Bhaltair's Pledge: Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book Two

by Knight, Stella

  “I hope we can use this tae our advantage,” Daileas had told her. “Perhaps I can convince some men of their clan to fight Clan Roideach with us.”

  Alpin had sent one of his men back to Daileas’ cottage during the night and confirmed that Bhaltair wasn’t there. Daileas had a trusted spy at the castle who’d confirm that Bhaltair had been taken there; they were working under the assumption that he was.

  “I’m accompanying you to rescue Bhaltair,” she’d informed the men, expecting protest.

  But there was none. Daileas had already told Alpin and the men, trusted nobles aware of the stiuireadh, who she truly was and her reason for being in this time. These were men aware of the power of the stiuireadh; she only hoped she could live up to their expectations.

  Now, a heavy silence fell over the room. Avery closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  Her hands dropped to her sides as a thought occurred.

  “This is about Cadha. They want Cadha,” she said.

  Daileas looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  “If ye’re thinking of using her as bait—”

  “No,” Avery returned, horrified. “Never. But I think we should get word out that Cadha is being moved—even though she isn’t. Wouldn’t that bring the main force of Odhran and Cormag’s men away from the castle in pursuit of her?”

  “Aye,” Daileas replied after a brief pause. “Then our smaller force will be able tae move in tae take Bhaltair, Hamish, and anyone else loyal tae Bhaltair that Odhran has imprisoned. I ken there have tae be some loyal tae Bhaltair who will help us from the inside.”

  “And if they leave the aingidh behind?” Alpin asked, his eyes sweeping to Avery.

  “I’ll handle him,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

  Daileas held her gaze for a long moment before giving her a firm nod.

  “We need tae act with haste. It will take a day—perhaps two—tae get the false message tae Odhran about Cadha and tae gather more men still loyal tae Bhaltair tae launch a rescue.”

  “Do ye think they will keep him alive that long?” one of Alpin’s men asked.

  The thought of Bhaltair’s death caused Avery to go pale and sway on her feet, and she had to clutch a nearby chair to hold herself upright. Daileas was instantly at her side, helping her sit down, shooting a glare at the man who’d asked the question.

  “There’s no need tae make such assumptions,” he said shortly. “And no, I donnae think they’ll kill Bhaltair; they need him tae locate Cadha. But we need tae launch our rescue posthaste.”

  Alpin and his men left the room, leaving Daileas and Avery alone. Avery got to her feet, embarrassed by her reaction to the man’s words. She was supposed to be a powerful witch, not a shrinking violet.

  “I’m fine,” Avery said, flushing, as Daileas helped her stand.

  “No, ye’re nae. Ye’re worried about Bhaltair. I ken ye care for him, as he cares for ye. Young Bhaltair’s like a son tae me. I wouldnae have left him behind if I thought they would kill him.”

  A wave of relief swept over her, and she gave him a grateful smile.

  “And I ken that this is none of my concern,” Daileas continued, his eyes still trained on her. “But I urge ye—once we rescue him, and we will rescue him—tae tell him ye love him. Bhaltair is stubborn and willnae reveal his feelings on his own.”

  He left before she could respond. Love? She knew she cared for him, desired him . . . but love?

  She recalled the despair that struck her at the thought of Bhaltair’s death. How her entire body went warm at the very sight of him. The joy she felt when they took their walks together. His fierce love for his niece, his loyalty to his brother, his family, his clan. His infuriating willingness to self-sacrifice when it came to protecting the people he loved. His masculine beauty, a beauty that wasn’t just on the outside, but on the inside as well, calling to her like a siren’s song, luring her to him.

  Daileas had seen it before she did. What she felt for Bhaltair was more than just desire. She was in love with him. The realization almost made her sway on her feet once more, and she sank back down into the chair. She’d never been in love before, not even close. It was just her luck to fall in love with a fourteenth-century Scottish laird. She let out a sharp laugh, closing her eyes. Had Lioslaith known all along she would fall in love with Bhaltair? Was that what she meant by insisting that “time” wanted her to help Bhaltair? Did that mean her love for Bhaltair was somehow predestined? Was she always meant to come to this time and fall in love with him?

  She’d never liked the medieval period; she’d only come here for Lila’s wedding with the intention of beating a hasty retreat. But now that she’d spent some time here, she’d come to enjoy it. There was the quiet beauty of the island, its peaceful tranquility. She was living better here in castles and manors than in the studio apartment she called home in her own time, despite its modern conveniences. She liked and had come to admire the people she’d met in this time, from Daileas to Fenella to Hamish. She adored Cadha. Her magic had come to life here; she was now adept at doing more than time-travel spells. She had come to life here.

  And most importantly, the man she was in love with lived in this time period.

  Yet she didn’t belong in this time. Her sister had stayed in this time because Gawen loved her as she loved him. She knew Bhaltair wanted her, but desire wasn’t love. He was duty-bound to his niece, his clan. After Odhran’s betrayal, he would be expected to lead the clan and marry someone suitable.

  Focus on the now, Avery told herself. Predestined or not, she loved Bhaltair MacAidh. She loved Bhaltair, and she would rescue him from his treacherous cousin.

  Chapter 15

  The realization of her love for Bhaltair ignited a flame inside Avery. For the next two days, she threw herself into practicing her spells and working with Daileas and his men as they prepared for Bhaltair’s rescue. Word had spread of Bhaltair’s capture, and more men had volunteered to help, refusing to believe Odhran’s lies.

  Yet despite having more manpower and Daileas’ well-thought-out rescue plan, Avery still felt terrified for Bhaltair. What if they were too late? What if Odhran had already killed him? Or what if they failed, and Bhaltair was killed during the rescue attempt?

  Anguish filled her whenever such thoughts struck her, and she had to force them out of her mind—not only for her own sanity, but for Cadha as well. Ever since they’d left Bhaltair behind, Cadha had become more attached to her, only reluctantly leaving her side when Avery disappeared to practice her spells or met with Daileas and his men.

  Avery had to admit that she had become attached to Cadha as well. Her fierce protectiveness had turned into love, and it pained her to think of leaving Cadha behind. So, she relished in the time spent with Cadha, taking her on hunts with Daileas or Fenella, playing games of chase around the manor grounds, telling her stories in between meals and before bedtime. Anything to keep her mind off her uncle’s predicament.

  Still, she could tell that Cadha feared for her uncle, no matter how hard she tried to appear brave.

  The night before she was to leave with Daileas and his men to rescue Bhaltair, Avery curled up in bed next to Cadha to tell her a story, the fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast. She knew her coven leader would scold her. Stiuireadh were technically not supposed to divulge too many details of the future when traveling through time, and this included fairy tales that didn’t yet exist. But Avery had tweaked the names and the details of the story, as she had with the other fairy tales she’d told Cadha. Storytelling had given Avery her own much-needed distraction from her worry about Bhaltair’s rescue.

  “Avery?” Cadha asked tentatively, biting her lip as she looked up at her.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “If—if Uncle Bhaltair has been killed, can I live with ye?”

  Avery’s heart broke as she met the young girl’s eyes. There was grief, overwhelming sadness, yet an amazing amount of fortitude in their depth
s. Determination swelled in her chest. Bhaltair was not—and would not—be killed. She wouldn’t allow anything to happen to him or Cadha.

  “Your uncle hasn’t been killed,” Avery said, ignoring the grief that tore at her chest at the very thought. “I won’t allow it. Your home is—and always will be—with him.”

  Cadha didn’t look reassured, only hurt, and Avery realized that Cadha wanted her reassurance that Avery would stay in her life.

  But she couldn’t make that promise. She didn’t belong in this time, despite her love for Bhaltair and Cadha. She wouldn’t break Cadha’s heart by uttering such an oath, as much as she wanted it to be true.

  She just held Cadha, stroking her hair as she told her the fairy tale, her chest tightening as she realized once again just how difficult it would be to leave both Bhaltair and Cadha behind.

  * * *

  The next morning, as the sun began its ascent, Avery waited on the outskirts of Dunadh Castle with Daileas and twenty of his men, nervous anticipation flowing through every part of her like errant currents of electricity.

  Daileas turned to look at her, and she forced a smile, though she knew the perceptive man sensed her worry. But now was the time to push aside fear and self-doubt. She needed to focus only on getting Bhaltair back.

  She returned her gaze to the castle, swallowing hard. Avery had used a Cloaking spell to mask their presence, but it wouldn’t last for long, not for such a large group of men. If their plan worked—and it had to work—they wouldn’t be waiting for long.

  Minutes passed, and Avery’s unease rose. None of the men spoke; there was only the sound of the wind whipping through the trees, the shuffling of their horses’ hooves, the thumping of her heart. The more time passed, the more likely it was that the plan would fall apart. She gripped the reins, her throat dry, and that’s when she heard the thunder of horse hooves racing out of the front gates of the castle.

  Her relief was a palpable thing as she watched the distant figures of Odhran and Cormag ride away from the castle, along with a score of men.

  Daileas had paid off a mercenary to take an anonymous message to the castle, alerting Odhran that Cadha was being taken to a nearby port for transport off Arran Isle. If Odhran was wiser and more careful, he wouldn’t have fallen for such a ploy. His rash impulsiveness worked in their favor.

  Odhran’s departure from the castle was their signal to begin.

  Giving her one last look, Daileas gestured to his men to follow as he raced toward the rear of the castle. There, they would join the guards who remained loyal to Bhaltair to make their way into the dungeons and rescue Bhaltair, Hamish and his men.

  Avery had her own crucial part to play. Expelling a deep breath, she rode her horse out to the center of the glen until she was facing the castle.

  First, she murmured the words of another Cloaking spell, as she only wanted to be visible to the aingidh. She then uttered the words of a complex Summoning spell she had practiced many times during the past two days.

  “Thor an aingidh a tha a ‘fuireach an seo thugam!”

  The spell worked—all too well, and quicker than she’d anticipated, which was to her disadvantage. Before she’d even finished uttering the words of the spell, the aingidh appeared in front of her, his dark eyes filled with a burning hatred.

  She opened her mouth to issue the Killing spell, but the aingidh blocked it, and she found herself hovering in the air, her frightened horse racing away as the dark witch reached up to wrap his hand around her neck.

  “Avery Fletcher of a time that has yet tae come, and a land that has yet tae exist,” he hissed.

  At his words, panic tore through her—he knew her name? He gave her a cruel smile, seeming to relish in her fear.

  “’Tis why I let ye go before. I was surprised at the presence of another witch, I wanted tae ken who ye were. You donnae belong here, Avery of the future. This isnae yer fight.”

  She fought past her panic even as her throat began to close with the force of his spell and his hand tightening around her throat.

  Desperate and struggling to breathe, she reached out to grip his hair, yanking out a few strands. Startled, and with a yelp of pain, he released his grip.

  Avery tumbled to the ground. Gasping for breath, she tucked some strands in her bodice for safekeeping, and clutched the other strands of hair in her hands, murmuring the words of another complex Summoning spell, one that brought forth memories.

  “Thor a-mach na cuimhneachain sin thugam.”

  A series of images flooded her mind, and she struggled to comprehend each one. A dark-haired little boy, watching in horror as his home burned to the ground. The same boy weeping. Fires set to fertile lands. People around him starving. A lovely brunette woman kneeling before him, her eyes soft with sympathy. Ye are one of us. Come. The boy’s hatred, filling his veins like poison. I will find a way tae destroy ye. I will stop this from happening.

  The boy as a young man, working on Time Spinning spells. The hatred that fueled him—such hatred. A whispered name, uttered by the dark elements of magic. Glaisne.

  The aingidh who stood before her was this boy fueled by rage. Glaisne.

  “Stay out of my memories!” Glaisne roared.

  He threw out a hand, and she flew back, her throat once again closing in on itself, but much quicker this time. An Asphyxiation spell, Avery realized dimly.

  Darkness descended over her vision, and she knew she didn’t have much time. She didn’t have the strength for a Killing spell, but she could still wound him. Using the last breath she had, she gasped out a spell, putting all the force her weakening body would allow into it.

  “Tha mi a ‘guidhe ort gun dean thu an t-aingidh seo bleed!” she rasped.

  Glaisne let out a pained cry as he flew back, blood streaming from his eyes, his nose, and soaking his tunic. His spell released her, and Avery drew in several deep breaths, taking in as much air as she could, trying to regain enough strength to issue a Killing spell.

  But before she could, he vanished.

  She fought to stay upright, but the magic she’d performed—and the damage of his spells—had taken hold. She swayed and slumped to the ground.

  Once again, darkness descended, and from somewhere far away she heard a strangled sob. She managed to open her eyes, though they were so heavy now, and she wondered if she was dreaming or dying, because Bhaltair’s beautiful gray eyes were looking down at her, his grief and fear stark.

  “Avery,” he gasped, but she couldn’t reply as darkness claimed her.

  Chapter 16

  Bhaltair sat at Avery’s side, his hand clutching hers. She lay still on the bed, her breathing shallow, her skin pale. Fear like he’d never known had seized him at the sight of her lying on the ground; it was only when he saw the faint rise and fall of her chest that he’d allowed himself to breathe.

  He’d held her tightly in his arms during the entire journey back to Alpin’s manor, leaving her side only to greet a relieved Cadha and to allow the healer Daileas had sent for to tend to her. Daileas had assured Bhaltair that she was in good hands. While the healer wasn’t a stiuireadh herself, she was well-acquainted with them.

  “She used a great deal of magic fighting the aingidh, it has drained her of much of her strength. She just needs rest. I’ve left the recipe for a special broth with the manor’s cook. Once she wakes, make sure she drinks it. It’s something stiuireadh healers have used for restoring strength,” the healer had told him before taking her leave.

  Bhaltair’s eyes strayed to the bruising around Avery’s neck, bruises that bastard aingidh had given her, and rage swept over him. Witch or not, he would put the aingidh through with his blade for touching her.

  He closed his eyes, raking a hand through his hair. His time in the dungeons had passed slowly; it seemed as if weeks had passed rather than days. Odhran had come down periodically, demanding to know where Cadha was. But Bhaltair hadn’t said a word, glaring at him and even spitting in his face. Odhran had gon
e red faced with anger, leaning in close, his teeth bared.

  “There are ways tae get ye tae talk, cousin.”

  If he’d been hoping for fear, Bhaltair didn’t show it. He would never give up Cadha’s whereabouts. His only concern had been for her safety, and that if he did perish in the dungeons, Daileas would raise her, and Avery would return safely to her own time.

  Anguish had gripped him at the thought of his Avery, her fierceness paired with her kindness, her determination, her beauty. During the brief time he’d slept, he’d dreamt only of her; the sweetness of her lips, the feel of her sensual body against his.

  Along with dreams of Avery, the only bright spot during his imprisonment was Hamish, who was being kept in the cell across from him. Bhaltair had feared that Odhran had killed Hamish, as loyal as he was to Bhaltair and his late brother, but he was alive and well, though his face was bruised and his skin pale from his imprisonment. Odhran had sent Hamish, and anyone who remained loyal to Bhaltair, to the dungeons, calling them all traitors, with their executions to take place once he recovered Cadha from her “treacherous uncle.”

  Bhaltair had assumed Hamish would be angry with him, as he’d foolishly ignored his warnings about Odhran. But Hamish only expressed relief that Bhaltair gotten Cadha to safety.

  Bhaltair knew that Daileas would mount a rescue attempt—Daileas was still a strong fighter—knowledge that he’d shared with Hamish deep in the night when he could hear the soft snores of his guards and the other prisoners.

  Yet it had surprised him how quickly rescue had come and how efficient it was. Daileas and his men had fought past the startled and unprepared guards, with the help of several guards who’d remained secretly loyal to him. They’d freed him, Hamish, and several others from their cells, informing him they’d lured Odhran, Cormag, and the main forces of his men away from the castle.