Caitlin And The Cowboy (Western Night Series 4)

by Rosie Harper

  The villagers did not seem happy, save one. Ole Bonnie smiled a simple smile to herself, before backing away and making her way back to the cottage. In spite of all the danger, Ole Bonnie never grew tired of being right.

  Chapter 5

  “We think it might have been a spell put on our clan many generations ago,” Callum said as he guided her down the path back to the village. “Our hearts were wedded to the earth, and in thanks we were given the form of a wolf to protect it.”

  Callum had left his pack full of clothing, as well as a spell-forged sword that could feel the beast near the cave when he had seen the bear attack Fiona.She had dutifully turned her back as he dressed and armed himself.

  “So you’re magic,” Fiona said matter-of-factly, trying to hide her wonder at such a thing. “That’s incredible.”

  “Yes. It’s our job to protect the highlands from unnatural dangers. Your father knows this, but I’m not fully sure he knew why.”

  There was much that he could not say to her, at least not yet. He did not want to have to explain that he had never been much for courting, had never truly cared about anything but his duties in the clan, until the day he had met her. His father had kept their betrothal a secret from him as well, most likely because he never believed that it would truly end up happening, but now, face to face with the dark-haired beauty that was to be his bride, he knew that he had spent most of his life simply waiting for her. Such things seemed silly to think upon now, but he couldn’t help himself. She moved with such grace, even now as they were searching for the dangerous baobhansith, she did not show a single bit of fear.

  He had told her everything, of the creature they hunted, of how dangerous it was, and also the reasons why the people of her village most likely believed it was her. If she felt flattered at being compared to an otherworldly beauty, she did not show it, but Callum believed she was not the type to be flattered by anything.

  He admired that.

  “Why did you run?” he asked after they had been walking for hours. They were waiting for the sunset, which wasn’t long now.

  “What?”

  “Why did you run from me when you found out?”

  Fiona laughed at the silliness of the question.

  “I did not run from you, she explained. “I ran from destiny.”

  “Was it because of our time in the meadow?”

  She let out a deep breath. “No. That felt like the last and only time I ever truly had a choice.”

  He accepted her answer and scanned the horizon, it was a good place, he decided, to build a fire. He told her as such and set out finding firewood, gathering branches shed by a nearby tree. Fiona looked around nervously, and he took pity on her.

  “Here,” he told her. “Help me build a fire.”

  By the time the flame had grown to a respectable fire, night had fallen, and there was not much to do but wait. Fiona huddled beside him, staring into the flames with a look of dread on her face.

  “I’ve never heard of the baobhansith until now,” she said with a touch of disappointment in her voice.

  “Few have, they often don’t leave many people alive. And your village seems…” Close-minded, he thought. “Stubborn,” he said. She laughed at that.

  “That they are.”

  “So you thought if you destroyed the creature yourself, you would not have to marry me?”

  She shook her head. “I thought that if I destroyed the creature myself I would not be forced to marry you.”

  “I understand.”

  They sat in silence for a while.

  “What if the creature does not come?” She asked. He looked out over the stars, at the lovely night.

  “There are ways we could draw them close.”

  “How is that?”

  “They like to feed off of blood, and barring that…” he cut himself off, red flushing to his cheeks. He hoped that she thought that it was merely the fire.

  “Barring what?”

  “They also love to feed off of the...virility of men.”

  It took Fiona a moment to sink in, but her eyes grew wife. “You’re only saying that to make love to me again!”

  “Isn’t it worth a try?” he told her with a smile. She laughed and swatted his arm. Her hands were soft. So soft. He reached out to take her hand, happily falling into the same rhythm once again.

  “It is,” she admitted. “And perhaps it is working.”

  Her hand moved to touch the hard muscles of his arm, moving slowly up to touch the back of his neck. He leaned into her hand as she touched his cheek. Who was this girl, who could affect him so deeply? He drew her close and kissed her, pushing his tongue between her willing lips, feeling her respond in kind. All at once she pressed herself against him as though she were drowning, undoing the laces of her own bodice, bringing his hands to touch her breasts.... such soft breasts, and all for him. She made a little moan in the back of her throat as he kissed down her collarbone, and down…

  Soon she was on top of him, moving against him and crying out in ecstasy. His hands held onto her hips tightly, enjoying the open air, enjoying the feel of her wild curls as they brushed his cheeks, he could feel the change well up inside of her, and she cried out in one final release, and him with her.

  She slumped against him, her face flushed with warmth.

  “It definitely worked,” she whispered to him. He nuzzled her neck and laughed.

  “Will you dance with me?” A voice asked behind them. Callum looked over Fiona’s shoulder to see a vision of beauty standing before him. She wore a long velvet down, with shining red hair that fell to her waist. He knew exactly who she was.

  “Yes it did.”

  Fiona turned around and saw the creature. She screamed, covering herself up and darting off of his lap. The baobhansith watched her go with dispassionate eyes, Callum knew that the creature would not go for her.

  He had heard that they were beautiful, but her beauty was such that it almost seemed rotten, her dewy skin looked almost as though it could split in his hands like overripe fruit, and he rose to his feet to fight her.

  “None of that,” the baobhansith said as though he were acting silly. “Just dance with me!”

  She reached her arms out to him, and he felt a little weak in the knees at the thought of it. He knew that he maintained some resistance to her charms, but not all, and he could swear he heard some sort of music in the air.

  “No!” He heard Fiona cry, and suddenly he was in the arms of the creature, feeling her impossibly sharp nails digging into his arms. They were sharp enough to slit the belly of a bull, and he was sure that they had.

  “Fiona!” Another voice cried, and there was Artair, standing in the light of the fire, his face red with running. No! Callum thought, as the creature turned her eyes to him. Artair’s face immediately grew slack, and he held out his arms to her.

  “Artair!” Fiona cried. She gripped her pack in her hands, before a realization came to her face. She dug through her thing, and removed the skein of milk.

  Stepping forward, she held the skein before her. “See? My offering. I offer this to you.”

  The baobhansith turned head like a serpent, her eyes growing wide at the offering of milk.Of course, Callum thought. It’s best to make an offering of water so they do not want your blood, and milk would be the next best thing.

  The creature seized the skein of milk held it to her lips, drinking and mewling thirstily, as Artair stood dazed, a small pool of blood already draining at his feet.

  Callum drew his sword and stepped quickly, driving it into the creature from behind. She screamed and yowled, but the runes carved into his blade glowed faintly, and then were still. Fiona finished lacing her bodice as the creature died and her brother came back to reality, and she moved to him to see if he was alright. Callum knew that he would be, she had not held him in her deathly embrace for very long.

  Fiona moved to Callum side, embracing him.

  “I forgot to tell you,” he sa
id to her after she had finally let him go.

  “What is it now?” she asked with a little laugh. He reached into his bag and removed a small sprig of white heather. Her eyes grew wide, and with trembling fingers she took the flowers from his hand.

  “It seems like I had gotten a little distracted before I was able to properly give this to you,” he said with a little laugh. “But here it is. The choice is your now.”

  She looked into his strange golden eyes, this man who could turn into a wolf, and knew precisely what her answer would be.

  Epilogue: Two Weeks Later

  Fiona braided white heather into her hair in preparation for the wedding. She had never been more sure, than she was at that very moment, she knew that now, and as she adjusted the tartan of Clan MacCaig as a sash across her simple white dress, she understood finally what Ole Bonnie had meant.

  The old woman watched with a smile as Fiona breathlessly prepared. She had done well, knew she had, but such was her wont, being what she was. Fiona had spent her entire life wishing to see a faerie, but had failed to see the one who had been before her all along. This thrilled Ole Bonnie, because as kindly as she was, she still loved a good trick or two.

  With Artair’s witness account, and the pile of bones that the baohbansith had become, Fiona and Callum were easily believed by the people of the village. They had looked upon the situation with wonder, and perhaps a little fear. Ole Bonnie liked that, a little fear was good when dealing with faeries.

  With Fiona’s approval, the wedding plans had begun immediately.

  “Look at me, Ole Bonnie!’ she cried with happiness, spinning around to show off her dress.

  “You’re the most beautiful bride in the highlands,” Ole Bonnie said, and she meant it too.

  In spite of Fiona’s protests, the old woman had insisted on watching the ceremony from afar. Her old bones, she said, she couldn’t go walking up hills anymore. It did not matter, for as soon as Fiona lay eyes on her groom her face lit up with joy and she thought of little else, not even about Ole Bonnie. But that was just as well.

  She watched from afar as Fiona kissed her happy groom, and she granted a wish that Fiona had not even known she had made.

  They would live happily ever after, that would be Ole Bonnie’s gift. She bowed her head and began to walk away, returning back to wherever it was that she had come from, disappearing from the minds of the villagers….all except one.

  THE END

  Alone With A Highlander

  Highlander Romance

  By: Bonnie Adamson

  Alone With AHighLander

  Linnet was terribly bored. Which was a terrible thing considering the fact that she was currently in a grand masquerade, and even more so because she was currently attending a grand masquerade in secret. She thought it would be far more exciting than it ended up being, but there she was, dressed in blue silk damask and a mask on her face, and she could not see a single man that she would enjoy dancing with.

  Her heart sank at the thought of it, after all she had gone through to sneak into this ball, it was becoming a terrible bore. Her father, the Baronet Wakefield, had been nothing for protective of her ever since Linnet’s mother died. It had been almost fifteen years since that day, and at eighteen Linnet felt stifled by his constant nervous attention.

  It was a tragedy, truly, given how beautiful the ball was. Set in a vast hall, resplendent with streamers and garlands of flowers. The table of food in the corner was enough for Linnet to salivate, and not to mention the fact that there was a small but incredibly well trained orchestra there to play music all night. And so many masks! Dominos, full masks, beautiful wrought metal things with musical notes. For the first full hour she had been truly enthralled by all that she saw, the beautiful clothing, the gallant gentlemen, and the dances! Oh such dances! How could it be that she had come to such a beautiful place and could find herself so utterly and pathetically bored!?

  Lydia, the only person that Linnet could truthfully call a friend swept over to her, a vision in canary yellow lace. Although they were supposed to be in disguise, Linnet could tell it was Lydia by the straight and sharp slope of her nose, and of her hair, a pale blonde so silky that it never seemed to want to stay in a bun. She was breathless with excitement, and Linnet knew with a growing feeling of warmth towards her friend that it was mostly because Linnet was at the party. Lydia took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Oh, isn’t it just delightful?” Lydia said in a joyful burst. Linnet arranged her features into some semblance of a smile in order to put her friend’s fears at ease. Lydia was a notoriously nervous girl, and Linnet didn’t want to upset her by making her believe that she was not having a good idea at the party. The truth was that the party wasbeautiful, it’s just that something was missing, and Linnet was unsure of what it was.

  “It is, Lydia! You’ve been dancing all night!”

  Lydia’s delicate beauty and excellent prospects had made her the bell of the ball, Linnet knew that she easily could become such as well, but prefered to remain a wallflower lest her behavior give her away to her father. Or worse.

  Her fiancé.

  Basile Trafalgar wasn’t a terrible man, not by any stretch of the imagination. As her father’s business partner, she had known him for what seemed like centuries and he had always been kind to her. He was even handsome, with thick brown hair and eyes dark enough to be considered black. Linnet liked him, but she wasn’t fully sure that she could ever love him. Perhaps there was something wrong with her, and it didn’t help that her father had made it expressly clear that this was the only prospect that she had. Lydia thought it equal parts strangely romantic and ultimately tragic. Equal parts destiny and lack of free will.

  Linnet, for the most part, agreed with her.

  She knew that Basile was supposed to be here tonight, and desperately hoped that there were too many business partners to notice him, or at least too many people so that she may slip away. Lydia had already told her that it was a ludicrous idea, Linnet was easily the most beautiful girl at the ball. It was a sweet thing to say, but Linnet of course knew otherwise. Not a single man had asked her to dance yet.

  Then again, it might be precisely because her costume wasn’t as good at hiding her as she thought.

  “You should dance at least once, Linnet. No one will recognize you, too many people here are too full of drink!” Lydia laughed at the scandal.

  “I would,” Linnet admitted. “If there was any man who seemed interesting enough. Or if any man wanted to.”

  Lydia laughed again, her voice bright and bubbling like that champagne that Linnet was not allowed to drink.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, plenty of people are interesting. Why look over there: Jeremy Cavendish has been to Ireland.”

  Lydia had never left the small town where she grew up, so any forays into what she considered to be far-off lands always excited her. Linnet wondered why Lydia didn’t just ask Jeremy Cavendish to dance herself if he was so terribly interesting. Then again, Lydia probably already had, and once again Linnet felt a sting of jealousy. Were it not for her father being away on business and for a certain trusting and understanding maid, Linnet would be sitting at home embroidering again. She loved embroidery, but not that much.

  Lydia’s eyes drank in the scene around her, desperate to find something or someone that would make Linnet feel as though she had been right for escaping the tyranny of her father’s household for one simple night.

  “Trust me, Linnet. Just say yes once!”

  “I’ll consider it,” was Linnet’s only reply.

  #

  Another party, and TavishMacFadden was at his wit’s end. Of course, no one at the part knew that his name was TavishMacFadden, in fact many of them believe him to be an English gentleman by the name of Theodore Polk. Instead he was a highlander from Scotland, just over the border, and he was here to keep tabs on the English to make sure they weren’t planning on trying anything unsavory.

  When he had
accepted the position, hoping that it would bring great honor to his clan, he had hoped with some foolish pride that he would end up being some sort of wonderful hero. Instead he had unearthed little, often forgot that his name wasn’t supposed to be Tavish, and had subjected himself not only to the strange attentions of hopeful heiresses, but also to parties such as this. It was not ideal.

  He missed the rolling hills of his home, of the outdoors. He missed the bustling excitement of the villages, of the marketplace, of hunting in the woods. He missed basically anything that was not a stuffy drawing room, or parties where dancing was as far as one could get with a lady before a marriage proposal was accepted. He wished, beyond all things, that he could find one single girl that could hold his attention for more than five minutes.

  That’s why, when he glanced across the ballroom, he was shocked to see exactly what it was that he wanted.

  There she stood, next to Lydia Havilland, a delicate, fine boned creature with a mass of red curls piled on her head in such a way that it made him wonder if she had done it herself. She wore a dress of blue damask, with a gold mask covering her eyes and nose. It didn’t matter, he could tell she was utterly beautiful. Lydia said something to make the beautiful creature laugh, and before he realized what was happening, Tavish was making his way across the ballroom.

  #

  “Is someone coming over?” Linnet asked,her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and curiosity. She had not noticed him until then, but once she did...oh how she noticed him. He was taller than the men here, wearing a somber suit as opposed to the more flamboyant tastes of the men around him. His hair was long, dark, and tied back to expose the sharpness of his cheekbones. She didn’t know why, but her heart began to pound as soon as she realized he was making his way directly towards her.

  Lydia opened her fan and began to fan herself, leaning over to talk to Linnet from behind the embroidered silk,

  “That’s Theodore Polk, he’s a recent addition. He’s spent some time in Scotland and that shows. It’s very exotic, don’t you think?”