Highlander's Bride: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 1)

by Joanne Wadsworth

  “Aye, and they would’ve ensured Ronan’s injuries healed without issue.” His gaze softened as he tucked a lock of her golden-red hair behind her ear. “You’ve yet to tell me exactly what’s worrying you. I wish only to chase your sadness away.”

  “I—” How she wanted to tell Duncan of the soul bond that had taken form between her and Ronan during his captivity, only doing so would be fruitless. Colin’s threats remained in force, whether she was soul bound to another or not, and if she didn’t abide by his will then her parents would pay dearly for it, something she’d never allow. With her silence, she’d been protecting them for the past twenty years and would continue to do so, for however long it took. Her future was set. She’d wed either Coll, Duncan, or Jeremiah. The MacKenzie’s decree that she would rang strong in her ears, as it had since the day he’d issued it.

  No one shall ever learn who you are, and if you wish for your parents to live then you’ll forget your village and all who remain within it. From this moment forth, you’ll no longer be Christina Matheson but instead Kyla MacKenzie, my foster daughter. You have no fae blood, no kin, and I’ve taken you in, a poor urchin I found abandoned in the forest. You’ll join me, be raised within my household and even though you remain unskilled, in time I’ll ensure your revered fae blood mixes into my direct line. You’ll wed one of my three sons, whichever I please. Do you understand?

  Aye, she’d understood his decree well, would rather he choose between Coll or Duncan. She certainly shuddered at the thought of ever having to join with Jeremiah, Colin’s one and only son by Cait. During his younger years, Jeremiah had lived both at Rhue Castle to the far north of his father’s lands and also with them at Loch Alsh. He was cut from the same cloth as his father and she’d done her best to steer clear of him, however possible. At the age of ten, Colin had thankfully sent Jeremiah away to be fostered with the Chief of MacLennan and now Rhue belonged to him, a stronghold Jeremiah ruled with an iron hand.

  Heart heaving, she clutched her aching chest. She had to take every advantage of this time she’d been given here, because if she wished even a little say in her future then she needed to take action.

  “I can see your sadness grows.” Duncan rubbed her arms, stroking slowly up and down with his gloved hands. “A burden shared is a burden lessened.”

  “Jeremiah has no knowledge of my fae blood, would take every advantage of it if he did.” Colin had kept that a secret, never wishing for one of her kin to hear of the news and suspect who’d taken her.

  “I agree, although neither Coll or I would ever share the truth about your fae blood with Jeremiah. In time, Father though might if he believes he’ll gain from doing so.” A slow nod. “I believe I understand where your sadness is coming from.”

  “May I tell you something?”

  “Of course, anything.”

  She dragged in a deep, fortifying breath, the wind whipping around them. ’Twas time for all honesty. “If I had the chance to choose the man I’m to wed, then it would be you.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Very.” Her throat dried out. “I wish to marry you.”

  “Then consider yourself betrothed.” No hesitation.

  “Pardon?”

  “I’ve no wish to see you wed to Jeremiah, will do anything to ensure that never happens.” He gripped her shoulders. “We’ve been foster brother and sister these past twenty years and of course I hold a brotherly love for you, but if we’re both willing then we can change that.”

  “You truly think so?”

  “Anything is possible.” He smiled, one brow rising. “Come. We’ll see if we can make the change. Permit me a kiss, to seal our agreement to wed.”

  “Is this a test?” She gulped.

  “Aye, and you’ve gone a little green, Kyla.” He stepped her backward into a nook where none could see them, his smile turning cheeky. “I promise no’ to slobber all over you, provided you promise the same.”

  She laughed. “I promise.”

  “Now that’s better. It hurts my heart to see you forced into a corner and to accept what must be, but I give you my word I’ll be a good husband, to ensure you want for naught. And you’re right to speak to me about all of this. We need to take the choice out of my father’s hand and into ours then once we’ve wed and consummated our marriage, he’ll be able to do naught about it.”

  “All I want to do is keep my parents safe, to make certain Colin never lays a hand on them.”

  “Then marrying me will ensure it, and upon my return from Ardan House, we’ll speak our vows afore a priest. We’ll be man and wife and when I lie with you, you’ll give me your complete submission.” His cheeky smile doubled. “Which means you’ll allow me to win every game of chess to come.”

  “Never.” She slapped his chest and he broke out into loud laughter. “Hurry up with that kiss. Slobber away and I shall do the same.”

  “Och, that’s my lass, my devoted betrothed.” He leaned closer and brushed his nose against hers, his breath warm and soft against her cheeks. “Close your eyes.”

  It might be best if she did.

  Oh goodness. Kissing Duncan seemed the strangest thing to do. He’d taught her how to swim, even crafted her first bow from a long length of yew he’d whittled away at as a lad, then afterward he’d shown her how to shoot an arrow toward a target. Whenever she’d moaned about needing something sweet to eat, he’d been the one to sneak a treat from the kitchens, well him and Fiona both. When learning to ride, Duncan had been the one to spend hour upon hour teaching her how to sit in the saddle, to care for her horse and all other things. His devotion was absolute.

  She took one long breath in then slowly let it out. She could do this. She closed her eyes and when she did, a sweet image of Ronan wavered to full brilliance in her mind. Ronan’s pale blond hair brushed his shoulders, his scruffy beard the same pale shade and those bewitching eyes of his heating to such a stunning shade of liquid gold. Ronan had such a heavily muscled body, much like Duncan did, that of a warrior born and bred. Aye, Duncan was Ronan. That she needed to believe, to consider naught else if she wished to get through this kiss.

  “Ready, Kyla?”

  “Aye.” A soft sweep of his lips over hers, his mouth there one moment then gone the next. She peeked one eye open. “Was that it?”

  “For now.” A devilish glint lit his eyes. “That wasnae so bad, was it?”

  “’Twas terrible for a first kiss, but glad I am ’tis over.”

  “Aye, glad I am too.” He pulled her in for a long hug and she hugged him back, the familiarity of his hold soothing her. “Be good while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll try, and travel safely. I shall see you upon your return.”

  “That you will, by the week’s end and no more.” He tweaked her nose, jogged down the side stairs toward the lad who held his destrier’s reins in the inner bailey and mounted. With a wave, he rode out under the arch, a half dozen of his armed men falling in behind him. Ardan House, his own stronghold farther along the loch, sat close which meant Duncan was never far away.

  She rubbed her chilled arms. Well, ’twas done. Betrothed now, and a traitor too, to her own mate no less. With a long sigh, she opened her skill and reached out along the pathway which would take her to Ronan, although as usual naught but a dark void remained in place where he should have been. Surely he’d survived the whipping inflicted by those awful guards. She certainly wouldn’t consider anything else. He lived, would continue to live, provided he stayed far away from her.

  Downstairs, she tramped and across the courtyard toward the front door of the keep.

  The hearty chattering of her kin reverberated toward her as she stepped into the great hall where a good hundred warriors remained seated around the trestle tables as they ate their morning meal. Serving lasses weaved around the men with trays of steaming bowls of oats and jugs of warm cider in hand. Overhead, massive wooden-beamed rafters rose to an imposing height with the dawn’s sunshine peppering in th
rough the tall windows and sprinkling golden rays across the wooden floorboards. She walked past the blazing fireplace where two dogs sat guzzling scraps then stepped up onto the dais.

  “It appears you’ve been out on the cliffs again. Your gown is damp and your nose all red.” Gordon rose from where he was seated and pulled out a chair for her. Duncan’s captain had spent a great deal of time guarding Ronan in the dungeons, had come to know their prisoner well.

  “I wished to see the sun rise and the storm clouds finally scatter.” She sat in the high-backed chair and he tucked it in. “I spoke to Duncan afore he rode out and we, ah—” How did she put this? Best she just speak the words and be done with it. “We’ve agreed to a betrothal.”

  “Then you have my most hearty congratulations. Duncan will be good for you, lass.” He returned to his seat, plunked down in his chainmail and black boots. From the platters in the center of the table, he selected some of the choicest cuts of meat and added them to his trencher then offered her the platter holding fresh fish.

  “Thank you.” She popped the meat into her mouth and it near melted on her tongue. ’Twas delicious, yet the taste soon turned to dust as another image of Ronan flittered through her mind. Arms outstretched, he’d been chained to the blackened stone wall of his cell, his body slumped and his hunger and thirst beating at her. It had taken all her willpower not to unlock those cuffs and set him free. How she’d wanted to, desperately. All that had stayed her hand was the knowledge that Muirin needed time with his father. The fae sorceress had deserved the chance to forge the soul bond with her mate and she’d had no desire to take that right from her, not as it had been so cruelly taken from her. ’Twas sacred, a bond all her kin desired. A bond she’d been gifted with, but could never accept.

  Such sadness swirled within her heart, made it beat sluggish and slow. Her fingers and toes went all icy and numb. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the dreaded emotions away. Plodding around the keep all maudlin and sorrowful would never do, not when word would soon spread of her betrothal with Duncan. Her kin needed to see her contentment, and Duncan deserved naught less than her full acceptance of their coming marriage.

  “Would you care for some tea, my lady?” One of the maids set a bowl of oats before her.

  “Aye, that would be wonderful, with a good spoonful of honey, please.” Smiling at the maid, she curled her hands around the underside of the bowl of oats to warm her fingers.

  “I’ll be but a moment.” The maid swished away, her dark hair bundled up under her frilly cap and her apron ties swaying down to her knees.

  “What are your plans for the day now you’re about to be a wedded woman?” Gordon shoved a bacon rasher into his mouth.

  “I’d like to take a swim.” That would certainly help clear the gloominess from her thoughts and rejuvenate her spirit. They’d left summer behind and autumn had well and truly taken ahold, winter a mere breath away, but she would take this opportunity to set her thoughts in order and a swim always did that.

  “You’ll need a guard. I’ll take you to the loch myself.”

  “I dinnae mind going on my own. It isnae too far.” She often walked the short distance to the pool without any issue, although with the blood feuds currently raging across the land and more enemy warriors about, such unease consumed them all. From the jug in the center of the dais, she added a dash of milk to her oats and ate a spoonful.

  “I’ll come with you. I cannae have Duncan tossing me into the dungeons for no’ ensuring your complete care.”

  “Here ye are, my lady.” The maid returned and set a cup of tea before her and she thanked her before she bustled away to serve the men at the closest table below their platform.

  “How soon do you wish to go?” More bacon stuffed in his mouth, along with a slurp of his drink.

  “As soon as possible, if you dinnae mind.” She finished her meal, bid Gordon to await her by the postern gate and hurried upstairs to collect a few things from her chamber.

  Plaid draped over one arm and a bar of soap and a drying cloth stuffed into her satchel, she hiked back downstairs and across the inner courtyard to where Gordon stood at the gate, his chainmail sparkling in the sunlight.

  He motioned for her to go first and she skipped past him as the sun rose higher and warmed the earth. Across the open meadow, she tramped then ducked into the forest. She weaved in and around thick bushes before finally emerging at her favorite pool. The loch, small, secluded and surrounded with towering trees, offered a haven of respite and provided her with all she loved most about the Highlands, nature and all its abundance.

  “I’ll wait back along the trail to give you your privacy. Holler out if you need any aid and I’ll come.” Gordon vanished within the thickness of the trees, a snare in his hand. He’d hunt while she bathed.

  Assured she remained alone, she loosened the front laces of her midnight-blue gown and wriggled the velvet over her hips. It shimmered to the ground and she stepped out of the pool of fabric, kicked her slippers off and curled her toes into the lush grass. With her shift’s skirts brushing her legs, she picked up the bar of soap and stepped around the loch bordered by the odd protruding boulder and bounded up onto the ledge rimming the far edge.

  Oh, how she’d adore a swim without any encumbrance, even that of her shift. She rocked from foot to foot. Sunlight streamed through the trees and dappled over the grass dotted with yellow flowers and the odd scrub of heather. Gordon had left and it wasn’t as if anyone else was nearby. She also adored the sensation of the water flowing over her bare skin and once under the darkened surface, none could see below. Grinning, she set the soap down on the stony ledge, whipped her shift over her head, dropped it and dove into the dark depths of the pool.

  Chilly water washed over her and she gasped at the icy shock. Oh, how invigorating. She burst to the surface and laughed as the freedom of being so at one with nature rushed through her. This was exactly what she needed to raise her spirits and as the sun rose higher, she dipped and dived within the glorious water before floating on her back. Aye, she’d make the best of what she’d been given, and marrying Duncan would ensure her true heart’s desire, that her parents lived. All that mattered was their survival. Always and forever.

  * * * *

  Never would Ronan Matheson allow Kyla to remain beyond his touch, not for another day. Over eight-hundred years in the future, he sat inside Tavish Matheson’s medical rooms on the second floor of Ivanson Castle, the doctor a fellow kinsman he now considered a good friend. With the finishing touches almost complete to his face, he awaited the final transformation in his disguise.

  The day before one of the lasses at the keep had trimmed his shoulder length hair to within a spiky inch from his scalp. She’d slapped on a thick black paste, let it sit for a while then told him to wash it out. He’d bent over a basin of flowing water, rinsed his hair then when he’d lifted his head and caught his reflection in one of the massive looking glasses of this time, his golden locks were gone. Midnight-black hair reigned. Miraculous.

  This morn he’d even shaved his thick beard away, one he’d had for a good number of years, since the day it had first grown in at six and ten. He stroked over his jaw, the unusual smoothness of his shaven skin grating on him. “’Tis like I’m a lad again, Tavish.”

  “You’ll get used to being without the beard, and it might pay for you not to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror just yet, particularly if you’re having trouble adjusting to the changes. I’ve been able to knock a good decade off by removing every single wrinkle you had.” Tavish set his instruments down on the tray and pushed back on his padded stool with its wheels that rolled across the white tiled flooring.

  Everything in Tavish’s medical room was white, from the white-sheeted bed he sat on in the center of the room to the white painted walls, cupboard doors, and curtaining. The stainless steel benchtop was all that broke the clean color apart, and what an incredible benchtop it was. So finely crafted, and within those cu
pboards, well, Tavish had brought out so many new and astounding things that had aided him in his full healing this past month. Truly incredible.

  This twenty-first century and all he’d discovered within it had both surprised and enthralled him. Although a recent trip into the village in one of their fast-moving wagons had near halted his heart from beating. An SUV Tavish had called it. Fully enclosed, the wagon of steel had sent them careening along a road of black tar with fierce speed. When he’d pressed a button and the window of sheer glass had rolled down, he’d half heaved over the side to find out where it had gone. Tavish had chuckled and hauled him back in.

  Aye, if he could survive a journey in one of those speedy conveyances, he could certainly survive the change to his appearance. He nodded at his clansman. “I’d like to see what you’ve done. Make certain all is well.”

  “As you wish.” Tavish pulled off his gloves, riffled through a drawer and pulled out a compact, flipped the cover open and exposed a looking glass tucked safely away inside. “I can’t imagine anyone who met you at Carron Castle during your captivity will ever be able to identify you now. You’ve healed well this past month, your injuries all but gone, even the whip marks on your back.”

  “Och, hell.” He almost dropped the compact. His lips looked as if bees had stung them, repeatedly, an enticing look on a lass for sure, but not on a hardened warrior. Every wrinkle he’d had around his eyes and forehead had vanished. It had taken him years to gather those marks of age. Gaping, he muttered, “What have you done, Tavish?”

  “I’ve used Botox where needed. What it does is weakens the facial muscles so the wrinkles disappear, although it’s temporary, the effects lasting about three to four months. I’ve also added some filler to your lips, and a touch to your cheekbones as well.”

  “Oh my.” Annella walked in, her mouth wide open. “Is that you, Ronan?”

  “Aye, scamp.”

  “You look”—she arched a brow as she wandered around him—“different. Very different.”