Kissed by the Laird (First Ladies of the Fae Book 1)

by Sydney Sloane

  Lifting the lapel of his coat, Damon slid the folded parchment into the front pocket of doublet, and patted his chest. When he looked back up, she pinned him with an icy blue stare and gave him with a satisfied smirk.

  “Diana lass, greed does not become ye. Now be a good little Fae lass, and be on your way.”

  A bead of perspiration manifested above Diana’s brow, as a slow cat-like smile spread across her face.

  Damon thought to himself, Just as I suspected. There is more. He tapped a finger on his chin. “I know ye and your sister are destitute, but it does make a man wonder why a lass, such as yourself, needs with such a large sum of gold. A powerful Fae woman, such as yourself must--” He mocked her.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see Diana’s sly smile fade, as her temper rose. She hissed out, “What I need with the gold for is none of your affair! However…ye would do good to remember who mixes your tinctures. Do ye think Delilah would readily render her so-called magical healer abilities to aid ye? Are ye not the verra man that seeks to destroy her clan?”

  Refusing to feed into her blackmail, he shrugged his shoulders in indifference. To give any credence to her threats would empower her even more. No, woman—especially one as devious as Diana would rule him, though there was validity to her claim.

  Consumption plagued Damon when he was just a lad. To his parent’s relief, he survived, though more than once they thought all was lost. Not long after, he developed pleurisy in his lungs. The fits of coughing robbed him of the air he needed. Agonizing pain would grip his chest, and leave him bedridden for days afterward. What angered him the most was those pitiful stares while he suffered through the debilitated state, and the closeted whispers of his weakened state.

  “Do not think to sway me with your threats and lies, witch. I think it is clear who needs whom, do we not? Besides, we both know your sister would aid the devil himself, if he were in need.” He tossed his head back and bellowed his laughter. Then without another word, he hauled back on the reins and maneuvered his mount around Diana. Giving a slight kick to the horse’s flanks the horse cantered forward, but then he heard her spiteful laughter. Damon pulled the reins of his horse and came to a halt. Her joy unsettled him and made him wonder if he had missed something, but what?

  Diana taunted him. “Aye, go on with ye Damon Campbell. You’re a bigger fool than ye give yourself credit for, m’lord. I knew ye would try and betray me this day.” She canted her head in the direction of his jacket, and Damon panicked. Her eyes twinkled in merriment as he rummaged a frantic hand through the inner pocket of his doublet.

  Diana continued as he slipped the parchment from out of his doublet. “Oh, aye! Take a look for yourself, m’lord.”

  His face was near purple with mottled rage, as he scanned the empty document. “It is blank! Ye bitch!” He screamed. “Give me the…” Damon paused when he realized he stood alone. Diana was nowhere to be found. She vanished into the mist that rolled off the loch. The scent of brine filled the air, as her cynical laughter faded into the dark copse of trees beyond the stones.

  Enraged at her trickery, he screamed. “Diaaannnaaa!”

  Chapter Two

  Caroline Andrews called the tiny, coastal town of Harper Cove, Maine home for the last fifteen years. Her maternal grandmother was the last of her living relatives, and a longtime member of the community. When the small girl arrived, she didn’t speak for several weeks. The authorities had told her grandmother when they arrived at the horrific scene, and saw the twisted carnage that they weren’t hopeful of finding any survivors. As the emergency crews, prepared to use their equipment to remove the lifeless bodies they heard it…a soft melodic tune coming through twisted ball of metal.

  Though she’d heard the tale of her miraculous rescue many times, Caroline knew the reason for the song. As her parents lay dying less than a foot away from her, an angel in a green cloak came to her and began to sing the lullaby. The calm that came over Caroline was instantaneous. Even after all the time that passed, she could still remember that moment. As her beautiful guardian angel spoke, she placed a leather cord over her head. “You were spared this day, little one. There will be struggles in the years ahead, be at peace. For when you find yourself at your darkness moment he will come.” She still didn’t know the meaning to the words, but she always remembered the soft melody that vanquished the darkness.

  The small apartment Caroline shared with her grandmother was her refuge, and was the one place she felt safe and protected. Permanent emotional scars from the accident scarred her soul and mind, no matter how much time had passed. The panic attacks were not as frequent, as when she was a child, but when they struck, it was without warning and they debilitated her. Her chest would constrict and the fear left her debilitated unable to breath, let alone function. All that surrounded her would close in on her and exacerbated her inane fear of the darkness. Darkness meant death. Even the tranquilizers the doctors prescribed to manage her phobias couldn’t take away the power darkness had on her life.

  Her grandmother’s answer to her fears was always the same. “Time heals everything. You wait and see. Even though you haven’t discovered it yet, Caroline you were spared for a higher purpose.” Her grandmother’s face would beam a radiant smile each time she repeated the encouraging words.

  Caroline shivered as she sat at the front desk of the Harper Cove Community Library. The ancient furnace gave an unsettling groan as it kicked on, and hot air forced its way through the small building. The day was unseasonably warm for autumn in New England, but the weather reports predicted the arrival of cooler temperatures and the remnants of a tropical storm for tonight. The thin panes of glass rattled intermittently for the last hour. Now, the sound of the heavy rain lashed at the old windows.

  A chill shot up her spine, but it wasn’t from the drafts blowing through the gaps in the window casings. Caroline wrapped her arms around herself and battled with the overwhelming fear that consumed her each night when the sunset and cloaked the sky in darkness. The impeding storm they expected was starting earlier. It appeared the meteorologist’s timeline was off. Not unusual for Maine weather.

  Each gust of wind outside taunted with the memories of that fateful night fifteen years prior, when death reached down and ripped away all she held dear. Caroline had been no more than four years old. Most of her recollection from that night came from the retelling of the tragedy by the adults in her life. It was late and they left the Smith’s barbeque, and she woke up for a brief moment and recognized the rear seat of their Lexus. Her father leaned over her tiny form to secure the seatbelt across her lap and nodded off before the lock clicked into place.

  They had no sooner started traveling the curvy back roads toward their home, when the skies opened up and large drops of rain pelted the windshield. In the backseat, Caroline fought the urge to drift off to sleep, but the rhythmic sound of the wipers sweeping back and forth caused her nod off. The last thing she remembered was a high-pitched screech filling her ears, before the heavy smell of burnt rubber assailed her nostrils.

  The loud buzzer at the front entrance of the library sounded off, and Caroline jumped. Her heart hammered within her chest and attested to just how deep in thought she had been. A nervous laugh passed her lips, as she realized the foolishness of her reaction. Looking toward the front door, she spied the massive poof of bright red hair that belonged to Ms. Rumsfeld. The homeschool family arrived every Thursday afternoon for their weekly library run.

  Caroline approached the family with a smile. “Hi guys. What are we learning this week?”

  In unison, the children chimed, “Hi Caroline!”

  In an excited voice the youngest Rumsfeld, Caleb shouted, “Snakes!”

  She mocked a shiver of fright and aroused a giggle from the little boy.

  She flashed Ms. Rumsfeld a bright smile and said, “If you guys need me to help find a book, let me know.” As she finished the buzzer at the front door alerted her another patron entered. Th
e family thanked her, and she turned to assist the newcomer.

  As she drew closer to the front end of the room, Caroline saw the back of a man wearing a black leather jacket near the checkout desk. In the tiny coastal town, where everyone knew each other, Caroline should have recognized the man. With her next step, the worn floorboards beneath her feet creaked in protest and alerted the unknown man of her approach. Bile rose in the back of her throat, when she caught him studying her with a lecherous stare, as though she were a slice of prime rib and him a starved man.

  Without drawing any closer, she did her best to display a false politeness, though unease filled her chest. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Several seconds passed as he continued his perusal. Caroline went to repeat her question, but stopped when he gave her a twisted smile revealing a mouth full of blackened teeth. What teeth weren’t rotted, were missing altogether. “I was wondering if there was…” He stumbled over his words and then finished. “A public restroom. We’re just passing through town.”

  There was a slight pause before she said, “No, I’m sorry. If you continue about fifteen miles down the highway…” Caroline motioned toward the left. “There is a gas station just outside of town. I believe they have one.”

  He gave her one last ogle and smirked. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Caroline nodded her head and watched as he got into his car at the edge of the parking lot. An unsettling feeling started to gnaw in her gut. Not a muscle flinched, as she waited until the car drove off out of sight. Caroline inhaled and realized she had been holding her breath the entire time. She glanced up at the clock on the far wall. Two o’clock. Just three hours left of my shift, and then I can go home.

  Caroline was in the back of the library re-shelving returned books when the phone rang. Before she made her way to the front, she dropped the arm full of books back onto their metal cart and hurried to answer the call. “Good afternoon, Harper Cove Public Library. This is Caroline. How can I help you?”

  On the other end of the phone came a croak. “Caroline…” A fit of coughing broke out on the other end of the receiver. Caroline winced, and yanked the phone away from her ear and peeked at the caller ID. She read the name displayed, as Robert Addison. Then she realized the croaking sound on the other end was Peggy, the evening clerk. When the hacking settled, she replaced the receiver back to her ear and said “Awww, Peggy you sound horrible.”

  The voice on the other end gave a raspy reply. “I’m sorry Caroline. I am so sick and I don’t think I can make it in tonight. Would you mind covering my shift?”

  The woman’s request came through clear, and it would mean walking home in the dark. It was three short blocks away, but in the dark of the night it might as well be miles. Caroline’s breathing started to come in short, tight spurts. She couldn’t recall the last time she was plagued by an anxiety attack. At least a few years, but in the past it always began this way. Over time, she learned to talk herself through them.

  Get a hold of yourself Caroline. You’re not dying. It’s not a heart attack. Inhale slowly through your nose. That’s it. Now exhale through your mouth.

  “Hello? Caroline? Are you still there?” Peggy’s scratchy voice questioned.

  With her eyes still closed, Caroline reluctantly found her voice. “Sure. I can cover for you tonight.”

  Repetitive sneezing came over the phone’s receiver, before Peggy came back on. “You’re a sweetheart. There is a list in the top left drawer of the desk that will explain how to close down for the night. Just don’t forget to lock up. Oh, and if you have a chance, there are several boxes of books in the back room…”

  Caroline was there the day the boxes arrived. “Do you mean the ones that were donated from Widow MacLaine’s estate?”

  “Yes, those are the ones. Mrs. Jensen wants them put in the recycle bin outside. If you have a chance, could you do that for me? I meant to do it last night and it slipped my mind. If Mrs. Jensen comes in the morning, and sees them still there she’ll pester me to death.” Peggy complained.

  Caroline laughed into the receiver, knowing Peggy spoke the truth. “Yes, I’ll get it done. Don’t worry about a thing. Get some rest and feel better.”

  Caroline hung up the phone and expelled a shaky breath. Could she do this…walk the three blocks home in the dark? The raging storm only intensified her anxiety. The shortness of breath she fought to keep at bay escalated again. The motivation to gain control prompted her to round the front desk, lowered herself into the office chair, and laid her head upon its paper-cluttered surface. She clutched the medallion made of pewter that had hung around her neck for the last fifteen years. With each breath she inhaled, the ability to fill her lungs with oxygen continued to be restricted.

  Years ago, doctors used to call the unexplained experience the Devil’s Grip, and she couldn’t help to think they were right. It felt like pure hell until it passed. Stop dwelling on it. Relax. Slow deep breaths Caroline.

  After several minutes, the flashing spots dancing around her head started to dissipate, and she was finally able to achieve deep cleansing breath of air. When she opened her palm, the jagged-edges of her half medallion embedded marks into her hand. She rubbed it upon the front of her slacks a few times and then tucked the trinket beneath her top.

  With a little less than six hours to go, Caroline decided the best medicine was to keep busy and not dwell on her dilemma of walking home after dark. Remembering her conversation with Peggy, she headed to the back storage room to find the boxes for the recycling bin.

  Caroline spoke aloud, as she assessed the crates. “Wow! There has to be at least ten boxes.”

  She attempted to lift one, but could only manage to lift it a few inches before she needed to release it. If the weight of the first box was any indication, Caroline needed to come up with a better plan. To drag each tote to the metal container across the pavement wasn’t an option. Caroline looked through the distorted glass of the storeroom window. The blackened clouds gathered ominously in the distance, but a slight lull in the rain would make it a perfect time to get this done.

  She spoke aloud to herself and rubbed her hands together. “All right, let’s get this done.”

  Caroline removed half the contents of the box onto the floor to lighten the load. It may take a few minutes longer, but it beat throwing her back out. Well-read paperbacks and hardcovers filled the boxes. The job would have gone quicker if she hadn’t read the back cover of every other book. A strong gust of wind caused the branches of an overgrown winterberry shrub to slap at the thin pane of glass and brought Caroline’s attention back to the job at hand. She needed to finish this project before the skies opened up and Mother Nature had free reign along hundreds of miles of Maine coastline.

  A rumble in the distance was all the encouragement Caroline needed to read less, and lug more. Only stopping once for a drink of water. Caroline scooped up the final box and pushed the dilapidated screen door with her hip. She lifted her head toward the sky above and saw the band of coal-colored clouds in the distance from earlier roll closer. They drew in closer and would soon vanquish the remainder of light in the northeastern sky. She adjusted the heavy box in her arms and ran the last of the books to the bin.

  Caroline was halfway to the recycling bin when her attention was drawn to one of the dusty spines in the box.

  Although, she continued to walk Caroline squinted, trying to make out the title. “Tir Nam Famhair. Huh? Definitely, not English.”

  Once at her destination, Caroline placed the cumbersome load onto the ground and began tossing the books into the bin. The task was nearly completed until she grabbed the musty, old book. Gently, she caressed its worn leather edges. At the center of the cover, there was a circular indentation, as though something once laid at its center. The gold-gilded letters Tir Nam Famhair stared back and she could not contain her curiosity. Something within beckoned to be released, but what? The clamoring sound of thunder, much closer this time, drew Caroline fr
om her deep thoughts.

  Instead of throwing the peculiar book into the recycling bin, Caroline smiled, “I’ll check you out later.” Happy with her newfound treasure, she placed it under her arm, tossed the empty box into the dumpster, and went back inside.

  It was a relatively quiet evening in the library. Once the Rumsfeld’s left, only a couple of people dared the wind and rain to browse through the tight rows of shelves for just the right book. Caroline spent the majority of the shift straightening the shelves in the children’s area and the front desk, which made the time pass faster. She looked up at the clock on the far wall and it read eight o’clock. Just an hour left on her shift.

  Caroline sat down behind the front desk to take a quick break. The small lull provided the perfect opportunity for her to check out the Tir Nam Famhair. She had just pulled the book from her backpack when another clap of thunder shook the building. Caroline’s legs trembled as she lowered herself into the office chair. Her nerves were already on edge, and she automatically grabbed at the medallion that lay under her shirt. Anticipation swirled through her chest, as a tingling sensation radiated through her hand, and up her arm.

  Of their own volition, Caroline’s lids lowered, as a fog-filled image appeared and a prickling sensation shot down her spine. Bookshelves gave way to a valley carpeted in the thickest green grass. A single alder tree sat in the midst of the emerald backdrop with its strong limbs stretched to the heavens. It’s massive size, a testament to its longevity. With the warmth of the sun aimed at her back, Caroline took a deep breath and let the fresh scent of grass tickle her nose. A thunderous cry went through the silence of the valley around her, and the vision of a half-dressed giant appeared. The reins of his black horse in one hand and a large sword raised overhead in the other. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and her breaths came in short spurts. Filled with panic, Caroline opened her eyes and the scene before her vanished, as quick as it had appeared. The familiar atmosphere of the tiny library slowly returned, as did her breathing.