Dawn Marie Hamilton - Highland Gardens

by Just in Time for a Highland Christmas

  The knoll was much the same as on their last visit except for the suspect sparkling lights hovering over the grass and in the branches of the one tree at its center. A tree that wasn’t there the other day. And shouldn’t display leaves at this time of year. He shivered. Unnerved by the knoll’s unpredictable behavior. “Now what?”

  Munn muttered something that sounded like, “Where is the darn faerie?” then marched to the center of the mound. “Stand here.”

  With each step, Archibald felt an unusual pull. A humming in his head. Mist wrapped around his legs, slithering and swirling. When nausea hit, he grabbed Munn’s arm, and they both fell backward, dropping into a black pit. Down, down, down. Faster and faster.

  “What in the—” The words were lost amidst the sound of a howling wind. Please, not the cry of banshees. Harbingers of death.

  They plunged for what seemed like forever. Where would this mad journey end?

  Archibald lost grasp of Munn as they spun, or mayhap the pit was spinning. He didn’t ken which. Colors flashed fitfully. So dizzy he wanted to vomit, he grabbed hold of a beckoning white light and followed it through the mayhem of his mind. Take me to Isobell.

  He shot into a star-filled night sky and tumbled head over heels several times until he hit a barrier that felt like a huge spider web. Stuck like a fly. His skin crawled, panic setting in, but then the thing released him and he drifted to the ground, landing on all fours. Grumpf! Munn landed beside him on his arse with a loud grunt.

  “Did we make it?” Archibald demanded.

  “Nice position, brother mine.”

  Archibald leapt to his feet, fists ready for defense. No risk of attack. His twin stood afore him with a wide grin as if the misery he felt a fine joke. Patrick presented a hand. They grasped forearms as warriors then embraced as brothers of the womb.

  “I was not supposed to travel too,” Munn grumbled. “Caitrina will rage at me.”

  Archibald chuckled along with his brother. Relief made him almost giddy. The Sithichean Sluaigh hadn’t sent him into the fires of hell or some equally horrific place.

  “You can handle her, imp,” Patrick said, distracting Archibald from the uncomfortable thoughts of what could have happened.

  “As glad as I am to see you, I came to find Isobell,” he said.

  “She is here. Safe in the house with Laurie.”

  “Thank the good Lord. Take me to her.”

  “Not yet. We need to talk first. We can go to my study.” Patrick glanced in Munn’s direction. “Come along, wee man.”

  Archibald followed his twin through a gate into a well-tended winter garden and into a massive wooden structure.

  “Welcome to the home I built.” Patrick’s face lit with pride.

  Archibald understood his brother taking pleasure in the dwelling. As they proceeded through several different chambers, he hid an acute curiosity, a desire to learn how things worked, keeping in mind the reason for being here—though he wasn’t sure where here was—to fetch Isobell and return home. Munn had no such compunction, he touched everything in passing until Patrick slapped his fingers and bade him stop.

  They retired to the well-appointed study. Archibald smiled. Patrick had reproduced the study at Castle Lachlan though this chamber displayed even more wealth.

  Patrick stepped to the hearth and withdrew a multifaceted glass flagon, pouring the amber liquid into two matching glasses. “I imagine you could use a whisky. I certainly want one.”

  Archibald collapsed into a chair afore the hearth where a small fire crackled. He took a sip of the offered drink and relished the slow burn in his gut.

  “Just where is here?” he asked.

  “The future.”

  “Ah! Da and Mairi?”

  “Live nearby.”

  “So, Finn told the truth.”

  “Aye.” Patrick nodded, eyes creasing with restrained mirth.

  “Where is the reprobate?”

  His twin laughed. “He and Elspeth are in a foreign place—Africa—visiting with his father, a man who digs in the dirt, searching for ancient relics.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye,” Patrick said. “Old things hold much value in this time. He would enjoy exploring the storage cells at Castle Lachlan.”

  “I had to lock Isobell in one.”

  “I am sure ’twas for her own good.”

  “’Twas.” Still, Archibald felt bad for having imprisoned her, even if it was only for a short time. “I will miss seeing Elspeth and Finn.”

  “They promised to be home by Christmas Eve. Two days from now. The family will want you and Isobell to stay for the festivities, but the gate is fickle, and you must return to your time when you can.”

  Archibald frowned. “Christmas is weeks away yet.”

  “Time sometimes warps when you travel through the gate.”

  “Oh, I see.” He sighed and brushed nervous fingers over the fine wood grain of the chair’s arm. “You told a falsehood when you claimed to be going to France to live. I kept expecting a missive. Then gave up. It hurt to never hear from you.”

  “For that, I am sorry. But you must understand now, my need for secrecy.”

  “I would not have believed you if you had told me the truth.” Archibald leaned forward, hands on knees, and hung his head. He and Isobell didn’t belong in this time and place. They needed to go home where things made sense. He raised his gaze to his brother. “Do you think we will be able to return to our time?”

  “We really dinnae ken the workings of the gate. The fae have some control over it, aye, but destiny seems to be a strong pull too. Da believes if a soul comes here then returns to the past, then they cannot come here again. But I doubt that is an issue for you.”

  “Nae. It is not. I want to take Isobell home where we belong and stay there.”

  * * *

  Isobell strolled down the hall, headed for Patrick’s study. She wanted him to order a few more things from online. She glanced down at her feet and chuckled, loving the furry, leopard print slippers, the black, silky jammie bottoms, and the warm, hot pink hoodie Laurie had procured for her. The door was open so she entered without knocking and stopped dead.

  Archie sat in the chair across from Patrick at the desk.

  How? She wanted to back up, pretend she never entered. Find a hole to hide in. Disappear into mist like Caitrina. Run. Instead she closed a gaping mouth and sat in the empty chair next to her husband.

  He looked good. Handsome. She wanted to reach out and touch his dear face. Oh, good Lord, what should she say?

  Archie stared at her, seemingly also at a loss for words.

  She stole a glance at Patrick. His lips quivered. Damn the man.

  “I shall leave the two of you alone to—” He chuckled, hurried out of the chamber, and closed the door.

  Great. Now what?

  They both started to speak at the same time.

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “You were about to say?”

  “You first.”

  “I would rather you speak first.”

  He nodded gravely. “None of what your father told you about me was true.”

  Was she ready to disclose she kenned the truth? “I may have been hasty to believe him, but the tales were terribly gruesome and his lads corroborated the stories.”

  “Of course they did.” Archibald tilted his head to the side, frowned, and raised his gaze heavenward. “They are your father’s lads. Can you try to trust me? Give me a chance?”

  “Perhaps. I have a confession to make.” Not the one she should make, but if they stayed here, he never needed to ken the full truth of her betrayal. “Your da took me to a place of vast knowledge, a library full of books and other wonders. We read about the progression of the feud through the day I left Scotland. My da lied. I ken the truth.”

  Archie’s relief was tangible. She wanted to hug him, but wasn’t sure if he’d welcome her forwardness. She moistened dry lips “Do you ken what happened to Dealanach
Dubh?”

  He cleared his throat with an awkward grind. “Nae worries, sweetling, your fine steed is probably munching hay in his stall in our stables at this verra moment.”

  Overjoyed, she forgot her insecurity and leapt onto his lap. The chair groaned. She didn’t care if they broke it. Isobell threw her arms around Archie’s neck and kissed him hard on the mouth.

  “Ach, lass, now that is what I call a proper greeting from one’s lady-wife.”

  She had to agree. He felt good. Virile. He smelled good. Fir and fresh air. He wore a clean leine and plaide with nothing else. A thrill ran through her. Patrick looked handsome in his future garments, but Archie was magnificent in traditional Highland garb.

  Isobell wiggled her bum, feeling his desire in all its glory.

  He stood her up abruptly, rose from the chair, and grasped both of her hands, holding them out to the side. With his forehead pressed against hers, he inhaled several quick breaths. Then he leaned back and stared at her.

  She could easily get lost in the depths of his molten, silver eyes.

  “You are much different in these strange garments.” His admiring gaze stroked up and down. “Go and change into proper attire so we can return home.”

  What? “I dinnae want to return to the past. I want to stay here.”

  “Nae!” He growled.

  She pulled away from him. Fisted her hands. “Aye.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Archibald paced the confines of Da’s study. Aye, he was overjoyed to see Da and Mairi, and ken they were safe, but he had what amounted to an insurmountable problem. Isobell didn’t want to return home. She wanted him to stay here in the future.

  Impossible. She was daft. This was no place for them. Their lives were in the past.

  Da sat behind his desk, hands steepled on the polished surface, ever patient. “Have you considered staying?”

  He stopped pacing. “My first duty is to the clan. They need me, especially with Maclay and the renegade Lamont reivers still on the loose.”

  “You make me proud, son.”

  His chest expanded. “Thank you. I am glad you approve.”

  “’Tis a shame, we thought Finn killed Maclay.”

  “Aye. The devil must have only been injured from the fight and from the fall off the cliff. When our lads checked from above, he appeared dead. I am guessing his renegade followers found him and someone nursed him back to health.”

  “You need to woo her.”

  “Who? Isobell? We dinnae have time for such frivolity. You are as daft as she.”

  “Nae. Your courtship was fraught with unpleasantries, dealing with the Lamont and misunderstandings between you and Isobell. You ken a woman wants romance.”

  Archibald ran a hand through his hair. “We dinnae have time for wooing.”

  “If the gate plans to allow you to return, a couple of days will not matter. You cannot force Isobell to go. She must want to join you. Take time to woo her. Convince her to leave with you after Christmas Eve midnight services.”

  “Is this a ploy to get us to stay for the family gathering?”

  Da’s lips quirked. “Of course, we would love to have you both share the holiday meal and festivities with us, but nae, I would not risk the wrath of the faeries or the gate. I firmly believe you need be in accord with your wife or the gate will not work for you. And you will both remain here.”

  Archibald cursed under his breath. He and Isobell were at an impasse. She wanted to stay. He wanted to return home. Perhaps Da was right—

  “Do you ken why she wants to stay?” Da’s question broke into his thoughts.

  “What does it matter? She is my lady-wife. She belongs with me.”

  “I am sure the reason means a great deal to Isobell.”

  Archibald scratched his chin. It probably did. “Ach, well, look at this place. The luxury. I cannot offer such in our time.”

  “I dinnae think it’s about nice things. Have you thought that perhaps she is afraid to go back?”

  “Why would she be afraid?”

  “How much do you ken about her participation in the raids?”

  “She was seen at the scene of the last raid.” He pinned Da with a questioning look. “Raids? You think she has been involved in more than one?”

  He shrugged. “How would you feel to learn she was verra involved?”

  “Do you ken something I dinnae?”

  “I am only suggesting you consider the possibility that she was more involved than you ken and fears your reaction.”

  Archibald dropped into a chair. Why hadn’t he thought of that? If they couldn’t keep her involvement a secret, he might be forced to bring judgment against her, the penalty could be death by hanging. A flogging and a life of laborious servitude at the least.

  The image of Isobell tied to a post, stripped to the waist. Ivory skin exposed to all. Her beautiful hair sheared. A pained flinch and cry when the whip struck. He gripped the armrests of the chair. He couldn’t bear it.

  If that was to be their destiny, they would both be better off if she remained with his family in this future place. “Da, what do you ken? Please tell me.”

  “I have read all the accounts available of reiver activity in the area. I believe Maclay and the Lamont renegades were responsible for the raids against both clans, us and the Lamonts. There is a tale about an unnamed lass who led them. A legend of sorts. Historians question its validity. My guess is that Isobell is the unnamed lass.”

  “She would have never thieved from Lamonts.”

  Da held up a hand. “Agreed. She may have only kenned about and participated in the raids against you and our clan.”

  Archibald shook his head. Could Isobell have hated him so much? Aye. “Isobell was given to believe I led the raids against the Lamonts.”

  “Guessed as much.” Da’s expression turned grim. “What will you do?”

  “Dinnae ken.” Archibald slapped a palm against his thigh.

  “Isobell’s name is not mentioned anywhere connected to the raids in the accounts. Either you struck it from the record or no one ever learned of her involvement.”

  Thank the good Lord. “If what you say is true, if she led the raids, she should be punished. What should I do?”

  “Forgive her.”

  He nodded. Though he wasn’t in full agreement. Her allegiance with her clan was appropriate and she’d believed her actions righteous. Still…

  “Revenge for the sake of revenge is wrong,” he thought aloud.

  “Perhaps you can find a way for her to make amends.”

  Archibald pursed his lips and considered many options and came up with naught.

  “Go and find your wife. Convince her, gently, with tenderness, that she belongs with you in the past.”

  He wasn’t feeling particularly gentle and certainly not tender. Archibald stalked through the back garden, through the woods, and across the meadow to Patrick’s house. Isobell wasn’t in any of the main floor chambers. In frustration, he searched the garden then found her in the glass house working with Laurie, potting plants.

  The glass house was an amazing place. Moist heat kept the plants thriving though the weather outside had turned cold. He wished he could build such a structure at Castle Lachlan. Perhaps his progeny would someday.

  If he left Isobell behind, he wouldn’t have any progeny. No one else could take her place in his heart. Her essence burned in his soul. He needed to learn the truth. “Isobell, may I have a word with you in private?”

  She smiled, put on a jacket, and followed him into the garden.

  “Tell me everything that happened the year you were missing.”

  Her lips curved down. “Can we just forget that time?”

  “Nae. There is much I need to understand.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I have done. You will never forgive me for my betrayal against you. Will you?”

  “I dinnae ken.” He shook his head. “I just dinnae ken.” He pivoted and left her standing in t
he gray garden, looking forlorn. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he couldn’t forgive her.

  He brooded over the circumstances of his life for the remainder of the day and evening, and when he came to a decision, he went in search of Munn. He found the imp in Patrick’s house sitting on the floor playing with the children. His wee niece stood, wobbled, and threw her arms about Archibald’s legs. “Daddy.”

  The one word was like a dagger to the heart. He wanted to be a da. If he left without Isobell that would never be. His younger brother Suibhne would be his heir.

  Fine. He would harden said heart. “Come, Munn. ’Tis time to return to our time.”

  He wouldn’t tell the family he was leaving. They would attempt to stop him. He hoped they’d understand in time. He strode from the house through the courtyard to the back and just beyond the garden gate.

  There was no mist this night. A half-moon shone brightly from a clear night sky. Archibald felt naught unusual as he stepped onto the mound. No fae-like pull of any kind. He glared at Munn, who had followed at his heel. “Make it work.”

  “Cannot.”

  “Why not?” he managed to get the question out through gritted teeth.

  “Will only work when you are ready.”

  “I am ready now.” Though that wasn’t true. All he could think about was Patrick’s daughter hugging his leg and gazing at him through Isobell’s violet eyes. It wasn’t his twin’s daughter he imagined. ’Twas his.

  He couldn’t leave Isobell behind. He must convince her to come home with him.

  Archibald woke the next morning in the chamber assigned to him, after a fitful night, more confused than ever. He had a lady-wife he loved with all his heart no matter the crime she committed against him, which he could easily forgive, and against his clan, which was not so easily forgiven.

  What should he do? He had this one day to find an answer to the dilemma.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Isobell tiptoed to the window. Snow dusted the garden and continued to fall in soft, fluffy flakes. Even being lost in the blizzard hadn’t destroyed her ability to appreciate the beauty. Fresh snow for Christmas Eve morning. A new beginning for Isobell.