Domhnall's Honor: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book 3)

by Stella Knight

  There was a collective gasp among the witches. Lachina paled, but continued to study her. “And why are ye here?”

  “To warn you. Another war will come to these isles, a war that can be prevented if you unite with the lairds of the isles. You know there are Norse who are ignoring the peace treaty and continuing to raid. I’m here to tell you it will only get worse—they’ll continue to bring death and destruction to these lands. But they can be stopped, if you join with the leaders of the isles.”

  The witches looked at her with astonishment, while Lachina’s anger seemed to spike; her mouth tightened, and her eyes narrowed. “Things may be different in yer time, but do ye ken how dangerous it would be if we were tae expose ourselves? Some may ken about us, aye, but they pretend tae nae ken of our existence. If others were tae ken—"

  “You only have to tell the lairds who will ally with you, and only the ones you believe you can trust,” Astrid interrupted, her tone urgent. “If they know harm is coming to their lands, they’ll want to ally with us.”

  “Us?” Lachina echoed, her expression darkening. “We donnae stand with ye—we donnae ken who ye are. How do we ken ye speak the truth? How do we nae ken ye’ve come from another coven that wishes tae destroy us?”

  “She isnae.”

  To Astrid’s surprise, it was Fyfa who spoke up, and all eyes turned to her.

  “I was suspicious of her at first, but I’ve foreseen her arrival in this time. She’s working with one of the lairds of Barra, Laird Domhnall Flachnan. He is a good man; he trusts her. I think that speaks tae her nature. And she helped my ailing father when she didnae have tae. I believe she speaks truth.”

  Astrid gave Fyfa a grateful look. But Lachina said nothing, continuing to glower at Astrid. She abruptly stepped forward, reaching out to take Astrid’s hand. The move was so sudden that Astrid started to jerk away in surprise, but Lachina held firm as she murmured the words of a spell in Old Gaelic that Astrid didn’t recognize.

  Lachina closed her eyes, holding still for several long moments, until she dropped Astrid’s hand as if she’d just been burned and stumbled back, her eyes wide with horror.

  “I see darkness in yer line,” she breathed. “Ye have kin that are aingidh?”

  “My parents were aingidh,” Astrid replied, not breaking eye contact even as that old feeling of shame twisted inside her. “But I’m not like them. I’m only here to help.”

  It was as if she hadn’t spoken. Now the witches were muttering among themselves, looking at her with blatant distrust, while Lachina whirled to face Fyfa.

  “Get this aingidh off of our isle,” she hissed as Fyfa stumbled backward, looking pale-faced and stricken. “If ye ever bring her tae me again, I’ll release ye from the coven.”

  “Please,” Astrid said, desperation rising as she stepped forward. She’d been prepared for some pushback from other witches, but not this level of hostility. “I only want to—"

  Astrid let out a startled cry as an invisible force lifted her bodily off of her feet as a spell struck her in the chest, slamming her onto the ground with such force that the air seemed to whoosh out of her entire body.

  Lachina stalked toward Astrid as she lay on the ground, reeling, her eyes narrowed into slits.

  “Leave now, aingidh, or I’ll submerge ye in the sea until ye drown.”

  “Ye need tae do something tae earn Lachina’s trust,” Fyfa said.

  Astrid and Fyfa were making their way back to Fyfa’s cottage from the shore of Barra. Astrid was going to do a brief follow-up medical check on Fyfa’s father, who was now in full recovery from his illness. But she was distracted, still stricken over Lachina’s fury and her magical attack.

  How can I get the witches to trust me if they don’t see past my bloodline? What if history changes for the worse because I can’t convince them to make the Pact that can save the isles from more warfare? What will happen to Domhnall? His people?

  Fear rose in her belly, mingling with panic, and she closed her eyes, trying to focus on Fyfa’s words. “How?” Astrid asked warily, rubbing her temples. “She hates me—as you did.”

  “I never hated ye,” Fyfa corrected. “I just didnae trust ye. Yer help with my father made me trust ye.”

  “I don’t know how to earn her trust. I have no doubt she’ll try to kill me if I approach her again.”

  “Nae if ye approach her somewhere where she cannae harm ye,” Fyfa said, turning to face her.

  Astrid studied her, baffled. She’d half expected Fyfa to refuse to help her after Lachina threatened to release her from the coven. Though not as vital in her time, covens were helpful to witches for a sense of community; it was a magical family of sorts. Yet Fyfa seemed even more determined to help her now.

  “I believe what ye say about the Norse,” Fyfa said as if reading her thoughts. “I donnae want more warfare tae come tae the isles.”

  “And where—how—can I approach her without her killing me?” Astrid asked, shivering as she recalled the anger in Lachina’s eyes; the force of her power.

  “Lachina is more than just a stiuireadh,” Fyfa said, giving her a smile that was almost mischievous. “Come inside, and after ye’ve checked in on my father, I’ll make ye a warm broth before ye return tae the castle. I’ll tell ye who Lachina truly is.”

  Chapter 15

  Domhnall rode his horse across the broad expanse of Barra, Ruarc at his side, taking in the defenses that both his and Neacal’s men had arranged. Together, they’d made certain they had men manning the small ports that dotted the isle, and additional men at lookout posts at various spots along Barra’s extensive coastline.

  All morning, it had been difficult to remove thoughts of his bonnie sea witch from his mind. He kept recalling the delicious feel of her body, how soft her skin was, how desirable she’d looked beneath him, her dark curls spread around her like a halo as he’d taken her. He’d made love to her twice more during the night, and he still wasn’t sated. He wanted more of her. Needed more of her.

  It had been difficult to leave her side after dawn broke; he’d wanted nothing more than to spend the day in bed with her, learning everything there was to know about her, a need that he admitted to himself went beyond desire. He had left her only after a long, lingering kiss that he’d made himself end as he would have taken her to bed again had he not done so.

  “Domhnall?” Ruarc asked, forcing him back to the present.

  “Aye?”

  “The northern part of the isle looks secure; we should check the southern coastline once more,” Ruarc said, studying him closely. “Are ye well? Ye seem—"

  “I’m well,” he said shortly, not wanting Ruarc to know what had him so distracted. “Aye, let’s check the southern coastline.”

  But as he started to turn his horse, a rider approached him and Ruarc from the south, moving at a quick speed. Domhnall stiffened with panic and reached for the hilt of his sword, his alarm only quelling when he saw it was Aodh, his personal messenger.

  “My laird,” Aodh said as he approached, his face pale with panic. “There’s been an attack on Muck Isle tae the east. ’Tis the Norse. Farms burned. Men killed.”

  After he and Ruarc arrived back at the castle, Domhnall made his way to the great hall, anger and frustration rising within him. Ulf had said nothing about an attack on Muck. According to Aodh, the other isles Ulf had told him of remained unharmed.

  Did Ulf not know about this attack? Unease settled over him as he realized this was unlikely. What if his cousin had told him of a false attack against the other isles as a test of his loyalty? Had his cousin realized his betrayal?

  As much as he dreaded it, he needed to see his cousin to find out the truth. But first he would meet with his men to make certain they were prepared for a potential surprise attack.

  He recalled the dark days of the war against the Norse: the constant battles, the defenses he and his men struggled to maintain against the determined Norse, the injuries and deaths among his men, the tol
l of constant battle on the men and women of Barra—people he was supposed to protect.

  And now he was failing at preventing yet another war.

  He clenched his fists at his sides, tamping down his anger and frustration. Just as he and Ruarc reached the doors to the great hall, Astrid hurried toward him from the opposite end of the corridor. Warmth, desire, and something foreign swept over him at the sight of her, but he tapped the emotions away, like extinguishing a burgeoning flame. He had to force coldness into his gaze, his body. His yearning for Astrid had made him lose focus; while he’d worshipped her body the night before, the Norse were planning to launch yet another attack, on an isle not far from Barra. He couldn’t risk her distracting him again.

  “Domhnall—" she began.

  “I have a meeting with my nobles. There’s been a Norse attack on an isle just east of here,” he said shortly.

  Astrid blanched at this, horror flitting across her lovely features, and he had to quell the urge to comfort her, keeping his gaze hard.

  “Did ye get other stiuireadh tae join ye?”

  “N—no,” Astrid said, still looking shaken. “But—"

  “I will talk with ye later after I speak with the nobles,” he interrupted, forcing himself to move past her.

  “Should—should I come in with you? Maybe I can—"

  “No. There’s nothing ye can do,” he said, hating himself for both his forced coldness and his need to take her in his arms, to reassure her.

  Instead, he avoided looking at her altogether as he entered the great hall, Ruarc right behind him.

  “Was it necessary tae talk tae her so harshly?” Ruarc asked in a low voice.

  “There’s just been an attack on an isle nae far from here. I can talk tae the lass later,” Domhnall said shortly.

  Ruarc’s mouth tightened, but he seemed to know better than to argue.

  The meeting with his nobles was brief; they looked as shaken as he was about the attack on Muck; some had family who resided there. Nobles from Muck had helped Barra with food and supplies during the last war with the Norse; they had proven to be loyal allies.

  “We will send what aid we can spare, provide those whose farms were burned with staples and water,” Domhnall told his men. “We also need tae strengthen our own defenses. I want men on boats patrolling the eastern and western coasts of Barra.”

  “And what of yer cousin?” asked Larragh, one of the older nobles who had served his father, his brows knit together in a frown. “He told ye the attacks were tae take place on other isles.”

  “I will deal with my cousin,” Domhnall said, both fear and anger roiling through him at the thought of Ulf betraying him. “But for now, we must do all we can tae assure that our lands our secure.”

  After his men had left the hall, Domhnall turned to Ruarc. “I need tae see my cousin—tonight,” he said brusquely.

  “I agree that ye need tae speak with Ulf, but ye need tae practice caution. Bring yer most trusted men as guards with ye.”

  Domhnall gritted his teeth. He still wanted to hold on to hope that Ulf hadn’t purposely misled him, that his cousin trusted him even while Domhnall deceived him.

  But he couldn’t allow himself such naïveté. He needed to prepare himself for Ulf’s wrath. His heart twisted in his chest, and he gave Ruarc a curt nod.

  He traveled to Leagh that evening with several guards, his blood racing with grim anticipation. He knew it would take some time for Aodh to reach Ulf in Orkney with the message that he wanted to meet; he was prepared to spend the night at the cottage that served as his and Ulf’s meeting place. He tried not to think of how he’d spent the previous night, wrapped around Astrid’s beautiful body.

  He entered the cottage, expecting to find it empty, but he froze in surprise. Ulf stood there, his arms crossed over his shoulders, his expression hard. And unlike the other times they’d met, two men flanked him. Two Norsemen.

  Domhnall’s guards instantly went into a defensive stance. Domhnall held up his hand for calm, though his heart pounded with alarm.

  “My allies didn’t truly believe you were with us,” Ulf spat, glaring at him. “They wanted me to test you by telling you of a false attack to see if anyone was warned, when in truth they were planning to raid Muck. And they were right. You betrayed me, cousin.”

  His voice broke, and for a moment Ulf’s rage dissipated; he looked as Domhnall had remembered him as a lad. Vulnerable. And now, heartbroken.

  Guilt surged in Domhnall’s chest, and he opened his mouth to defend himself. Yet before he could, Ulf strode across the room, pressing the blade of his sword to his throat. Panic flared to life within Domhnall as Ulf’s men forced Domhnall’s guards back.

  “We are blood, yet you choose the Scots. I should cut you down,” Ulf hissed.

  Fear laced through Domhnall, yet he didn’t show it. He held his cousin’s gaze and spoke the truth. “I did what I did for peace. For my people.”

  “Until we get our lands back, there can be no peace,” Ulf snarled.

  Several tense moments passed, moments that seemed like an eternity as Ulf remained still, a tumult of emotions fluttering across his face, his blade against Domhnall’s throat.

  He finally lowered his sword and stepped back, giving Domhnall a look of such hatred that it was like a physical blow.

  “I told my allies I would kill you for your betrayal. Because you are my blood, I will show you the loyalty you didn’t show me and spare your life. But you will stay out of this fight, cousin. Or I swear to you, when I see you again, I will strike you down.”

  Chapter 16

  Astrid entered her chamber, blinking back tears of hurt, reeling over Domhnall’s coldness. Unlike last night, he’d treated her like a distant stranger. Pain splintered her chest as she thought of the disregard in his eyes; it was as if their shared intimacy the night before hadn’t happened.

  Was Domhnall upset with her? Did he regret what occurred between them?

  The thought pained her even more, and she closed her eyes. If he regretted their lovemaking, maybe he was right to do so. The recent strike by the Norse only proved the danger was increasing, and she still hadn’t accomplished what she’d come to this time to do.

  Moving over to the window and looking out at the surrounding ocean, she recalled what Fyfa had told her about Lachina.

  “She’s the wife of a high-ranking clan noble; Manus. Only her husband kens who she truly is. If ye go see her at her home, she cannae use magic against ye; it will risk revealing who she is. But ye’ll have tae ken what ye’ll say tae convince her. I donnae think ye’ll have another chance after that.”

  Fear tightened Astrid’s belly at the thought of approaching Lachina once more. By the force of her spell, Astrid could tell Lachina was a powerful witch, and Astrid was still struggling to grasp her own power.

  But she had no choice. She needed to get the witches to unite with the lairds as a defense sooner rather than later or risk history being completely rewritten.

  Her determination renewed, she ignored her lingering heartbreak as best she could for the rest of the day, remaining in her chamber to mentally review and practice spells, but not before telling the chambermaid that she would again take supper in her chamber. She was too hurt and embarrassed to face Domhnall in the great hall, though some part of her hoped he would come to see her and apologize.

  Before she ate dinner, she went to Siomha’s chamber to perform a medical check, something she’d made a mental note to do periodically as long as she was in this time. Pregnancy was especially risky in this time, and if she could help Siomha’s pregnancy go smoother, it was the least she could do even if she didn’t have modern equipment.

  Siomha greeted her with a warm smile when she entered, allowing Astrid to press her hand to her belly to feel for the baby’s heartbeat, patiently answering Astrid’s questions about fatigue, her appetite, and other pregnancy-related symptoms. Based on Siomha’s answers, and the solid pounding of the baby’s heartbe
at, Astrid could tell that it was a healthy pregnancy.

  A surprising rush of envy coursed through her when she pressed her hand to Siomha’s belly. In her own time, Astrid hadn’t given too much thought to children as she’d never met anyone she wanted to raise a child with. Now, she couldn’t help but imagine a child of hers and Domhnall’s, with her dark curls and Domhnall’s sharp blue eyes. Domhnall, with his sense of honor and duty, would make a wonderful father.

  “Astrid?” Siomha was asking.

  Astrid blinked up at Siomha.

  “Are ye unwell? Ye looked far away for a moment.”

  “I’m fine,” Astrid said hastily. “Everything seems healthy with your pregnancy and the baby.”

  “Will ye stay with me for a meal?” Siomha asked as Astrid straightened. “Ruarc has a meeting with the laird and the other nobles, and I’m curious tae learn more about this future ye come from.”

  “Of course,” Astrid said, returning her smile, though another stab of pain pierced her over Domhnall not including her in this meeting. He seemed determined to avoid her.

  She forced her thoughts away from Domhnall as the chambermaid brought her and Siomha a meal of roasted herring, bread, and vegetables, setting it up on a table before the fireplace.

  It was good to spend time with someone with magical ability who wasn’t so hostile to her like Lachina. Though Fyfa seemed to no longer harbor any ill will toward her, Siomha was the only one with magical ability in this time who’d treated her with kindness from the start.

  After Astrid told her of her tense encounter with Lachina, Siomha gave her a sympathetic look, leaning back in her chair.

  “Ah, Lachina,” Siomha said with a sigh. “I ken her well. I ken she was harsh tae ye, but she has a good heart. She’s only protective of her coven and doesnae trust strangers.”

  “She threatened to kill me,” Astrid said, unable to keep the harshness from her tone. “That goes beyond mistrust.”