The spark of love started deep inside her womb and spread to her extremities. Her mouth grew dry. Rubbing her damp palms down her apron, she crossed the grassy area, and headed to the castle.
Her brother’s plan to capture the sorcerer out in the open was flawed, but he never listened to her. The sorcerer crept through dark places, and attacked when least expected, with one thing on his mind.
“The destruction of my family.”
“Truth and consequences,” a deep voice said.
Skye spun to face its owner. Words wrapped in anger had caught her unaware.
Again.
“Kirk, ye scared me.” Alert one moment, and relieved the next, she glared up at her brother.
“Ye look lost, and alone with yer thoughts.”
“And yet here ye are, disturbing me.”
“I am angry with the blacksmith. When he touches ye, when he presses his lips against what is destined for another, when he fills yer head with irrational thoughts, yer vulnerability condemns ye.”
Skye’s shoulders sagged. What her brother said was true, which meant she had done a poor job of hiding her plans from him. Then she recalled odd words.
“Who says I am destined for another?”
Kirk hesitated.
Skye bristled. Whatever was on his mind would upset her, as had his actions years ago, when he introduced her to Lethan. “Tell me what ye have done.”
“I have begun talks with the MacGregor laird. His son is looking for a wife, so—”
“Nay! How could ye? I doona’ want to marry again.”
Kirk grabbed her upper arm, and shook her. “Ye must marry, Skye. Yer castle and holdings need a man to—”
“Let her go.”
CHAPTER 28
Kirk and Skye stood perfectly still, and stared in unison at the angry expression on Jake’s face. His slightly bent knees, in battle stance, added to his fierceness. Skye checked his hand for a weapon, as she worried for Kirk’s safety.
“Stay out of this, Highlander.” Kirk said, releasing her.
“I am not—”
“Aye, yer reluctance to answer to the title shows yer true nature, “Kirk said, sneering. “Yer a coward and—”
Jake threw himself on Kirk.
They hit the ground in a rolling mass of muscle, and flapping plaid.
Kirk shoved him off, jumped to his feet, and glared first at her and then at Jake.
Jake kneeled, then stood. Shaking, he spit blood into the grass, “And you like to force women to do things against their will. Will you physically hurt her next?”
“Jake, stay out of this. I can handle my brother. He willna’ control me again.”
“Skye—”
“I mean what I say.”
Without waiting for their responses, she stormed off. Muttering curses coarse enough to make a warrior blush, she crossed the bridge and entered the castle bailey. Ignoring the smoking remains of the stable, and the shadowy alleyway where she had tangled with the sorcerer, she ran up the steps and into the great room.
Lady Fia had decided against joining the others at the festivities and must have fallen asleep in the Laird’s great chair. She looked uncomfortable, with her bulging belly and her usual bun, undone. The golden hair in disarray made her appear childlike, far from her former status as the niece of the Keith laird. As the wife of the current chief of their clan, she had power, responsibilities, wealth, and a future.
Skye sighed, and collapsed in a nearby chair.
Fia woke with a start, and moaned.
“Be ye fine? I dinna’ mean to startle ye.”
Fia smiled then yawned, easing herself upright and settling back against the tall, wooden chair’s back. She looked so small in this chair.
“Let’s get ye to bed. The men are…busy.”
“Has their plan worked?” She pushed up to her feet.
Skye jumped to her feet, and wrapped an arm through Fia’s.
“The festival was nice, until Dorcas warned of doom. Bull ran away with the competition, and Jake had to help save him from Ian MacGregor’s rage.”
“MacGregor? Is that not the son—”
“I know whose son he is, and I suspect ye know about Kirk’s plans?”
Fia lowered her gaze. Her refusal to refute the words, meant Kirk had shared his plans with Marcus Mackenzie, who told Fia.
“I willna’ marry again.”
“Doona’ jest.”
Fia’s hands fisted on her hips, and she turned to stare at Skye. Skye stared back, as if her exasperated expression could pressure her into continuing.
Fia threw up her hands. “Stop yer havering. ‘Tis no time for jokes. Yer a beautiful woman with property, a title, and—”
“And no husband. I understand Kirk’s motives, but the property is Lethan’s”
“Lethan is dead,” Fia said, “and ye miss him, this I believe. What was Lethan’s is now yours. He would expect ye to find a man to share it with. Yer villagers and crofters need ye.”
“I shall soon be gone, too,” she whispered.
Fia tried to hug Skye. Her belly kept them apart, so the young woman had to turn sideways. Skye was not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.
***
Where had Skye disappeared to? If the sorcerer caught her alone…again…they might not get to her in time to save her from whatever he planned to do. Kill her? Rape her?
Hell’s fire!
Skye acted as if she had a death wish. She had walked headlong into shadows, and admitted her mind had been in the clouds. The sorcerer had attacked her. Before she dropped into his world, she claimed she had escaped an earlier kidnapping.
She had worried more about some person named Alec, than her wounds. Had the sorcerer conjured a dragon to attack her in the North Sea? Or, was the beast real? If real, would it attack again?
Skye might have returned to the castle. Panic surged through him, and swept away his reluctance to interfere in her life. Could the sorcerer already have gained access to the grounds?
“Nay, young Highlander.”
Jake looked down to his left, and settled his right hand on the dirk hanging from his wide leather belt. Dorcas Swann stood beside him.
“I am a blacksmith, not a Highlander.”
Dorcas giggled, sounding decades younger. She tapped her cane against his forearm, saying, “Ye are what ye are. Yer reluctance willna’ change a thing. Ye have the heart of a warrior, and yer people need ye.”
“I am not reluctant. I’m no warrior, simple as that. Granted, a short stint in the army gave me basic military training, but I love what I do and my horses keep me sane. Volunteering at the New England Highland Games is how I pay-it-forward. I feel I’m giving back, helping to keep history alive for future generations. Without volunteers, these festivals will fade away.”
“Aye, ye keep our spirits alive. Terrible times are a’coming.”
Jake had an idea she wasn’t talking about Andreas Borthwick. The history books spoke of the horror at Culloden, and of the clearances. Scottish men, women, and children died or emigrated to other countries to save their lives, and their cultures.
“People remember their roots. Doesn’t mean I want to claim I’m something I’m not.”
“Even when Skye has need of a warrior?”
“Skye needs no one but herself. I tried to get close to her…” Jake shut his mouth. He nearly mentioned he’d taken her to bed.
“Aye, ye burn for the same things. Ye need her, and she needs a good man.”
She has Alec.
Dorcas laughed, then walked away in the direction of the ale vendor. Jake glanced over the crowds in search of the petite black-haired woman that had turned his world inside out. He caught a glimpse of Bull at the sheaf toss competition area. His friend handled the fork with the self-confidence of a competitor. Knees bent, back straight, shoulder muscles bunching. Grunting loudly, Bull swung the forked tool upwards, releasing the straw-filled sack. It flew high overhead and easily arched over
the pole. The crowd erupted with cries of congratulations, yet Jake’s gaze swept through the crowd instead.
Where was Skye? Had she returned to the castle? She seemed very close to Mackenzie’s wife, and Fia had stayed behind. Their plan to trap the sorcerer in the meadow wasn’t the place for a pregnant woman.
***
A week had passed with no sign of attack, but winter grew closer. So, Skye knelt in Castle Ruadh’s garden, the damp earth clinging to her work dress. Wiping her hands on her apron, she inhaled the odor of loose dirt and autumn herbs. The crisp hint of winter snow usually calmed her, but there was nothing to push aside her jittery nerves. Something was off.
An evil darkness was coming, and Jake was gone. Their plan to flush out the bastard, and have him attack during the Highland games, had failed. Jake had left last night without a word to her, and Fia told her he and Marcus had accompanied Kirk to Castle Barrowmann, a move they thought necessary in order to track down the sorcerer.
She wished he had not left Castle Ruadh. His kisses had knotted her insides, and turned her legs to jelly. Her yearning to bed him again ruled her heart with an ache so raw, but he had stayed away. She nearly crept through the halls to his room. Instead, she had remained in her bedchamber and prayed for him to knock upon her door.
He had not. For the first time since her husband’s murder, she had cried herself to sleep.
She was even lying to herself, now, while she knelt in the dirt. Kneeling caused an image to flash across her eyes, and her blood raced.
“Stop yer day-dreaming.” She sighed and returned to her task. The kitchen staff welcomed her offer to lend a hand in harvesting the vegetables, before the hard frost hit. Fia had raised an eyebrow when Skye told Fia her plans, then offered to help.
“Nay,” she had told her pregnant friend, “yer health is too important.”
“I feel fine. The bairn will not be born for weeks,” she replied, one hand stroking her belly. “Are ye volunteering to work in order to forget a certain gentleman?”
Skye laughed.
Fia’s eyebrow had risen, obviously suspecting something going on between Skye and Jake. Was she guilty of wearing her emotions for the world to see? Jake included?
Skye glanced at the nearby barn where dozens of men worked. They had raised the walls and roof and, even now, worked to fill the loft with cut hay. She waved to several men, then at the guards above on the wall. She would feel a tad safer in Jake’s presence, but the food would not harvest itself!
She plunged her small shovel into the ground, and loosened a bunch of carrots. She sighed, ashamed to recall why Fia suddenly excused herself. A tiny spell to cause a harmless wave of nausea was for the woman’s own good. Digging in a garden was not the proper venue for the mother of the laird’s heir.
Skye was also considered a lady, the widowed sister of another clan’s laird. Several of the Keith and Mackenzie warriors, and a few men from the village outside Castle Ruadh, had approached her, but marrying again was not on her horizon. Some wanted only an affair.
She scooped another shovel of dirt from the garden, spraying soil on the front of her apron. She sighed at her clumsiness.
“I suppose love-making during a liaison is not an unattractive prospect,” especially when she considered loving Jake.
“Good to hear,” a deep, terrifying voice rumbled.
Before Skye could turn to face him, dust swirled around her, choking her. She closed her eyes to the grit, but her nose clogged.
“Can’t…breathe.”
A bolt of searing heat slammed into her back, smashing her face-first into the dirt. Her basket of vegetables blew apart, raining chunks of carrots, and lettuce leaves, over her. Pain sizzled up and down her spine, and her dress flew up past her knees.
A hot breeze closed around her, and a familiar stench made her cringe. An unsightly viridian aura pulsed in front of her slightly open eyes. For the second time, since dealing with the sorcerer, she feared rape.
As his hands groped her buttocks, it seemed he had forgotten his mission to kill her brother and destroy their clan. Raping the laird’s sister was a likely bonus.
“Helen, ye shall be mine at last.”
“Helen? Ye be confused,” she said, reaching one arm behind, trying to lower her dress. He thought she was his long-lost love?
This is no’ happening!
Try as she might, Skye could not move her arm low enough. When he knelt between her legs and forced her thighs apart, she screamed.
***
“I should not have left her,” Jake muttered. An angry itch ran down his spine, a sensation he felt more and more, these days, as if his skin no longer fit. The journey before him added to his discomfort.
He had left the castle without a word of encouragement from Skye. She hadn’t talked to him since the festival, where she’d called him a coward. “Just because I called her stupid for putting herself in danger?”
“I fear ye said the wrong thing.”
“You think?” Jake hadn’t expected Kirk to hear his mutterings. “This magic stuff has me in knots. Besides, you aren’t afraid of anything.”
“True, except Skye’s temper. Choose yer words with care, around her. Better yet, keep yer distance. She is not for ye.”
He was right. Skye’s brother was huge, always surrounded by guards, and looked formidable. Kirk was a powerful leader, rode a huge warhorse, and carried a broadsword across his back. He wore his station proudly, and loved his sister.
As do I.
There. He might not have said it out loud, but the truth felt oddly satisfying even though his chest cramped, and his stomach clenched. Or, was it the eerie feeling of doom, curdling his insides?
“I did not leave my sister without protection. Marcus and his men will watch over her. Why do ye feel ye should be with her? Ye say yer no warrior. ‘Tis warriors we need, to fight the evil sorcerer.”
Jake reined in his animal, and inhaled the crisp tang of the sea’s salty spray. They stood on the cliffs, headed toward Castle Barrowmann. Kirk hadn’t explained why he felt the sorcerer was hold up there, but it was where Skye had escaped into the sea.
“How much farther?”
Kirk stared at him, the look on his face proving he knew Jake had side-stepped the question. They were on a mission of importance. If the sorcerer still controlled Castle Barrowmann, they would confront him. The battle would begin, and Skye would stay safe. Her constant hint about taking out the guy by herself was ridiculous. Reluctantly, he agreed to accompany Kirk and his men.
“Beyond the next hill. Look,” Kirk said, pointing. Jake glanced over the tops of the low scrub trees that were common on Scotland’s coast. A dark and desolate bundle of stones perched on the cliff. Jake kicked his horse, and followed.
As they rode closer, ocean waves slammed the beach far below. Compared to the red sandstone of Castle Ruadh, their destination was an unimpressive edifice. Lady Fia explained that ruadh was the Gaelic word for red.
“Whoever owns it should call it Castle Dead-and-Buried,” Jake said, shivering. The threat of snow, evident in the wind blowing from the east, was raw, and damp. He tossed his borrowed plaid up over his head. The wool hood it formed warmed his ears, but not his fears.
Kirk said nothing, only nodded.
“Devil’s fire! Is that where Skye jumped?” He pointed to the crumbling battlement high above the shore.
“Aye, ‘twas a feat of strength and courage. She knew she could not allow the sorcerer to…get closer. She is a fighter, and her spells are a powerful thing. She said his aura told her he was touched in the head. Kept calling her Helen.”
“Helen?” The name was familiar. Jake thought about his research of Clan Gunn, back when Iona had first asked him to help at the New England Highland Games. A tragedy involving another family caused a bitter war.
“Could he mean Helen, daughter of Lachlan Gunn of Braemore?”
Kirk’s ruddy skin paled. The faint line of a jagged scar reddened acr
oss his cheek. “Aye. Dorcas told us the story. The sorcerer, then simply Andreas Borthwick, fell in love with Helen. Helen refused his advances, as well as those of Dugald Keith.”
“Right. Her family had promised her to a cousin, a man she loved. Unfortunately, he was slaughtered, and she was kidnapped by…” Jake scratched his head.
“The Keiths took her, but to their horror, she refused to marry their laird. Instead, she jumped to her death.”
“And, Borthwick must think Skye is Helen?”
Kirk glanced at the castle in the distance, then turned his horse in the opposite direction.
“What is it, Kirk?”
“Borthwick wants revenge on the Gunns for Helen’s refusal, and revenge on the Keiths for causing her death. He can accomplish both by attacking Castle Ruadh. If he still believes Skye is actually Helen…to home!” Kirk raised his arm, signaling to his men to change direction.
Jake’s heart leapt to his throat. If Kirk was right, Skye was a target. The sorcerer had tried to harm her a couple of times, each time thinking she was the woman who had scorned him.
If anything happens to her…
Who was he kidding? She’d already been attacked and injured, and he’d done nothing to prevent either attack.
Not this time!
Jake followed the warriors, as they galloped back to Castle Ruadh. Most of the men were Mackenzie’s Highlanders, so they understood the command. Tavish kept up, but Jake feared it would take too long to reach the castle on horseback. Marcus might be a great warrior, but he was no match for the evil that had set its sights on Skye. If only he had an airplane, or a helicopter.
Jake’s vision darkened, until he could only see muted gray shapes. Blood rushed through his veins. His skin tightened, and claws broke the skin below his fingertips. Too focused to notice, or care, he rode as if flying. He had to go faster, and bent over Tavish’s head, even as molten fire burned in his belly.
He rounded a curve in the trail, then slowed when a searing pain raced along his spine. When he pulled Tavish to a sliding stop, his horse reared, and Jake jumped to the ground. Dropping to all fours, a growl vibrated in his throat. A horrified Tavish pawed the ground, then took off toward Castle Ruadh.
Highland Games Through Time Page 79
