“Dead.” Ian sighed. “Aye.”
Magnus closed his eyes and breathed deeply until the nausea passed. The pain—well, that would be with him awhile, perhaps a lifetime. Meanwhile he steadied Geneva, who still shook from whatever disaster had happened. Geneva—his love, and if God was kind, his salvation. He gathered her close. “Come, lass. Let’s go home.” He couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on her beloved head.
Magnus took her up with him on his horse. Ian and Alice took the two geldings whose riders had gone with the airship, and the somber group returned to the castle.
“You’ll never believe it, but after that flash of light, those monsters just slid back into the water and away,” Rannulf said when Magnus rode into the castle yard.
The older man helped Geneva down so Magnus could dismount. To Magnus’s relief, she’d recovered enough to stand on her own feet.
“How many lost?” Magnus asked.
“Only three.” Rannulf named the man killed at the lighthouse, and two from the village who’d fallen at the pier.
“Three more,” Geneva said dully. “The ones I killed.”
“You defended yourself,” Alice insisted. She shyly lifted her cheek to Rannulf and squeaked as he hauled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.
“Send a wagon to the stone circle, and take the bodies to the chapel. The vicar can decide what to do with them since they died performing black magick,” Magnus told the stable master. He turned to Rannulf. “Fetch Quentin. Make sure he isn’t armed.”
A few minutes later, Quentin stood in front of Magnus while three of Magnus’s men pointed weapons in his direction.
“Cousin,” Quentin said. “Why are you doing this?”
Magnus looked around at the crowd of his people and raised his voice. “Three islanders have caused this scourge. Now Fiona Campbell, Edda MacLean and Catriona MacLean are dead by their own spell gone wrong. Quentin Findlay, as laird of Torkholm, I charge you with complicity in the black magick that has resulted in so many deaths.” In a quieter, broken tone, he asked. “Why, cousin? Why do such a thing to your home, your clan?”
“Dead? By the gods, no.” Quentin fell to his knees and looked up at Magnus with wild eyes. “She said the spells were to ward off the kraken while I tried to make you understand. Once you realized that the windmills and steam engines had to go, the magick would be appeased.”
Magnus wanted with all his heart to believe his cousin hadn’t knowingly betrayed him. He looked around at the others.
“I swear, cousin, I never wanted you hurt. But Cat was so certain, you see, that the magick was angry.” With a sudden burst of strength, Quentin leapt up, grabbing the pistol held by one of his clansmen. “I’m the one who deserves to die.” He turned the gun into his own chest and fired.
“No!” Magnus lunged forward, but Quentin’s blank gaze and the blood pouring from his chest showed he was too late. Tears ran down his cheeks as he lowered Quentin to the ground. “Don’t leave me, cousin.”
“You have your doctor.” Quentin gasped. “Don’t lose this one.” With that, his chest stopped moving and his limbs went slack.
Geneva, right by Magnus’s side, had already tried to stanch the wound. She turned to Magnus and shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Magnus stood, wiping his face with his sleeve and pulled Genny to her feet beside him. He looked at Tom, Melody and Connor, who’d gathered around, along with his own people. “Let’s go inside. I believe there are things we need to discuss.” He clutched Geneva’s hand like a lifeline as they all trudged into the house.
In the library, Magnus slammed the door behind them and yanked Geneva into his arms, ignoring the others. He held her tightly, his face buried in her curls. His voice cracked. “I’ve driven another soul to suicide. How do I live with myself after that?”
She held him close, offering more comfort than he’d ever known. “Quentin made his own choices. And about Isobel…” Then she told him that Cat and Edda had admitted to killing his wife and child. “Even then, she was looking to her future as lady of Torkholm, I think. She wasn’t right, Magnus. None of them were fully sane. I’m sorry.” She hiccupped.
So was Magnus. His grief and guilt would be with him a long, long time. But perhaps, now, he’d have love to help him through it. “You said that before. Ah, Genny, I can’t be sorry you’re in one piece. Especially not if—well, that’s a talk for later. Right now I only have one more question.” He plopped her into a chair and dropped to one knee in front of her. “Geneva MacKay, will you marry me—stay here on Torkholm as both physician and wife?”
“Yes.” She launched herself to the floor and into his arms.
The room exploded in applause and tears, hugs and handshakes.
After things calmed, Magnus sat and drew Geneva down onto his lap. “Now tell me, how did you end up at the circle?”
With help from Alice and Ian, Geneva explained Alice’s discovery, their hike to the circle and the spell she’d reflected. “I felt the power of Torkholm—I don’t know why, Magnus, but your island helped me. My injuries from earlier have all healed completely.”
Magnus exchanged a pointed glance with his uncle. “I don’t know, love. I’m only glad the magick was there to save you. I can’t believe Quentin, of all people. He’d have been laird in time, anyway, but he was always urging me to marry.”
“Perhaps he didn’t understand what she was doing,” Rannulf said. “He wouldn’t be the first man blinded by his woman’s desires. Or maybe he just didn’t want to wait.”
“I think,” Geneva said slowly, “that he might have believed what he said about technology and magick. I found some books in the library with his name on them—he was a devout Luddite. He may have been trying to protect you the only way he knew how—by convincing you the magick was angry at your introducing steam and gas power to the island.”
“Aye.” It was a bit of hope to cling to that Quentin might have not tried to kill him outright. His cousin’s betrayal and death hurt more than a gunshot, but at least Geneva was safe and willing to stay beside him forever.
“I didn’t mean to kill them, Magnus. I’m a doctor, and now I’ve murdered. How do I live with that?” She sniffed into his shirt.
“No. You only did what had to be done. ’Twas they who cast the killing spell, and the island itself that reflected it. All you did was save yourself. There’s no crime in that.” He hoped someday she’d be able to accept that. Perhaps… Aye. Tell her, the magick whispered. To hell with their audience.
He tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “It may not have been only yourself you were protecting, you know. My uncle told me today that sometimes the island grants its power to an heir—even when the heir has yet to be born. When she was carrying me, my mother healed like the lairds do.”
She sat up so swiftly her head bumped his chin. “What? Are you suggesting I might be pregnant? We were careful…” Her face burrowed back into his shirt. “Blast it. Even the best precautions can fail. Of course it’s possible.”
Her brother coughed loudly.
“Oh, shut up, Connor.” Her brow wrinkled as she looked up at Magnus. “Nonetheless, it would be quite a feat for the magick to tell and to act this soon. Maybe it has nothing to do with a child. Perhaps whatever force controls the magick sensed somehow that I was trying to protect you.”
“Perhaps.” He kissed her ear. “I wouldn’t mind, you know. Would you? I intend to marry you, regardless.”
She shook her head. “I never thought I’d have the opportunity to have children, but I’d love one or two. Even if the timing makes some of the gossips start counting on their fingers.”
Rannulf coughed. “About that, lad. I may have left out a bit of information, just to give you a much-needed kick in the arse. Your mother had the power long before you were conceived. From the moment your father fell in love with her, it seemed the land approved. She broke an arm at sixteen, before they were even wed, and it healed in two days. You didn�
��t come along for another four years.”
“Isobel didn’t…” Of course not. He hadn’t loved Isobel, and she hadn’t loved him. No wonder the magick had never accepted her. He kissed Geneva again. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find out soon enough, the same as any other couple. In the meantime we can keep trying.”
She beamed up at him, ignoring her brother’s low growl. “Aye.”
“And now,” Rannulf said, turning to Alice who sat beside him on the sofa. “I’m too old and sore for this kneeling business, but I’m asking you, Alice, if you’ll have me as a husband. I’m an old man who never thought to find love again, but you’ve stolen my heart. I’ll go with you to Mull, if that’s what it takes.”
Alice’s lip trembled as she grinned. “I’ll have you. I love you, too, old man or not. It took me thirty years to find the love of my life. I’ve no intention of letting you go.” She blinked. “You know I can’t have children, but at our age, I don’t suppose that matters.”
Rannulf laughed and dragged her onto his lap for a thorough kiss. “Of course you can. We just won’t start from scratch. Ye can have a share in all three of mine.”
“Three?” Magnus looked at Rannulf. “Is there something you never told me, uncle?”
Rannulf snorted and counted on his fingers. “Catherine. Rodney. Magnus. Are you daft, lad? Of course I consider you my own. I raised you, didn’t I?”
“Aye, you did.” Magnus laughed. “Well, Alice, will you accept the lot of us?”
“Grandchildren, too—five of them, so far.” Rannulf wiggled his eyebrows at Magnus and Geneva. “More soon, unless I miss my guess.”
“I accept.” Alice kissed him hard. “And I think they need us right here, don’t you? I’ve no reason to return to Mull, other than to pack.”
“I’ll have to go to Edinburgh, to close down my practice,” Geneva said. “Will you mind, Magnus?”
“Aye, but you’ll be worth the wait.”
Epilogue
Torkholm, six weeks later
Geneva and Magnus stood at the newly macadamized airship pad in the castle park and waved goodbye to her parents and grandparents, who had come for the wedding. Alice and Rannulf had gone to Paris for their own honeymoon, leaving the younger newlyweds to see off the last of the guests. Geneva had settled in quickly to her new life, as wife, lady of the manor and doctor for the people of the island. While she missed the bustle of the city now and then, she wouldn’t have things any other way. Where Magnus was, there was home.
“Alice and my mother took to each other like long-lost sisters.” As the airship disappeared from view, Geneva laughed at the antics of two Scottish deerhound puppies near her feet, wedding gifts from her grandfather, who raised the rare Highland breed. “Mother and Melody have both promised to visit over the Christmas holidays, and with the new teletext cable, we’ll be able to communicate anytime we like.” The cable had been laid just before their wedding, a week earlier.
“I’m sure they’ll visit often. And you can take the airship to see them now and then. At least for the time being.” He squeezed her hand.
“We’ll see.” Geneva hadn’t, as it turned out, been expecting, which meant she’d been more able to come and go than she might be later. That had made it easier to pack up her belongings and practice for her move to Torkholm.
Now though—well, she wasn’t absolutely positive yet, so she hadn’t said anything to Magnus. They were so in tune that she suspected he knew anyway. She was sure he’d be delighted, and a child would go a long way to help him cope with his losses. His nightmares had eased in the last few weeks, but weren’t totally gone. “I’m in no hurry to go anywhere.” She looked up into his beautiful eyes and smiled. “Except perhaps to our room. I’m feeling suddenly sleepy—I think I need an afternoon nap.”
“Funny, I think I need one too.” With that, Magnus whistled to the pups and took Geneva’s hand. Together, the laird and his lady ran all the way to their chamber.
* * * * *
About the Author
Author of more than forty popular books and novellas in paranormal, historical and erotic romance, Cindy Spencer Pape is an avid reader of romance, fantasy, mystery and even more romance. According to The Romance Studio, her plots are “full of twists and turns that keep the reader poised at the edge of their seat.” Joyfully Reviewed said her “colorful characters and plot building surprises kept me spellbound,” and Romantic Times magazine says her “characters are appealing, and passionate sex leads to a satisfying romance.”
Cindy firmly believes in happily ever after. Married for more than twenty-five years to her own, sometimes-kilted hero, she lives in southern Michigan with him and two college-age sons, along with an ever-changing menagerie of pets. Cindy has been, among other things, a banker, a teacher and an elected politician, but mostly an environmental educator, though now she is lucky enough to write full-time. Her degrees in zoology and animal behavior almost help her comprehend the three male humans who share her household.
ISBN: 978-14268-9383-1
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
Kilts & Kraken
ISBN: 978-14268-9384-1
Copyright © 2012 by Cindy Spencer Pape
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Kilts & Kraken Page 12