“I thought I’d lost ye,” Evina whispered.
“As I thought I’d lost ye.” He cupped her face in his hands, holding her as one might hold something both fragile and cherished.
Their eyes met and held, conveying everything in a moment that words could never say in a lifetime. Their yearning, their devotion, and their love.
The sunlight overhead shimmered and blazed. Its intensifying heat and light bathed them until Evina’s body went hot, as though she might ignite. Heart racing with this new, unseen danger, she grabbed Duncan’s léine and pulled him upright. Together they staggered to the side door of the castle and blindly pushed through.
Gillespie waited on the other side with his arms crossed and a single impertinent brow raised on his high forehead. “Well,” he huffed, “it’s about damn time.”
DUNCAN WAS ALIVE, remaining in his castle with the same furnishings and tapestries in the same places with Gillespie staring at him with a smirk on his face. And Evina…
Duncan let his gaze slide to the woman he loved. She still wore the long white dress, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed and the tip of her nose had gone pink. As if she’d been crying.
For him.
“Ye wouldna have lasted much longer.” Gillespie winced against the brilliant light streaming in from the window. He shaded his hand over his eyes before drawing closed the curtain. “The curse is dying.”
Evina’s hand lingered on Duncan’s chest from where she’d helped him run from the excruciating light outside. He put his hand over her fingers to keep her sweet touch from slipping away.
“I was dead,” he said.
Gillespie thrust his chin out and nodded. “Och, aye. Ye were. But I was able to tap into the enchantment of the rowan tree to preserve a scant edge of yer life. I’d hoped it’d be long enough.” He smiled at Evina. “And it was. Although only just.”
His expression turned sheepish. “I cast a spell to make a light flash outside, one that looked like what took Evina to Morrigan’s home. Forgive the deception, my laird. It was the only thing I could think to do to get ye there when the time came.”
Duncan chuckled. “Aye, ye were right. And there’s no’ anything to forgive. I’m alive because of ye.”
“I might have done more if I could have entered the ring around the rowan tree, but after the tree lost its last leaf, doing so was impossible.” Gillespie furrowed his brows. “I believe Evina was able to enter because of how she arrived at the location, tethered between two magical realms.”
A sadness crossed Evina’s face. “It wasna completely me. A sister of mine, one who might have a great cost in life because of her bravery in saving Duncan.”
Gillespie nodded, his face grave. “Then I shall pray for her.”
“Sorcha,” Duncan said. “Her name is Sorcha.”
He didn’t like the sadness on Evina’s face, or the burden on her heart. He too would pray for Sorcha to overcome her sacrifice, for the small blonde child who gave him a gift he could never repay.
“Did ye meet Morrigan?” Duncan asked. “Did ye find out who ye were?”
Evina shook her head. “I dinna have time. I was nearly there, but that’s when I figured everything out. I couldna meet with her.” Her eyes went glassy with unshed tears. “No’ when I realized what I would have to lose.”
Understanding punched into Duncan’s stomach. She had given up what she’d sought her entire life. For him.
Gillespie bowed low and backed away, quietly dismissing himself.
Duncan waited until his servant left before speaking. “Evina, ye dinna find out yer past?”
She put her fingertips to his mouth. “I couldna lose ye. What I would have learned, it would have been my past. But ye - ye’re my future.” She drew in a shaky breath and a tear slipped down her face. “I love ye, Duncan Maclean.”
Future. The word stuck in his throat, lodged behind a stubborn knot set within. He had never used the word, for to him it had been filled with the emptiness of despair.
“Ye gave up too much for me,” he said in a tight voice.
“Ye were willing to give up more for me,” Evina reminded him gently.
He pulled her toward him, catching her slender waist in his arms. Her long, lean body stretched out against his and his heart swelled with love and longing. He breathed in deep the delicate feminine scent of her. “I love ye, Evina. Ye’ve given me life in more ways than just saving me from death.”
She smiled up at him and a sparkle shone in her gray eyes. God, she was beautiful.
He released one arm’s hold on her to capture her face in his hand. “Be my wife, Evina. Be my future.”
“I canna think of anything that would make me happier.” He captured her lips with his, sealing the fate of both their futures with love.
EPILOGUE
June 1383
Duart Castle, Scotland
THE CHILD WAS everything Evina had never let herself hope to want. A beautiful girl of two with a head of dark hair and a happy, ready smile. A daughter named Phoebe. Part of their happy family they intended to grow even further after five years of traveling the world together.
Evina sat in the bench beneath the old rowan tree. Though the branches were withered and no longer produced leaves or berries, traces of the enchantment hummed along the base of the trunk where the tree met the soft earth. Evina rested her toes on a wide, gnarled root. The magic sang in her blood and made her feet tingle with warmth.
“Bird.” Phoebe pointed to a branch several feet above them where a crow had landed.
Indeed the crow was there, the same one that seemed to join them most mornings they came to the rowan tree to offer their thanks. The bird quirked its head at them and hopped closer.
“Aye, it is a bird.” Evina stroked the soft skin of her daughter’s face and Phoebe turned her gaze up at Evina. Duncan’s eyes. Their daughter was a perfect blend of both of them with her black hair and his dark, warm eyes.
“And now we pray to your grandmother, Phoebe.” Evina bowed her head toward her daughter who carefully placed her soft brow against Evina’s. Phoebe’s shoulders rose with elation and Evina knew the small child could feel the pulse of magic transferring through her.
“Mother,” Evina whispered. “Thank ye for sparing my husband, for allowing me to live this life I dinna ever think possible. And for giving me such a bonny, precious daughter.” Phoebe rocked her head side to side playfully, rolling their brows together. “Forgive me for having missed meeting ye, but know that I love ye. And please protect Sorcha for us, and give her our love for we shall forever be indebted to her.”
“Da!” Phoebe squealed and began wriggling in Evina’s lap.
With a laugh, Evina set her daughter down and watched her toddle off through the thick grass to where Duncan approached with Gillespie at his side. Duncan caught Phoebe in one strong hand and swung her up into his arms with a bear-like growl. Phoebe screamed with delight.
“Did I interrupt yer time with Morrigan?” Duncan asked as they approached.
Evina slid over to make room for her husband behind her. “Nay, having my family isna ever an interruption. My mother knows what ye mean to me.”
Duncan settled himself beside her and stretched out his long legs. Phoebe wedged herself between them with a contented smile. “Bird.” She pointed to the crow once more. It had hopped down several branches and was now nearly eye level with them.
Gillespie bowed down onto one knee. “Ye should respect crows, lass. They represent yer grandmother.” He cast a wink in Phoebe’s direction.
Ever the quick learner, Phoebe pushed herself off the bench and strode confidently to the bird. Evina share a smile with her husband and slipped her hand into his. Magic traveled between their connected hands and glowed against their palms.
Their daughter carefully knelt on the ground beside the tree and bowed her head respectfully.
The crow swooped down from the branch and landed grace
fully onto Phoebe’s propped knee. Evina tightened her grip on Duncan’s hand. The crow stared up at Phoebe, who returned its curious gaze. They remained thus for a long moment before the bird squawked once and flew off. Two feathers floated down from its wings on its ascent. One landed on Phoebe’s head to the girl’s grinning delight. The other landed in Evina’s lap.
The feathers were extraordinary, even for having come from a crow. Almost as long as Evina’s forearm, far too large to have come from the crow’s body. The sun cast a purple-blue sheen over it and sent the feather shimmering with the promise of magic.
For years now, Evina had hoped the crow might be her mother. And now it appeared that hope may be a true possibility.
Duncan met Evina’s eye. “Was that her?”
“I think so,” she replied. “I think that was Morrigan.” She reached for the feather and grasped the hard stem between her thumb and forefinger.
The world sucked away and everything around her whirled into a frenzy that crashed into the stillness of a forest.
A man stood between the trees, an arrow nocked in his bow. His face was hidden in the shadows, but Evina knew him. She would know him anywhere.
“Da?” she stepped forward. Twigs and the hard edges of dead leaves jabbed into her bare feet, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was being with her father once more.
He lowered his bow and turned to regard her. He was handsome, her father - with a strong jaw and brilliant blue eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows of the forest.
He glanced around them. ”Ye canna be here, Evina. It isna safe.”
“I wanted to be with ye.” Evina ran to him, drawn toward the strength and safety of his arms.
“Ye canna leave,” he said. His words were not chastisement so much as they were factually stated.
“But I did.”
At that, he swung his arrow and held his arms open to her. She ran to him on legs so eager, they almost fell beneath her. He caught her mid-run and cradled her to his body.
It was not safe. She knew as much. But he was strong and brave. He would keep her safe no matter what.
He gazed into her face and shook his head. “I never should have begged Morrigan to let me meet ye.”
Hurtful words Evina knew better than to believe. “Ye dinna mean that.”
He gave her a smile that looked like it hurt and bestowed a cherishing kiss on her brow. “Nay, lass. I canna ever regret having met ye. Ye’re the whole of my heart.”
A shriek sounded overhead and echoed through the forest around them. Her father’s grip tightened on her, almost painfully. Chills raked over her skin and left her hair standing on end.
“The Shadows?” She did not need to ask the question, not when she already knew the answer.
“Ye shouldna have come here,” her father said again.
“I had to see ye.” Tears burned hot in her eyes and poured down her cheeks. “I love ye.”
Her da’s eyes went glassy with his own unshed tears. “I love ye too, lass.” He ducked and, still holding her, he ran. Sticks broke against them and tore at their flesh. The shrieking grew louder, reverberating in her soul and masking the rhythmic crunch of leaves and fauna beneath her father’s feet.
A cold sensation curled around her throat and yanked her from her father’s iron grip.
“Nay,” he cried.
The world spun, giving her snatches of images of the sky, the woods, her father’s flashing blade.
A howl broke through the air and Evina was released to where she fell hard to the forest floor. Her father lay on the ground there. Blood streaked the blade at his side, but it also dripped from the corner of his mouth. He had been injured. Her brave da had been injured protecting her.
Evina whimpered and crawled over to him. The skin on her upper arm burned. She had been wounded, she knew, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was her father.
“Da?” She touched his chest, seeking a wound.
His breath came in ragged gasps. He looked at her once in a long slow regard. “I’m sorry, lass, I canna protect ye.” His jaw clenched as a spasm of obvious pain wracked his body. “I love ye so verra much.” Then his eyes clenched shut and his body flexed beneath her hands as he screamed out her mother’s name.
The shriek of The Shadows sounded overhead, ravenous for more of her blood. Evina should run. She should at least pull her gaze from her father to search the surrounding woods, or overhead. They were playing with her in the same way a cat bats about a wounded mouse. She should try to flee.
But her da was dying. She had seen death in the pools often enough to know its presence. Mayhap someone was up in the pools now watching her impending death. And yet she could not leave.
“Da.”
“Morrigan, protect her,” her da’s voice gritted through his teeth. Blood flecked his mouth and turned his spittle pink. “I canna get her to ye in time. Save her. Make her forget who she is.”
“Nay,” Evina cried. “I’d rather die.”
And truly she would. She did not want to forget her strong, loving father, her beautiful and loving mother, the magnificence of her home or the affection of all her sisters.
Her father’s blue gaze fastened on hers. “Forgive me, my daughter. I loved ye too greatly.”
Another shriek sounded. Now overhead, but it did not mask the long exhale of her father’s last breath. His eyes fell half-lidded and his focus gazed to the nothingness of death.
A scream came from inches over her head. The chilled breath of The Shadows fanned over her hair and shoulders. Then, darkness fell over Evina and her world went black.
Brilliant sunlight filled Evina’s vision to where she held a single crow feather pinched between her fingers.
“Evina?” Fear edged Duncan’s voice.
“My da…” Evina’s voice cut off with the ache in her throat. “He died fighting The Shadows. He made my mother have me forget so they would not know me for a daughter of Morrigan. He did it to save me.”
“He was the man laying next to ye?”
Evina nodded. “The reason for my loss of memory was because my parents loved me so much, and because I loved them.” A warmth blossomed in her chest. She lifted the feather. “But at least I know I was loved.”
Duncan caressed her cheek. “Ye’ve always been loved, wife.”
Evina could not stop the smile from spreading over her lips even if she’d wanted to. “As ye’ve always been loved by me, husband.”
“And now yer sacrifice for having done so is lessened.” Indeed the expression on his face was one of gratitude.
“Yer feather wasna the only gift this day.” Gillespie rose from where he crouched to speak with Phoebe.
She held the feather in her fist and her eyes shone with joy. Gillespie ruffled her hair with one hand, leaving her black curls tousled. “Morrigan has blessed yer daughter.”
Duncan gave a soft exhale, as Evina’s own heart blossomed in her chest. “Our daughter, blessed by a goddess,” she breathed. “We have been given so much.”
“Aye, that we have.” Duncan slipped a strong arm around Evina’s shoulders and drew her closer to him as they watched their daughter twirl through the golden lit grass with a feather of Morrigan in her hand.
Evina lay her head on Duncan’s chest and reveled in the steady thump of his heartbeat against her skin, a sensation she never stopped appreciating. In fact, her very life was appreciated. Duncan, Phoebe, Gillespie and even the enchanted servants, all of whom she’d come to love.
For two souls once cursed, she and Duncan had been destined for misery, loneliness and death. In each other they’d found not only life, but love. Now, the daughter of two cursed parents had the blessing of a goddess.
Aye, Evina had much to be grateful for, and never let a day go by that she did not thank her mother and cherish all the love in her beautiful life.
EXCERPT: A GHOSTLY TALE OF FORBIDDEN LOVE
MADELINE MARTIN
CHAPTER 1
June 1604
SENARA HAD NEVER FOUGHT against four men at once, but she wasn't about to back down from the challenge.
“Give us the horse and we'll leave ye be.” The taller of the men gripped her fingers where she held Norbert's reins. His hand was as large as both of hers combined.
Norbert huffed out a breath of warm air, as if he found the idea preposterous. For indeed it was. She'd no sooner give up her horse than she would her father's sword.
Her parents had been generous to gift her with both prior to her departure. She'd rather die than lose either.
“I'll be damned if I give ye anything.” Senara swept a dagger from her waist and drew the razor-sharp tip over the man's thumb.
He loosed a curse and jerked his hand back. “The cat's got claws, lads.” The look he gave the others was not one of caution, but of malice.
Of foul intent.
Senara glanced at the swells of purple heather surrounding the trail and at the heavy green trees beyond. It did not appear there were more men.
Four men would not be impossible.
She edged in front of Norbert.
“That's quite a blade ye got there, lass.” A man with a tangle of blond hair grinned at the first man. “Did she stick ye with her poker?”
The other two laughed.
Senara slid free her father's sword from the leather scabbard. The steel glinted in the afternoon sun, embodied with all the strength and bravery of her father.
“Does she even know how to use it?” the blond asked.
Senara didn't answer.
They would see.
The man with the injured hand - nay, the injured pride - charged at her. Senara stepped aside from his clumsy attack.
The others laughed.
The tall man's face went red. This time he pulled out his own sword - a terribly large thing he had to hold with two hands.
Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection Page 10
