on the loose and using black magic to try and get through the time barrier,” Chance said grimly. “And ye can only imagine why.”

  “Impossible! Queen Aaibhe mentioned that something is off … and that even she can’t get through.” His lordship snorted.

  “So I’ve been told, and yet the bastard has created a dimension he calls the ‘in between’, which is just that. We doona know which way he means to travel—to the past or the future—but we have to stop him.”

  “Aye, but black magic as I know it can only take him to the past,” MacBathe said thoughtfully as he pulled at his lower lip.

  “Worrisome … and as of now, there is only one object that can help us stop him,” Chance answered.

  “And that is where I come in. What object?” MacBathe came right to the point.

  “The Peckering,” said Chance.

  “Ah, the Peckering—well, well. I had long forgotten about that Hallow and my despicable ancestor.” He sighed heavily and added, “I am afraid my ancestor took the secret of its location with him to the grave … I doona know where it could be.”