Avenged by a Highland Laird

by Sky Purington

  “Why rock and fire?” Sven asked.

  “Because fire is my most powerful element,” she replied. “And stone is of the Earth which is difficult for the spirit realm to see through...or sense through in this case.”

  “So these warlocks are more spirit than mortal?” Bryce asked.

  “Yes, but only because they’re part of a curse.”

  Neither of them missed how she trembled slightly and how pale she had become.

  “Your magic has drained you, yes?” Sven asked.

  “It has,” she murmured, her eyes still on the fire. “Very much so.”

  When Sven glanced at him in question, Bryce nodded. His new friend was wondering if they trusted her enough now for Sven to leave.

  “I will go hunt so you can eat.” Sven stood. “Then you will rest and tell us more, yes?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said softly.

  After Sven left, silence settled between them as he continued to eye her.

  “Christina mentioned that before she traveled back in time, you said something curious about dragons,” he remarked. “You asked if another was coming that would destroy all hope of Scotland’s history. More so, destroy all hope of any of us surviving. Shortly after that, Sven arrived at MacLomain Castle. By the sounds of it, you knew he was coming.” He tilted his head in question. “How?” He frowned. “And why say such an ominous thing about my ancestor?”

  “I believe I sensed he was coming through you.” Her eyes rose to his. “Because of your dragon connection.” She shrugged. “And I said it because I could never be certain when my...the warlocks were listening in. Saying such a thing seemed logical and made Sven less of a threat to them.”

  He supposed that made sense, but it still didn’t sit all that well. Any more than most of what she said. It was an awful lot to believe considering up until mere hours ago, it very much seemed like she might be the enemy.

  “You’re having trouble believing all this,” she whispered as her eyes returned to the flames. “And I don’t blame you.”

  “I am,” he conceded as he watched her. “Though I’ll admit I hope ‘tis true you’re on our side. For your friends’ sake if nothing else.”

  His eyes went to the clear gem in her ring. A gem that might very well end up matching his eyes. He frowned and glanced away. Ring or no ring, he had made an obligation to his family, and it was past time he honored it.

  He was meant to marry another.

  Yet despite his noble intentions, his gaze returned to Jessie's lovely face with its even features, finely arched brows and lips made for pure sin. She really was stunning with her fine-boned beauty. He scowled and eyed the fire instead. If he had figured out nothing else about her, it was that she was a virgin. Whether her story about her upbringing with the warlocks was true or not, he knew these things about lasses.

  When she shifted and cleared her throat as if uncomfortable his eyes returned to her. If he wasn’t mistaken, based on the pink staining her cheeks, she had caught his thoughts.

  “Are you reading my mind, lass?” he asked.

  “Not on purpose,” she murmured. “But yes, it seems certain thoughts come through clearer than others.”

  He nodded, unsure whether or not he should apologize. Mainly because he still had no idea what to make of her. In the end, though, he felt remiss saying nothing at all. “My apologies then.”

  What he didn’t add was that he wasn’t all that sorry really. Not for his thoughts about her chastity anyway. While he typically preferred his lasses experienced, something about knowing the bonny little lass across from him was innocent and untouched by another man appealed to his inner dragon.

  Sven returned in short time, and they set to skinning and cooking his game. Meanwhile, though she tried to hold her own, it became more and more obvious that Jessie needed rest.

  Bryce might not entirely trust her, but he refused to see her uncomfortable. So he removed his fur cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. “’Twill not only warm you but offer comfort when you rest.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glassy with exhaustion by the time Sven handed her the meat. Little was said as they ate, then soon after she curled onto her side, wrapped his fur tighter around her and continued staring at the fire.

  Sven, a man of little words, pulled a small piece of wood from his pocket and began whittling. Bryce sensed heavy thoughts weighed on his mind that had nothing to do with their current adventure.

  “Are you carving that for her then?” Jessie whispered.

  Sven’s hands froze on the wood as his eyes narrowed slightly on her. “Who?”

  She blinked. “I don’t know.” Then she frowned. “Or do I?...”

  Before Sven could question her further, her eyelids fluttered then slid shut, and her breathing evened.

  When Sven went to speak to her again, Bryce shook his head, far more aware of the lass than he should be. “Dinnae bother. She is well and truly asleep.” His eyes went to the Viking. “Is it true? Are ye carving that for a lass?”

  Sven offered no response but went back to whittling. Bryce knew better than to continue the conversation. When Sven was done talking, that was it. He resumed thinking deep thoughts that remained a mystery.

  Bryce sighed, finished his food then lay down as well.

  Though he didn’t expect it considering his current company, he slept so well he never sensed anyone approach first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, that made for a very rude awakening when he opened his eyes to a sizzling, impregnable wall of fire between him and Jessie.

  Chapter Three

  WHEN JESSIE AWOKE to two strangers with flaming eyes staring down at her, she instinctively threw up a wall of fire.

  Fire, as it turned out, that no dragon could infiltrate.

  “’Tis all right,” Bryce exclaimed as he leapt to his feet. “They are my parents.”

  But of course they were, and she could see that now that her haze of slumber had cleared. Though younger, Bryce was the spitting image of his father.

  Embarrassed by her instinctual and revealing response, she dropped the firewall instantly and managed a weak explanation. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid you startled me.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed on her as he rumbled, “What kind of magic was that, lass?”

  “’Tis her kind and I will better explain it in a moment.” Bryce made introductions. “Ma, Da, this is Jessie.” He glanced at her then his parents. “Jessie, meet my parents, Rònan and Erin MacLeod.”

  With dark, curly hair and intelligent eyes, Erin was a truly lovely woman. Only a few inches taller than Jessie, she had the presence of someone much taller. As though she allowed no one to look down at her, despite her small stature.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jessie murmured, not quite able to meet their eyes.

  They nodded at her in return, clearly wary, and she didn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day a dragon came across fire that they couldn’t penetrate.

  “Where have you been, Son?” Though Erin’s frown seemed more directed at Jessie, she spoke to Bryce. “You’ve been gone over two months!”

  “Two months?” Bryce met her frown then looked at Jessie. “How is that possible?”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “It likely happened because of my connection to Graham and Christina’s time loop.” Her eyes went to Erin. “I take it they returned home to MacLomain Castle recently?”

  “They did.” Erin’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

  “Have you spoken to Adlin or Grant?” Bryce interrupted as he embraced his parents. “Have they caught you up on everything that’s been happening?”

  “We have,” came Grant’s voice as he and Adlin entered the cave, their eyes never leaving Jessie. She couldn’t blame them for their distrust either. Not based on what they knew of her.

  Thankfully, Bryce wasted no time on introductions but instead proceeded to tell them everything she had shared with him thus far. Meanwhile, Jessie d
id her best to remain composed and unaffected. Strong. Unafraid. Because after a good night’s sleep, she was more aware than ever of her disconnection from the warlocks. A weakening she knew was coming but still wasn’t prepared for.

  By the time Bryce was finished, Grant and Adlin’s expressions were a bit less distrustful and a little more speculative.

  “So all this,” Adlin said. “The reason we created the rings and are now trying to keep Scotland’s battles on track is because of an old man’s curse in the twenty-first century?”

  Jessie nodded. “Yes...a very powerful old man.”

  “Aye,” Grant murmured, considering her. “So you, an elemental witch, descend from him. Given that, what would you have called him considering his type of magic, lass?”

  She had pondered that often and only ever came to one conclusion. “I suppose, considering we shared the same gifts but his intentions were dark that he was, like his creations, a warlock...perhaps an elemental warlock?”

  “That is a sound assumption,” Grant agreed. “I have never come across such a creature.” He cocked his head. “But then I’ve never met an elemental witch the likes of you either.” His eyes went to Bryce as he extended his elbow to her. “Might I escort Jessie back to your castle?”

  While Jessie thought for sure Bryce would look to his parents or even Sven for their backing, or approval, he did not. Instead, his eyes met hers and held as he considered Grant’s request.

  She was caught unaware by the way his look stirred her blood. Though not a sensual connection, it invoked a lustful response. Something, quite frankly, she was surprised she was capable of at the moment. But she was and based on the way his brows lowered sharply, and his lips turned down ever-so-slightly, he felt it too.

  “Aye, you can bring her to the castle,” Bryce murmured. “But only if she remains under the watchful eye of a dragon at all times.”

  “Good then.” Grant prompted her to take his elbow, and they started on their way. Fully aware that she wished to remain surrounded by rock, Grant chanted, and moments later they were in MacLeod Castle’s courtyard.

  She stared up at the rugged, sea-worn yet beautiful castle perched above the North Sea. Battered by generations of wind and salt, it was striking in an indefinable way. Fierce and unforgiving yet sturdy and dependable. It would never give up or stop protecting its people.

  It suited Bryce, and she almost said as much but held back.

  He intimidated her in a way that most people did not. She wasn’t quite sure why because he didn’t seem to have an overbearing personality. But then maybe it had nothing to do with personality and everything to do with the way he was eying her the night before. Better yet, the thoughts he had been having about her sexual prowess...or lack thereof.

  Or perhaps it was because of one of the few things she had yet to share. Something he would eventually need to know. Something that, in some ways, could make the less talked about sixth warlock more of a threat than anything.

  She continued to eye her surroundings. At this point, she was fairly used to being in the medieval period. As it was, her spiritual self had been in this era plenty lately.

  As she and Grant started up the castle stairs, he continued talking. “We still have much to discuss, but I remain curious about one thing above all else.” Despite his age, his eyes were exceptionally sharp as they met hers. “As I’m sure you know, my kin and I lost a lad named Fraser a few years back. Only recently we’ve heard he might be alive somewhere. Is that true?” His tone darkened so slightly she almost didn’t catch it. “Did one of your warlocks do something to him?”

  “I don’t know...not yet,” she replied, as respectful as possible. “Though, based on some of the comments one of them made, I think it’s likely.”

  Grant’s eyes narrowed. “What comments?” His eyes narrowed further. “And what warlock?”

  “One of the only two left. The one that does not carry the essence of my grandfather,” she murmured. “Please keep in mind that though I’ve done my best to control them over the years, evil is not so easily tamed.” She didn’t shy away from his steadfast gaze. “They did things without me knowing. Things they felt would dishearten the MacLomains. Things they hoped would cause unrest in your clan and weaken your kin, even your people.”

  “Such as trapping Darach in another dimension for several years,” he replied.

  “Yes,” she said. “Things like that.” She shook her head. “And I’m so sorry...not only for the pain it put you all through but for the time lost.” She bit back a sigh. “If I could have come to you or Adlin before all this, I would have, but it was too risky. The warlocks would have followed.” She kept her eyes with his so he could see how truthful she was being. “If I could have somehow helped you before all this happened, I would have without hesitation.”

  Grant considered her as they reached the top of the stairs. “I believe you mean that, lass.”

  “Good because I do,” she said softly. “More than you know.”

  Their eyes held for a long moment before he nodded. “You said you don’t know about Fraser yet.” He frowned. “What did you mean by that? When will you know?”

  “Likely when the warlock that cursed him is defeated,” she said. “Once he’s gone, and the curse is lifted, I should see anything they may have hidden from me more clearly.”

  “You’ve carried a great weight,” Grant murmured as they entered the castle. “More than any wee lass should have to.”

  Her breath caught at the rugged, almost masculine beauty of the great hall with its massive tapestries full of angry oceanscapes and sweeping dragons roaring fire. It was perfect in a way she couldn’t explain. For some reason, it felt more welcoming and safer than anywhere she had ever been.

  “Welcome to MacLeod Castle, lass,” Grant said softly. “And thank you for healing me at the Action of Happrew.”

  She was about to deny it, but when her eyes met his again, she knew it was pointless. So she simply nodded. Though he had only taken an arrow to the shoulder, he had lost a great deal of blood and was close to death. Based on the grateful look in his eyes, he knew it.

  “Did you provide the clothing for my kin at Happrew’s tavern as well?” he asked. “And are you responsible for the seasonal words your friends have been saying in Gaelic along their adventures?”

  “I did provide the clothing at both the tavern and for Christina and Graham when they were yanked forward in time after the Battle of Bannockburn,” she confessed. “Everyone needed clothing, and it was the least I could do.” Then she shook her head. “As to the seasonal words, no, that wasn’t me or my...the warlocks.” Her eyes met Grant’s. “But I sensed another presence along the way. A woman. I believe you may have seen or sensed her yourself.”

  “Iosbail,” Grant whispered.

  Jessie nodded. She might not have made direct contact with Adlin’s foster sister from a previous life, but she was fairly certain that’s exactly who it was.

  Grant eyed her for a moment, his words kinder than she anticipated considering the content of his next question. “No matter how hard you tried to do otherwise, you grew verra attached to these warlocks of yours, aye?”

  Though Bryce and Sven had asked nearly the same question, she found herself being far more honest with Grant. “In some ways yes, very much so. In other ways, no.”

  He nodded thanks to a servant when she handed him and Jessie mugs of whisky.

  “Tell me more, lass,” he murmured.

  “It’s hard to explain.” She frowned. “I suppose the best way to put it is that there’s a balance to be found in everything. Light always possesses some darkness and darkness, light. Because I had been there at their conception, I was able to see what little good the warlocks had and focused on that over the long years. It was what got me by.”

  “And what good did you discover?” he said softly, watching her closely.

  “It was the small things they didn’t do when they could have.” She remained vague f
or now because she just wasn’t ready to share that one warlock rose above the rest in this regard. “They could have created far more havoc in my life.” She shook her head. “They could have hurt the few people I allowed around me.”

  “Your mother,” he murmured.

  “Yes, Mama.” She went to that nameless place in her mind she used to squelch emotions before they surfaced. “For the most part, they didn’t hurt anyone close to me. They were often silent sentinels.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Always watching me. Waiting...anticipating...”

  “For the day to come when the curse began to unravel,” he said, filling in the blanks when she trailed off.

  “Yes.” A shiver went through her as she again felt the remnants of her separation from them. “Their whole existence and a great deal of my existence has been in wait for this.” Her eyes swept over the great hall before they landed on Bryce by the fire and she whispered, “Him.”

  She felt Grant’s frown without looking at him.

  “What do you mean? Is Bryce in imminent danger?”

  She blinked several times, snapping out of her reverie. “No, of course not.” She shook her head, embarrassed she had lost herself for a moment. “All I’m saying I suppose is that I recognize the allure of darkness but have always focused on the light within.”

  “’Tis good because you’re right,” Grant replied, his astute eyes still watching her. “There is always a bit of light in darkness and vice versa.”

  Jessie nodded, took a tiny sip of whisky and flinched.

  “’Tis not to your liking then, lass?” Bryce asked, suddenly there when moments before he had been a distance away. While she could liken it to dragon magic, she had a feeling it had more to do with her weakening powers and his influence over her in general.

  “The whisky’s fine,” she murmured. She kept her eyes trained on the fire rather than look at him. “It’s just the first time I’ve ever tasted it. Any alcohol for that matter.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. I never dared imbibe.” Her eyes drifted to him despite herself. She might be well trained to remain non-responsive to most things, but she wasn’t overly fond of his incredulous, disbelieving tone. “Like I told you, I had to remain in control at all times.” She shook her head. “That meant alcohol was too much of a risk.”