Forged in Dreams and Magick hl-1

by Kat Bastion

  She shrugged. “’Tis no secret; I thought you already knew. Iain’s my protective brother when I act without thinkin’. But Gawain . . .”

  The long pause made my heart ache. I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Brigid, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Nay, Isobel. You need to know. Iain and Gawain were the closest friends, or so I’m told.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Our mother dinna survive my birth. The boys both adored her, but the loss nearly killed Gawain. The tragedy did kill our father, who died soon after from heartbreak. Gawain hated me the moment I came into the world. He refused to acknowledge me. But Iain loved me all the more for it, clingin’ to the last gift his mother gave him. He protected and raised me from a helpless babe. Gawain’s heart dinna heal, and the rift tore my brothers apart.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “How awful. But they . . . Gawain’s still here, part of the clan.”

  “Aye. Iain protected Gawain, treatin’ him as family like any of the clan. As I’ve grown older, Gawain has made peace with us . . . in his own way.”

  “And you miss Gawain,” I stated.

  “Aye. I’ve always loved him. Somethin’ in me reaches out to him. I canna give up on him.”

  “I’m proud of you, Brigid. They’re both blessed to have you.”

  I thought of the brazen Gawain who’d boldly pursued me, even in front of Iain, and everything clicked. He’d competed for my affection because his brother wanted me. A lifelong burden of shunning his family’s love had caused Gawain’s womanizing, encouraging him to seek some semblance of love elsewhere.

  Brigid interrupted my reflective thoughts, “How’s Iain holdin’ up? You know, with him knowin’ you’ve . . . had another man?”

  I gaped at her, surprised by the abrupt change of subject. “How did you . . . did he . . .”

  She laughed. “The man roared the entire castle down when you returned but dinna waken, but I yanked him into my room before anythin’ that made sense was overheard by others. He said you were standin’ in another man’s arms, both of you barely dressed.”

  Iain’s instincts had known the instant he laid eyes on Velloc. It spurred a near-deadly fight between the men. I glanced over my shoulder, locking gazes with the topic of our conversation.

  Iain stood there—proud and protective—arms crossed over his chest, my coffee mug perched in perfect balance on the palm of his hand. I smiled. Even though he didn’t know the full story behind the incriminating evidence of the past weeks, he’d accepted me back into his home.

  I was enormously grateful for the boundless love he showed me and his family. We’d need that quality as we faced the truth together—as I owned what had happened with Velloc no matter the justification. My chaotic existence had stripped the innocence from me . . . from our marriage.

  I turned back, looking at the pink cheeks of my friend. She’d suffered too. Unforeseen circumstances had challenged our virtuous optimism.

  I answered her question. “Iain’s surviving like we all are: one breath at a time.”

  CHAPTER Twenty-one

  Brodie Castle—Thirteenth Century, Nine Days after My Return

  A complex web of tension—built of fear, betrayal, and anger—took a week to blow over with the gale force of our renewed passion. No further word had been asked or spoken about where I’d been, who I’d been with, or what I’d done, but silent disregard for the Loch Ness Monster in the room served as a needed balm for our healing process.

  Iain spent nearly every waking moment by my side, shirking duties as he delegated responsibilities to Robert and his guard. At first, I welcomed the nonstop attention. His escorting me everywhere resulted in his taking me anywhere, and in very creative ways.

  But the novelty eventually faded when our honeymooning turned into a guarded imprisonment. Earlier that day, I’d asked Brigid to go hunting with me. To my exasperation, Iain uninvited her, unbeknownst to me, and had taken her place. Irritation surfaced as I chafed at the loss of my freedom.

  As Iain raised his bow, nocking an arrow, my frustration boiled over. “Iain, this has to stop.”

  My clipped words stopped his draw in midpull. He released the bowstring, holding the arrow between his fingers as he glanced at me. I slid off my horse, walking away from him through waist-high ferns toward the water. The horses nickered to one another, but the rustling sound of the brush told me Iain had followed.

  “I’m my own person, Iain. Yes, I am yours, but not as property. You can’t corral me. I need my freedom.”

  When I turned around, he stood directly behind me, his brows drawn in concern.

  Encouraged by his receptiveness, I flattened my palms to his chest, continuing. “My vibrancy comes from all life has to offer—the adventure and discovery, the challenge and success, the joy and heartache. The risk we each take when we venture out into the world is part of the journey. It’s a path you cannot deny me no matter the danger, regardless of fear.”

  “Isa, I canna lose you again.” He said it with a certainty I believed . . . we both believed.

  “What if we worked together to find a solution?” I suggested.

  He grinned wide, flashing a model-perfect smile. “I’ve been thinkin’ the verra same thing. Let’s bury the box.”

  I snorted, shaking my head. “No, Iain, we can’t. I need the box.” I took his larger hands and clasped them together, enfolding them in mine. “I have to go back.”

  Iain’s hands exploded outward, throwing my arms wide, nearly knocking me off my feet. He grabbed my shoulders, steadying me. When he pulled me closer, inches from his furious face, I realized the save had been other than to prevent my fall.

  “You’ll do no such thing. I will keep you from that box. The damn magick of it has no right to send you back.” He growled out every word.

  “Doesn’t it?” I asked softly. I forced my composure to stay calm, trying to reason with him. “I never asked for this life, to be tossed about between times, but my existence has been ruled by outside forces. There are secrets to be learned. The box has a power that can be harnessed. I know it in my gut as sure as I’ve felt anything substantial in either realm.”

  Iain’s chest rose and fell in quick rhythm. His nostrils flared. But I pressed on, needing to break through, unafraid of his anger because I knew it stemmed from his love for me.

  “I have to have a purpose, Iain. I can’t dismiss all the turmoil I’ve experienced to chance and coincidence. It would ignore the greater meaning. My life’s quest—the need to discover history—demands I take full advantage of the gateway through time.”

  Iain eased the grip from my shoulders that threatened to bruise my arms, releasing me with a slow unclenching of his fists. His massive chest inflated and he puffed out his cheeks, blowing air through pursed lips. Then the hard expression softened, his gaze drifting to the ground as he weighed my argument.

  He looked back up, staring at me for long seconds, clenching his jaw. “I canna promise I’ll agree to the idea. But . . . I will listen.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he restrained the fierce animal raging to break free. I understood why.

  “Iain . . . you know I love you.” I frowned, unhappy I had to admit the sentiment in such an unromantic conversation. “I’m here with you now. I’m broken, though. I left a man behind who is every bit as destroyed as you were when I disappeared. A piece of my heart hurts, Iain. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I loved him very much too. I still do. But nothing about what he and I have changes anything about what you and I share.”

  He scowled, crossing his arms. “How can you love two men, Isa? How can you share all of your heart with one man when you give it to two?”

  “I don’t know, Iain.” I paced, trying to make sense of it. “When I was with him, he protected me and loved me without hesitation. He kept me alive and safe . . . helped me flourish in his world. I gave him everything of me in return. Not because I felt obligated, but because he’s a good man, suited to me perfectly,
and I fell in love with him. Now I’m here with you. You’re a good man, suited to me perfectly, and I’m in love with you. I’ve no idea how that’s possible, but obviously some power outside the three of us seemed to know it would happen.” I placed my hands on his chest again, one over his beating heart, as I looked up into his eyes. “Iain, I wasn’t whole there either. My life is incomplete without you.”

  The tightness of his face gentled at my words. He took a slow deep breath and exhaled it. My gaze dropped to his lips, and he dipped his head down, giving me a soft kiss.

  He nipped my lower lip as he pulled away, his gaze fixed to the ground again in deep thought. “The box brings together soul mates . . .” Iain made the connection I had, entertaining the notion that greater forces operated beyond our purview. His realization made tremendous strides, turning us onto the same page, providing hope for us to tackle the problem . . . together.

  “I’m living proof it does. Only, from my original point of origin, my two soul mates span two millennia.” It floored me to hear the magnitude of my statement.

  Iain’s eyes widened. “Och, lass! You were that far back?”

  “Yes. I lived in a Pict village. Velloc, the other man, is chieftain of his tribe,” I replied. I relayed my adventure to Iain in summary, providing any pertinent details on a need-to-know basis. I felt no need to share anything that would only cause damage.

  “And you think you can manipulate the powers of the box?” Iain asked, doubt lacing his tone.

  “I do. Maybe not at first, but with every succeeding touch, I sense subtle changes happening. I’ve absorbed some of the box’s power. Its energy hums through me, my connection to it strengthening the closer I approach. Its vibration beckons me to touch its surface, like there’s a mission it has to achieve, and when it transports me, it accomplishes the task. Each exposure provides another clue to the rules of the game being played with my life. With trial and error, I think I can travel without risk.”

  He roared in laughter, stress overruling the bare threads of his restraint. “Doona for a minute think I’m goin’ to allow you anywhere near that thing with you spoutin’ tales of ‘trial and error’ and what you think to be true.” Towering walls shot up around the fragile openness he’d offered.

  Okay. Two steps forward, one shove back . . .

  “Iain, the box, and even your wall—and its mystery you’ve not yet disclosed—are tied to me. Despite your relationship to them, they’re a part of me. Energy flows through them, feeding into me, and my body responds to their power. To deny me a right to explore that is like prohibiting a child to walk or a bird to fly. We’re linked in fundamental ways. I need to know why.”

  He squinted at me, calculation and assessment rattling through his brain as he shifted his jaw left and right. “The cost to what you suggest is high.”

  I nodded. Lives were at stake—mine, his, Velloc’s. And how we each fared through the rough seas of the ever-changing storm could even alter the course of history already written, but not yet lived by any of us.

  “It doesn’t matter the cost.” My resolve came from many reasons, the key being I couldn’t live with not finding out. Destiny awaited me. If I didn’t have the courage to see my task to its culmination, I knew regret would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  His gaze pierced into me as if he sought an answer deep in my soul. He lifted his arms toward my shoulders, but dropped them before touching me. “You’ll give me time. I am a man. You belong to me, and I doona know if I have it in me to let you go . . . to risk losin’ you. Mayhem threatens to overtake my mind at the mere thought of sharin’ you with another.” He growled, curling one corner of his upper lip.

  No one would’ve asked for our complicated situation, but we had to cope the best way we could, a limited toolbox and a dynamic project challenging the best of our skills. I took a cue from Iain’s tone: we’d gone to his limits in our conversation.

  “Fair enough,” I replied, stepping into his arms.

  Iain hugged me gently, resting his chin on my head on a heavy sigh as we clung to the solidity of what we held now, knowing tomorrow held no guarantee.

  CHAPTER Twenty-two

  A cool breeze teased my flushed skin. I darted left, spongy moss beneath my bare feet giving me traction. Iain’s deep laughter rumbled into the silence. My fingers grasped at thin air. The iridescent-winged creature flashed brilliant blue, opening his wings to spiral aloft on a rising current. With a final flap, he vanished up into an oak tree’s canopy, dappled light and shadows camouflaging his wings amid rustling leaves.

  I spun around and returned to our picnic defeated, but with a grin on my face from ear to ear. Iain reclined back on a plaid. The sunlight glistened on his glorious naked form and gleamed tones of copper from the chestnut strands of hair fanning above his folded hands.

  He closed his eyes. “You were bested by a butterfly.” His lips slowly lifted into a smirk.

  “Damn hellion. Eluded my every turn.” I laughed, padding across the woolen blanket and straddling him. The ends of my hair brushed down my breasts and pooled across his chest. I leaned forward, grazing my lips up his neck, whispering in his ear, “Only a butterfly can escape the likes of me.”

  I stretched my chilled legs along his, covering his deliciously warm body with mine to steal some of his incredible internal heat.

  On a relaxed sigh, I settled into the peaceful moment. I hadn’t forgotten for one second who I’d become—or the multiple facets of my life—but during the gift of time I had with Iain, I vowed to do my best to be completely here with him. At every opportunity, I immersed myself in the bright moments of chasing butterflies or basking in the warmth of the sun. Fleeting seconds of pure joy kept my barely restrained dark thoughts and emotions in check.

  Iain squinted up at me through the sunlight blinding him and softly kissed my lips, nipping the lower one as he pulled back. “Isa, I . . .”

  Strong arms wrapped around me. Rough hands rubbed up and down my back. His heavy pause and labored breaths hinted at the gravity of the topic before he uttered a word.

  “I need you to be whole, Isa. It’s like I have you . . . but I don’t. You had a luster to you that’s dulled. I need you to shine again.” He took a deep breath.

  I gave him a wide berth, ensuring nothing I said influenced what he communicated to me.

  Several minutes passed before I realized he wanted me to say something. “I understand, Iain. I want to shine again too.” I dropped a tender kiss to his chest.

  His tone grew more commanding. “We do this my way, though. I need to be involved. My instincts scream for me to protect you from harm, yet the moment you go, I’ve lost the power.” He pulled an arm up between us, grasping my chin with his fingers, locking his gaze onto mine. “My. Way.”

  The urge to relinquish the reins to him was an irresistible temptation, and my independent streak gave way to my man offering his protection. My guardian bared his soul, yielding to my plea, and I made an internal vow to ease his upcoming struggle every way I could as a rush of optimism flooded in.

  I nodded, grinning. “Yes, Iain. Whatever we do, we do your way.”

  He laid out a rough plan he’d obviously been crafting. I bounced what-ifs off him. Through the afternoon, we ran scenario after scenario until we felt we’d exhausted what would likely happen, what could happen, and what we couldn’t imagine happening, but went there anyway.

  In the end, his way ended up being a team project, along with a couple of absolutes he demanded that I adhere to for him to be able to live with his decision. I agreed to the stipulations, not only because of how far he’d come in accepting my continued adventure, but more importantly, because they epitomized all his core qualities: commander, strategist, protector, fighter . . . lover. My enormous respect for him demanded my care and diligence in honoring those wishes.

  “Two days,” he said when we’d finalized our plan. “Give me two more days to spend every moment lovin’ you. Then we’ll see if you’
re right.”

  “Thank you, Iain.” I kissed him, grateful he had such a generous heart.

  I vowed that the next two days, and every single moment I spent with him in his world unto eternity, would be completely his. The great man I loved deserved nothing less.

  * * *

  Day three arrived in a flash. The cherished time Iain and I’d spent together had imprinted onto my soul like a fiery brand. Every precious moment had been filled with love . . . and plenty of lust.

  I sat in the great hall, popping a final bite of a warm, cheesy apple tart into my mouth. As Iain bounded down the stairs, I savored the last coffee I would have for a while. My hands trembled as I lowered the mug to the table. I ran dampened palms down my leather-clad thighs, grateful Iain hadn’t burned my Pict clothing, even though he said he’d been seriously tempted.

  Iain stalked up from behind and leaned down, kissing my ear. “Ready, lass?”

  “No. Yes.” I sighed, standing from the stool and stepping into his solid embrace. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose. At least this time, I know what’s about to happen.”

  Iain laughed, “We’ve a plan,” he replied. “It remains to be seen if it actually happens.”

  He laced his fingers through mine and led us down the darkened hall toward his study. The room already sparked with energy as if anticipating our arrival. I exhaled a quick breath through puffed cheeks as Iain pulled me forward until we stood in front of the mysterious wall. The pinpoint lights in the stone tapestry vibrated as we hovered near. Iain shot an intense stare at me from those vivid hazel eyes, wordlessly directing me to follow his lead.

  He pressed his left hand to the upper corner of the wall on an empty section of solid stone. The sparkling expanse shimmered—solid, and yet in so many ways, not—like heat radiating off one-hundred-twenty-degree pavement. He closed his eyes, drawing his brows in concentration.