She peered up into the night sky, spotting the new moon—just a tiny sliver in the sky—but the only true disappointment she felt right now was over the fact that she had let Callum down and betrayed his trust. The night was so dark that she could barely see his face, but she saw enough to note the dissatisfaction in his steely gaze. To say he was disappointed with her was probably an understatement.
She had saved everything inside that storehouse, except for the building itself and the whiskey, but she didn’t know what to say in her defense, so she said nothing. Seeing how hard these people worked, she realized it wasn’t such a simple matter of going to the liquor store to buy more whiskey or hiring men to put up a storage. She couldn’t even hear anyone breathing. They were all waiting so still to see what Callum would say…what he would do…
“Ach! I leave ye fools but for a summer and what d’ ye do?” a voice hailed from the shadows, shattering the silence.
Annie spun to see the whites of an eye and snowy hair emerging from the darkness, ambling toward the fire with a staff in her hand, a crystal similar to the Winter Stone its claw, glowing softly as she approached. Callum’s kinsmen all parted to let the newcomer into the circle, and as she neared, Annie gasped in surprise.
It was the shopkeeper.
She turned to Annie first and smiled. “Ye did well, lass,” she said.
“At last!” Callum exclaimed, rising from his boulder, and bringing his sword along with him. Annie winced and fell back a step, shifting so that she stood behind the shopkeeper, sensing the woman was someone important here. “Where ha’ ye been, auld woman?”
“I said I would return afore the first snows fell and here I am,” the woman contended, standing her ground as Callum came to stand before her. Annie hadn’t noticed how tiny she was while in her shop—not until now when she confronted Callum. Inconceivably the little woman didn’t seem the least bit afraid of him, despite that Annie wasn’t feeling all that certain any longer, even despite all that had passed between them. The shopkeeper reached an arm out and pushed Annie behind her, as though to defend her.
“Ye know this woman?” Callum asked, but it wasn’t a question. He seemed to sense their connection at once.
“I do,” the shopkeeper confessed. “And well I should. ’Twas me who brought the lass to this vale.”
Callum suddenly shook his fist at her. “At last! Something that makes sense,” he declared, and he re-sheathed his sword.
The woman turned to Annie, bidding her to step forward, along with the crystal. “Ha’ ye discovered the secret of the Winter Stone?” she asked, but Annie somehow knew she already knew the answer to that question. Her one-eyed gaze was entirely unnerving in its astuteness.
Annie shrugged uncertainly, but then she nodded, feeling maybe she did, in fact, know something she hadn’t known yesterday.
The shopkeeper smiled. “They call me Biera, child, and ye’re welcome for bringing ye home. Ye bear the Keeper’s blood. Now come ye here and wield your stone and set the truth free at last.”
Callum was looking at Annie in an all-new way. His gaze wasn’t exactly filled with disappointment anymore. Maybe a bit of surprise.
Biera lifted a wiry brow. “Put your blade away, Callum mac Finn…at least for now.” And she turned to look at Annie, giving her a nod.
Annie’s heart gave a little nervous leap, but she tossed her cloak behind her and lifted up the crystal, looking straight into Callum’s eyes. “I know who may have done it,” she said, and turned and walked straight toward Dunneld, handing him her crystal. Surprised by the gesture, Dunneld accepted it, holding it nervously between them. Her yellow socks on his feet turned orange by its light. “I heard you talking to Fergus,” she prompted, wanting him to confess on his own.
That’s pretty much all it took. Still holding the stone, Dunneld stepped past her, toward Callum. “Ach, Callum! He said it was what needed to be done for the good of all,” Dunneld announced to one and all.
“Lies!” Fergus shouted.
Dunneld continued, as though he had been holding it in for far too long. “I swear I didna know about the crannog!” In his hands, the Winter Stone’s rosy glow remained strong. “I only agreed to help persuade the clan to go. I had naught to do with Finn’s death!”
“Lies! Lies! All lies!” Fergus railed. “You are no’ my son!”
Biera gave Annie a lift of her chin, and Annie rushed forward to seize the stone from Dunneld’s hands. She marched over to Fergus and held it out to him. “Prove yourself,” she challenged.
“I dinna want your bloody rock!” he screamed at her.
The sound of Callum’s blade leaving his scabbard sent a shiver down Annie’s spine. “Take the keek stane,” he directed.
Behind Fergus, the clan gathered around, forming a circle, preventing Fergus’s flight.
Annie’s heart beat ferociously as she lifted up the Winter Stone once more, asking wordlessly for Fergus to take it.
Still he hesitated, his eyes meeting first Biera’s and then scanning the rest of the clan. “What will this prove?” he asked, peering back at Callum. “It’s just a rock!” And with that, he seized the crystal out of Annie’s hands. The rosy color faded instantly at his touch and he threw it away.
Biera’s voice rang out into the night. “One truth told with malice is more damning than a thousand lies!” she sang, her voice carrying through the vale. “Black is the color of fear, and fear is the absence of love and light! Fergus mac Aniel your fear has led you to malice against your own people!”
For a tense moment there was utter silence, and then Fergus said angrily. “Protecting the sons of those bastards is no’ our job!” Now he spoke to the crowd at large, smacking his chest. “We are the sons of kings and this mad crone would have you hide your faces here in this vale! Your bones will rot here and your names be forgotten!”
Clearly tormented to have to speak against his own father, Dunneld spoke up again, his voice gruff with regret. “He convinced Angus to cut the piles and then he murdered him and put him in the loch.”
“Bastard!” Fergus exclaimed. “Ye were never my true son! Ye’re mother was a Sassenach and I knew ye to be a tailard!”
“Seize him!” Callum charged, his tone filled with fury.
Brude was the first to rush forward, seizing Fergus by the arms.
“And you!” Fergus spat at Brude. “You crave this fate no more than I do! Now your seed will wither in your cock and all your sons and daughters will be forgot!”
Brude yanked him violently by the arm, “I wadna kill a mon for my own design—much less my own brother, ye craven bastard! At least ye might ha’ fought Finn like a mon!” Two more came forward to restrain him and together they dragged him away, shouting and spouting obscenities.
Stunned by the ordeal, Annie stood, watching them go, and then Callum was at her side.
“What will you do?” she asked him at once.
“Take his head,” Callum told her, eyeing her neck pointedly. Annie shuddered and he added with a glimmer in his eyes, “Better him than you.”
Biera came to stand beside them, and Callum turned to the priestess, his voice strained with emotion. “I would ha’ believed this from your own lips if you had but told me, Biera. If you knew about Fergus, why di’ ye no’ speak to say so?”
The old woman gave him a sly smile and a lift of her white brow. “Ach, now, ye daft mon…ye know I didna bring the lass to tell ye any o’ this. I only hoped she’d know what to do in my stead when came the time. And ye know in your heart why I brought her…an’ I’ll leave the two o’ ye to glean the rest on yer own.” With that, she walked away, snatching up the Winter Stone and turning toward them only long enough to give Annie a little wink. The crystal lit up Biera’s hand, glowing green as she started up the hillside, toward the caverns—a spring in her step that seemed completely out of sorts with her advanced age. She held the Winter Stone up as she went. “Ye dinna need this to recognize truth,” she imparted.
<
br /> Callum reached out to curl his hand around the back of Annie’s neck. “Ye had your stone and didna go,” he said again. “Could it be ye mean to stay?”
Annie’s smile returned. “Apparently.”
“I love ye, Annie Ross,” he said gently, and then heaved a sigh that made Annie feel loved in a way words alone could never have accomplished.
She knew in her heart this was the right thing to do. She’d felt it deep in her bones, and apparently her legs had known the right path even before her head had figured it out. The instant she’d even thought about Callum coming to harm, she had rushed to his aid. When you got right down to it there was nothing to get back to because home was in the arms of this man who loved her…the only man who had ever loved her, by the look of adoration in his eyes. She recognized it now that she saw it.
Up in the night sky, the new moon was like a heavenly smile, its slim crescent a lopsided grin—one that matched the silly one that lit Callum’s face. “Will ye take me as your husband, Annie Ross?”
“I will,” she said, and returned his embrace, wondering how much she should tell him about where she had come from, if anything. Maybe it was better if he believed she was a faerie, because if in fact his people were destined to vanish from history, then really all that was important was here and now…
“I have a gift for you?” he said.
“Another one?”
“Aye,” he told her. “A blue sack. ’Tis dry now, at last, and ’twill serve ye well from sea to summit.”
Annie smiled, remembering her first words to him, and then she lifted herself on tippy toes to kiss his lips, a gentle kiss that betrayed all the feeling that was in her heart.
“Now,” he said. “About the whiskey ye burned…”
“I’ll learn how to brew more,” she promised.
“Aye, lass, ye will, on the morrow.” And then he took her into his arms and kissed her more soundly, his lips claiming hers with ardor. Annie melted into his embrace.
Absurdly, she thought about Alice and Dorothy. Alice had found her way back through the rabbit hole and Dorothy had clicked her ruby heels. But Annie was perfectly content never going back, because Biera was right: She was already home.
If you enjoyed this book,
try these others by Tanya Anne Crosby...
The Highland Brides
The MacKinnon’s Bride
Lyon’s Gift
On Bended Knee
Lion Heart
Highland Song
Guardians of the Stone
Highland Song
Highland Fire
The Winter Stone
The Medievals
Once Upon a Kiss
Angel Of Fire
Viking’s Prize
The Impostor Series
The Impostor’s Kiss
The Impostor Prince
Single Titles
Happily Ever After
Perfect In My Sight
Sagebrush Bride
Kissed
Novellas
Lady’s Man
Highland Song
Mischief & Mistletoe
Married at Midnight
Romantic Suspense
Speak No Evil
Tell No Lies
Coming fall 2014
Highland Steel
About Tanya
Tanya has written seventeen novels, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including the New York Times and USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor, and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two dogs and two moody cats in northern Michigan.
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MacAlister's Hope
Laurin Wittig
Dedication
This one is for all my wonderful readers who love Wee Fia as much as I do.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to:
Tanya and Glynnis for being brilliant, creative, and fun partners in this endeavor,
Pamela Palmer for always being ready with the other half of my brain,
The incredible collective of strong women/great writers who are the Jewels of Historical Romance,
The Crown Jewels and all my readers who continue to inspire me to spin more stories.
Big hugs to each and every one of you!
Chapter One
The Highlands, 1321
Fia MacLachlan swore under her breath, then tried to remember what it was like to be ten and three. “Mairi, love,” she said to her foster sister, as Fia ground herbs together in her mortar, “you cannot learn herb lore by picking petals off of every dried flower I have in this stillroom.”
Mairi looked at her with dreamy eyes. “What?”
Fia smiled at the girl who was already taller than her, though ’twas not hard to top Fia’s petite height. Sweet Mairi, who she’d known since the day she was born, was swiftly becoming a woman. It made Fia feel old, though she was only ten and nine.
“Sweetling, you need to pay attention to this preparation.” She held the stone mortar up, illuminating it with the light from a lantern that hung down overhead so Mairi could see how powdery the dried herbs had become. “I ken you have the Lamont healing gift, but there are times herbs and prayers can serve just as well.” At least that’s what Mairi’s mum, Elena, had told Fia again and again. Fia wasn’t so sure, but she had promised to train Mairi and she would not break that promise.
“But herb lore is so tedious, and we have you for it anyway. I do not understand why I will ever need it.” She grinned at Fia then and changed the subject. “Did you see Angus smiling at me last night at the evening meal?”
“Aye,” but only because Mairi had been staring at the lad across the entire length of the great hall for the brief time it took him to wolf down his dinner, then bolt from the hall with a pack of other boys. “Your da noticed, too.”
“That must be why Angus hurried away before I was done eating. You ken they used to call Da the Devil, aye? I think he uses that reputation to scare the lads away from me.”
“I remember.” Fia pushed the wayward strands of her pale yellow hair out of her eyes and continued to grind the herbs to an even finer powder. “I used to find him fearsome, too, until your mum showed me what a soft heart he has.”
Mairi giggled. “Aye, he does, especially for his ‘wee lasses’.”
Fia smiled, remembering how proud Mairi’s da was each time another daughter had been brought into the world. He’d held each of his three daughters in the crook of his arm within an hour of her birth, cooing and grinning at each of them while admiring their perfect little fingers and strong grips. The man was besotted with his wife and his children. Fia was, too, and enjoyed taking up her role as something between a big sister and an aunt with the girls. And now ’twas only another month or so before they all would learn if the next bairn would be another daughter, or perhaps, this time, a son.
“Do you think Da approves of Angus?” Mairi said, pulling Fia back from her wandering memories.
Fia could see hope in Mairi’s eyes. She set the mortar down on her worktable and turned to face the girl. “’Tis a bit early to be thinking of such things, is it not? Have you even spoken to the lad?”
“Aye…” she looked down at her feet. “Well, not in a few years.”
Fia reached out and tipped Mairi’s chin up with her finger so the lass had to look at her. “Perhaps that is a good place to start? Talk to him. Find out if you even like the man he is becoming. After you decide for yourself, then will be the time to find out what your da and your mum think of him.”
“You sound just like Mum.” Mairi sighed and returned to plucking petals, watching as each one fluttered to the hard dirt floor. At this rate Fia would have no calendula for her tinctures a
nd salves until late next spring when it bloomed again.
“I shall take that as a fine complement. Your mum is the wisest woman I know. Now, fetch me some fresh water, will you sweetling? When you bring it I shall show you how to make a proper brew, then we shall take it to your mum.”
Mairi took the bucket Fia held out for her and slowly turned to leave the stillroom.
“Do not forget your task!” Fia called after the girl as she slowly walked away, humming quietly.
Fia shook her head and could not help but smile at Mairi’s infatuation. She was a lucky girl, loved by her mum and her da. Safe, even now that the Lamont gift had come to her, for her parents would never let harm near any of their daughters. She was carefree and, so far at least, had never suffered loss, not even the loss of Angus’s potential affections. Fia could easily be envious of Mairi, but she couldn’t help but be happy that the same foster parents who had taken Fia in when she was only five, were raising such a happy brood of daughters.
And someday, not too far in the future, Mairi would turn her attention to her gift. She would work alongside her mum—the niggling thought “if Elena survived the birth” intruded into Fia’s happy vision of the future—learning how to use that gift, and Fia would assist her as best she could, as she assisted Elena now.
But Fia knew she would never be as good a healer as either of them.
The Winter Stone: One Legend, Three Enchanting Novellas Page 10
