Highlander's Bride: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 1) (2 page)

The boy gobbled it down and the girl, her red locks tumbling in curls to her waist, offered her a welcoming smile and bounced across to her. “Are you hungry too? I can find you some food.”

“Nay, I’ve eaten well this day. I’m Christina.”

“I’m Fiona, the daughter of Gregor.” She motioned to the warrior disappearing with Mama down the darkened passageway at the rear of the great hall. “My father.”

“Oh, I must catch Mama up. She told me to remain close.”

“Then come.” Fiona hooked her arm through hers and skipped toward the passageway.

At the chief’s solar door, Gregor knocked and called out, “I bring a visitor, Chief.”

“Come in.”

“Follow me.” Gregor opened the door.

Mama lifted her chin and stepped inside the chief’s inner sanctum.

“I must go.” She smiled at Fiona and hauling the trailing ends of her plaid closer, shuffled in behind Mama. The solar held padded armchairs in a beautiful blue and gold thread and a large round table sat to one side. A lady wearing layers of rich golden velvet, the bodice cut dangerously low, rose from one of the padded chairs, bent over the chief at his massive oak desk and murmured something in his ear.

“Aye, wench, I’ll be with you soon.” The MacKenzie slapped the lady’s rear, and she giggled and sashayed out the door.

“Shh, this I cannae miss,” Fiona whispered as she snuck past her then ducked under the table and scuttled into the shadows.

Clutching Mama’s green woolen skirts, she peeked around her. A single lit candle on the MacKenzie’s desk cast its light over the chief’s weathered face and made the scar zigzagging through one of his thick eyebrows glow a grizzly red. Dressed in a belted plaid and loose-sleeved black tunic, he rose from his desk, his gaze flickering with intrigue as he crossed to Mama.

“Well, well,” he crooned as he halted in front of them. “This is an unexpected visit, Grace. It’s been five years. Whatever brings you here so late in the night, and unattended at that?”

“You know of my skill. Of those who live but are soon to die, I receive a vision.” Mama lifted one eyebrow, her voice firm and showing no sign of any unease. “You’re also aware of my promise to Beth, and tonight I’m here to honor that promise to my dearest friend.”

“Aye, Beth.” Teeth gritted, a low growl rumbled from him. “No one is permitted to speak her name within these walls, but I’ll allow you to do so this one time. Tell me of your vision.”

“’Tis the lads who need to hear of what I’ve seen. ’Tis imperative.”

“I see.” The chief scraped a hand along his bristly jaw, slowly nodded and eyed Gregor standing at attention to the side of the solar. “Wake my sons and bring them here. I’ll nay have any harm befall them.”

“Aye, Chief.” Gregor left and the chief tapped one foot, his gaze moving from Mama to her. “Who is the child?”

“My daughter, Christina.”

“Is she skilled?”

“Nay, and no’ all of the fae are skilled, as you well know.” Mama tucked her more fully in behind her.

Footsteps clomped down the corridor and Gregor returned with two sleepy-eyed lads trailing behind him. He nudged the lads forward to stand before their chief and Mama. Dressed in braies and loose tunics that reached their knees, they both tugged up woolen socks a few sizes too big for their feet. The boys appeared similar, although not identical. She could tell them apart, although who was who, she couldn’t wait to learn.

“Speak as you need to, Grace, but you’ll do so with me noting your every word.” The chief pushed an ink bottle and quill to the center of his desk and perched on the front edge as he eyed his sons. “Coll, Duncan, this is Mistress Grace from the fae village. She brings you a message you must heed.”

“More than a message.” With a tender smile, Mama lowered to her knees before the two boys. “’Tis so good to see you both. You must be Coll?” She grasped the hands of the lad on the left, the boy’s dark hair framing his face and prominent chin. “Your brown eyes are flecked with gold, just as they were at your birth.”

“Grace.” The chief thumped one fisted hand on his desk and rattled the dagger resting near the edge. “Tell them what you’ve seen and no more.”

“They must learn the full truth in order to heed my word, unless you wish for the death of your sons.”

“You intend to speak more in-depth about Beth?”

“I must in this case.”

“Damn it.” He fisted his hands then muttered, “Fine. Say what you will. None within this solar will utter a word after you’ve left.”

“Thank you.” Mama looked at both boys. “I hold the fae skill of death-warning and can receive visions. Of those who live but are soon to die, I can warn them aforehand and ensure they are given the chance to live. Earlier this eve, I had a vision of both of you.”

“I remember you.” Coll peered into Mama’s eyes, such wisdom shining within his young gaze. “You cared for us when we were little.”

“Aye, you and Duncan were all but three years of age when I left.”

“I remember you too.” The lad on the right, his hair as dark as Coll’s, but his eyes a clear blue, inched forward a step. “I’m Duncan. What have you seen, Mistress Grace?”

“More than I wish.” Mama cleared her throat. “In order to ensure your survival you must both listen to me well. From this day forth, neither of you must ever raise a hand in battle against a Matheson, no’ because you willnae be strong warriors, but because in harming a Matheson you will also be harming yourselves. Soon, you will both understand what I speak of, for there will be things you’ll be able to do that no other MacKenzie warrior can. The fae battle skill will come upon you and when it does your strength will be immense.”

“We’re MacKenzies, no’ Mathesons. How can we hold a fae skill?” Coll glanced at his father. “Mother was a MacLennan and no’ of fae blood.”

“What’s going on, Father?” Duncan darted a look back and forth between Mama and the chief.

“I never wished to speak of this, no’ since you both took your mother’s death so hard.”

“Cait has passed?” Shock coursed across Mama’s face as she rose to her feet.

“Aye, she took a chest illness last winter. She’s been gone nigh on a year now.” Colin MacKenzie shoved off the desk and paced the solar then halted before his sons. “Since I no longer have any choice but to speak of this, I shall. Unfortunately, Cait wasnae your true mother. Afore your birth, I handfasted with a fae lass named Beth, although she passed away while birthing you both. Mistress Grace was here at the time of your true mother’s passing and she took care of you until ’twas time for her to return to her own people at the village. The knowledge of your fae blood isnae something I speak of, ever, and neither of you are permitted to speak of it either, or your coming skill.” The war braids plaited at each side of his head swayed as he lowered to his haunches. “You are my sons, hold my blood, and your additional strength will be attributed to that fact alone. Do you both understand? I certainly cannae lose the alliance I’ve formed with the MacLennan, or the land I’ve come by.”

“Aye, Father,” both murmured together.

“There is more,” Mama continued, the plea in her eyes clear to see as she eyed Colin. “You must ensure Coll and Duncan are taught the arts of warfare well. One day, far in the future, they will meet a fae sorceress by the name of Muirin. I saw her in my vision. She is the one who’ll ensure your sons fulfil their destiny.”

“What destiny?”

“All I can say is, ’tis time for the fae to live.”

“Nay, ’tis time for clan MacKenzie to live.” Jaw clenched, the MacKenzie shoved toward Mama and Christina rushed forward and kicked the chief’s shin. No one would hurt her mama and get away with it.

The chief bellowed and tried to grab her, only Mama scooped her up and snapped at him, “You promised I’d always be safe should I need to return with a vision, but now ’tis clearly time I left. Look after Beth’s sons, and never forget my vision.” Mama fled out the door and Christina clutched her around the neck, her chin bumping on Mama’s shoulder.

At his doorway, the chief snarled, the look of retribution in his gaze flaring strong.

Never had she been so scared of a man, or at least not until this night. Colin MacKenzie had struck terror into her very heart once again.

“Cease your whimpering, child.” Colin stormed down the darkened forest trail as he left her fae village well behind. He should never have snuck into her home and taken her from her parents. Never. He rounded a corner then dumped her into the waiting arms of one of his warriors. Gregor, Fiona’s father.

The MacKenzie’s second-in-command shook his head at her. “Stay still. Dinnae make a sound. All will go far easier if you do.”

She tried once again to spit the foul tasting gag from her mouth but it remained bound firmly in place. There would be no escaping her capture, not this night.

Looming over her, the MacKenzie plucked his dagger from his wrist sheath, gripped her hair and sliced it off at the root. He stuffed the mass of golden-red curls into his sporran then covered her head in a heavy black veil. “Now no one shall ever learn who you are, and if you wish for your parents to live then you’ll forget your village and all who remain within it. From this moment forth, you’ll no longer be Christina Matheson but instead Kyla MacKenzie, my foster daughter. You have no fae blood, no kin, and I’ve taken you in, a poor urchin I found abandoned in the forest. You’ll join me, be raised within my household and even though you remain unskilled, in time I’ll ensure your revered fae blood mixes into my direct line. You’ll wed one of my three sons, whichever I please. Do you understand?”

“Aye,” she mumbled through the cloth.

She tried to cross the distance to Mama and Papa and connect with them, only she couldn’t. They were too far away. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Never would she endanger her parents’ lives. More tears fell, endlessly.

The Fae Princess and Guardian of her Earthbound Kind

Clan Matheson fae village, Loch Alsh, Scotland, 1210, twenty years later.

Under the midnight brilliance of the night sky twinkling with a myriad of stars, Cherub walked arm and arm with Kirk along the pebbly shoreline nestled before the village. The wind rushed all around, fluttering her white fur cloak about her legs and sending her blond hair streaming past her shoulders. Something within the wind tickled her fae senses and she halted, raised her arms and allowed the
air
—the element she controlled—to bring to her the secrets it held.

As an immortal time-walker and her fae people’s princess, ’twas her duty to aid those of her fae-blooded kind who walked this Earth and she did so by ensuring the newly soul bound were brought together, no matter what divide of time separated them. With her time-walker ability, she could open portals if she wished, could travel great distances through time, to wherever she was most needed.

“Do you sense lost souls this night?” Kirk, her soul bound mate, stepped in behind her, slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. With his big body curved around hers, he warmed her through with his heavenly heat.

“I do, and between two of our fae kind who live right here in this time, although one is currently visiting your clan at Ivanson Castle in the twenty-first century.”

“You’re speaking of Ronan?”

“I am.” A month past, she and Kirk had rescued Ronan from deep within the dungeons of Carron Castle, the stronghold belonging to Coll MacKenzie. She’d opened a portal and taken Ronan directly to a doctor at Ivanson in order for him to heal as he’d needed to from his extensive injuries. “The other I sense is Kyla.”

“The lass Ronan met while imprisoned in Carron’s cells, the lass he believes was kidnapped by Colin as a child from the fae village?”

“Aye, Christina was taken from us twenty years ago and even though we searched high and low for her following her disappearance, we never found her, never knew who’d taken her, never received a note requesting a demand of coin either. Ronan is desperate to return to Kyla and we need to ensure he reaches her without issue, particularly while she is with her foster brother and far away from Colin MacKenzie’s evil clutches.”

“I see.” Kirk nibbled on her ear. “A task I am more than ready for.”

“As am I.” She slid her hands underneath the hem of his white tunic and spread one palm over his heart. “Ronan’s new identity is almost complete. Tavish adds the finishing touches as we speak and once he’s done, we must ensure Ronan and Kyla have the chance for their bond to take form.

“A plan I’m in total agreement with.” He dipped her backward, rubbed his cheek against hers, his love for her enveloping her in its fierce intensity. “I love you, would never be able to live without you, would hate it if you’d ever been stolen from me as Kyla was with Ronan. When do we leave?”

“First thing in the morn, and I love you too.” She cupped his face in her hands, seized his mouth with hers and allowed the deep emotions she held for him to consume her. What remained of this night would be theirs, but once the sun rose on the morrow, they would be needed at Ivanson in the twenty-first century. Ronan would be awaiting them, ready and anxious to begin his hunt.

Aye, Ronan’s coming journey would be one of immense trials and tribulations, a chase to bind his chosen one to him that would see the truth of Kyla’s birth finally come to light. ’Twas time for Kyla to embrace her Matheson kin, to no longer be a lost child but returned to her loved ones, as she should have been so very long ago.

’Twas time to right the wrongs of the past, this journey one she couldn’t wait to set in motion. Soon, very soon.