Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (15 page)

“No!” Stephen lunged for Jillian. He couldn’t lose her now.
Not after having found his one true love. Not with her believing the worst of
him. Sudden nausea made him stagger and he couldn’t grab hold of her fading
form. Everything reeled. Slid sideways. When the motion stopped, she was gone.

Stephen stared at the spot where Jillian had stood moments
before. Everything within him froze. She’d left him behind. She’d gone to her
future place without him.

He spun on the faerie. She could help. Send him forward to
Jillian. The fae woman frowned, furrowed her brow, and then her form diminished
as well.

“Dinnae leave!” His plea went unheeded. The faerie vanished
before he could stop her.

The knoll returned to normal. Fae magic spent. Dry amber
grass replaced that of spring green. No longer did a tree stand upon the mound;
no twinkling lights.

Keita and Duff broke away from Maclay, ran to Stephen, and
clung to his legs. He squatted and wrapped his arms around the
bairns
.
Held them tight. Fog rolled across the knoll, twirled its moist embrace around
the three forlorn humans huddled together in grief. Was there any point in
living without Jillian?

He should be concerned about Maclay’s presence. But he
couldn’t shake off the despair and bother to fight the renegade outlaw.
Ignoring raised voices coming from within the fog, Stephen hung his head and
permitted tears to escape. The voices moved closer and became difficult to
ignore. The mist thinned.

“Stephen MacEwen, you are under arrest for complicity with a
practitioner of the dark arts.” The sheriff stood to his right.

“You weren’t supposed to arrest him. Just the witch.”
Calyn’s annoyed tone came from the left, her lantern cutting through the
dwindling haze.

The sight of her swollen belly up close jarred Stephen. He
blinked, hoping she was naught but an apparition. A trick of the fae. That she
would disappear.

Nae. The lass remained.

The
bairns’
small hands clutched the fabric of
Stephen’s
trews
. “You cannot take him. We won’t let you.” Duff’s voice
quivered yet his chin held firm as he and Keita stared at the sheriff.

“Nae worries, lad. Nary a soul is taking Stephen anywhere
other than Castle Lachlan without my consent and I won’t be giving such,” came
the voice of reason. Thank the good Lord. Archie was among those scattered
about the knoll.

“MacLachlan, this is none of your affair.” The sheriff’s
fisted hands shone in the light from Calyn’s lantern.

“Says the man who, once again, allowed Maclay to evade
justice. You should have taken him into custody, Ninian, rather than accuse my
man and a guest of my house of something as ridiculous as witchcraft.” Archie
held the reins of the three horses, Stephen, Jillian, and the faerie had ridden
onto the mound. “This is my land. I am lord here.”

“But you saw the two women disappear,” the sheriff asserted.

“Did I? Are you sure?”

“Aye. How can you doubt ’twas the work of the devil?”

“I believe the women slipped away, concealed by the fog.
Dare you gainsay me?”

The sheriff threw up his hands and stomped off. Shortly
thereafter, the sound of horses and men faded into the night.

Archie placed a hand on Stephen’s arm. “Let us return to
Castle Lachlan and talk.”

Duff released Stephen’s leg and climbed onto the smallest of
the three horses. Stephen lifted Keita and placed her behind the lad.

“What about me? I. Am. Your. Wife.” Calyn huffed.

Stephen pinned her with a frustrated glare. “
Handfasted
wife
.”

“What does it matter? You are my husband.” She rubbed her
rounded belly. “And soon, we will have a
bairn
.”

Sadness stole over Stephen; an unwanted future with Calyn
unfurled within his mind. His heavy sigh was heartfelt. Without further
comment, he lifted her by the waist onto the horse he had previously ridden.
She attempted to rub against him as he placed her on the animal, but he kept
her at arm’s length. He could barely stand to touch her. How could he have
impregnated the lass?

He couldn’t resign himself to the handfasting. He needed to
learn what had actually happened the eve before he woke in Calyn’s bed.

The clinking of tack as Archie and the other MacLachlan clansmen
who’d ridden with the chief mounted their horses demanded his attention.
Solemn-faced, they waited. After strapping his claymore to the saddle, Stephen
mounted the white steed belonging to the beautiful faerie. A shift of weight on
the leather triggered a sweet womanly scent. His nostrils flared at the unusual
fragrance. He glanced around half expecting the faerie to reappear.

Disappointed when she didn’t, he was thusly taken by
surprise by a phantom touch of a feminine hand grazing his cheek. He unintentionally
jerked on the reins. The horse reared, tossing Stephen from its back. He fell,
arms flailing. Expecting to hit the hard ground, ’twas alarming to continue
falling as everything around him spun wildly.

Excitement ignited his soul in a jolt of awareness that
crowded out an upsurge of fear. The
Sithichean Sluaigh
was taking him
also. He embraced the swirling maelstrom with joy as he fell. Down…down…down,
he plunged, deeper and deeper into a void of darkness. Abruptly, bright
multi-colored lights flashed, making him shut his eyes. Intense heat scorched
his flesh. He sucked in a deep breath and prayed he’d survive this trial and be
reunited with his only love—
Jillian
.

* * *

Jillian landed on her butt in a pile of raked autumn leaves
just beyond the garden gate at
Foxgloves
. Thank God. She’d returned
home. On the other side of the metal grille, freshly planted yellow, purple,
and orange mums accented the flowerbeds lit by pathway lights. Had she made it
to the correct time? Seemed like nothing had changed in the garden other than
the addition of the mums.

Rising on trembling legs, she stumbled to the gate and
clutched the cool metal for support. At the other end of the garden, lamps
burned in the windows of her partner Laurie’s big house. Jillian staggered over
the path to the mudroom door. She didn’t bother knocking. Just let herself in.
Voices coming from farther within the house spurred her forward.

She stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at the normal
twenty-first century family scene, feeling lost and out of place. Everything in
the room was so bright and clean. Stainless steel appliances so modern. The
family sat at the table in the nook beyond—Laurie and Patrick, the twins, and
little Allison—eating dinner. The wholesome scene so completely normal, yet
utterly strange to Jillian.

She swallowed uneasily, wondering how long she’d been gone.
It seemed like an eternity. Did time pass here at the same pace as in the past?

The conundrum was more than she could handle tonight.
Jillian thought to turn away and slip out of the house, but Allison caught
sight of her. The girl reached forward with both arms. “Auntie Jillian!”

Patrick swung his head in her direction and grinned. Laurie
gaped then punched her husband in the arm. “How did she sneak in without you
noticing?”

“I kenned she was there. Did not wish to startle or frighten
her off.”

The couple seemed surprised but not as shocked as Jillian
would have expected.

“Come, Jillian, sit with us.” Patrick stood and pulled out
an empty chair. “You must be starving. Traveling through the gate makes a soul
ravenous.”

So they know
. “I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you are.” He loaded a plate with pasta marinara,
added garlic bread, and placed the dish in front of her along with a bowl of
mixed salad. “Eat. Will make you feel better.”

Nothing could make her feel better.

Young Iain handed her a container of parmesan. “It’s better
with cheese.”

“Thank you.” The boy’s smile made her think of Duff. And of
Keita. Her heart wrenched. She would miss them.

Iain scooted back to his seat and poked his twin brother in
the ribs. “Told you Aunt Jillian would come back.”

She wasn’t really their aunt, though the children had always
addressed her as such.

Laurie placed a glass of red wine in front of her with a
wink. “It’s even better with chianti.”

Jillian nodded and took a long sip of wine. Several more
sips smoothed the edges of her frayed nerves. Allowed her to breathe more
easily. The MacLachlan children chattered amongst themselves, relieving her of
a need to master conversation. Jillian felt Patrick and Laurie’s expectant
gazes glance her way throughout the meal. Why had she come to their house
instead of slipping unnoticed into her room at the inn? Because Laurie was her
best friend and Jillian needed answers only Laurie and perhaps Patrick could
provide.

After some whining about wanting to stay with the adults and
some bribing by said adults, the children scattered to other parts of the
house. Jillian accepted another glass of wine and stared into the ruby liquid.
It was question and hopefully answer time, but where to begin?

“That is a lovely burgundy gown you’re wearing. If I’m not
mistaken, it belongs to Isobell.” Laurie broke the silence.

Jillian jerked her gaze to her friend. So much for being in
control of the conversation.

“So let me guess,” Laurie continued. “You’ve been a guest at
Castle Lachlan.”

“I have.” Jillian nodded.

“Anything you want to tell us, hon?”

More than you can imagine
. Jillian curled into
herself and burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetie. It can’t be that bad.” Laurie squatted in
front of Jillian and embraced her in a consoling hug. Patrick stood behind his
wife, his expression one of concern.

“Everything is such a mess.” Jillian sobbed. “Why didn’t you
tell me?”

“About the time travel.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“Yes.” She waved an arm. “The past. Castles. Sexy
Highlanders.”

Laurie snorted. “Would you have believed me? Would knowing
our garden gate could take you to the past have changed anything?”

“I didn’t go through the gate. I fell into a well in a tunnel
on the bike trail in West Virginia.”

“We know. Your brother has been frantic about you. He’s had
the local authorities searching the trails and woods. Patrick, Finn, and
Douglas went to search, too. All they found was your bike and panniers.”

Jillian inhaled a loud sniffle. “Then they found my cell
phone?”

“Aye. Do you want to tell us what happened to upset you so?”
Patrick asked.

“Besides the fact I was accused of witchcraft?” Jillian
gazed past Laurie to her husband. “I fell in love with your stupid cousin,
Stephen, but the lying dog neglected to inform me of his other woman
friend
.
The one who is pregnant with his
child
.”

“That doesn’t sound like Stephen,” Patrick and Laurie said
in unison.

“Well, it’s the truth. I’ll never forgive him. Not that I’ll
ever see him again.”

Stephen landed hard on his arse in a wood of which he
recognized naught. Winded on the strange trip through time, he sucked in great
gasps of air. The unexpected prick from a blade tip in the center of his chin made
him stiffen.
Shite!
He must not have made it to Jillian’s future place.
She’d claimed men didn’t carry swords in her time. A droplet of blood slid
along the curve of his neck. ’Twas definitely a Highland claymore piercing his
flesh.

Even in the dark, the holder of said sword appeared taller
than most men of Stephen’s acquaintance—a giant of a man. A powerful warrior
indeed. Stephen remained still not wanting to startle the man and get his
throat slit. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

“Aye. That I do.” The man chuckled—a dark sound prompting a
shiver. “Perhaps you can enlighten me as to who you are and to why you stalk
this property.”

The crescent moon shed some light, but not enough to make
out the man’s features. From whence did he hail? His speech was that of a lord.
Who is he?

Lacking knowledge of the lay of land, confronted by an
unknown giant of a man, and without his claymore for defense, Stephen held
limited options. Should he reveal his identity? The disclosure could go for him
or against him.

He must still be in his own time and somewhere within the
Highlands. Disappointment almost outweighed the alarm of having another’s sharp
blade so near one’s throat. Though he was hardly defenseless. Multiple knives
remained hidden on his person, as was a purse filled with jewels he could use
as ransom if needed. He’d watch for an opening to extract a blade from his
sleeve.

Mayhap he worried for naught. Mayhap he and the man had
allies in common.

“Stephen MacEwen of Clan MacLachlan,” he said, having decided
to expose himself. “And you are?”

“Ah.” The man nodded. “You were once Patrick of
Strathlachlan’s right hand. I should have guessed ’twas you stumbling through
the laird’s forest.” The sword pricking Stephen’s flesh disappeared as quickly
as it appeared. “You are among friends.”

Did the man jest?
“’Twas hard to tell.”

That dark, shiver-inducing chuckle came again. Stephen
accepted the man’s assistance to his feet and brushed decaying leaves from his
trews
and
plaide
. Lights burning in the near distance caught his attention,
but still naught seemed familiar.

The laird’s forest. Which laird?

“Dinnae fash yourself, lad. You’re safe.” The stranger
grasped Stephen’s forearm and offered a warrior’s greeting. “I am Douglas
MacKinnon of Clan MacKinnon friend to the MacLachlan Clan hereabouts. Welcome
to the twenty-first century and Anderson Creek.”

Praise the Saints!
Stephen swayed and braced his
weight against a large tree trunk. He’d made it to Jillian’s future. And if
this man kenned Patrick, he must also ken—

“Where is Jillian?” The question burst from his lips.

Startled by a loud, high-pitched sound—a horse’s
whinny—Stephen slipped a blade from within his
plaide
and jerked his
gaze to a nearby grove of pines.

“Come out of hiding, princess.” Douglas fisted hands on hips
and stared in the same direction. “The beast has given you away.”

Several minutes passed before the faerie Jillian and he had
traveled with stepped from the grove, lips curved in a frown, leading the
magnificent white steed from the past. Thankfully, Stephen’s claymore remained
attached to the saddle. He returned the palmed knife to its hidden sheath.

Head held high, neck tense, and with its ears pricked
forward, the horse pawed the earth. Ignoring the faerie, Douglas stepped in
close and greeted the beast. Rubbed its neck. Ran a palm along the bridge of
its nose. Whispered something into the animal’s ear. The horse tossed its head
and nickered. Douglas removed the sword from the saddle and tossed it. Thanks
to a warrior’s quick reflexes, Stephen caught its heft with two hands.

“You won’t need your claymore for defense, but we have fun
wielding our blades in mock fights and battles.” Douglas grinned.

Stephen furrowed his brow, puzzling over the man’s words
when he noticed the fae woman’s attempt to slip away.

“Not so fast, Caitrina.” The other man grasped her upper
arm, stopping her midstride. “You brought them here, you need to finish this.”

“I plan to make things right.” She scowled at Douglas.
“Tomorrow. After I take a hot shower and have a wee rest.”

“Wait. Where is Jillian?” Stephen asked of the woman.

“I imagine she’s with Laurie and Patrick. She usually goes
to them when troubled.” Caitrina shrugged. “Why didn’t you explain to Jillian
about Calyn and the handfasting? You’ve added a major complication to my
labors.”

“I am not sure of what you are referring to by
labors
,
but I demand to be taken to Jillian.”

“Demand?” she screeched. “How dare you?”

Tension hummed. Douglas grasped both of her hands and held
them together within the grip of one of his much larger hands. He murmured
something near her ear as he had with the horse. Her shoulders relaxed. She
nodded and, without acknowledging Stephen, led the steed away.

He pivoted on his heel, ready to follow. “Wait—”

“’Tis best to let her go. Safer for your manly parts.”
Douglas gripped Stephen’s shoulder. “Come. I’ll take you to Patrick.”

They walked over a mound not unlike the
Sithichean
Sluaigh
in the Fir Wood, and Stephen shook off a chill. A short distance
farther, they came upon a hinged metal gate within a high stone wall. Douglas
eased the gate open and ducked beneath the curve of the archway.

Stephen followed the man through, and another chill spread
over his spine. His fingers trembled. He glanced around. Looked over a
shoulder, but saw naught out of place. He inhaled a deep breath. There had been
too much fae activity of late.

Continuing forward, they strode through a waning garden,
larger than that of Castle Lachlan. Small lanterns dangled from what appeared
to be short shepherd’s hooks, lending golden illumination to a path leading to
a massive wood structure with many brightly lit windows. He imagined ’twas the
source of the lights seen earlier from the wood.

Douglas stopped afore the structure at a green wooden door.
“Be prepared to see many new things—modern marvels—in Patrick’s house.”

Excitement welled. He nodded and followed Douglas through
the doorway into a small chamber as bright as outside on a sunny day. The
sunshine came from a fixture on the ceiling that when looked directly upon
blinded.
Bairn
-sized garments hung from hooks on one wall; wee shoes and
boots in a line beneath. Shelves with unusual containers hung on the opposite
wall over two large chests made of white metal. Were the chests marvels?

I must learn much to live in Jillian’s world.

They continued through another doorway into a larger chamber
lit in a similar fashion to the first. Many cupboards and multiple-sized silver
chests circled the chamber. At least, the cupboards were somewhat familiar.

Douglas squeezed Stephen’s shoulder. “Dinnae worry, you’ll
be living like a modern man soon enough.”

Stephen stood straighter. Jillian had said he looked like a
modern
man
when she cut his hair. Perhaps he might adapt to this future place with
time.

“I see you found our wayward man.” Patrick strolled into the
chamber through yet another doorway, wearing curious garments, a smirk upon his
lips. Chestnut hair pulled back in a queue, his cousin looked much the same as
when last seen, though lines had appeared around his eyes. The smirk broadened
into a smile of greeting. “Welcome to my home.”

Stephen’s eyes misted. How long had it been? Numb with joy,
he stumbled into the manly embrace of his cousin. Subsequent backslapping
ensued.

“I have missed you.” Moisture pooled in Patrick’s sapphire
eyes, too.

“There was nae purpose to my life after you left,” Stephen
said, a hitch in his voice. “I tried to follow you through the
Sithichean
Sluaigh
more times than you can imagine, but the damn faeries ignored my
desires and refused to let me pass.”

“You are here now. And glad I am to see you.”

“’Tis because of Jillian.”

“Perhaps you should share the tale. She is of a mind you
have done her wrong.”

“On that note, I will leave you to your conversation. I have
a wench of my own who needs attention.” Douglas took his leave, departing the
way they had entered.

“Where is Jillian?” Stephen asked, hoping she was within
another chamber.

“Come. We will sit by the fire in my study and talk.”
Patrick showed him to another well-appointed chamber similar to the study at
Castle Lachlan yet different.

Stephen collapsed into a chair afore the hearth where a
small fire burned, amazed by the softness of the blue velvet cushions. He
glanced about the chamber. Jillian was right. This time had wondrous comforts.

“I imagine you could use a whisky.” Patrick opened an
ornately carved cupboard and withdrew a multifaceted glass flagon. After
pouring the amber liquid into two matching glasses, he handed one to Stephen
and sank into an adjacent chair. He lifted his glass in toast. “
Slàinte
mhór.
”

“Good health to you.” Stephen raised his glass then sipped
the whisky, savoring the slow burn down his throat and into his gut. At his
cousin’s raised brow, he said by way of explanation, “I want to learn to speak
in your future way.”

“So you plan to stay. What of the woman you left with child
in the past?”

Stephen stiffened. “Jillian told you. Where is she? I must
speak with her. Explain why…” He stalled. How would he defend the flawed
decisions he’d made?

“I imagine you should explain much and beg forgiveness.
Howbeit, not tonight.” Patrick leaned back in his chair. “Laurie has taken the
lass to my parent’s inn for some private
girl
time. You can speak with
Jillian after you break your fast on the morrow. Now tell me what has
transpired in Scotland past since Archie’s last visit with us. Be sure to
include
all
of your endeavors and what you plan to do about the lass
with child.”