Highlander Avenged (16 page)

Before the last tree had even settled, the English soldiers began streaming over the downed tree nearest Jeanette, scrambling away from the clearing shouting, “Witch! She’s a witch!”

Jeanette froze, not knowing where to go to avoid being overrun by the English when one of them passed right through her.

Jeanette woke with a start and a gasp, her heart pounding. She swallowed and tried to remember how she’d gotten from that clearing to . . .

She was in the main cave, the night’s fire gone cold in front of her and the day fully dawned outside. She pushed herself upright trying to meld what she had seen—the English soldier passing through her without knocking her over, nor any pain—with her waking up here in the cave.

She remembered coming back to the caves in the rain, and Peigi helping her dry her hair . . . and then nothing until she’d followed the deer again.

A vision. And if it was true, then Rowan was still the Guardian, for she had called upon the power of the stone to guide her gift and fell those trees. Which meant Jeanette, with her newfound gift of second sight, was what? Another Guardian? Was it really possible that there were two Guardians at the same time?

She stood and shook out her skirt, then headed to the back of the cave where the Guardians’ chronicles were safely hidden. She hadn’t gotten more than a few steps when she heard her name called, and a hand landed lightly on her shoulder.

“You’re awake at last, ye slugabed,” Malcolm said, turning her to face him. The smile that lit his eyes dimmed as he looked at her. “What is amiss, angel?”

“Another vision. The roebuck again.” She stepped into the comfort of his arms and laid her head on his chest where the quiet, even thumping of his heart calmed her. “I saw Rowan and at least a dozen English soldiers in the forest.”

She could feel Malcolm holding his breath.

“She will be fine, at least she was when I woke up. It seems she has learned to protect herself and her people without my help after all.”

“She was alone?”

Jeanette thought about it for long moments, running through everything she remembered, until at last she said, “I do not think so, but I saw only her and the soldiers. One of the soldiers ran right through me, Malcolm, as if I were a ghost watching them.”

“ ’Twas a vision. Perhaps they could not see you, though you saw them.”

“It did seem they could not. What does it mean? Do you think Rowan, and whoever was with her, really did meet up with the English in the forest?”

“The roebuck has not steered us wrong yet, so it would seem he is trustworthy, which means aye, I do think so, or they will, if you are seeing the future.”

Jeanette pushed back so she could look up at Malcolm. “We must go to her, tell her what I’ve seen. We might even be able to stop her from venturing into the forest and meeting up with those soldiers if it has not happened yet.”

“Nay, we do not need to go to her. She should be on her way here by now with Nicholas at the very least. Peigi sent a lad off as soon as the rain stopped last night, to fetch them here. If what you saw was her on her way, then ’tis too late to stop the meeting, and if ’tis in the future, then there is naught to gain by traipsing into the forest where we may run into the same Sassenachs.”

“You sent for her?”

“Aye, I did not wish for you to make the trek after yesterday. Besides, she’ll want to see the grotto where you came into your gift.”

She considered all he said and could do naught but agree.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, tipping her chin up so she was looking at him.

She had to think about it. “Nay, not really,” she said at last. “I want to look at the chronicles again, to see if there is any mention of multiple, simultaneous Guardians, or at the very least to see if there is more I can learn from those who held the gift of second sight.”

“ ’Tis a good place to start. Perhaps you shall find something about how to call the visions to you so you do not have to wait for dreams.”

“Aye, or roebuck in the forest.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “By Peigi’s estimation, the lad should have made the other camp before sunup. Rowan and the others could be here as early as midday, if they left immediately.”

“And aren’t slowed down—or harmed—by the English I saw.”

“Did you see Rowan hurt?”

She shook her head. “Nay. In fact, the English ran away from her. They called her witch.”

“What did she do to them?”

“Dropped trees all around them with naught but her wishes and the Targe stone.”

“Remind me not to get on Rowan’s bad side.”

“Aye, ’twould be good for all of us to remember that.”

“You do not truly fear your cousin, do you?”

“Nay. She has ever had a level head.”

“Good. Now, get you to your scrolls. I will fetch you at least a bannock or two to break your fast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you’ll eat. You’ll need your strength if yesterday is anything to go by, angel.”

She smiled at him, warmed all the way through by his easy endearment and his care of her. She would not dwell on how they must part if she really were a Guardian, not until she had to.

M
ALCOLM BROUGHT THE
bannocks and a cup of cool water to her at the back of the cave, but then left her to the chronicles on her own. He returned what seemed like hours later with a bowl of porridge and another cup of water.

“Have you learned anything?” he asked as he put the bowl and cup down next to her.

She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the ever-tightening
muscles there and in her back. With each scroll she despaired a little more of discovering anything useful. She rubbed the heel of her hand against a sore spot on her chest, just over her heart. She could not decide if ’twas good that there was nothing here to prove she was a second Guardian, or if ’twas a terrible gap in the chronicles.

“You need to eat, then perhaps get out of this dank cave for a bit,” Malcolm said. “It might help you to see things more clearly.”

“Do you make a jest, my Malcolm?”

At her endearment his eyes went soft and his breath grew shallow. He reached out and ran a finger softly from her forehead, down the side of her face, to the point of her chin, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. “I did not make it on purpose, but if it made you claim me for yours again, I will endeavor to do so on purpose in the future.”

She pulled his hand to her and placed a kiss in the middle of his palm.

He knelt beside her and pulled her palm to his lips. “I can think of no one but you, Jeanette,” he said against her sensitive skin.

She regretted that she could not say the same, at least not in the same way. For her it was not the pleasure they could find together, or even the strength of their feelings for each other that she dwelt upon, but rather the pain she was sure to deal him if her suspicions, that she was a second Guardian, were true. She could not ask this man to give up his destiny for her.

Unless . . . If she could look into the future on purpose, divine his future, perhaps she could discover if she was in it . . . or not. Did she really want to know? Aye, if it meant she could lighten the blow she feared was inevitable, she did, most fervently, want to know.

She kissed him, relishing the feel of his lips on hers, the heat of his fingers threaded into her hair at the nape of her neck, the need and desire that burned between them. How could she ever give him up now that she had found him?

The despair that threatened her made her lay her fingers over his lips before she lost herself completely in his arms again. She knew she must try to discover what their future held for them, good or bad.

A
FTER
J
EANETTE FINISHED
her porridge, Malcolm led her out of the cave. He knew Peigi watched as he all but carried Jeanette across the narrow clearing in front of the cave and into the wood. He had no idea where he was taking her, but he knew this sudden onset of second sight troubled her and he would do whatever he could to lessen her worries. Learning how to use it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. It was a place to start.

“Where are we going?” Jeanette trailed behind him, tugged along by their clasped hands.

“I do not ken,” he said without stopping. “Not far from the caves, for Rowan should arrive soon. Either the roebuck will show us or we’ll figure it out ourselves.”

“Malcolm?” She tugged on his hand but he did not slow his trek through the trees. “Malcolm, stop.”

At her calm but determined words he did, turning to face her but not releasing her hand.

“There is a burn that runs just over this way,” she said, pointing to her left. “The chronicles mention that water is one of the things a seer can use to call visions. If the grotto, or the stone in the pool, were what triggered my visions yesterday, a simple burn might not work, but it is at least worth a try.”

“ ’Tis a good thought. Lead the way.”

Before too long they could hear the burn and shortly after they found the fast-running water where it rushed headlong over rocks and tree roots for the bottom of the glen.

“Now what?” Malcolm asked.

Jeanette went still and her eyes lost focus and Malcolm knew now that she was searching her memories and all the things she’d read or heard that might pertain to her current need.

“Seers use still water to scry in, or mirrors, or crystals, or sometimes nothing at all.” Her words were dreamy, as if she wasn’t completely aware she said them, but then her eyes focused on him again. “I should have brought a bowl with me to collect the water.”

“You have a cup in your arisaid, do you not?” he asked, remembering how she had used it that first day to pour water over his wound. It was healed now, he suddenly realized, and so quickly after months of pain and festering. At least it was healed on the outside, bless the saints. His hand still refused to grip well enough to hold his claymore, but even that was getting better day by day.

“Aye.” She pulled the cup from the fold in her arisaid where she always carried it. She dipped it so full of the crystal-clear mountain water, it almost overflowed. She set it on a flat rock near the burn, then scooped more water into her cupped hands and let it trickle into the cup until the water bulged at the rim, but did not spill over.

“What can I do?” Malcolm asked.

“Come, sit beside me. I know not what will happen, if anything.” Her hands were trembling despite her best efforts to still them.

Malcolm took them into his own and caught her gaze. “I’ll not let anything bad happen to you, Jeanette, I promise. I will protect you, keep you safe, no matter what. I vow it.”

His words echoed the oath of a Guardian’s Protector so closely, they stole her breath. It was the second time they had made oaths that should bind them together, yet they could not. Not until she knew for sure if she was a Guardian or not, for she would not hold him to oaths given without understanding exactly what they would mean for him.

“I know you will,” she said when she could breathe again. “For now, just watch over me.”

He nodded and she took a deep, steadying breath, as her mother had taught her to do. She made the prayer of protection, gliding her hands through the air in tandem with the words she spoke but did not understand, even though she did not have the Targe stone, nor did she call upon its power. Still, she called upon some power, so protections seemed wise. Malcolm would watch over her, but the protections were for more than just the human sort of trouble. Calling upon any power could awaken other magics . . .

She closed her eyes and went back to that awful day when her mother had been killed. Rowan had called upon the power of the Targe to bring the rain and to hold up the burning hall so Nicholas, Scotia, and wee Ian could escape. She had not known the prayer of protection, and wouldn’t have taken the time to say it anyway. Had Rowan brought other magics into the world? Is that why Jeanette’s gift had awakened at last? And if it had happened for Jeanette, would it do so for Scotia, or others? And what did that mean Jeanette’s gift was? Was it from the Targe or just a rogue magic that had been unleashed by Rowan?