The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3)

by Barbara Longley

  Hunter stuffed the spurs back into his sporran. He turned Doireann’s head and kicked him into a gallop, heedless of whether or not his men followed. He would prostrate himself before Áine and beg her to bring Meghan back to him. If she would no’, then he’d beg her to send him to her in the twenty-first century. God in heaven, he hoped against hope his fae ancestor would hear his plea.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Meghan pushed the uneaten bowl of stew away. “Thanks for lunch, Madame Giselle. It was very good; I’m just not very hungry.” A broken heart did have a tendency to rob one of one’s appetite. She glanced out the window. “Are you sure those three guys sleeping in your yard are all right?”

  “I am quite certain Sir Nevan and his lads are well, but I am sure they would be grateful to learn of your concern.” Amusement creased the corners of the old woman’s eyes. “I would prefer it if you would call me by my given name, child. I am Áine, Hunter’s grandmother many generations removed.”

  “Yeah, he told me.” At the mention of Hunter’s name, her insides gave a painful wrench. She sighed. “So . . . I wasn’t really expecting a lunch date when Tieren dropped me off here. When are you going to send me home?” Áine’s laughter coiled around her, sending shivers cascading down her spine.

  “I will send you home if and when I am ready to do so, mortal, and not a moment sooner.”

  “OK. Good enough.” She nodded, swallowing hard. Searching her mind for something to say, she blurted, “So . . . what’s it like being a faerie? You’re immortal, right? Does that get old? Living forever, I mean.” Shut up! For crying out loud, stop talking! Oh, but her mouth didn’t listen.

  “What do you look like for real, Áine? What kind of magic does it take to make an entire fair disappear into thin air?” She slapped her hand over her runaway mouth to stifle the bubble of hysteria threatening to burst free. Her nerves were shot, that’s all. She was exhausted and grieving. Considering everything she’d been through in the past couple of months, who could blame her for being so completely out of pocket?

  Áine began to shimmer, and blue flame licked the surface of her skin, transforming her from an old lady into an ethereal being so beautiful, there was no way she could’ve come from this world. Her hair hung to her ankles, so blond it was almost white. And her eyes were an impossible clear aquamarine that glowed like neon.

  “I am not a faerie, mortal.” She smiled. “I am Tuatha Dé Danann, a direct descendant of the goddess Danu. Humans have named us fae, but ’tis not what we call ourselves. Does immortality get old? For some, mayhap, but not for me.”

  “Oh.” What else could she say? Meghan wanted to ask where the Tuatha originated, but instead she nodded. “You’re incredibly beautiful. Ethereal.” More of the melodic laughter wrapped around her, only this time warmth washed over Meghan’s skin in its wake.

  “Why did you bring me to this century, Áine?” Tears sprang to her eyes. Mortification singed her. How could she be so out of control? Because you’re in the presence of a supernatural being, maybe? “Were you the one who took my father from his time? Was I just a random weight you had to move from one side to the other in order to balance some kind of cosmic scale?” She ran her knuckles under her eyes to catch her tears. “Because I have to tell you, if that’s the case . . . it really sucks. I miss my family, and once I go home, I’ll miss Hunter for the rest of my life.”

  “The way you speak so freely in my presence is refreshing. I am greatly pleased that you do not fear me, child.”

  Áine reached out and stroked Meghan’s hair as if she were a pet. Oddly enough, the being’s touch soothed her.

  “Yes. I am responsible for your father’s journey to the future. Though, in my defense, ’twas accidental. I had no great plan for him. He simply came too close to the portal through time and was drawn in.” She smiled, and light shone from her eyes. “He’s done well for himself, has he not? He is content.”

  “Not right now he’s not,” Meghan huffed out. “I disappeared right before his eyes.”

  “If you wish, there are ways to dim recollection, erase memories altogether of your ever having existed. ’Twould make it easier for you and for your family.”

  “What?” Meghan leaped to her feet, adrenaline pumping alarm through her veins. “That sounded an awful lot like you don’t plan to send me home.”

  Áine gave a slight shrug. “I am yet undecided. We will wait a bit and see what develops.” She gestured to the seat. “Sit, child. Would you care for a mug of rosehip tea, or mayhap a calming chamomile?”

  Her mind reeled. What would she do if Áine decided not to send her home? How would she live? The faerie had told Tieren she would return her to her family. Hadn’t she? Come to think of it, Áine’s response to his request had been kind of vague. She forced herself to slow her breathing. She’d return to Robley and Erin, where at least she knew she had a place to stay. Tears once again pricked at her eyes. “No tea. Thanks. Would you answer one more question?”

  “I will if I am able, mortal. Ask.”

  “Hunter said he can’t read my energy like he can with others. Why is that? Did you block me somehow?”

  “’Tis a boon to you both, is it not? I made it so. That is all you need to know.”

  “I do appreciate it, though it hardly matters now.” Meghan wandered around the interior of the cottage. She could train the men at Meikle Geddes. Robley might pay her. She’d be OK. “How long do you think it will take before you decide what to do with me?” Her voice sounded small. She was not small. She was a McGladrey knight, and a force to be reckoned with.

  She sniffed. “Please don’t take my memories away, or my family’s. I don’t want them to forget me. I don’t want to forget them.”

  “As you wish.”

  The sound of pounding hoofbeats drew close. Áine rose from her place. “You will remain inside,” she commanded. “Do you understand me, mortal? Do not fear.”

  The temperature inside the cottage took a sudden drop, and the air filled with electrical energy. Eyes wide, Meghan nodded. Were all the children of the goddess Danu so quick with the mood swings?

  “Áine,” a male voice shouted in the yard.

  Oh God! Meghan’s heart skipped a beat. Hunter. What was he doing here? She stepped toward the door, and a surge of energy shoved her into the corner by the small window. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t move from the spot. She tried to call out to him, but her voice had also been bound up in the faerie’s magic.

  Áine glided to the door, waved her hand, and it opened. “Why do you bellow so at my door, Grandson? What is it you want?”

  “I . . . I came to beg your forgiveness.”

  “Oh? What must I forgive?” Áine chuckled. “Tell me.”

  Meghan could just catch a glimpse of Hunter from her place by the window. He went down on one knee and bowed his head. A lump formed in her throat.

  “I have been most arrogant,” he rasped out. “I was wrong. Never again will I withhold from you the respect that is your due. I am eternally grateful for the aid you gave me in rescuing my love.”

  Meghan couldn’t take her eyes from her humbled knight. He glanced at his ancestor, and even from where she stood, she could see the tears glistening in his eyes.

  “And?”

  Hunter’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Granddam . . . I want her back,” he said, his voice breaking. “Nay, I need Meghan back. I was so caught up in my fear and my pride that I . . . I turned her away. I distanced myself from her, stubbornly clinging to notions built upon my own foolish thinking. I was blind, and now she is gone. Please, Áine, Meghan has taken my heart with her. I beg of you, bring her back, or send me to her. I care naught which, so long as I can live my life by her side. Everything I believed I wanted and needed was . . . bogus. Meghan is all I need.”

  “Hmm. What makes you think she wants you, lad?” The faerie s
tepped out of the cottage to the yard. “What makes you think she’d give you another chance after the way you have dealt with her? You broke her heart.”

  I would. I will give him another chance! She struggled against the hold Áine exerted over her. Seeing her proud knight suffer twisted her into knots.

  “I have no reason to think she wants me still. Nay, none at all, but she did love me once. I only ken that I must try to gain her love and trust once more.” Hunter raised his pleading eyes to the faerie. “Meghan understands me better than I understand myself. Mayhap she will forgive me. Think you she might? I can only hope so, for I am lost without her.”

  More than anything, Meghan wanted to go to him. She wanted to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders and assure him that he was forgiven. She tried, she really did, but she couldn’t free herself of the energy that held her fast.

  “Do you realize I brought her to you as the perfect helpmate to rebuild our clan, Grandson?”

  “I do now, aye,” he murmured. “Meghan is perfect in every way, and I am a fool.”

  Meghan’s heart melted.

  “That you are, and I am not certain I wish to grant your request.”

  No! Her body might be bound, but her heart still leapfrogged around her chest in protest. What game was Áine playing?

  “Surely there is something I can do or say to change your mind.” Hunter’s chin dropped to his chest. “Mayhap there’s another wrong of old I might make right?”

  Áine laughed. “You wish to right another wrong that in no way involved yourself in its inception?”

  “Aye. If I must.”

  “Mayhap we can come to an agreement . . .”

  “Whatever it might be, I will agree.” Hunter’s tone held a hint of hope. “What is it you wish of me?”

  “A cottage near DúnConnell. Near enough that I might lay eyes upon you and your offspring when I wish it.”

  “Done.” The word was out of his mouth before she’d finished the sentence.

  “I will be welcome at your hearth, Hunter?” Áine asked. “Do you imagine I am unaware of your fear and repulsion of me?”

  “I beg your pardon, Áine. You must also ken I dinna feel that way any longer.” Hunter’s voice softened. “I am open to you, Granddam. See for yourself.”

  One minute then another passed, and it felt like lifetimes to Meghan. Her family would miss her, and she would miss them, but Hunter was her future. The force holding her lifted, and the sudden freedom sent her pitching forward. She landed on her hands and sore knees. She pushed herself up and ran to the door. “Hunter!”

  He rubbed his face, stared at her and blinked. She wanted to hurl herself into his arms, but he was still on one knee. He rose slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Meghan, love, I’ve come back for you. Can you ever forgive me for being such a pea-brained, obstinate idiot?”

  “It depends.” For his sake as well as hers, she had to hear the words. “Why have you come back for me? If it’s just to tell me you’re pea-brained, I already know.”

  “Nay. I’ve come to beg you to stay by my side for all the days we are granted upon this earth. Be my wife. Help me rebuild my clan.” His eyes grew bright with tears. “I love you, mo anam.”

  This time she did hurl herself at him. He caught her, as she knew he would, and held her tight against his chest—her favorite place to be. “Yes, Hunter. I will stay with you.”

  “Oy, Hunter.” Another male voice filled the clearing. “Where the devil am I?”

  Hunter released her but kept her hand in his. “You’re in Inverness, Nevan.”

  The two younger boys were sitting up, scratching their heads. “How did we get here, Sir Hunter?” the older of the two asked.

  Meghan looked around. Áine had disappeared.

  “’Tis a long story, lads. Come to the keep. There’s to be a wedding.” Hunter pulled her close to his side. “Nevan, on the morrow you and your lads can depart for your home, or you can travel with us to my holding.”

  “You have a holding?” Nevan muttered.

  “Aye, I’m baron DúnConnell.” Hunter’s hand ran up and down her arm, and his eyes were fixed upon her. “Come. Make haste, Sir Nevan.”

  Nevan and the two boys rose on shaky legs. Hunter led her to his stallion and lifted her into the saddle. He swung up behind her. “Your horse and one of the lads’ rouncies are here in Inverness, Nevan, along with you armor and gear. I’m afraid your fortune is still at Loch Moigh. Once you decide where you are going, we can have it sent to you.”

  “Och, my fortune is safe enough where ’tis. For the time being, I’ll go with you to your holding.” Nevan rubbed his face. “Last thing I remember is a fair . . .”

  “Aye.” Hunter grinned. “A fair where I found my love. Follow this path, lads. We’ll await you in the keep.” He kicked Doireann’s sides.

  Tieren and their guardsmen were waiting for them in the inner bailey. The castle’s steward had joined them. Hunter dismounted and turned to help Meghan down.

  “Rupert, send someone to tell the priest we will be at the kirk within the hour. Have him prepare for a wedding mass,” Hunter commanded.

  Tieren nodded at her, his expression resigned. “’Tis about time, little brother,” he called.

  “But . . . what of the banns?” Rupert asked. “And a feast must be prepared.”

  “We’ve no time. Have the kitchen lay out whatever they have on hand for our wedding feast. We must return to my keep as soon as possible.” Hunter glanced at Meghan. “Do you mind overmuch, lass? We will spend the night here and depart in the morning.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” She smiled through the tears filling her eyes.

  A bath, a change of clothes into a gown and an hour later she and Hunter walked to the church with Margaret and the soldiers in attendance. It seemed fitting. Perfect. Inverness’s church was much more opulent than the one in Loch Moigh. This one had a lovely marble floor and stained-glass windows, not elaborate scenes, but geometric in design. Simple yet elegant.

  Meghan’s walk down the aisle was not what she’d imagined when she thought about getting married. Her gown, too short by a good two inches, was not white, but blue, and she held no bouquet. Her mother, father, brothers and grandparents were not sitting in the pews. She bit her lip and blinked against the sting in her eyes.

  Hunter looped her arm through his. “I ken ’tis a hasty affair, love, but I dinna want to wait another moment to make you mine. We must ride for home on the morrow, and—”

  “It’s all right. I was just thinking of my family.”

  Hunter put his arm around her shoulders. “I am sorry for that, lass.”

  “I don’t blame you for what happened. I never did.” She laid her head on his shoulder for a second. “Áine brought us together.”

  They reached the altar where the priest awaited them. He lowered his brow and pursed his lips in disapproval. “This is highly irregular, my lord. No banns have been called, and I have no contract for marriage before me. Must I marry you in the back of the kirk? Is the lady, er . . .”

  “Nay, Father,” Hunter said. “We must travel in haste, and I think it best for the lady’s honor if we say our vows before we leave. She will be unescorted by any other women on our journey.”

  Tieren stepped forward. “You will be well compensated for your trouble, Father.”

  The priest’s brow rose a smidgen, and he spared her a glance. “Are ye being forced into this, my lady?”

  “No.” She looked into Hunter’s beloved gray eyes. “I am more than willing.”

  “So be it. Kneel here.” The priest moved behind the altar and began the mass.

  “It’s in Latin,” she whispered. “I don’t understand a thing he’s saying.”

  Hunter leaned close. “No matter. I pledge to honor, cherish and protect you all the days of your life
, Meg.” He reached into his sporran and pulled out a band of gold.

  “Where did you get the ring?”

  “From the smithy. If it does no’ fit, we’ll have him fix it.”

  The priest cleared his throat and sent them both a stern look. Her heart fluttered away in her chest, and the priest droned on. She hardly noticed. Hunter knelt beside her, his eyes filled with love and tenderness as they met hers. They made the appropriate responses when the priest asked it of them, and Hunter slipped the ring on her finger when told to do so. Happiness filled her near to bursting. Never in a million years would she have guessed she’d be snatched from her time, only to find her love in the past.

  Finally the mass ended. She was married. Her husband clasped her hand in his and led her out of the church. Amidst the congratulations, Margaret whispered that she’d had the same chamber Meghan had stayed in the night before prepared for their wedding night.

  A small feast awaited them in the great hall. Food was the last thing on her mind. Hunter led her to the table on the dais and helped her settle into a chair, while servants poured wine and ale. Every moment she’d shared with Hunter since the day he’d snatched her from the exhibition with her father played through her mind. She smiled.

  “What is it, mo céile?”

  “I was just thinking about what led up to this point.” She leaned against him, soaking up the warmth he radiated. “I will always miss my family, but I’m happy.”

  “It gladdens my heart to hear you say it. You were right all along, Meg. I was as blind as your grandmother’s thirteen-year-old pug.” He winked. “What is a pug, if you dinna mind my asking?”

  She held her hands out to show him about how big most pugs were. “They are funny little dogs with pushed-in faces that make snoring noises when they breathe.” She chuckled at his disgruntled expression. “I was frustrated with you when I said it.”

  “I imagine you were.” He rubbed her palm with his thumb, his gaze filled with tenderness. “But you have forgiven me, aye?”