Daileas’ decision to live his own life separate from the clan was something Bhaltair could relate to, given his preference for solitude. If he weren’t the brother of the late laird, it was how he’d choose to live.
Now, hesitation filled him at the realization of what he would ask of Daileas. Daileas wanted to live free of clan conflicts, and Bhaltair was embroiled in one. If Daileas doesnae want tae get involved, I’ll find someone else who will help, he told himself, though dread made his gut clench at the thought.
As their horses neared Daileas’ cottage, the man himself emerged. He looked just as Bhaltair remembered, hardly having changed since Bhaltair’s childhood. The only difference now was that gray streaked through Daileas’ red hair, and his face was slightly creased with age. Daileas’ expression was weary, though it transformed to a smile at the sight of Bhaltair. His eyes roamed to Cadha and Avery with curiosity, and he stepped forward to help them dismount.
“Young Bhaltair,” Daileas said, greeting him in the same way he had when he was a lad. “’Tis good tae see ye.”
But his smile faded as he took in the grimness in Bhaltair’s eyes.
“I need tae talk tae ye,” Bhaltair said. “In private.”
* * *
Bhaltair sat opposite Daileas, who was quietly taking in everything he’d just told him, from his promise to his brother to the appearance of the aingidh at the castle. As a former noble, Daileas was well aware of the stiuireadh, but his face still paled when Bhaltair told him of the aingidh working with Clan Roideach.
“I ken ye donnae wish tae be involved in clan matters,” Bhaltair said. “But if ye only let us stay here, until I can—”
“What?” Daileas growled, giving him a look that had frightened him as a lad. “Ye think I would turn ye and yer wee lass of a niece away?”
“This is a clan matter, and ye—”
“Ye and yer brother are like sons tae me. I still grieve for yer brother,” Daileas snapped. “Donnae insult me by assuming I’ll nae help ye and Cadha—who I also consider family.”
Relief ebbed away the tension in Bhaltair’s body, but he still gave Daileas a hesitant look.
“I donnae want tae put ye or yer wife in danger by—”
“Ye need nae concern yerself with that. I’ll keep my wife safe. Now,” Daileas said, leaning forward and pinning him with a fierce look. “What do ye need?”
By the time he and Daileas emerged from the room that served as his study, Bhaltair felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
They’d determined that they would send for Hamish. Hamish could help Bhaltair mount a defense with his top men, all the while keeping Bhaltair and Cadha’s location a secret until they’d confronted the men of Clan Roideach. They’d send for Hamish using one of Daileas’ most trusted men.
Daileas had amassed a group of loyal men from the nearby village who helped him around the cottage and his lands after his two grown sons had moved to Edinburgh. He paid them handsomely with coin he’d saved from his days as a noble. Daileas was a good, honorable man, Bhaltair knew that men couldn’t help but follow him. Daileas was not only a good friend and second father to him, he was a valuable ally.
“And the bonnie lass who accompanied ye? Ye said she’s a stiuireadh?” Daileas had asked.
“Aye,” Bhaltair replied, hoping that his face remained neutral. “But she’s nae going tae help us, she doesnae think she can. She’ll need transport back tae Skye. Once she’s gone, I trust that Lioslaith will return and offer her assistance.”
Daileas had offered to have one of his men escort her to the nearest port, where she could make sail back to Skye if her magic couldn’t transport her. Bhaltair had to ignore the sense of bereavement that seized him at the thought of her departure.
They entered the main room, where Avery, Cadha, and Daileas’ wife, Fenella, sat gathered before a meal Fenella had prepared.
He greeted Fenella with a warm embrace; he hadn’t had a chance to properly greet her when they’d first arrived. She was a kind woman who loved Daileas fiercely; he suspected it was for her that Daileas had given up his life as a warrior.
He turned to Avery. Fenella had lent her a green gown that was simpler than the one she’d traveled in, but she still looked breathtaking. Avery’s eyes met his, a flush staining her cheeks at his appraisal.
“Daileas can arrange transport for ye on the morrow. One of his men can take ye tae the nearest port if yer magic cannae take ye back tae Skye,” he told Avery in a low voice after taking a seat at her side. The heaviness in his heart grew as he spoke the words, and he had to look away from her.
Avery went silent for so long that he finally looked back up at her. She paled slightly but gave him a jerky nod.
His heaviness remained throughout the meal as he exchanged polite conversation with Daileas and Fenella. Cadha was shy at first but opened up as Fenella asked her about her favorite toys and games. Avery remained mostly quiet, her responses to any question Daileas or Fenella directed her way brief yet polite.
At the end of the meal, after Fenella waved away Avery and Bhaltair's offers to help clean up, Avery turned to Bhaltair.
"May I speak to you alone?" she asked in a low voice.
He nodded, his gaze shifting to Cadha, now locked in conversation with Daileas as she earnestly described the rules of one of her games. Daileas was listening as intently as if he were hearing a detailed battle strategy.
He followed Avery outside the cottage, wondering what she intended to say, his heart pounding with dread. Perhaps she'd tell him she wanted to leave right away as opposed to on the morrow?
But her words made the burden in his chest dissipate, replaced by a startling burst of joy.
“I’ve decided to stay and help you.”
Chapter 8
After spending time in Lioslaith’s cave with Cadha and Bhaltair, Avery had realized that she couldn’t leave them to face the dark witch. The strong wave of protectiveness that had seized her over Cadha had remained, and every time she thought about the evil intent in the aingidh’s eyes, terror tore through her. How could she leave without knowing for certain that Cadha was safe from him? Her conscience wouldn’t allow it.
In a way, she’d made the decision the moment she’d fled the castle with Bhaltair and Cadha. Lioslaith’s prolonged—and no doubt purposeful—absence had worked. It was as if Lioslaith knew that spending time with Bhaltair and Cadha would sway her initial decision.
And there was no denying that her burning desire for Bhaltair made her want to linger here. Every time she thought about leaving him, a sharp pain stung her heart. She felt a connection to both Bhaltair and Cadha, one she couldn’t explain, one she suspected was connected to Lioslaith’s cryptic words about “time” wanting her to help them.
Despite her newfound determination to stay and help, her self-doubt remained. She’d never undertaken such a task before; she didn’t even know where to begin. But she would do everything in her power to succeed, despite her palpable fear of failure.
Now she met Bhaltair’s eyes, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She half expected him to be angry with her, or to refuse her help, given how she’d repeatedly told him she wasn't strong enough to face the aingidh.
Yet instead of offering any protest, one of his devastatingly sexy smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, lighting up his handsome face. Avery’s stomach fluttered at the sight.
“Are ye certain?” he asked, his smile fading as hesitation flared in his eyes. “Ye said that ye werenae strong enough tae—"
“I was able to fight off the aingidh back at your castle,” she said, a surprising rush of defensiveness sweeping over her. It was immediately followed by shame; she’d escaped because the aingidh had let her go. “I brought one of Lioslaith's grimoires from her cave," she continued, ignoring the shame. "They contain powerful spells that I can practice. I—I can’t make any promises. But Cadha is a sweet little girl; she doesn’t deserve any of this. I’ll do what I can to hel
p you keep her safe from this aingidh . . . and then I’ll be on my way.”
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes when she mentioned leaving, but he gave her a grateful nod.
“I thank ye, Avery.”
She turned to head back inside, feeling Bhaltair's gaze on her. Another wave of uncertainty washed over her as she thought of the power that seemed to radiate from that dark witch, the malice in his eyes as he’d watched her ride away. Who was he? Why was he helping this clan? Other than the ancient Pact, witches usually stayed out of human matters.
Avery suddenly ached for her sister, now ensconced on Skye with her new husband. What she wouldn’t do for the modern convenience of a text message or a phone call. She would ask her sister how on earth she'd defeated the powerful aingidh who’d nearly killed her.
A bitter smile twisted her lips. It was ironic that Lila had envied Avery's magical ability; Avery had never done anything close to what Lila had accomplished.
She expelled a sharp breath, forcing aside the tumultuous thoughts. She was from a powerful line of stiuireadh, she’d do what it took to defeat this dark witch, to defend young Cadha. She wouldn't let her self-doubt—or her attraction to Cadha’s uncle—distract her.
* * *
"Suidhich an talamh a-muigh!"
Avery raised her hand, allowing the force of the Incendiary spell to flow through her as she aimed it at the ground. A small burst of flames consumed the ground, flames she quickly snuffed out with another spell.
It was the next morning, and she’d excused herself after eating breakfast with the others, telling Bhaltair she wanted to take a walk through the forest when in truth she intended to practice Defensive and Offensive spells from Lioslaith's grimoire. The subterfuge was all for Cadha’s sake, the only one who didn’t know about stiuireadh and magic.
Avery took in her surroundings. There was something peaceful about forest clearings; the scent of earth, the light breeze rustling through the trees, the shafts of sunlight that cast shadows onto the ground.
Forests were particularly fertile places for performing magic. They were where ancient stiuireadh had performed their spells, and here in Scotland her druid ancestors had performed their rituals in the many groves which dotted the land.
Avery looked down where she had Lioslaith’s grimoire opened on the ground beside her. The spells were written in Old Gaelic and Latin, which Avery had trouble reading, despite her and Lila’s rigorous education in learning the written forms of the languages for ancient spells. Lila had been more concerned with learning the array of spells while Avery had only ever focused on the spells related to time travel.
“Bidh eileamaidean den talamh gam dhion!” she shouted.
This time, the elements didn’t obey the command of her spell.
She closed her eyes, frustration washing over her. How was she supposed to protect Cadha if she couldn’t get a basic Defensive spell down?
“Do ye need help?”
Avery whirled, a scream in her throat as Bhaltair emerged from the thicket of trees behind her, looking damnably handsome in a dark tunic and russet-colored belted plaid kilt.
“You scared me half to death!” Avery cried, her hand on her chest as she struggled to calm her rapid breathing, though she knew her increased heartbeat was due to more than just her fright.
Bhaltair’s brows knit together in a confused frown.
“I apologize for giving ye a fright—but I donnae ken how a fright can cause yer death.”
“It’s just—it’s a saying we use in my time,” she said, smiling at the genuine confusion in Bhaltair’s eyes.
“’Tis an odd way tae express fright,” Bhaltair grumbled. “Especially in this time, when far graver things cause death.”
Avery chuckled, her body growing warm as he drew closer.
"Sayings aren't meant to be taken literally."
“Then I donnae understand why they're sayings at all," Bhaltair replied, though he was smiling as well. His expression suddenly turned serious as he continued, "Daileas has sent for Hamish. He should arrive later today if he can leave the castle without being followed.”
“That’s good,” she said, beaming. Once Hamish was here, she knew that Bhaltair could start mounting his defense against Clan Roideach in earnest.
“I came tae see how ye were faring, tae see if ye need help—if I can help. I donnae ken how yer magic works.”
“The only way you can help is if I use my spells on you, and I don’t want to risk hurting you,” Avery said, shaking her head.
At her words, Bhaltair pulled himself up to his full, towering height, his eyes narrowing. Avery had to stifle a laugh. She might as well have challenged him to a duel.
“Yer spells willnae hurt me,” he practically growled. “Try one.”
Avery arched a brow, giving him a skeptical—but teasing—look.
“Are you certain?”
“Aye,” he grumbled, moving to stand opposite her. “I can take it.”
Avery hid her amusement. She would show this prideful Scot not to mess with magic. She raised her hand, trying not to let her gaze linger on his exposed muscular torso beneath his tunic, swallowing hard. Focus, Avery.
“Hurl e air falbh bhuam!” she shouted.
Bhaltair flew back against the tree, hitting it with a solid thud. Panic flooded her; she hadn’t intended the spell to land so hard.
She hurried forward, approaching Bhaltair, who was glowering at her, but he thankfully didn’t look harmed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“’Tis fine, lass,” he muttered, but his glower turned into a smile as she helped him stand. “I’ll nae defy ye. I’ll stay out of yer way.”
She returned his smile. Bhaltair kept to his word, staying out of her way as she practiced her spells. It was difficult, but she made herself ignore him until she was lost in the feeling of her magic coursing through her as she cast spell after spell, not stopping until she could successfully issue a Defensive spell.
Exhausted, she turned to face Bhaltair. Awe was apparent on his handsome features. He slowly approached, studying her as if seeing her for the first time.
“I confess . . . that was a wondrous sight. How does it feel? Yer magic?”
“It’s hard to explain. It’s like . . . trying to describe how laughter feels. It’s just something I’ve known my whole life,” she said honestly.
At his look of disappointment, she bit her lip, struggling to find a way to describe how magic felt.
A powerful breeze suddenly swept through the forest, and Avery straightened. “Did you feel that breeze?”
“Aye.”
“It’s like that. But . . . it’s in you. Whenever I murmur the words of the spell, it’s like the spell is commanding the breeze what to do. And if the spell works, the breeze obeys.”
“Boyd would have loved tae meet ye,” he murmured, shaking his head in amazement.
“Did you and your brother spend a lot of time discussing magic?” she asked, hungry for more knowledge about him.
“We discussed magic, aye, but nae all the time. More so when we were wee lads. After Boyd became laird, he was always tied up in clan matters.”
“And you?”
“I spent most of my time in my manor, tending tae my own lands. I only came tae the castle for feasts, tae see Boyd and his family. I adored my sister-in-law and young Cadha, always told my brother they were tae good for him—and he agreed,” Bhaltair said, a smile tugging at his lips at the memory.
“Why did you only rarely come to the castle?” Avery asked, giving him a teasing smile. “If my family had a castle, I’d have my own wing.”
Bhaltair’s mouth tightened, and his gaze shifted away from hers.
“I’ve always preferred my solitude,” he said shortly. “The life of a laird and chief was meant for Boyd, never for me. What I’m doing now—’tis only tae honor my pledge tae my brother.”
“I prefer my solitude too,” Avery said gently. “
But that doesn’t mean you need to isolate yourself completely.”
“Aye? Ye have yer own way of isolating yerself. Ye said yerself that ye travel from time period tae time period, rarely staying in one for long,” Bhaltair returned with narrowed eyes.
Avery felt a wave of defensiveness rise, and she opened her mouth to protest that traveling through time differed from holing oneself up in a manor.
But she had to grudgingly admit to herself that Bhaltair had a point. She did travel from time period to time period, avoiding serious relationships, preferring her own company. How many times had her parents—even her sister—urged her to settle down? She and Bhaltair weren’t too different in that regard.
Avery looked away from Bhaltair, suddenly feeling exposed. She wished she hadn’t pried. What Bhaltair did with his time was none of her business, just as the way she lived was none of his.
“We should head back,” she said stiffly. “The others might be wondering where we are.”
Bhaltair studied her for a long moment, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes before he gave a gruff nod and turned to head back to the cottage.
As she trailed him back, a hollowness gnawed at her stomach, along with the somber feeling that their brief moment of connection had been forever severed.
Chapter 9
Bhaltair smiled widely as Hamish entered Daileas’ study. His steward returned his smile, the look of relief in his eyes stark as he said, “My laird. ’Tis good tae see ye well.”
His conversation with Avery from earlier that day still lingered in his mind, along with the way her expression had become shuttered when he’d suggested they both craved their solitude. He now regretted his words, but her picking apart the way he chose to live his life had struck him somewhere deep, and he’d wanted to deflect. He hadn’t expected her to shut down as well.
Forcing his thoughts away from Avery, he reached out to clap Hamish on his shoulder. His steward looked weary from his ride but otherwise happy to see Bhaltair. He’d had to take a longer, twistier route to the cottage from the castle, with multiple stops along the way for him to continually check that no one had followed him.
Bhaltair's Pledge: Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book Two Page 5