Highland Guardian

by Melissa Mayhue

  He tried again. “Think, Sarah. What do you want? What’s important to you? What do you care for most in life?”

  Ian.

  No, she’d never admit that to him. She grasped for something else. Something she could admit to.

  “My writing.”

  A large smile blossomed on Dallyn’s face. “I suspected you’d say that. It was Ian’s love that gave back to you the ability to write again. The ability that you’d lost when you first arrived. Creation comes from the soul. Your soul was bound and suffering when you came here, withering away waiting for you to accept what you are, waiting for you to find your other half. Ian is that other half.”

  “Well, apparently you forgot to give Ian this pretty little speech. He doesn’t think he’s my other half. In case you missed the news bulletin, he’s gone, without so much as giving me the common courtesy of an explanation. As I said, no discussion, no good-bye, not even a ‘kiss my ass.’ So my soul’s just going to have to suck it up and get over it.” Just like I have to.

  “You must understand, Sarah. He had a good reason for leaving.”

  “Oh yeah. I’m sure he did. ‘Really important business,’ I believe was the excuse Henry stuttered over.”

  “In a way. He left to protect you.”

  “Protect me? Hardly. He left to get away from me.”

  “You’re wrong. Just as your soul cried out for him, his is crying out for you even now. You must be willing to risk everything for him when the time is right, as he will risk everything for you. And for now you must be willing to do as he asks.”

  “That is such a load of bull—” She stopped herself. Dallyn didn’t deserve her wrath. This wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to help his friend. “My risk-taking days are over. Understand this, and feel free to share it with Ian. I’ll see who I want, when I want, as often as I want, and there is nothing you, or Ian, or anyone else has to say about it.”

  “So you’re going to see this young man again?”

  “I am.”

  “Sarah, do you have any idea of the chance you take? How you tip the scales of fate with your actions? Can’t you—”

  “No,” she interrupted, and stood, walking to the door. “I think it’s time you left, Dallyn. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it really isn’t any of your business. Please, just go.”

  At the door he stopped, placing a hand on her shoulder. “When the time comes, I hope you’ll remember what I’ve said to you.”

  “Whatever. Good-bye, Dallyn.”

  Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he left.

  She stood in the doorway, watching him walk away until he reached the curve in the path and she could see him no more. She walked to the desk and opened the drawer, pulling out her travel paperwork. Perhaps she should call the airline. It didn’t matter how high the charge to change her tickets, she didn’t think she could stay here much longer. Between the constant Faerie garbage and the painful memories of Ian, life was getting out of hand. She stuffed the envelope in her pocket.

  A girl could only take so much.

  * * *

  Dallyn hated surprises.

  Unless they were ones of his own making. Unlike this one. He especially disliked the ones he should have anticipated and prepared for. The ones that shouldn’t have surprised him at all.

  It would appear things were a tad more involved than he’d thought. Obviously young Ian hadn’t been completely forthcoming about the extent of his relationship with Sarah. No matter. While it did complicate the situation somewhat, it also served to further confirm his initial suspicions.

  Not that he’d needed confirmation after he learned that Ian had seen the woman’s soul. Anyone who was old enough to remember the before times knew that the only soul you could ever see was that of your Soulmate. Those two were meant to be with one another. How many lifetimes had passed with those two souls missing an opportunity to be together?

  After the Nuadians disrupted the flow of the Fountain, this had been the fate of so many. That, along with the years of war, had directly contributed to the decline in the number of his people. It was exceedingly difficult to put the broken pieces back together, to right the flow, to reconnect the proper pairings of souls.

  True, that wasn’t his job. His was only to protect. Others would have the responsibility to repair. And, yes, the High Council frowned upon any of the Fae meddling in the affairs of Mortals, but, on occasion, a little judicious meddling was necessary.

  At least in his opinion it was.

  He sat on the lowest branch of a tree outside the Portal door, twirling a fresh green leaf between his fingers. A storm was coming. He could sense the energies gathering in the air. He’d need to stay alert. Wait and watch for the opportunity he sought. It would only come once, and if he missed it, there was no telling how many more lifetimes would pass before another presented itself.

  He smiled as he hopped lightly off the branch and disappeared through the Portal. What the High Council didn’t know wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  Or so he hoped.

  * * *

  Sarah let the book she’d been reading fan shut. She leaned back on the cushioned bench and closed her eyes, shaken by the things she’d learned. The fragile old texts she’d so carefully stacked on the wooden table in front of her seemed to mock her now, as if the long-dead authors scorned her for how little she knew of her world.

  After her conversation with Dallyn she’d been too rattled to concentrate on her writing. Tired of everyone explaining things to her as if she were a backward child, she’d gone to the manor house to ask if the nearby town had a library. It was time for some serious research.

  Instead Henry had ushered her into his library and given her free rein. What she’d discovered was amazing. The McCullough library housed an impressive collection of works covering sacred texts, legends, religions and, what she’d actually sought, Faeries.

  Wanting privacy, she’d brought the texts out here to the gazebo, where she could read without concern for being interrupted. And read she had.

  As she sat forward, placing this last text on top of the others, her eye lit on a bulge under the far cushion and she stretched over to investigate.

  Her sandal. The sight of it jarred her as the memories of the night she’d left them flooded back, washing over her. She’d completely forgotten about leaving them here. She stood and looked around, lifting all the cushions to peek underneath.

  Only the one shoe in sight, the other nowhere to be found. Another mystery, as unsolvable for her at this moment as the one that had led her to this spot earlier today.

  She’d spent hours out here perusing the Faerie lore collection, ending up as confused as she’d been before she started. Everything Ian had told her was documented in these texts, up to and including the Swiss name Servans. Everything except what she wanted most.

  Everything except proof that it was real.

  * * *

  At the first tentative knock, Sarah considered ignoring the visitor, pretending to be gone. She wondered if Dallyn might have returned for another round of what he was dishing out today.

  Hiding wouldn’t work. She might have shut her door, but the windows were wide open. Whoever was knocking had only to move a little to either side and they’d see her sitting there.

  She’d never get her book finished at this rate.

  Sighing in resignation, she rose and went to answer the door.

  “Hello, dearie. Is everything all right out here?

  “Yes, Martha. Everything’s fine. Why?”

  “Well, yer door’s closed. You dinna ever keep it closed, except for after…” Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat, keeping her eyes trained on her suddenly interesting feet. “You’ve a phone call up at the house.”

  “Thanks.” For the call and for not finishing that earlier comment. She didn’t need to be reminded that everyone here knew how upset she’d been by Ian’s leaving.

  Once again she followed Martha to the man
or house and answered the telephone in the kitchen. Once again, an efficient female voice confirmed it was her on the line before handing the call off.

  “Good afternoon, my sweet.”

  “Hi, Ramos. Why do you do that? Have someone else call for you?”

  A low chuckle preceded his answer. “I’m guessing some of the people there might prefer you not speak to me. If they knew it was me, I’m not sure I’d ever get to talk to you.”

  “Ah. Good answer.” Before her conversation with Dallyn, she might have denied Ramos’s assertion. Now she suspected he could be right.

  “Have you been thinking pleasant thoughts of me today? Like what a wonderful, generous bad boy I am?”

  “I may have. But I’m sure you knew I would when you sent that little gift.”

  He laughed. “Little? You wound me to the quick. Sweets for my sweet. Clever of me, wasn’t it?”

  “A regular old box of candy wouldn’t do?”

  “Not for you. It had to be a rich, sinful chocolate so I could imagine you with your eyes closed, making that little face of sublime satisfaction. Besides, sending a regular old anything wouldn’t fit my image.”

  The tease she heard in his voice made her smile. “Yeah, I almost forgot. Bad boys like to spend big.”

  “Everything about us bad boys is big.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll be taking your word for that.”

  “You don’t have to. I’d be happy to demonstrate.” He paused. “No?”

  “No.”

  His laughter filled the phone line.

  “Not funny, Ramos.”

  “But it is from my end of the conversation. I can picture you standing there, blushing bright red, with your attentive audience hanging on every word.”

  She glanced behind her. Martha had her back turned, busily straightening the contents of a drawer. The same drawer she’d straightened the last time Sarah had taken a phone call from Ramos.

  “Are you still coming tomorrow, or were the chocolates an apology?”

  “I’m counting the hours, my sweet. So we’re still invited to come across your drawbridge and whisk you away?”

  “We?”

  Another laugh. “Of course. My traveling companions and I. I’m bringing a lovely bottle of wine in a particularly delightful vintage, and perhaps another, even more decadent form of chocolate to sweeten you up.”

  “I like your choice of traveling companions. Yes, you and all your friends are invited to cross my drawbridge, your arrival highly anticipated.”

  “Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  A clatter from the counter behind her where Martha stood distracted her, nearly drowning out his response. The housekeeper had knocked over a box of pasta, scattering little uncooked tubes all over the floor.

  “I need to get back to work. When do you think you’ll be here?”

  “Is four acceptable? Or better yet, three. No, I don’t want to wait that long, two. Or…”

  Chuckling, Sarah interrupted him. “Four. I’ll plan on your being here at four.”

  “Until then.” His end of the line went dead.

  After hanging up the receiver, she bent down and began picking up little pasta tubes, unsure whether the sudden feeling of dread that swept over her came from the woman who’d been eavesdropping on her conversation or the man with whom she’d spoken.

  Twenty-four

  “You canna allow this to happen. You have to do something to stop it.”

  Ian balanced the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he hopped from one foot to the other, pulling on his pants.

  “I did all I could.” Dallyn’s voice floated to him over the line.

  “I canna believe that. Yer without a doubt the most powerful man I know and yer telling me you canna make one small woman bend to yer will?”

  “She may be small, but she’s a mind of her own, that one.”

  “Did you no remind her of her promise? She said she’d no have anything to do with that man.”

  “I did remind her.”

  Ian huffed an irritated breath as he hunted for his shirt in the pile of clothing he’d dumped out of his suitcase.

  “And? Did she have a response?” Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth to get a straight answer from the Fae.

  “I believe her exact words were something along the lines of all bets being off because you’d left. Oh, and promises. She included promises as being off as well. Said I should feel free to tell you that.”

  “Bloody, stubborn woman. Well, you simply have to keep them out until I can get there. That’s all there is to it.” He tucked the receiver under his chin while he pulled on his socks.

  “How do you expect me to do that? She’s invited them. It’s out of my hands.”

  He had felt so safe. So sure there was no way they could get to her. Never once had he considered she would invite them across the water. Unless they could be stopped, unless he could get there and stop them, the last six centuries of his life would have been wasted.

  “You must do something.”

  “What would you have of me? Should I try to talk them off the estate?” An unusual trace of irritation sounded in Dallyn’s voice, fueling Ian’s concern.

  “I dinna care what you do. Or how you do it. Stop them however you like. You canna let them cross onto the property.”

  “If I had the power to do anything violent on the Mortal Plain, we never would have needed Guardians, now would we? My job is to meet them on the other side of the Portal with whatever amount of force is required. If you fail in your job. Stopping them before they enter the Portal is your job, Ian. It’s why you’re supposed to be here.”

  He felt the rebuke in Dallyn’s words. Deserved it and much more. Of course he was supposed to be there. His being there was all that stood between life as it is now and a return to utter chaos.

  His being there would also mean Sarah’s death.

  How could Dallyn sound so sure of himself? Ian wanted to rage, to throw the phone through the wall, to pound someone’s face. It was a testament to his sheer force of will that he managed to speak at all.

  “What time did you say she’s expecting him?”

  “According to Martha, they should arrive at four.”

  He glanced at the clock. Half past one.

  “Dinna let her out of yer sight, not for an instant. Swear it to me.”

  “I will do my best.”

  “No. I’ll have yer oath on it. No double talk, no Faerie riddles. This is too important.”

  “I so swear.”

  “Good enough.” Ian slammed down the phone without waiting to hear more. Sliding into his shoes, he grabbed his keys and cell phone off the coffee table and ran for the door.

  He flipped the phone open, hitting the speed dial as he sprinted toward his car.

  “Danny? No. I’m no coming. Shut up and listen. I’m on my way to the airport. I need a plane ready to take off in the next twenty-five minutes. And I’ll expect a car waiting when I land. Oh, and make sure it’s a fast one.” He flipped the phone closed and unlocked the door of his own automobile. Too bad it wouldn’t be waiting when the plane landed.

  There was no possible way he could get to Thistle Down Manor before Ramos and whoever would be with him. The best he could hope for at this point was arriving in time to prevent total destruction.

  The best he could pray for was accomplishing that without sacrificing Sarah.

  * * *

  Three forty-five. Fifteen minutes and counting. Sarah’s hand shook as she applied her mascara.

  Soft music filled the cottage along with the aroma of lasagna bubbling in the oven. The table was set, the kitchen cleaned, and still she couldn’t quite rid herself of the feeling of impending doom that had settled over her at the end of yesterday’s telephone call.

  “Stupid.”

  What was the absolute worst that could happen? She could burn dinner. No, the absolute worst-case scenario would be a renegade asteroid impacting the earth and d
estroying all life.

  She smiled at herself in the mirror as she picked up her lipstick pencil. Way too much Science Channel television. The asteroid option was one she could quickly discard.

  But she couldn’t rid herself of the unnamed dread so easily, or the nerves that accompanied it, so she gave up on the lipstick, opting for a little clear gloss. Better no color at all than looking like she’d had her makeup done by a deranged preschooler.

  One last quick inspection in the mirror before she flipped off the light, closed the door and headed to the kitchen to check her lasagna. After all, she hadn’t ruled out the burning-dinner scenario.

  Everything looked fine. She turned off the stove, leaving the casserole inside to finish and stay warm. She rolled down her sleeves and buttoned the cuffs at her wrists. She was as ready as she was going to get.

  Anything else? Another glance at the table and she thought of the beautiful etched crystal pieces she’d seen in the top cabinet above the refrigerator. She dragged a chair over, climbed up and retrieved two delicate wineglasses.

  Ramos said he was bringing a bottle of wine.

  She had just finished drying the freshly washed goblets when a light knock sounded at her door.

  “Come in,” she called as she started toward the sound, both wineglasses still in her hands. “Look what I found in…” The words froze in her mouth as she looked up.

  An unsmiling Ramos stood in her doorway, but it was the sight of the people who accompanied him that brought her to a halt, silencing whatever thought of small talk she’d had.

  Reynard Servans and Nicole Tanner flanked him.

  The delicate crystal slipped from Sarah’s hands unheeded, shattering on the floor at her feet.

  * * *

  Three forty-five. Ian glanced at the clock on the dashboard and silently cursed. He had been driving for twenty minutes, battling traffic as he raced toward home. At this speed, it would be at least another forty-five minutes and that was assuming optimal conditions. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Henry again, apprehension as high as his impatience.

  Four rings. Five. Where could they be? Six. No one had answered the last two times he’d dialed.