Mortal Magick (2 page)

“You thick-headed, misguided man.” She chuckled. “You always did have to learn the hard way.” The frustrated tone sharpened. “Only a fool would believe there’s another woman alive with enough courage to help break the curse. I gave you more credit than you truly deserve. You’re a bloody idiot. I’ll promise you this, Duncan, If you continue to pursue this ridiculous journey of yours, you’ll end up not only disappointed, but you’ll continue to spend eternity alone.”

A whistling sound flew past the front of his face.

“If that’s meant to be me punishment for lettin’ the people in me village down, then shall be it.” He’d never forgive her venomous soul for making him immortal. “Each sunset, I curse the day ye were born, and meself every wakin’ minute and torturous night, for fallin’ victim to yer bonny face and mesmeric charms. And now I suffer through eternity for havin’ a bloody damn moment of sheer foolish weakness. I give ye credit, vixen, ye were like a lamb in wolf’s clothing. It’s me own damn fault for being an impulsive brute. I just happened to pick a wicked bitch.”

Now, every dusk, his limbs twist in agony and his body betrays him, dooming him to roam barren ground in secluded parts of Scotland, where he must wait until sunrise to turn back to normal. Thoughts of existing as a beast each night keep his mind in constant turmoil.

A piercing scream filled the heavens. A flash of lightning struck a nearby sacred rowan tree, splitting it in two. Flames leapt. Sparks flew to the ground in front of his feet. Goliath reared, his mighty hooves flailing. Duncan tightened his hold on the reins. Rain poured and balls of ice pelted against their bodies.

“You bloody bastard,” her brittle voice threatened. “I swear you’ll soon regret your words. Beware! A few surprises lay ahead. Just remember, I warned you. I promise the day will come when you’ll beg for my help.”

Malicious laughter raced through the cold night air. The bitter voice, carried away by another gust of merciless wind. The threatening clouds and cruel storm vanished as fast as they materialized.

Goliath’s anxious breathing leveled to normal. He lowered his head to graze on the fresh green grass.

Duncan assumed the danger might be over for now but sensed this was only the beginning.

There was still plenty of time before Duncan reached the magical Fairy Pools in Glen Brittle. The most treacherous part of their voyage would then begin. The long-awaited quest to reach Fort of Shadows within Dunscaith Castle, located on the south end of Skye, filled his mind. It was rumored the grand castle was built by a witch or a fairy in a single night and is currently surrounded by a pit filled with snakes and beaked toads.

Goliath nudged Duncan’s chest, the stallion’s usual gesture that he wanted his treat of carrots and apples hidden in a leather pouch tied around Duncan’s shoulder.

“Ye’re naught but spoilt! Aye, ‘tis me own fault.” Duncan laughed while stroking Goliath’s forehead. The stallion proved to be a true companion and never fled in fear from the sight of him. “Ye deserve much more than I can give. Now off with ye. ‘Tis plenty of sheep to graze with and keep ye company ‘til morn.”

He goodheartedly slapped the steed’s hindquarters. The stallion ran wild through the velvet moors, and Duncan smiled watching Goliath kick and neigh.

If all went as planned, he hoped to enjoy his own freedom very soon. His life was filled with naught but pure hell anymore, and it was time to end this bewitching madness. Legends foretold of an important Samhain Eve this year, during which the
Ban-Gaisgedaig—
warrior women once trained by the famous warrior queen Sgathaich—should make their appearance. They were his last hope to put an end to the wicked curse.

Aye, just imagine how grand it’d be to enjoy the simple pleasures of life once again
. He grinned. The thought of sitting inside a tavern holding a full tankard of dripping stout in one hand, with the other wrapped around a fetching young wench, made him feel better.

His belly growled. The sun was sinking fast. Stars already consumed the night sky. He removed the claymore strapped to his back before grabbing a piece of dried venison from a smaller pouch and sitting on a dead tree stump.

A bad taste filled his mouth as he remembered the she-devil’s words. He spit the hard gristle of meat before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The blasted witch was sure to make well on her promise and have traps set ahead. This time would be different. This time he came prepared for her treachery. He dared not let anything get in his way for the one chance to become mortal again.

A secluded hiding spot nestled within the rolling hills of one of the uninhabited Shetland Islands was now considered home. His decision to move further north was by necessity, not by choice. For the safety of his relatives and his village, he’d been forced to hand his birthright of Highland leader to his younger cousin. More determined than ever, Duncan was ready to take back his rightful claim and regain respect from his people.

A light breeze carried the scent of human blood beneath his nose. Laced with an unusual, mesmerizing fragrance, it filled his nostrils. Like drinking several good tankards of whiskey, the sumptuous aroma intoxicated both mind and body, arousing his cravings for a woman.

Instinctively, he twisted his head toward the jagged mountain. The heaven’s deep-purple haze beneath a star-filled sky would soon make way for a full moon. He smothered a groan while gritting his teeth. His body stiffened.

Crisp fallen leaves crackled. A branch snapped. An intruder approached. A tingling sound like coins jangling inside a tin cup heightened his attention. He cocked his head at the strange noise. A small animal scurried closer toward him.

What in hades was that?

A pint-sized bundle of fur sprang into his arms. He cradled the creature and noticed an unusual charm dangling on the fancy neckpiece. The animal meowed before stroking its furry head on his bare chest, where it began purring. Never had he seen a cat with blue eyes, much less wearing a collar.
Could the creature be bewitched, like him?

The feline pounced on the ground and cried. It paced in circles around his feet and ran a few yards ahead before stopping. It peered back at him and wailed, as if trying to tell him to hurry.

Before Duncan could follow, the rush of warm blood surged through his veins. His legs bristled with long, silky hairs. His stomach tightened with knots and he doubled over. A slicing pain in his midsection threatened to rip his body in two. Dark, long curls of fleece spread like wildfire down his buttocks and legs. Wavy wisps tickled the tops of thick cloven hooves, which replaced his feet.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a flash of light lit up the sky. The vicious laughter returned, taunting him while his body twisted in pain. The witch continued to pressure him. “I can put an end to your misery. Stop this nonsense now, while you still have the chance.”

“Never, witch,” Duncan shouted, swiping his hand over his head.

The threat of the storm subsided as soon as the wicked voice disappeared. The real agony had only begun.

Two massive, curling horns sprouted on both sides of his forehead like those of a rutting ram. His ears pointed and thrust through a thick, curly mass of disheveled hair. Only his face, chest, hands, and arms remained human. His fingernails sprouted and curled into sharp talons. His eyebrows grew long and bushy and his nose flattened against his face. A tail like a horse’s emerged from the base of his spine, while two small wings sprouted from the center of his back.

The incurable lust that instantly flooded his body was a thirst that could never be quenched.

Duncan lowered his head, his gaze centered on the peculiar feline. He waited for the small creature to scamper in fear. Like a frozen statue, the animal sat patiently, staring back at him as if waiting for the transformation to finish. The cat stood and ran, stopping once and glancing back to see if Duncan was following. Its piercing cry warned that something was amiss.

“I’m coming, boy.”

Ocean waves slapped against ragged rocks of the steep cliffs. The moon showered light on the waves splashing along the sandy beach while watery fingers carried away remnants of seashells and seaweed to the depths of the ocean floor. The determined feline raced ahead, across the wet shore. Its agile legs sprinted on top of a small, still figure lying at the water’s edge. The bundle of fur cried and sprawled across its master’s belly.

Duncan stopped, bewildered by the strange sight ahead. An eerie irrepressible feeling enveloped him. His inner beast urged him to race to the stranger. He struggled with his human conscience, determined to hang onto reality and approach with caution. His instinct warned him something strange was about to happen.

Wet sand oozed beneath his hoofed feet. Warily, he approached the limp figure lying in front of several barnacled rocks clumped with seaweed.

Duncan knelt beside the person, assuming at first it was merely a child in comparison to his own enormous frame, until he noticed her ample bosoms. He placed the side of his face on her frigid chest, ensuring his horns didn’t scratch the fragile skin. Faint heartbeats pulsed within her neck. He sighed. She was still alive.

Light from the full moon exposed long, auburn curls scattered over a fair, peach-complexioned face, peppered with freckles. Duncan took notice of her very-short britches, the peculiar garb unfamiliar to him. There wasn’t time to wonder about women’s clothing now, not if the wee lass were to make it alive through the bitter cold night. If he didn’t get her out of these wet garments soon, she would die before morning. Chills ran through his veins as he realized the sudden challenge. Now, more than ever, he must keep the beast under complete control.

His hands trembled for a moment before reaching down to pick up the strange young woman. Like holding a wounded yearling, he cradled her cold body safely against his chest and tried not to scratch her. The young lass’ eyelids fluttered. Then her eyes opened wide, her stare glued to his face.

“I willna hurt ye lass. Ye’re safe now.” The sound of his own voice startled him, finding his tone gruffer than he remembered.

She opened her mouth but didn’t scream. Expecting the most common reaction of fear and revulsion, he stood frozen, watching her every move. Duncan scanned her facial expressions, taken off-guard momentarily, as the young woman studied him.

Her eyes were like soft green pools of vibrant life, filled with curiosity. She lifted her arm toward his face.

He flinched.

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” Her soft-spoken voice hummed. She smiled, her delicate, cold hand cupping the side of his face. Her fingers cradled his cheek, and her thumb rubbed across the front of his mouth. His lips tingled from her tender touch.

“What . . . who are you?” she whispered. Moments later, her eyelids fluttered and she passed out. Her body fell limp in his arms, while her petite head collapsed against his hairy chest.

A deep sigh escaped her quivering lips. His ears twitched, startled by her groan. His body stiffened. Afraid to move, his legs stood rigid. He imagined her skin was probably smooth as silk underneath the auburn ringlets strewn across her forehead. Old memories flooded back. Painful reminiscences reminding him he was a man with needs.

Bloody hell!
He commenced walking back toward the cliffs, turning his head to see if the strange feline was still following close behind.
If today’s any sign of what lies ahead, I’ve a terrible feelin’ the curse might be the least of me worries.

Chapter 2

Like a forest fire raging out of control, Duncan’s beast was inflamed with wanton desire. The girl’s half-naked voluptuous body tormented his inner monster, driving his animal half mad with lust. He groaned in pain. Even the cold salty air nipping against his skin couldn’t take his mind off the warm-blooded flesh sheltered inside his arms. To help his human half concentrate on the serious situation at hand, he bit his lower lip, tasting fresh blood.

The delicate face grew alarmingly pale. Her lips and fingers turned purple while her teeth chattered and her body trembled against his. The beating rhythm of her heartbeat was growing weaker.

There was no other choice. For her sake, the lass needed to get out of those skimpy undergarments so her flesh could dry as soon as possible. She needed the warmth of a good fire.

His nostrils flared from the scent of burning wood. Smoke curled in the sky close to where he’d first intended to settle down and wait for sunrise. No warrior would be so clumsy as to build a fire seen by everyone. Most likely, a lone sheepherder making camp for the night started it after checking on wandering strays and tending to his flocks.

He smiled. This was perfect. All he had to do was leave the girl with the shepherd and be on his way. She’d certainly have the needed warmth from the fire and heavy sheepskins to keep her covered and dry until the stranger could get her to the safety of a nearby village. His pace quickened as he took longer strides. This day was finally starting to look better.

Duncan stopped a safe distance just outside the small campfire. He spied a figure covered with a sheepskin lying close to the spitting fire—dangerously close. He watched as hot sparks spluttered from the leaping flames, falling lightly on top of the pelt.

Duncan shook his head. If this man didn’t have enough common sense to keep a safe distance from his own fire, how could Duncan leave the lass in his care? Within moments, hot sparks ignited the sheepskin. The stench of burning hair filled his nose. He groaned in dismay before lowering the girl to the ground.

Unfortunately, those prior minutes of hope had now diminished. The day had turned into a bloody disaster. It was time to help rescue the fool that seemed to have no common sense.

“Bloody hell! Ouch . . .” A young lad’s head emerged from underneath the smoldering skin. The stranger appeared to be no more than a teen, close to the age his nephew Colin would be now. Ten long years had passed since he’d last seen his sister and her son.

Enough time had already been wasted. He’d deal with the foolish boy right after he got this woman safely settled in front of the fire.

“Stoke the fire, lad. Ye’ve got company.” His voice gruff, a low growl rumbled from Duncan’s chest.

The teen’s thick eyebrows shot up in surprise and his mouth dropped open in awe as he stared at the strangers forcing their way toward him. He stepped backward, stumbling over a rock, and fell to the ground.

“What’s yer name, son?” Duncan asked as he grabbed a nearby cover and laid it on the damp grass a safe distance from the flames. He hastily scanned the area of the small campsite before kneeling and setting the shivering woman down. “Quickly, lad. Fetch me that spare sheepskin.”

The boy jumped from the ground, his fingers fumbling with the bottom of his nightshirt while he pulled it down over his breeches. His gaze searched Duncan’s face down to the bottom of his hoofed feet before gawking at the strange woman. With his innocent youthfulness ignited out of curiosity, he sputtered, “She’s almost naked.”

“Nev’r ye mind that. Hurry with that fleece,” Duncan barked.

“I’m c-called Colin. Colin McNair.”

“Colin?” Duncan asked, never expecting to see his own kin.
Aye, ‘twas young Colin indeed.
He noticed the boy’s strong resemblance to his father, but the lad had his mother’s eyes and pouting lower lip. He straightened, still cradling the woman to his chest, while staring at the lad’s wide-open eyes and trembling body. For a mere moment, he’d forgotten about his own beastly appearance.

“What in heaven’s name do ye think ye’re doin’ here?” Emotions of a surprise reunion were replaced with anger and remorse.

“I was s-sent to find my u-uncle, Duncan McCord.” His voice stuttered. “My mum sent me to warn him to s-stay away from our village. The clan has g-guards posted with o-orders to kill him. She told me Uncle Duncan turns into a beast. You’re my u-uncle, aren’t you?”

Colin held a sack in front of Duncan and thrust out his lower lip, challenging him with dark-brown eyes. Duncan struggled to fight back a grin. He had to admit, he admired Colin for his attempts. It took guts to head out alone on these cold bitter nights, particularly at his age.

Even more puzzling was how his sister knew where to send her son to find him.

But now wasn’t the time to ask questions. He needed to concentrate on helping the unconscious lass before anything else and get answers later. Duncan grabbed his nephew’s sack of supplies and dumped everything on the ground.

“Ye be needin’ a good swift kick in yer arse. Do ye realize what ye’ve done?” Duncan scratched his chin, concentrating as if looking for something in particular while his other hand rummaged through the clothes and miscellaneous items strung out next to him. “I should be the least of yer mum’s worries. Didna’ either of ye realize ye verra well might have been bloody killed venturin’ out on yer own?”

Duncan’s voice thundered through the valley. He grumbled beneath his breath, picked up a few twigs and tossed them in the fire, not giving the lad a chance to respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Colin stepping backward, open his mouth to reply, and then clamp it shut. Duncan shook his head, leaned over and grabbed his adolescent nephew by his arms and pulled him close. “I’m sorry, son, but ye’ve made a terrible mistake by followin’ me. ‘Tis no time to discuss the matter now. But I promise ye, once I get this lass safe and feelin’ better, we have much to talk about.”

He grasped a sheepskin vest from the ground and placed the garment around Colin’s shoulders. “Here, put this on and be quick about it. I need ye to fetch as much dry kindling as ye can find to keep that fire goin’. For heaven’s sake, lad, make sure ye keep yer britches on before ye catch yer death of cold. I dinna need two sick souls on me hands at the same time.”

Duncan stooped beside the woman and placed the back of his hand on her cold forehead. Her body quivered. Her breathing had grown worse. He glanced up to see why Colin hadn’t moved. The teenager stood as if in a trance, his stare fixed on the girl’s cleavage, her wet undergarments stuck to her swollen bosoms.

“Fetch another blanket from me saddle bags hidden behind that large stump.” Duncan pointed toward the remainder of a dead oak tree. “And grab me the sack layin’ on the ground. Hurry now, she needs to get out of these wet garbs.”

After a deep breath, he concentrated on the difficult task ahead. For her sake, it was time to remove the girl’s garments, now plastered to her skin. It had been a long time since his weary eyes were granted the mere pleasure of seeing a naked woman. He couldn’t remember the last time his fingers touched the sumptuous, velvety skin of a young bonny lass, such as this one. He turned his hands over and stared down at them. They were hardened and callous.

The trace of lavender scent from her thick curls lingered beneath his nose, intoxicating his senses. The cruel, lonely nights had never smelled as sweet and fragrant as this woman lying at his hooves.

Colin cleared his throat and mumbled beneath his breath, diverting Duncan’s attention. It helped him focus and clear his thoughts.

“Thank ye, laddie.” He grabbed the heavy wool blanket from Colin and laid it close to the fire. A sputtering hot spark landed on his bushy leg. He cursed under his breath. “Now be off with ya youngin’ and fetch me that wood. And dinna’ be tryin’ to turn yer back to take a wee gander. Else I’ll have to tan yer foolish hide.”

Duncan fought back a chuckle, observing his naïve nephew. Colin’s head drooped. He dragged his feet and picked up the rock he’d stumbled over and threw it at the rotted stump several yards away. The colorful cat that led him there bolted from the woman’s side and followed close behind Colin. Aye, he could still remember being that age once himself. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He frowned and turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I didna’ know just where to begin,” he muttered under his breath. He ran his fingers through the bristled hairs covering his chin and pondered. “Poor wee lass. She’s frozen to the bone.”

He examined the peculiar, meager garments. A warning voice whispered in his mind to heed caution. This girl could be a ploy. The devious sorceress
had
promised to set traps. He gazed at her innocent-looking face. His doubts fled. He couldn’t let this stranger die.

The first task was to remove her shoes. She wore a peculiar pair of slippers or boots, now covered with brown pieces of slick seaweed. With a gentle shove of his palm, they slid off. He toyed with the strange-smelling, flimsy material and watched how easily it bent and sprung back into shape.

Two skinny straps were draped over her shoulders. They were the only things keeping the scanty corset from falling down. The thick lacing wrapped around his leather boots were much sturdier.

Funny wee buttons ran down the front of the garment—without any button holes. His long talons struggled with the first blasted metal snaps binding the material together. It finally popped off the soft chemise and soared into the glowing flames. Once he figured out how to free the bloody rest, the wet garb clung to the girl’s sides like sap on a tree. His fingers inched along the fabric, strained by her protesting chest being held captive, and exposed a protruding pair of smooth bosoms, crested with budding peach nipples. His heart jolted as the girl’s pulse pounded in his ears.

Duncan stared at her naked chest and swallowed. His hands trembled and stopped at her flowered, colorful bloomers. He shook his head. A metal contraption in the front of her pants confronted him with another problem. If and when this young lass woke up, there would be many questions she’d need to answer.

He rolled her body against his legs and set another cover on the ground before turning her on her stomach. It would help protect her from the cold, hard ground. One careful, quick slash with his talons down each side of the tight bloomers sliced open the material. He tugged the pants out from under her.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. “My God, what in heaven’s name has been done to ye, woman, to deserve something as horrible as this?”

It looked like a wee piece of stiff fabric had been wedged tightly between the crack of her delicate arse. He rolled her tenderly to one side. His gaze followed the straps around her lower waist. A scanty piece of garment barely covered her pubic hair. What a horrible sort of chastity device, he thought. He bit his lower lip and watched the cold air exhale from his nostrils. With one deep breath, he cut the mere strap from her side with his sharp, tapered nails. He hesitated. A disturbing thought raced through his mind. He grasped the string between his two fingers and gave a good yank.

A soft sigh escaped her tiny lips. Even in her sleep, she must have felt an enormous relief.

Duncan snatched one of Colin’s extra shirts off the ground. He lifted her body and steadied her tightly against his chest as he lowered the top over her head. It was way too big for her but would keep her body covered for tonight. His gaze dropped from her breasts, down her belly, and rested on her slightly spread, and inviting, inner thighs. He couldn’t help notice the delicate matted auburn hair on her lower private area. It matched the color of cascading curls spilling down her shoulders.

The sweet lavender scent of her body had now grown overpowering. The touch of her soft naked flesh triggered his pent-up passion. She breathed lightly between parted lips.

Like her feline friend, her body coiled into a ball. She tucked her legs close to her chin. Duncan pulled the sheepskin over her. Her left hand clenched tight. She was holding something.

‘Tis odd, I havena noticed this before.

He laid her delicate, small hand inside his own enormous, cumbersome one. He spied the peculiar birthmark on her wrist. With a brief, contented sigh, her fingers started to relax. Like a flower bud ready to bloom, they opened and exposed a golden amulet. With closer inspection, he immediately recognized a few of the symbols.

But from where?

The meticulously inscribed double letters ‘MM’ were partially layered on top of one another. The golden charm dropped to the ground. The other side shimmered up at him. He spied a pair of delicate crossed golden arrows. They ran through the middle of the embossed letter ‘W.’

He grinned, raking his fingers through his hair in disbelief. Though the lass appeared scrawny, he understood looks could be deceiving. He knew well enough from his own transformation. “Aye, only a spirited, fine warrior can possess the likes of a trophy as grand as this.”