A Magical Highland Solstice

by Mary Morgan

  Yet, her nerves tingled with excitement. Moving away, Eve picked up the envelope and headed to the kitchen. Reaching for a bottle of water, she re-read everything. “Of course I’ll stay until Hogmanay. Two whole weeks without the harpy Helen. Who cares if I have to prepare desserts for a hundred—heck two hundred. It will be a far, far better place.”

  Humming a Christmas tune, she ambled to her desk, pulled out a tablet and pen, and walked into her bedroom. Making a list helped to soothe her and organize the trip—from clothes, toiletries, and making sure no bills were due. She jotted down ideas on what to bake and their recipes, and made a note to include one of her favorite small cookbooks. The long plane trip would be an excellent time to strategize and plan.

  Yawning, she stretched and realized an hour had passed. Retrieving her suitcase from the closet, she started to pack. “Scotland in winter. Lovely. Cold. Snow. Horse drawn sleighs. Mistletoe. Scratch mistletoe—only for lovers. Evergreens. Holly. Sugary treats.”

  She turned at the sound of light tapping. Running down the hall, she opened the door. Clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the bark of laughter, she shook her head. Lying on the ground were several romance novels wrapped with a plaid ribbon. Picking them up, she felt the heat creep up into her face. The top book depicted a sexy, half-clad Highlander.

  Closing her door softly, she was tempted to leave them on the table, but curiosity always got the better of Eve. So carrying them like a prized possession, she marched back into her bedroom and stuffed them into the backpack she was bringing on the plane.

  Letting out a sigh, Eve twisted her long curls into a knot on her head and headed into the bathroom. Gazing back at her reflection, she couldn’t even remember the last time she went on a date, or had any friendly male conversations. No one sought her out and honestly, she didn’t seek out men. They were all self-absorbed with their jobs in the city, or interested in sex for a night. In addition, if she went out with others, Eve was the girl men didn’t see.

  Turning around, she stomped back over to her backpack.

  “I don’t have time for love,” she stated harshly. Her hand hesitated over the books, as she reconsidered leaving them home. Uncertainty settled within her after she spewed forth the words. Snatching her fingers back, she shook her head.

  “Nothing wrong with a little light romance on this trip, as long as it remains within a story.”

  Chapter Five

  “A minstrel’s tune played across the snow covered hills until it struck a chord within the heart of the warrior.”

  Cormac growled and dismounted from his horse. “Please tell me we can cross to the left around the fallen trees?” Since the limbs and trunks bore no fresh snow, he believed the latest problem had happened recently.

  Gordon’s lips thinned. “The tops hang over the edge of the gully, and the stream is now a flowing river of ice and water. The horses will not be able to pass through.”

  “Lugh’s balls,” he hissed. Cormac turned to his right. “Then we must make our way upward over the hill.”

  “And risk losing one or more of our horses? ’Tis treacherous. Even if we make it over the hill, we will have to venture back around to make our way through Wolf Cavern.”

  Cormac ignored the man and stepped away. Scanning the area, he searched for the safest path through the trees. It would not be easy, nor was it difficult. The snows had been light in the past few days, and he deemed they all could pass without incident.

  “I say we return to Creag. Surely Moira can oversee Ina and the others in the kitchens,” suggested Wallace, reaching for an ale skin off his horse.

  “Did I ask for an opinion?” demanded Cormac. “What about Yule? The families who live under my roof and have my protection? Some have lost husbands and fathers during the battles with the evil druid, Lachlan. I made a vow to them that we would celebrate this Yule as a joyous one. Unless ye want to be assisting in the kitchens, which I can order, I reckon this is the wisest solution.” He waved his hand toward the right. “The path to the far right of the tree roots is not as steep. We will lead the horses slowly. I have no desire to return to Creag without a cook.”

  Both showed remorse on their faces and nodded slowly.

  “Good. Ye are warriors and used to harsh times, but I will not ask the families under my care to suffer anymore than they should.” Cormac moved forward and took a hold of each man. “I chose two of my best men to accompany me, so dinnae say a word about the treacherous climb or losing a horse. We have battled far worse.”

  “Ye are correct, as always, my laird,” said Gordon. He nodded to Wallace. “My friend is missing the comforts of his ale, furs, and the soft woman who shares it with him.”

  “Beg pardon, but I recall pulling ye from the bed of two women the other morn when ye were absent from the lists,” chided Wallace.

  Cormac roared and pushed away from them. He grabbed the reins of Fingal while he continued to listen to the bantering between his friends. “Women,” he muttered.

  It had been many moons since he had bedded a woman. Aye, there were a few who caught his eye, but after his last battle with Lachlan, Cormac returned home with an ache of something missing. In the beginning, he blamed it on the MacKays and their happy married lives but swiftly discarded the feeling. Instead, he blamed it on the battle that left scars on not only his people, but also his soul.

  Did he want more? A wife and family to fill a longing inside? Nae. He quickly shoved the thought aside. His family was at Creag. The men, women, and children were his family. He did not need, nor want any woman to tear his heart to shreds. He shuddered visibly recalling how the MacKays came near to losing their own wives. “Nae, not for me.” He uttered the words with such force, his horse snorted.

  Giving him a reassuring pat, he said softly, “Ye are my family, as well.”

  As they made their way up the hill, only once did Cormac re-think his plan to find a cook when his horse stumbled into a large snowdrift. However, he said a silent prayer of help to the Gods and Goddesses and soon they were all safely at the top.

  Heaving a sigh, he glanced in all directions. The descent was an easy one, but concern filled him. They would surely not make it through Wolf Cavern by nightfall. Rubbing a hand over his face, he feared saying anything to Gordon or Wallace. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he mounted his horse and waved them onward.

  The light of day slowly ebbed, but he kept them moving until the first star of the evening appeared. Halting Fingal, he waited until his men approached.

  “More trouble?” Gordon placed his hand on his sword and glanced around.

  “Nae, only we are forced to endure a night in the woods. I fear continuing on this path we will come to harm in the night.”

  “Thank the Gods we have ale to keep us warm.” Dismounting from his horse, Gordon added, “Wood will be in short supply for a fire.”

  Wallace rubbed a hand across his nose. “Then we might want to seek some from whoever is tending a fire.”

  Cormac sniffed the air. “Aye, ye are correct. There must be a dwelling nearby.” Giving a nudge to Fingal, they took off in the direction of the wood smoke.

  They did not have to venture far before the misty tendrils could be seen in the distance. Cormac slowed his horse and smiled. “How could I have forgotten?”

  “Do ye ken this place?” asked Gordon.

  “Aye, though it has been many moons. I visited with Duncan MacKay during our journey to find the druid.” He turned toward his friend. “This is the home of the druid, Cathal.”

  “Praise be to the Gods.”

  Once they approached, Cormac dismounted. He waved the two men around the cottage. “If I am correct, Cathal has an enclosure for horses. I shall go greet him.” He handed the reins of his horse to Wallace, and then removed his satchel.

  His steps quickened, but before Cormac had a chance to knock, the door was flung open.

  “Welcome, Cormac!” greeted Cathal.

  Cormac arched a brow. “Y
e were expecting me?”

  “Most definitely, as well as your men. I would not expect the Laird of Castle Creag to journey far from his home during foul weather without others.”

  “The snows were light, and we are on an urgent quest.”

  Cathal peered over his shoulder. “And your men are tending to the horses in my meager stable?”

  “Aye.” Cormac chuckled.

  Embracing him, Cathal said, “Do come inside.”

  Stomping his boots to rid them of the snow and slush, Cormac entered the cottage. The warmth of the fire enveloped him along with the hearty smell of stew. His stomach grumbled. Dropping his satchel, he removed his cloak, and draped it over the bench.

  “’Tis good I made plenty.” The druid dipped a wooden spoon into the kettle. He waved his other hand to the left. “If ye would be so kind, there are extra mugs. How many men did ye bring?”

  “Gordon and Wallace,” replied Cormac. Retrieving the mugs, he placed them on the long table.

  Cathal wiped his mouth and placed the spoon on the shelf above the hearth. Moving toward the table, he swept his hand outward. “Sit.” Taking the jug, he poured some wine into the mugs.

  “Ye have wine?” asked a bemused Cormac.

  “A gift from the MacKays after the final battle.”

  “I thought ye would have stayed the winter,” suggested Cormac and stretched his arm to work out the knot in his shoulder.

  “Although Angus desired me to stay, I deemed it was best to return home for a while.”

  Cormac took a sip of the wine. “Hard to fathom Lachlan is dead and gone. I truly wish I could have been there. Do ye have regrets, because he was your kin?”

  “’Twas a battle only the Dragon Knights could fight.” Cathal swirled the wine in his mug. “The day my brother killed another in the name of the Dark One was the day he stopped being my kin. I shall speak no further on the matter.”

  Both men turned at the soft knocking on the door.

  “Ye may enter,” called out Cathal and stood.

  When Wallace and Gordon stepped inside, Cathal ushered them over to the chairs. “Greetings. Did ye find straw and oats in the back of the stable?”

  “Aye,” replied Gordon. “Thank ye for your kindness.”

  “Always,” stated Cathal. “Help yourselves to the wine. Cormac, ye can help me dish out the stew. I have bread in the cloth on the other table.”

  Soon they were all settled and the druid raised his head. Holding his arms upward, he said, “Thank ye Mother Danu for the food—for the blessing of the animal. May it nourish our bodies and feed our spirit.”

  “Thank ye, Mother Danu,” responded the men.

  Taking his first bite, Cormac closed his eyes, savoring the rich broth and meat. As he continued to eat, an idea occurred. “Ye are most welcome to return to Creag and help in the kitchens, Cathal.”

  The druid choked on his stew. Shaking his head, he replied, “Ye honor me, but I must decline. My skills are limited, and I fear Moira would also object.”

  “’Tis a shame,” grumbled Gordon.

  “Aye,” agreed Wallace. “I cannae remember when I have tasted better.”

  Cathal leaned back in his chair. “Ye spoke of a quest, Cormac. Should I guess?”

  Tearing off a piece of bread, Cormac shrugged. “Only one to bring back a cook.”

  “Sweet Brigid! What has happened to Moira?” Cathal asked in a shocked tone.

  “Mishap in the kitchens involving two lads and some sheep,” responded Cormac. “The outcome caused damage to her leg and both arms were burned. Furthermore, the young lass attempting to manage the kitchens also had an accident. So our quest is to venture through Wolf Cavern and find a woman by the name of Glenna.” Dipping the bread into the stew, he popped it into his mouth.

  Shock soon turned to mirth in Cathal’s eyes. “Ye need not go any further. For ye see, Glenna is helping with a birthing not far. She came to me earlier in the day to fetch some herbs.”

  “By the Gods, good fortune favors us, then!” exclaimed Cormac.

  Cathal laughed. “It would seem so, my friend. Though, how did ye come to ken Glenna?”

  Cormac wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Moira knows the woman. She spoke well of this Glenna and also said she was the only one she could trust.”

  “Aye, I have heard the same. Although, she does not like to travel far from her home, so ye may find it difficult to convince her to return with ye.”

  Raising a brow, Cormac reached for the jug of wine. “Moira believes she will come along if we give our account of troubles and her injuries.”

  Cathal rubbed a hand through his beard. “Family will call her forth.”

  “They are kin?” he asked, almost dropping the jug.

  “Ahh…I see Moira has not told ye.” The druid held out his mug for more wine. “They are distant cousins. Yet, both equally stubborn.”

  Wallace and Gordon both groaned.

  “Well, she trusts the woman enough to send for her,” Cormac stated as he poured the wine. “With Yule approaching, I want this celebration of light to be a feast for those under my protection. Lachlan’s destruction has ripped across our land. Now is a time of re-building—one of hope and peace.”

  Cathal sipped his wine. “Ye speak wisely, Laird Murray. In the morn, I shall take ye to Glenna. Tonight ye shall stay here. I have extra furs, unless ye object to sleeping on the ground.”

  “We welcome your shelter,” stated Cormac. “I would be honored if ye traveled back with us to Creag and aid with the festivities.”

  “It will be a privilege.” The druid raised his cup. “To peace once again.”

  “Peace,” they all stated in unison as they raised their cups.

  Cathal stood. “More stew, my friends?”

  Cormac laughed. “Most definitely. ’Tis a fine venison stew.”

  “I thank ye for the praise.”

  After the meal ended, Wallace and Gordon sought out their places by the hearth, while Cormac went to check on the horses one last time. The hearty meal and wine did naught to calm the restlessness that had taken hold of him. It wove its way into his body and mind, and he could not fathom the reason.

  Giving Fingal one final pat, he stepped outside and glanced up at the night sky. The stars winked down at him, brilliant against the darkness. He leaned against the stable and rubbed his hand across his chest. “I speak of peace for my people, but why can I not claim it? Is there more I must do?”

  “Ye seek answers to questions ye already ken.”

  Cormac placed a hand instinctively over his sword. “By the hounds! Must ye always sneak around?”

  The druid shrugged. “Ye are a trained warrior and should have heard my footsteps.”

  “I was deep in thought,” he muttered.

  Cathal poked him in the chest. “Ye have been alone far too long, my friend.”

  “I am not alone,” he argued.

  “Hmm…there is a difference between being alone and lonely. Find your answers within your heart.”

  As Cathal walked away, Cormac raked a hand through his hair in frustration. The druid made no sense and only added more questions to his list. “I am not lonely.”

  Yet, his words sounded hollow, leaving him more twisted inside than ever before.

  Chapter Six

  Inverness, Scotland—Present day

  “The Snow Queen wove sprigs of holly and ivy within the woman’s hair and presented her with a cloak of velvet rose petals.”

  Eve surveyed the black vehicle while the man chatted endlessly about the driving rules and the responsibility of returning the car back to him in excellent condition. Glancing down at the booklet in her hand, she flipped through the pages.

  “You cannot be serious?” she complained. “The car has a dent in the back, and it’s missing one of its side mirrors.”

  “I must point out the most important mirror is on your driving side.” The man adjusted his glasses on his face. “You have no n
eed for another. As for the dent, I have already made a notation in your paperwork.”

  Waving the booklet in front of his face, she complained, “And how am I supposed to learn all the rules of driving in this country? I’ve never ventured out of my own state.”

  The man shrugged. “You are not obligated to rent the vehicle. It was part of the transportation provided for all those traveling to Creag for the event.”

  Eve shoved the booklet in her bag. “Is there a bus to Castle Creag?”

  “No buses travel to the castle. This is why they offered to pay for a rental car.” The man shuffled the paperwork in his hands. “It is a scenic ride to the castle. You should not have any problems with the traffic at this time of the day. The road that leads to the main castle is not often used. It’s a back road, so you shouldn’t encounter other vehicles unless they are heading to Creag.”

  “Perhaps a taxi?”

  His eyes went wide. “Unless you are ready to pay almost two hundred pounds—”

  “Holy moly! Absolutely not!” Tired from the plane ride and growing irritable with each passing minute, Eve asked, “How long will it take to reach the castle?”

  He laughed. “Depends on how fast you’re driving.”

  “Trust me. I’ll drive like a tortoise.”

  “Two hours. But if it starts snowing…” He scratched behind his ear and then looked upward. Sniffing the air, he said, “I think you will have a safe journey.”

  “Wonderful,” she muttered. “I’ll take the car.”

  The man beamed. “Good to hear.” Handing her the keys and paperwork, he added, “Remember, you’ll only be on the A-82 for thirty minutes until you take the side road through the mountains. Slow and steady. Safe journey and good luck.”

  Eve gave the man a weak smile as she took the keys. Dumping her suitcase onto the passenger side, along with her backpack, she climbed in. Pulling out the booklet, she tried to make sense of some of the signs. Her biggest fear now was getting out of the roundabouts. They terrified her. If she had trouble with the ones in her own state, she shuddered to think of the ones she had to maneuver here.