Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (4 page)

“Um. I guess I should get out of the pool. I’m probably
pruning.” He didn’t remove his arms from around her, and she didn’t attempt to
pull away. She lifted her hands from the water and stared at the palms. Her
mouth fell open. Closed. She raised a confused gaze to him and frowned. “The
skin is clear as if never damaged. I don’t understand.”

“Fae magic.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t believe in faeries or magic.”

“Then how did your hands heal?”

She thought for a moment. Ran a finger over one of the scars
on his chest, making him shiver with delight. “If magic, then why do you have
raw scars and a heavy limp when you walk?”

“My injuries brought me near to death. ’Tis taking time to
heal.”

“What about the children. Why hasn’t the water helped them?”

“Fae magic is a mystery. My guess is the children were born
deformed. Mayhap if they had been doused in the healing waters at birth, they
would have been cured.”

“
Hmmm
. Perhaps.”

Was it the warmth of the water or the way the
hmmm
left her lips making him feel overheated? Leaning closer, he breathed in her
womanly scent and wondered why he was prolonging the torture.

“Do you actually believe we are in Scotland during the year
1513? Is that part of the fae magic?” Soft-brown brows curved into a graceful
arch.

“Perhaps magic.” He nodded. “Your speech is much like
someone I once kenned.”

“Really?”

“Lady Laurie MacLachlan. Might you ken of her?”

Jillian gasped. “You
do
know Laurie and Patrick.
How?”

The approach to Castle Torne, the northern most castle in
the Highlands

Urgency goaded Prince Dugaid to push his mount to greater
speed. The midnight-black stallion galloped effortlessly through pristine snow.
Forest and glen and village blurred when passed.

They halted at the edge of the North-wood. The fae horse
hoofed the earth, snorted, and blew steam into the frigid air. Dugaid leaned
forward over the beast’s thick neck and eyed the stone fortress, shrouded in
mist, high on the distant sea cliff. To the untrained human eye, Castle Torne
appeared a great stronghold, though no more so than many others in Scotland.
Something else was at work there. The land and all within charmed by a most
powerful fae enchantment.

Its potency pulsed over Dugaid’s flesh despite the many
layers of garments and furs he wore as protection against the cold. A thrill
ran through him; eager for the confrontation ahead.

Prince Torguil, an ancient
sithiche
prince, held
court within those massive stone walls. Although a favorite noble of Dugaid’s
mother, Oonagh, the High-Queen of the Fae, Torguil chose to reside on earth in
this forgotten northern wilderness instead of
Tir-nan-Og
. ’Twas said he
pined for his human wife, long since dead and buried.

Dugaid straightened his shoulders. He would need to prove
his worth to gain the hand of Torguil’s halfling daughter. ’Twas time to stop
waiting and put his plan into action. He wanted Caitrina with every fiber of
his being. His mother would never forgive him, which made the match all the
more perfect.

He scanned the approach to the castle. Out in the open for
the distance, he would be exposed, though he doubted Torguil’s warriors
presented a threat. Dugaid had sensed the fae scouts for the past few days,
monitoring his advance. They’d let him pass so far without incident.

Dugaid walked the fine steed across the open moor at an
unhurried pace, keeping his senses alert. With each step, the tingling of magic
strengthened, and with it his determination.

At the base of the rise to the cliff top, he paused and
twisted around in the saddle. Movement within the trees revealed the scouts
still watched him.

Ice and loose stones roughened the climb, but the surefooted
stallion proceeded unaffected by either the encumbrance or the tremors of
magic. If only the enchantment didn’t affect Dugaid. Perhaps shifting into his
alternate form…

Nae. He couldn’t allow others to lay witness to the
transformation nor its results. He held the reigns in a tight fist, feeling
more lightheaded as they proceeded. He hung on by sheer will alone by the time
they reached the massive gates.

Without command, the outer portcullis slowly rose with a
loud grating of metal. Dugaid urged the horse forward. The latticed grille
dropped behind them much faster than it had been raised, and they were now
caught between the two gates. If Torguil wished him ill, this was where the
guards could easily take away his immortality and end his fae life with a single,
well-shot iron dart to the heart.

“Who goes there?” The voice came from within one of the
arrow slits cut into the side wall.

“You ken verra well who I am. Prince Dugaid, son of Oonagh.”

The inner portcullis finally rose, opening the way into the
castle courtyard. The dizziness faded the moment he cleared the gate. The
temperature rose, and Dugaid unwrapped multiple scarves in order to breathe in
the briny sea air.

Five muscular fae warriors pounded down the keep steps. The
ancient prince wasn’t taking chances with his uninvited guest.

“Welcome to the home of Torguil.” The leader waved an arm
and bowed in greeting.

Although the blond faerie stood taller than his companions,
Dugaid, at six-foot-seven, topped him by a good four inches. If there was
trouble, Dugaid had the upper hand. A slow smile curled his lips. “I wish an
audience with Prince Torguil.”

“
Our
prince is well aware of your presence. If you
follow me, I will show you to a chamber where you can make yourself
presentable.”

Dugaid followed the faerie, the other four warriors falling
in behind. For Danu’s sake what harm did they think he planned?

After a much-needed bath and grooming, dressed in his black
leathers, he restlessly waited for a summons. After pacing the width of the
chamber for the umpteenth time, a knock sounded the arrival of the blond faerie
who’d greeted him in the courtyard.

“Please follow me. I will escort you to Prince Torguil’s
antechamber.”

Upon entrance to the chamber, Torguil strode forward and
greeted him with a warrior’s embrace. On separating, the elder prince touched
the gilt brooch at Dugaid’s shoulder. “You are of the unicorn brotherhood.”

“Aye.”

“Do you bring a message from the high-queen?”

“I harbor nae love for my mother.”

Torguil rubbed his chin. “I see. Then why do you grace my
hall?”

“I bring a gift.” Dugaid removed a wee leather sack secured
at his hip and handed it to Torguil.

The elder prince released the thong and dropped the contents
onto the table. Thirteen precious gems the size of a man’s thumbnail and the
color of deepest purple settled on the tablecloth. The flawless amethysts
winked in the flickering light of countless candles.

“A rare and exquisite gift.” Torguil fingered the stones set
before him. “Truly beautiful. Far above par.”

“An offering for the hand of your daughter.”

“Ah!” The prince’s eyes narrowed. “
Caitrina
.”

“Aye.” Dugaid couldn’t read the impassive expression. Was
Torguil pleased with the offer?

“Why should I grant your request? Allow you control over my
greatest asset?”

“I am the only man capable of protecting her from Oonagh’s
wrath.”

“Your prowess on the battlefield is well known. I would be
proud to call you son.” Torguil hesitated. “Yet you dinnae speak of love?”

“I am fae.”

“As am I, yet I was verra much in love with Caitrina’s
mother.” The emerald of his eyes—the same color as his daughter’s—deepened.

“There is nae time for human emotion. The third set in
Oonagh’s challenge to Caitrina is in play. I will ensure your daughter wins.”
Dugaid pounded a fist against his chest. “I will have her as my bride.”

“She will fight you.”

“I look forward to the taming.”

Jillian liked the feel of Stephen’s arms around her. She
almost didn’t care he was most probably insane.
Pathetic
. She was
starving for attention. What harm was there in enjoying the feel of his body
while she could?

She hadn’t had a gut-clenching reaction to a man in like
forever. Not since…well, since she’d met Finn. He’d had no interest in her, but
Stephen seemed to enjoy their interplay.

“Patrick is my cousin,” he said solemnly.

“Really?” She jerked her gaze to his, judging his honesty.
He seemed sincere.

“Aye. He married Lady Laurie at Castle Lachlan, renounced
his claim as chief to the clan, named his brother Archibald chief, and he and
Lady Laurie walked onto the faerie knoll in the Fir-wood and traveled, so I
believe, to your time. I miss him.”

“Archibald you say?”
Unbelievable
.

“Aye.” Their gazes held.

Stephen was serious. He seemed to believe the fantasy. She
couldn’t. Yet, Patrick did have a brother named Archie who lived in Scotland.
He and his wife Isobell had reportedly visited the family in Anderson Creek a
couple of years ago for Christmas. Jillian had been away visiting with her
brother for the holidays. Could it be possible? Did time travel exist?

The terrain she’d traveled with the kids in route to the
caves was rather remote. More remote than she’d thought the area around the
bike trail should have been. And no one seemed to know about phones. That was
just plain weird.

Her heart rate increased. She took a deep, calming breath.
She wouldn’t freak yet.

Jillian shifted her weight. Stephen groaned. She curbed the
desire to smile. He was very sweet.

Was it possible the tale was true? Her hands seemed to have
miraculously healed. Even the calluses from using garden tools were gone.
Hmmm
.
Many strange things went on in Anderson Creek and, more specifically, with the
MacLachlan family. Like when Finn MacIntyre disappeared the first night of the
Grandfather Mountain Highland Games and returned three days later with Elspeth
MacLachlan, both dressed as if they’d been in ancient Scotland, and Finn with
blood on his shirt as if he’d been fighting with his claymore for real.

Perhaps Jillian needed to keep an open mind. She curled into
Stephen’s embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I shouldn’t be
sitting on your lap, especially considering your state of undress.”

“You should not.” He caressed her cheek, settling his palm
on the curve of her chin, leaned forward and brushed his full lips lightly over
hers.

A heady sensation swirled through Jillian. The taste, the
gentle touch—all of him made her feel as if she’d gone to heaven. The kiss was
pure magic.

She twined her arms around his neck. Strong masculine arms
pulled her in tight. On impulse, she licked the seam of his lips. The corners
quirked upward before parting. Everything faded away except the fusion of their
mouths and the twirling dance of tongues.

Delicious. Heat shot through her system straight to her
core. She wanted, needed—

Giggles near the chamber’s entrance demanded attention and
they broke apart, both breathing hard. Several small hands reached from within
the shadows along the wall and filched Jillian’s belongings.

“Stop!” Her scream reverberated within the chamber.

She leapt away from Stephen and hurried through the water to
the other side of the pool. The children were gone. “They took my stuff.”

In its place sat a drab colored bundle of cloth. Jillian
climbed out of the water, grabbed a thin towel from the niche to cover herself,
and rifled through the pile—gray wool maxi-dress, thick woolen stockings, an
oversized gray tartan blanket, and underneath the pile, a pair of ancient boots
that appeared almost new.
What the hell?

“What’s this all about?” she demanded.

Stephen had followed her across the pool and now floated
near the edge, arms crossed in front of him on the stone floor. “Dinnae ken.”
He shrugged “The garments left behind are more appropriate to this time than
your future clothing. Though you deserve to be draped in satins and silks and
jewels more fitting to your station as a fine lady.”

A warm thrill shot through Jillian. She might like this guy.

“Hand me a drying cloth, lass.”

“Sure.” She passed him a towel. “I’m in a bind. I need to go
home.”

It was distressing watching Stephen clamber out of the pool.
Pain etched his handsome features. He leaned on the crutch. Jillian raised her
gaze to his face to avoid gaping at the beauty of his physique. The healing
scars and some older ones made him look dangerously rugged.

“You are now my responsibility,” he said, features earnest.
“I will help you to the best of my limited ability. We need to travel to Castle
Lachlan where you can try to return home from the faerie knoll. Though, I warn
you. I have tried to follow Patrick several times. The magic hasn’t worked for
me.”

“How far is it?”

“A long way.”

“How can you travel in your condition?”

His eyes darkened, and he frowned.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt your pride.”

“Dinnae fash. I nae longer have any pride.” With the towel
slung low on his hips, he strode from the chamber.

As he passed beneath the hole in the ceiling, sunlight
glistened over broad, wet shoulders. The muscles of his back flexed with each
step. Yup, he was gorgeous. Even with the numerous scars.

Jillian grabbed the bundle of clothes and scurried after
him, having no clue how to navigate the caves on her own. With his slow, clumsy
gait, she quickly caught up. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“If I bathe in the healing pool a couple of times a day, I
suspect I will improve enough to travel in about a fortnight.”

Jillian wracked her brain. Patrick also used such uncommon
words. Was a fortnight one week or two? She suspected it was two. Yeah. A
sennight equaled one week.

“That’s a long time.” She didn’t want to be stranded here
for that long.

“True. I wish I could provide escort sooner, but there are
too many dangers. As is, I would be hard pressed to protect you against an
armed threat. And my wee man has not returned since I sent him out to search
for you and bring you here to safety.”

“Do you mean the gnarly little man who stole my space
blanket?”

“Aye. I apologize for that. Munn is a
brùnaidh
, the
Maclachlan Clan brownie. He tends to be mischievous. Often causes trouble.”

“Munn?” She gulped. Little Allison MacLachlan babbled about
a funny man named Munn with a wrinkled brown face, like
Rumpelstiltskin
,
who visited the family with her Uncle Archie and Aunt Isobell.

Ohmigod! Stephen spoke the truth.

Stephen sensed an inner strength in Jillian. Still, he
couldn’t allow her to travel alone. He was the only one who understood where
she came from and could protect her. Or at least he would be able to
if—when—his bad leg healed and he gained his strength back. No one must learn
she was a time traveler. She’d be exploited or, more horribly, condemned to
death or imprisoned in a deep dungeon as a practitioner of the dark arts.

He refused to allow any of that to happen.

Together they’d journey to Castle Lachlan and the Fir-wood.
She would use the faerie-knoll to travel home. Then he would return to Dunadd,
another MacLachlan stronghold just north of Lochgilphead, and his unwanted
responsibilities.

The plan was a good one, but it didn’t sit well. He hated
the thought of never seeing her again. Hated the thought of spending the rest
of his life tied to Calyn.

If only he’d met Jillian first.

He shook his head. Regrets were a waste of precious time.
Stephen awkwardly teetered on his crutch, grabbed a
leine
from atop a
wooden chest and tugged it on. Then wrapped a
plaide
around his hips,
tossing the end over a shoulder, securing it in place with a bronze brooch lent
to him by one of the Gray Women, having lost his during the battle. Though
their habits were unsettling, he owed the women a great debt for caring for
him.

When he faced Jillian, she had donned the garments left by
the lost
bairns
. The sack-like garments didn’t suit her, although she
would look lovely dressed in anything. When they reached Castle Lachlan, he’d
find her something more suitable to wear. He didn’t understand why the children
had taken her belongings. He prayed to God the future things didn’t fall into
the wrong hands. He made the Sign of the Cross.

“You must be hungry. There is usually a pot of venison and
roots stewing in one of the other chambers. Bread and cheese. Apples.
Sweet-tasting heather ale.”

“Sounds like a feast. I’m famished.” Jillian smiled, and
once again he was lost.

The best he could do was take care of
his
lass until
she journeyed to the future place. He rubbed a spot on his chest over his
heart. He hadn’t kenned her long, but had waited for her a lifetime.
Too
late
. His desolate future awaited him in Dunadd.

Dammit! Where was Munn?

* * *

Sands of Time

Munn felt the chafe of sand abrading his flesh before fully
awake. Caitrina had done it to him again. Sent him into the endless
Sands of
Time
. Hot sand everywhere. As far as he could gaze, and farther.

Last time had not gone well for him.

He kenned better than attempt to return to the earth realm
on his own. The effort would bleed away his limited magic and certainly fail.

Sweat coating his skin from the blistering heat, he squinted
and, blinded by the sun’s harsh yellow light, labored to stand. Did the oasis
he fashioned on his last banishment remain? Trudging through the deep drifts,
he wandered off in no particular direction. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours.
Days. He didn’t ken how long he walked. Time had no meaning in this brutal
land.

With no strength remaining, he tumbled to the ground. How
was he to protect Stephen? Munn’s duty to Clan MacLachlan demanded such. The
chief had ordered him to watch over the blond warrior.

He’d failed the chief again.

Unable to move, he lurched into unconsciousness. A nicker
near his ear jarred Munn from oblivion. Slow to react, a large muzzle nudged
him. Grumbling, eyelids stuck-fast over burning eyes, he rolled away from the
intruder.

A shrill whinny blasted his temporal lobe. Munn bolted
upright, eyes wide. By Danu! He rubbed unbelieving eyes. The vision remained—
unicorn
.

The magnificent black beast stood at least fifteen hands,
unusually large for even a male of its kind. It nickered again, and Munn jumped
to his feet, quickly brushing sand from his form.

Ears pricked forward, the noble animal nodded his horned
head, then lowered onto front knees.

Munn took the gesture as an invitation to mount. Fisting the
silky mane, he hauled his weight up onto the beast’s broad back. The unicorn
rose, pranced in a circle, and then stretched into a full gallop. Munn leaned
low over the animal’s long neck, clutching the flowing mane as they raced
across miles of sand. Headed to where? Munn couldn’t guess. But prayed to the
goddess not to fall.

By the time the unicorn slowed to an even trot, Munn was
beyond parched and famished. In the wavering distance, he glimpsed the oasis.
Was it real or mirage?

With a four beat gait, the unicorn walked into the tropical
paradise, past verdant foliage and birds of colorful plumage, stopped, and
dropped to its knees on a bed of plush greenery. The fragrance of orchids
perfumed the air. Munn slid to the ground, but his legs wobbled and his feet
didn’t find purchase. He landed on his rump. “Humph!”

Before he could thank the mystical beast, it vanished as if
never existing.

Munn licked chapped lips. Leery to approach the pool at the
center of the oasis, he hesitated. On his last visit, the fae queen had emerged
from the pool and forced him to swear his troth to her. That had cost him
dearly. What would she do to him this time when she learned he aided Caitrina
with the challenge?

Finally, he succumbed to his physical needs and sat on a
flat rock at the edge of the pool. Stiff with fear, he glanced into the water.
Tranquil. No image emerged from within its depths. Relaxing his shoulders, he
brought handfuls of pure water to his lips and drank deep. Water quenched his
thirst and a pear-flavored fruit from a nearby twirling vine satisfied his
hunger.

Lightning streaked the darkening sky. The peace of the oasis
shattered by rolling thunder. The ground beneath his feet trembled. Munn
trembled, too. Had Oonagh found him?

Instead of the queen, a black-haired warrior of royal
stature appeared. Garbed in black leather, all manner of weaponry draping his
six-foot-seven frame, he could be none other than the Prince of the Black
River—Prince Dugaid. Son to the King and Queen of the Fae. Oonagh and Finvarra.
More feared than his regal parents.

Teeth chattering, Munn was frozen in place by a fiery amber
stare. What did the Dark Prince want with him?

“Dinnae be afeared, wee man.” The prince’s deep voice sent a
shiver over Munn’s spine. “You will come to nae harm by my hand.”

Munn swallowed uneasily. Then fell into an awkward bow.

The prince laughed. A hearty laugh that crinkled the edges
of his eyes.

“Why have you come?” Munn asked.

“To free you. But you must vow to aid Princess Caitrina.”

“She does not want my help. She banished me to this barren
realm.”

“I shall return you to earth and grant you immunity to
Caitrina’s transference spell for the duration of this match. In return, you
will vow to me to do whatever is required to secure a win for Caitrina.”