Healing the Highlander

by Melissa Mayhue

  “It’s no the swim I mind, so much as the waters that want to drag me back out to sea. And I’ll no even mention this smell. It would make a fishmonger proud,” Dair grumbled from behind.

  “Quiet!” Ahead of him, Colin hissed the command and all talk ceased.

  His brother was right, of course. They had no way of knowing what—or who—might wait in the darkness that loomed out ahead of them.

  As they worked their way forward, Drew realized the water level was continuing to drop. It hadn’t felt as if they’d gone uphill and a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed as much. It was the natural effect of the waters in the loch draining toward the sea.

  “If we’d waited a bit to start our swim, this tunnel would have been a sight drier.” Dair echoed his own thoughts.

  “Mayhap,” Sim countered. “But the last thing we’d want would be to get caught in here when the waters return.”

  He was right. It would not be a pleasant way to die.

  Ahead of him, Colin stopped abruptly and his own feet slid on the slimy floor in an attempt to avoid falling against his brother.

  “The ladder’s here.”

  Just as Leah had described. If everything else was as she’d said, the ladder would take them to a storage room and from there they could easily make their way into the keep.

  “Lend me a shoulder,” Colin ordered from his spot ahead of him on the ladder.

  Clutching the edge of the slimy metal, Drew shinnied up beside his brother until he could reach up to feel the impediment they’d encountered. Water-soaked wood, it was without a doubt the trapdoor to the storeroom.

  “On my mark,” Colin whispered. “One, two, push!”

  Drew braced himself against the wall and, in unison with his brother, pushed up with all his might. Above them, the wood gave way, and the trapdoor opened, allowing them access to the room above.

  One by one they lifted themselves up, exchanging the wet dark for a dryer version.

  “Mind the barrels,” Colin cautioned in a whisper. “Find the door.”

  The minutes felt like hours as they worked their way around the room, Drew’s heart pounding with excitement.

  Not long now. Not long at all until he’d have her in his arms, proving to himself at last that she was safe and unharmed.

  And if she wasn’t unharmed?

  The nagging voice of doubt ate away at his confidence as it had since the moment he’d laid his hand on the bloodstained necklace.

  He couldn’t think on it now.

  “Here.” Dair’s voice echoed in the dark and within minutes they stepped into a wide hallway.

  A small torch burned at the far end of the passageway, but after the oppressive darkness of the storeroom, even that pitiful light hurt his eyes.

  “Be still,” Colin ordered next to him, reaching out to place his palm over Drew’s heart.

  Drew waited, watching as Colin closed his eyes, tilting his head as if he listened for something far away while lifting his other hand, palm extended.

  “This way,” his brother said at last, heading off down the passageway.

  “But how—” he began to ask, only to have his brother cut him short.

  “Trust me. We’ll find her this direction. I feel it.”

  Trust Colin he would. However his brother did it, whatever it was he felt, the only thing that mattered to Drew was that he did feel. And if Colin could feel his way to Leah, it had to mean that Leah lived.

  Not only was Dick a jerk and a coward, he was just plain stupid, too. Three grown women sharing a single room meant for two little boys?

  Leah jammed her fist into the lump of blankets under her head. Grandma Mac and Maisey had each taken one of the small cots against the far wall, so she’d laid her pallet here in front of the fire.

  Honestly, the forest floor had been more comfortable than this cold stone.

  She pulled at the covers once again before lying still, staring into the fire.

  On every night of the journey she’d made with Drew, he’d taken his blankets to floor just like this. The pain in his leg must have been excruciating after a night of the cold seeping into his damaged muscles.

  No wonder he did yoga in the middle of the night! To fight off the pain. He’d said his sister-in-law had shown him the movements.

  Had to be Ellie. Since she’d come from the future, it was only reasonable that she would have been the one familiar with the exercises Drew practiced.

  Reasonable? Leah turned her face into the blankets to stifle her snort. How many people in the world would consider anything about time travel to be reasonable?

  Drew’s family, certainly.

  Of course, at the moment, they were technically her family, as well. At least until her marriage was ended.

  Leah rolled to her back, jerking her covers over her chest.

  She had to do something about that. Lord Moreland had ordered Drew’s death and that was something she absolutely could not permit. He might have wanted to marry her for nothing more than her ability to heal, but she knew, to the depths of her soul she knew, he meant much more than that to her.

  He was the Soulmate her mother had predicted she’d find one day. That she couldn’t be with him was hardly a surprise. Look at her mom and dad.

  She’d have to find a way to speak with Sir Peter. He might be an arrogant English knight, but she believed there was more to him than that. It had, after all, been his stalling which had prevented someone from being on their way to kill Drew at this very minute.

  Argh! Her thoughts simply circled round and round, always ending back with Drew. Would it be like this forever, with the man haunting her every waking minute for the rest of her life?

  Maybe she had turned into her mother.

  With that less than comforting thought jangling around in her head, it was officially useless to lie here any longer. Tossing aside her covers, she sat up, scrubbing her hands over her face. Through the little window high on the wall she could already see faint traces of light brightening the eastern sky. Since there was no chance she was getting any sleep anyway, she might as well get up.

  The fresh air coming in that little window carried a nip with it, so she padded over to the chest where she’d placed her things and pulled out Drew’s plaid to wrap around her shoulders.

  No. She would absolutely not get back on that merry-go-round thinking about him again. Absolutely would not.

  Leaning down, she jammed another log into the fireplace and reached for the little kettle sitting on the hearth. Some herb tea might do the trick to soothe her mind.

  The pot bumped against the stone hearth, but any noise it might have made was lost in a crash of sound coming from the hallway outside her door.

  “What was that?” Behind her, Grandma Mac was already out of bed and on her feet, shaking Maisey’s shoulder to awaken her.

  Before Leah could answer, the door to their bedchamber flew open, crashing back into the wall as it swung wide.

  Her mind was still playing tricks on her. It had to be.

  Drew strode toward her, his face dark with his emotion. “Come on. We’re getting you out of here.”

  Was he insane? What was he doing here? If Moreland or any of Richard’s men caught him, it would be all over.

  “You have to leave. If they find here, they’ll—”

  He cut short her warning, crushing her body to his, covering her lips with his own.

  The kiss drove all thought from her mind. Not even the desperation and fear she’d felt for him stood a chance against the overwhelming rightness she experienced in his embrace.

  By the time he broke the kiss, he’d drawn her to the door.

  “My grandmother,” she managed to blurt out, breathless and still enthralled.

  “All of you!” he barked. “Now. We’ve no time.”

  The shouts coming through the open doorway reinforced his words.

  Grandma Mac and Maisey followed on her heels as Drew led her into the hallway where two o
f the men she’d met at Dun Ard, along with a third she didn’t recognize, already guarded Grandpa Hugh and Maisey’s Walter.

  “They’re coming,” the man she didn’t recognize warned as he started forward. “There’s no way out now but to carve our way through. We’ll clear a path down the stairs and hold them there as long as we can. You get her to the storeroom. Barricade the door and wait until the tide goes out again.”

  “I’m fighting at yer side, Colin. No matter what you believe, I can be a help. We fight our way out together.”

  “I dinna question the value of yer sword, brother. Only the need to save yer wife. Think to her safety. We’ll join you when we can. We’ve managed through worse.”

  Drew tightened his hold on her hand, pulling her after him as they hurried down the hall toward the stairs and uplifted voices.

  Metal clanged against metal as her rescuers’ swords crossed those of the English soldiers. Men shouting, servants screaming, all assaulted her ears.

  Drew shoved her against the wall, behind him, using his body as a shield while he fought what appeared to her to be a never-ending supply of men, all intent on seeing her husband and the men fighting at his side dead.

  She looked up in time to see Richard standing at the head of the stairs. Sir Peter appeared at his side, drawing his sword on the run, his expression wiped of all emotion like a true hardened warrior. Richard followed behind him, weaponless.

  The air around her seemed to shimmer with violence as Moreland’s sword crashed against the one in Drew’s hand.

  She covered her ears against the sound and still it reverberated in her lungs, as if the stone walls around them magnified the battle sounds. Unable to tear her eyes from the weapons, she watched as sparks shot away from the impacts.

  If only Drew would step away from her. He could take this man. She knew it. She’d seen him that day in the lists.

  But he didn’t. He fought instead like a man whose only concern was her protection. His moves were purely defensive.

  Her chest tightened, as if in premonition, and she looked to the top of the stairs.

  She’d read once that in times of severe emotional distress, all that happens around you speeds up and blurs.

  That author had been wrong.

  For her, the next few minutes felt as if they lasted a lifetime, each image crystal sharp in its intensity, but beyond her ability to prevent.

  Edward stood at the top of the stairs, calling to his father. His little face was a mask of fear and in his hands he held a sword that was taller than he.

  Richard turned toward his son as the boy started down the stairs at a run. Off-balanced by the weight of the weapon, the child lost his footing and fell.

  One bounce and then he tumbled, head over foot to the bottom of the stairs, where his body lay crumpled, impaled on the sword he’d tried to get to his father.

  An unearthly howl shattered through the room and Richard threw himself over his son’s body. Around them, fighting ceased, the English who followed Richard waiting to see what their lord would do next.

  Even Moreland held his weapon, as if he too were immobilized by Richard’s grief.

  Richard pulled the sword from his son’s body and tossed it to the ground. Clutching the child to him, he rocked the boy back and forth, his inhuman wail of sorrow echoing off the stone walls.

  “Leah?”

  Margery called her name on a pleading breath, but it was enough to snap her out of the spell that had held her motionless.

  “Yes,” she answered. Of course she would. How could she do any less?

  Slipping past Drew, she ran to the huddled father and son, dropping to her knees beside them. “Give him to me,” she ordered.

  The pain in Richard’s eyes when he looked up at her brought tears to her own. It was impossible for her to feel hate for a man who’d lost his whole world, even one such as Richard.

  “Wait!” Margery was at her side. “She can save Edward’s life, but first you must give us yer oath that when she does, you’ll take yer men and leave here. That you’ll leave us unmolested and you’ll never return to MacQuarrie Keep.”

  “My only son’s lifeblood spills out on your floor, Mother! Your grandson. He breathes his last as we speak.” Richard’s voice cracked, and tears spilled from his eyes. “It’s too late for any to save him now. I am lost.”

  “It’s not too late. Show him, Leah. Show him yer throat.”

  Kneeling next to Richard, Leah pulled the plaid from her shoulders, exposing her neck to his view.

  “I saw the wound there with my own eyes.” Sir Peter spoke from behind her. “It’s not possible for it to be healed.”

  “Give me yer oath and send yer men from the room,” Margery insisted.

  “Go!” he screamed, turning his tortured gaze to his mother. “You have my oath. Everything I have is yers for my son’s life.”

  “Now, Leah.”

  Margery gave the go-ahead, but Leah had already reached for the child. Oath or no, she’d no intention of allowing her trusting little cousin to die. She blocked out everything but Edward, ignoring the sounds of the soldiers leaving, the hushed voices behind her, even the knowledge of Drew’s presence.

  Nothing mattered at this moment but the boy in her arms.

  His eyes were open but unfocused. Blood burbled from the wound in his little chest with each forced breath.

  “Don’t be frightened, baby,” she whispered to him as she covered his body with her own. “I know it hurts but I’m going to make it better real soon. I promise.”

  She held Edward, concentrating on his wound, seeing him in her mind, his cheeks pink and healthy, his strong legs carrying him down the corridor ahead of her.

  How the gift worked, she had no idea. She’d been perfectly honest when she’d told Drew that. She knew only that when the moment came, the magic would fill her completely with a heat like no other.

  The magic took her when her fingers grazed over the wound, stiffening her body and all but robbing her of her senses. Her muscles pulsed with it, the burn building until she felt as if her skin would melt off her bones.

  A second wave of magic followed the first, blanketing her sight in a cocoon of green waves just before the pain of Edward’s injuries shot through her chest. She thought she heard a woman scream but she had no time to wonder who it might have been, for in that instant the third wave of magic smashed into her, robbing her of all conscious thought.

  On Richard’s order, the soldiers had vacated the hall. Dair, Colin, and Sim remained at Drew’s side while Leah’s grandparents hovered near the stairs. The knight, Sir Peter, waited with an arm around Hawthorne’s shoulders. All of them, every soul in the room, silent, awestruck by the tragedy playing out in front of them.

  Helplessness such as Drew had never known tightened his chest as he watched Leah cradle the dying child to her breast.

  A low hum filled every corner of the room and a sudden wind howled through the hall. As if they’d been caught out in the frenzy of a vicious storm, the wind tore at their hair and loose clothing, whipping against them like tiny lashes to exposed skin. Its intensity built until furniture in the hallway began to shift and tumble in its path.

  The air between him and Leah shimmered, engulfing her and the boy in a quivering sphere of green.

  A curtain of Faerie magic.

  He’d seen its like only once before. It had engulfed his cousin Mairi and her Ramos and when it had shattered, they were both gone, sent back to the future from where they’d come.

  Her body convulsed as if she’d been shaken by a giant invisible hand and he threw himself at the sphere, beating against the impenetrable wall of magic with his fists, desperate to get to her. Desperate to be with her if the magic took her away.

  “Leave her be,” Margery yelled over the howling wind.

  From inside the sphere, Leah screamed, her body arching over the child before falling limp. He dove at the shimmering green wall once more, just as it shattered in an e
normous crash. Like an explosion of thunder indoors, it shook the very foundation of the hall, knocking them all from their feet.

  Closest to the sphere, Drew took the full blast of the magic that sent him flying through the air. His back slammed against the wall, knocking the breath from him. His head pounding, he struggled to get to his feet.

  He had to get to Leah. Had to protect her. Had to keep her here.

  Flipping to his stomach, he fought the wind, crawling, digging his fingers into the stones of the floor to reach her.

  Around him, sparkling lights of all colors shot through the air, twisting and pitching, diving at his head like shards of living flame gone wild.

  Ignoring it all, he made his way forward. His vision tunneled only on the woman ahead of him, her body limp on the floor, a growing pool of blood seeping from beneath her.

  He gathered her body into his arms, turning her over to discover the front of her nightdress soaked in blood.

  Not the child’s blood, hers. Fresh, pumping from a wound in her chest. The wound that had been Edward’s.

  She lay limp in his arms, blood gurgling from the corner of her mouth with each ragged attempt her lungs made to fill with air.

  He hadn’t known. It should have been obvious to him when the scratch that had been on his arm had transferred to hers. She’d tried to tell him. She’d claimed that he knew nothing.

  She’d been right.

  “How could you let her do this?” He screamed the words, to no one. To everyone.

  His sweet, gentle Leah, his Soulmate, had given her life to save that of the child and he could only watch helplessly as her grandmother directed his friends to carry her away.

  Thirty-four

  Peter Moreland ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could push away the memories plaguing him. He stared into the night sky, contemplating the stars in the heavens in a way he never had before.

  The mysteries he’d witnessed in the past week could be nothing less than miracles. Miracles sent to convince him he needed to alter the course of his life before it was too late.

  Behind him, the sound of his uncle’s wracking cough shattered the silence as it had throughout the evening.