[Highlander Fate 01.0] Eadan's Vow

by Stella Knight

  "Are ye calling my daughter a liar?" Dughall demanded. "May I remind ye, 'tis yer future wife ye speak of?"

  Never, Eadan thought, but held his tongue.

  "Until my marriage is annulled, I'll not have my wife insulted—nor threatened."

  “Bran, I think yer son has forgotten he’s betrothed tae my daughter,” Dughall seethed. "The laird still seems quite taken with this secret wife. He almost killed one of my men for merely complimenting her beauty. That tae me doesnae seem like a man who wants—”

  “Leave Fiona out of this,” Eadan hissed. "I was defending her honor."

  “I willnae,” Dughall returned, glaring at him. “I find it very convenient that she shows up, putting yer betrothal to my daughter on hold. Ye’re probably bedding the lass, filling her belly with yer bastard child.”

  Eadan stepped forward, fury raging through him like a blazing fire, but Ronan put a restraining hand on his arm. Dughall's eyes narrowed.

  “Ye have one month,” Dughall said, his voice tight with anger. “One month tae annul yer marriage and send the lass away. Then ye’ll honor the betrothal to Magaidh, or our clans are back at war."

  Chapter 13

  Una entered Fiona's chamber not long after Eadan left, telling her the laird sent his apologies, but he was unable to join her for supper tonight and it would be better if she dined in her chamber. At first, hurt had filled Fiona, then worry. Eadan had looked troubled when he’d come to her room earlier to embrace her, and she suspected there was something he wasn’t telling her.

  When Una brought in her meal, she forced a smile and thanked her, though a bereft feeling had settled over her. She hadn’t realized how much she looked forward to suppers with Eadan; he’d become an anchor in this time.

  The next morning, Fiona awoke with a renewed determination. She needed to set aside her attraction to Eadan and focus on getting back to her own time.

  She dressed and headed back down to the cellar where she first arrived, in the slim chance the portal had somehow reappeared. But it still bore the appearance of an ordinary cellar—no wind, no hint of any portal. She reluctantly left when several servants entered, giving her odd looks.

  “There ye are,” Una said, when Fiona returned to her chamber. Una paused from putting away laundered gowns into a chest, giving her a puzzled look. “Where’ve ye been?”

  “Just—exploring,” Fiona lied. She studied Una as she resumed putting away the gowns, a thought suddenly striking her. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, m’lady.”

  She’d just realized it was quite possible she wasn’t the only person who’d fallen through time and arrived here.

  Fiona hesitated, biting her lip. Una had shown nothing but kindness to her, but Fiona certainly wasn’t going to tell her she was a time traveler.

  “Have—have there been any disappearances nearby?”

  “Why do ye ask?” Una asked, setting down a gown, her brow furrowed with concern.

  “I—I’ve just heard gossip,” Fiona stammered. She should have thought this through before bringing it up, but hastily continued, “And I wondered if you knew anything.”

  “Ah, most gossip is nonsense,” Una said, waving it off, and Fiona’s heart sank. “But,” she continued, after a brief pause, “every once in a while, I hear rumors of people disappearing around the abandoned village of Tairseach, not far from here. There were even rumors of people appearing out of nowhere. Some believed ‘em tae be spies, others thought they were spirits. Still others thought the stiuireadh had something to do with it all.”

  Fiona’s mind was whirling as she struggled to keep up.

  “The stiuireadh?” she echoed.

  “Aye,” Una said. “Druid witches. I admit to having my beliefs, but I’ve never been one for witches. There are those who believe the stiuireadh have something to do with the strange happenings around Tairseach. No one kens for sure, but many believe the village once belonged to them.”

  Fiona swallowed as all the air seemed to seep from the room. Druid witches? She recalled the strange woman who’d followed her in her own time. Could that woman be one of them?

  “I—I thought the druids died out long ago. During the time of the Romans,” Fiona said, struggling to recall facts she’d learned from an ancient history course she’d taken in college.

  “That’s the common belief, aye. But many think the surviving druids blended into the population, and some even had their own villages—Tairseach being one of 'em.”

  Fiona stared at her, her heart hammering. She recalled the ruins of the medieval village where she’d disappeared in her own time. Maybe this village was the portal, not the cellar of the castle. And the woman who’d followed her was a stiuireadh—or a descendant of one.

  A part of her wanted to burst out into hysterical laughter. Days ago, she wouldn’t have even entertained such a notion. But that was before she’d traveled six hundred years into the past. Now it seemed like anything was possible.

  “I see,” Fiona said, trying to keep her tone casual, though it wavered a bit. “You said this village is abandoned? Where is it?”

  “Oh, half a day’s ride from here; ’tis in one of the more remote parts of the Highlands. ’Tis been abandoned for some time, no one quite kens why. But folks ‘round here willnae risk settling there."

  Fiona considered her words, her mouth going dry. This Tairseach increasingly sounded like the same village where she herself had disappeared in her own time.

  But how could she get there? And another question niggled at her mind; if this was indeed the village she’d found in her own time, how did she end up so far away from it? And if that woman who’d followed her in her own time was a druid witch, did she need her to return to her own time?

  Lurking beneath her excitement over possibly finding the portal, conflict loomed. Various images of Eadan filled her mind; the way his blue eyes lit up when he smiled, the seductive rumble of his voice, shaped by his Scottish brogue, the feel of his hard-muscled body pressed against hers. In her own time, Eadan was long dead. At the thought, a stab of grief pierced her, and tears stung her eyes.

  “What is it, m’lady?” Una asked, looking worried. “Has someone ye ken disappeared at Tairseach?”

  “No,” Fiona said, blinking back her tears. “I just—I hope I’m not causing the laird too much grief by being here.”

  It was a flimsy lie, but she’d needed to think of something on the spot. Una’s eyes softened, and she put down the gowns, stepping forward to give Fiona's hands a comforting squeeze.

  “I’ve never seen the laird as relaxed and happy as he is around ye,” Una said, and Fiona's grief dissipated, replaced by a sliver of joy.

  A chambermaid entered, and Fiona turned. The maid set down a parchment and several small jars, along with a bristled brush on a side table. For a moment, confusion filled Fiona, and then she recalled how she'd told Eadan about her love of painting the night he'd taken her to look at the lands that surrounded the castle.

  “He remembered,” she said, beaming, as her sadness from moments before vanished completely. The parchment and jars must be medieval painting materials.

  “Aye," Una said, glancing over at the materials. "Had the servants go tae the village tae fetch what we could. I was afeared he’d make us travel tae Edinburgh tae get yer supplies.” She slid a sly gaze to Fiona. “He wants tae make ye happy while ye’re here.”

  Fiona lowered her gaze, blushing. Was Una playing matchmaker?

  “He’s set aside a chamber for ye tae get yer painting done,” Una continued, giving her a wide smile. “What are ye waiting for, m’lady?”

  Fiona trailed Una from her room and down the corridor to another large chamber, pushing aside her jumble of thoughts about Tairseach, druid witches, and Eadan.

  Una told her it was a guest chamber, but Eadan had bequeathed it for her use while she was here.

  When Una left her alone, Fiona looked around with awe. The chamber was as large as hers
and Eadan's, but it wasn't the size of the chamber that filled her with amazement. It was the stunning view from the window.

  Pressing her hand to her mouth, she stumbled forward. From this vantage point she could see all the emerald green grounds that surrounded the castle—the forests, the glistening lake beneath the morning sun, and farther in the distance, the rolling mountains and hills of the Highlands.

  “Oh my God,” Fiona whispered. Another jolt of déjà vu had hit her, but there was no uncertainty attached to the feeling. She knew exactly where she’d seen this landscape before.

  In a painting located in an Aberdeen museum in the twenty-first century. The same painting that had struck her with strange recognition. Now she knew why that recognition had struck her, that dizzying sense of déjà vu.

  It was because she’d been the one to paint it, over six hundred years in the past.

  Chapter 14

  Fiona took several breaths to calm herself, her eyes still trained on the view. It was stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful, and there was a magic to it, a magic that somehow allowed her, a person born centuries in the future, to be here now.

  She had always considered herself to be a practical person, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was . . . meant to be here. That everything in her life—the death of her parents when she was a child, her distant aunt who'd given her the necessities as she'd grown up, but never a great deal of affection. Her years of loneliness, even her disastrous engagement to Derek. All of it had led her here. To Eadan. And the fact that she'd already painted this landscape seemed to point to that.

  But Fiona shook her head, trying to hold on to reason. It was basic causality. She’d already traveled to 1390 by her time, so everything that happened here had already happened. Hence the déjà vu when she saw the painting. She would still get back to her own time, and Eadan would handle the danger that faced his clan and marry a suitable Scottish bride. That’s all there was to it.

  Suppressing a wave of conflicting emotions, Fiona set down the painting materials onto a table that was set up in the center of the chamber. This was what she needed. A sanctuary, a way of taking her mind off the bizarre circumstances she found herself in.

  Well, Fiona, she mused to herself, as she sat down to paint. You’ve already painted this, so it should come easy.

  She immersed herself in her painting, careful as she worked with the parchment and natural pigments, using egg yolks the servant had provided as a binder. It wasn't as difficult to work with medieval painting materials as she'd feared; in fact, it felt natural, as if she'd done this a thousand times before. And she had done this before.

  Eadan’s familiar scent of rosewood filled her nostrils, and she stilled, coming back to the present as he entered the room, stopping at her side. His eyes were trained on her painting. Feeling self-conscious, she set down her brush.

  “No. Don’t stop. It’s bonnie, Fiona. Truly,” he said, giving her one of his heart-melting smiles.

  A swell of pride filled Fiona. Eadan was taking in her work with genuine awe.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’m sorry I had tae leave ye yesterday and I couldn’t return,” Eadan said, his smile fading as he rubbed his temple.

  “Has something happened?” she asked, studying him with concern.

  He averted his gaze, and she knew he'd evade her question. She reached out to grip his arm.

  “You can tell me,” she said gently.

  “Dughall is suspicious of ye, Fiona,” he said, after a brief pause. “He made me promise tae get the annulment and send ye away within a month or the truce is off.” He closed his eyes and she could now see the strain in his entire body. “Decades of fighting will resume, and all because of me. Part of me thinks I should go ahead with the betrothal and—”

  “No,” Fiona said, firm. She thought of Magaidh’s cruelty, of Bran asking her to watch over Eadan. Something was amiss. And she knew it was selfish, but a hot jealousy coursed through her at the thought of Eadan marrying Magaidh. “You were right to listen to your instincts.”

  “It seems my instincts have only made things worse,” he said, giving her a regretful look. “I shouldn’t have dragged ye intae all this, Fiona.”

  Fiona stood, giving his arm a squeeze of reassurance. His blue eyes met hers, and the silence between them shifted, becoming infused with an unspoken desire.

  Her mouth went dry as their eyes remained locked, and the moment seemed suspended in time, until Eadan slowly leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

  This time there was no caution, no hesitancy. All rational thought went out of Fiona’s mind as Eadan reached out to press her flush against his body. Every part of him consumed her as he plundered her mouth with his tongue—his masculine scent, the feel of his muscular torso pressed against her breasts, the hardness of his arousal flush against her center.

  “Fiona,” he whispered, his tone reverent, as if she were a goddess he was worshiping. “Ye’re bonnie. The bonniest lass I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

  Her heart swelled as he swung her up into his arms, bridal style; his eyes locked with hers as he carried her to the bed.

  He lowered her to the bed, and she whimpered as he trailed kisses down her jaw to the arch of her throat, the swell of her breasts. He teased her, his mouth kissing the fabric of her bodice above her breasts.

  “Please, Eadan,” she whimpered. “Please.”

  He gave her a teasing smile, but he obliged, yanking down the bodice of her gown, then her tunic and underdress, until he reached her breasts. He growled at the sight, taking them in with reverence before leaning down to capture one aching nipple into his mouth.

  She groaned as he suckled, her hand going to his thick wavy hair as he moaned around her breast, before turning to lave his attention on the other one. Moisture seeped from between her thighs, and she began to quiver with the promise of release.

  “Not yet, my Fiona,” Eadan whispered, finally tearing his mouth from her breasts to settle his desire-filled blue gaze on her.

  He undressed her, torturously slow, before shedding his own clothes. Fiona took him in, breathless. He was as beautiful undressed as she’d always suspected—with a broad muscular torso. She gasped at the size of him, swelled and erect with need.

  “All for ye, my bonnie Fiona,” he whispered, before leaning forward to claim her mouth with his.

  When he released her from his kiss, leaving her breathless, he trailed kisses down her chest, the plane of her abdomen . . .

  “Oh, God,” Fiona gasped, as his mouth clamped onto her center.

  The room dimmed around her as he tasted her, his blue eyes never leaving hers, moaning his pleasure. Tendrils of hot desire coiled around her as she quaked, gripping the sheets at her sides, her breath heaving, and she let out a cry as she came, and Eadan’s mouth remained clamped onto her as she trembled and quaked, before settling back down to earth.

  Only then did Eadan trail kisses back up her body to her neck, and sank his massive length inside of her. Fiona let out a long moan at the hard sensation of him inside of her, and he gave her a moment to adjust to his length before he began to move, his eyes hazy with desire.

  Fiona wrapped her arms around him, her fingers sinking into the flesh of his back as he thrusted, the bed pounding into the wall behind them, and everything in the room faded away. There was only Eadan and the sensation of his strong, lean body on top of her, their bodies joined in mutual pleasure, climbing toward a place of release.

  “Look at me, lass,” Eadan gasped, as he pounded her into the bed. “Look at me as I cum inside of ye. As I make ye mine.”

  Fiona’s eyes locked with his, and together their bodies began to shudder, climbing to that place of pleasure where nothing else exists.

  Fiona’s body continued to quake as Eadan stilled, peppering gentle kisses along her jaw.

  When she stilled, out of breath, her gaze settled onto Eadan. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her body pressed flu
sh against him as he rolled over onto his side. They lay still for a moment, the only sounds in the chamber their labored breathing.

  “I’ve wanted tae do that the moment I found ye in my castle, wearing that sinful dress,” Eadan confessed. “Ye’re a siren, Fiona.”

  Fiona flushed as he sat up, reaching out to sweep her hair back from her face. His expression shadowed, and he expelled a sigh.

  “I want nothing more than tae keep ye by my side, Fiona,” he said. “But things are getting dangerous, and ’tis not right tae keep ye here.”

  A wave of hurt filled Fiona at his words. He seemed to sense her thoughts, pinning her with his gaze.

  “I doonae want tae, Fiona. I wish circumstances were different,” he said, “but I’m worried Dughall—or Magaidh—will try and harm ye. And—ye mean a lot tae me. More than I realized. I couldnae bear it if harm came tae ye.”

  Fiona closed her eyes, a dull feeling of heartache settling over her, though she knew Eadan was right. Besides her conflicted feelings about leaving, she didn’t even know if she could get back to her own time. What if the village Una spoke of was just that—a village? How would she know where to find the portal?

  “What?” Eadan asked. “The nunnery should—"

  “I’m not going to the nunnery.”

  She couldn’t keep up the lie, and she didn’t realize how much she wanted to open up to him until now.

  When she opened her eyes, she was relieved that Eadan didn’t look surprised, nor angry.

  “Are ye going tae tell me where ye’re from, then?” he asked, his tone gentle.

  Fiona took a breath, sitting up, searching his beautiful blue eyes. It was time to tell him who she really was.

  She scoured her brain for any fact she could use to prove that what she told him was truth. And then she remembered something. She'd visited a history museum in Aberdeen a few days before she'd arrived in this time, and the guide had droned on and on about King Robert, who was king in this time. She was so glad she'd listened intently to the guide's words.