“Malcolm, you’ve never said anything about this to me.” Alethia grabbed his hand, sensing what he would say next and wishing to stop him. “I’ll be all right.”
“I canna bear the thought of losing you, True.”
“What is it you wish to ask, Malcolm?” Giselle interrupted.
“Is it possible to send us to the future when my wife’s time comes? Could anything be done about Hunter’s hearing in the twenty-first century?”
Stunned, she realized he’d been giving this a great deal of thought. He’d intended to ask these questions since he’d learned the truth about her origins.
“Hmm, if it is his hearing that concerns you, give the lad to me.” Giselle reached for Hunter, who took that as a signal to climb like a monkey up his foster father and cling to his back—as far from Giselle as he could possibly get without leaving his parents. Malcolm pried him loose and handed him to his grandmother—many times removed.
Hunter kept his eyes locked on Alethia and signed frantically, “I don’t like this. Please, Ma, I don’t like her. She scares me.”
Alethia leaned forward, intending to take him from Giselle, only to be stopped by a push of pure energy.
“I mean him no harm, child. This will take only a moment.” Giselle blew into one of his ears, then the other. Then she placed her hands over both and closed her eyes for a moment. Satisfied, she handed him back to Alethia.
“What did you do?” she asked.
At the sound of her voice, Hunter covered his ears and made a sound of distress. He scrambled into her lap, and Alethia hugged him tight to her chest.
“He hears. It will take some time for him to adjust,” Giselle answered. “As to your other question, Malcolm, no, I cannot send you to the future. It is forbidden. I had to set things right after taking Hunter’s father from him. It is our law and the only reason I could bring Alethia here to you.”
Giselle shook her head as Malcolm made to argue. “Do not fear. Though I cannot send you to the future, I can bestow upon you a blessing. The little family you protect is dear to me, warrior. I grant you this boon. Know that the two of you shall live a long and happy life together. You shall have six strong and healthy children, and all will survive. When you need help the most, help shall find you.” She rose from her place and moved toward the back of her tent to draw something from a large old trunk.
Alethia’s eyes went wide, and she leaned back in the chair. Six children? And all healthy. She would have the big family she’d always dreamed of after all—a family her gran, cousins, uncles and aunties would never meet. Regret stole her breath, and she glanced at her husband, grounding herself in his strength and presence.
He’d straightened in his chair and puffed out his chest. A dazed, happy expression suffused his features. His obvious pride at Giselle’s revelation brought a smile to her face. Her future was here with him, and life in the twenty-first century would go on without her.
“This is for you, Alethia.”
Giselle’s voice brought her back to attention. She handed her a small lap harp, like the ones used by the bards in this era.
“I regret the loss of your violin. I know how important music is to you. You must continue with it.”
Alethia ran her hand over the smooth polished wood. “It’s lovely, thank you. Um…does it…is it…?”
Giselle disappeared once more to reveal her true identity. Áine laughed softly as she stood before them. “The harp holds no magic, child. Go now, live your lives in peace.” With that, she disappeared altogether.
“Let’s get out of here, Malcolm.”
“I’m right behind you, woman.”
EPILOGUE
October 1424
The entire clan waited with bated breath as Malcolm’s wife labored to give birth to their wee bairn. A collective sigh went up all over the island and across the loch in the village when the newborn’s wail could be heard. News that mother and child were well traveled swiftly from the island to shore.
At least, that was how it seemed to Malcolm. He knew his thoughts were fanciful. No matter. He smiled down at Hunter pacing beside him.
They both waited outside his chamber door, Hunter imitating his foster father’s actions right alongside him. His own mother had banned him from their chamber, and the midwife scolded him for upsetting True with his fretting. His heart had leaped with joy at the sound of his bairn’s first cry. At least his mother had the courtesy to inform him that his wife and child were well.
“Are we invited in to see the babe yet, lad?” William beamed as he approached.
“Nay, no’ yet. They are cleaning up first. I dinna think I can bear it much longer.”
“Da, Ma is fine.” Hunter tugged at his hand.
Malcolm tousled his hair. It still thrilled him to hear Hunter speak aloud. “I ken she is. Do you no’ wish to see your new sister, lad?”
“Aye.” Hunter grinned up at him.
Just then the door behind them opened. “You can come in now, but be quiet,” Lydia bid them. “True is quite exhausted.” She put her hand on Malcolm’s arm. “Your wee lassie is beautiful, Malcolm. Perfect in every way.” She opened the door wide for the MacKintosh men to enter.
Malcolm went to his wife’s side; their daughter lay cradled in her arms. True never looked more beautiful to him than she did at that moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Gently he sank down on the bed beside her while Hunter climbed up the other side. His mother and father stood together by the foot of their bed.
“Let me see her,” Malcolm said as he reached for his daughter. She made tiny noises as he unwrapped the swaddling blanket to see what their love had wrought. She had ten perfect toes, ten wee fingers, and dark downy hair covering her perfect little head. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t take his eyes from her. Raising her up, he kissed her soft, warm head and cradled her next to his heart. Leaning over, he kissed his wife. Her expression was that of tired bliss. “What shall we call her?” he asked.
“I want to call her Sky, after my family name. You can choose the middle name.”
“What think you of Elizabeth, after my mother?” Lydia asked. “It has a nice ring to it. Sky Elizabeth of clan MacKintosh.”
“I like it.” She smiled.
“Hunter, do you wish to hold her?” Malcolm asked.
“Aye, if you please.”
“You must support her head, like this.” Malcolm demonstrated before wrapping her back up and placing her in his foster son’s waiting arms. He took True’s hand in his as they both watched Hunter gaze with wonder at Sky.
“Give her back to me, Hunter,” True said as Sky began to fuss. She held her arms out for her daughter, and Hunter scooted out of her reach, keeping a firm hold on his foster sister. “I’m going to marry her one day,” he said, not taking his eyes off the baby in his lap.
Malcolm chuckled, taking the bairn from Hunter. “Mayhap you will, but not today, lad.” He handed his wee daughter to True, his chest full to bursting as he beheld those most dear in this world, content to the very depths of his soul.
Read on for a sneak peek of Barbara Longley’s next Novel of Loch Moigh.
Available Summer 2014 on Amazon.com
THE HIGHLANDER’S BARGAIN
Summer 1426
I agreed to pilfer this for you, and I have.” Robley placed the gold-chased disk of silver on the table between them. “I’ve done my part.”
“So you have.” Madame Giselle turned the platter over and traced her finger reverently over the inlaid gold. “So you have.”
“Now for your part of our bargain—”
“Impatient?” Giselle straightened and raised an eyebrow. “Very well then, mortal.” She crossed the room and took a large wooden box from the floor, and returning with it, she set it upon the table and opened the lid. “Now, I’m sure I put them in here…,” she muttered while shifting around the objects inside. “Ah, here it is.” Her eyes lit up, and she lifted a small leather pouch. “Listen carefull
y.” Placing the pouch in his hand, she gestured for him to sit.
He pressed the leather between his palms, trying to ascertain its contents.
“This pouch holds two crystals, tokens for your passage to and from the future. Wherever your departure may be, that will be the very point of your return. Hold fast in your mind the time and place you wish to be, and spin one of one of the crystals like a child’s toy.”
“A toy?” His eyes widened.
“You’ll know what I mean when you see the crystals.”
He tugged the pouch open to take a look.
“Not now.” Giselle covered his hands with hers. “Just listen. When you spin the crystal, you will see a change in the air above. Remember. Hold fast in your mind the time and place you wish to be and step into the disturbance. Time travel is not always exact,” she warned. “More so on the journey. You will always return to the exact spot, but you must hold the time you mean to return to in your mind. It’s crucial, or you may end up in a century not your own.”
“I understand.” He stood and opened his sporran, dropping the pouch inside. Much had to be done before he departed, and he had to decide when and where his journey would begin. Not knowing what to expect, he’d brought the currency True had given him, but now he wanted one more conversation with his cousin before he departed. He needed more details about the fair she’d been attending when she’d been taken. The Renaissance fair would be the perfect destination. Aye, it felt right. “My thanks, Madame Giselle.”
“Don’t thank me yet, lad. You’ve no idea whether or not the future will be to your liking.” She stood as well, walking toward the door behind him. “Good luck to you. Journey well, and may you find what it is you seek.”
Floating on a cloud of elation, he took his leave and set his course for Inverness Castle. Tomorrow he’d start out for home. He’d return to Loch Moigh with his fate held securely in a leather pouch within his sporran. Bloody hell! He’d just been to the realm of the fae. How many men could say that? Fetching the silver-chased disk had been easy, just as Giselle had said. Too easy.
For certes he’d gotten the better end of the bargain. Hadn’t he? He stopped in his tracks, doubt clouding his mind. Giselle was fae, and he’d heard the stories his entire life. Rarely were things what they seemed with the fae.
He shook it off. She’d said his task would be simple, and it was. That’s all there was to it. She had familial ties with his clan, and he had naught to worry about. Excitement thrummed through his blood. Within a se’nnight, he’d begin the greatest adventure of his life.
Erin swiped at the perspiration wrecking her makeup and checked the ground at the base of the cottonwood. She didn’t want to get anything on her Renaissance gown during her short break. Scanning the area for anthills, she set her bowl of “the Queen’s Caramel Apples” down and settled herself on the grass.
She tugged off her veil and headpiece, tossing them to the ground. Leaning back on the rough bark, Erin closed her eyes against the mother of all headaches torturing her. The unseasonably hot day, constant blowing dust and the smell of fried food and stale beer sure didn’t help. She massaged her temples, trying to stop the throbbing. If only she could ease her own pain the same way she did for her patients, but no. Her gift had never worked like that.
No doubt her headache was stress related, exacerbated by the heat and too many layers of heavy brocade and linen. Maybe if she pounded her head against the tree, she’d knock out the pain. Or not. She let out a long sigh, opened her eyes and stared up at the canopy of leaves.
What was she going to do? Almost finished with her master’s program, so close to getting her midwife certification, and her roommate chose now to move out of their apartment without notice? “Just my luck.”
She couldn’t afford the rent on her own, no matter how much she loved her large old apartment with its oak floors and built-in buffet. Thinking about the daunting task of finding a cheaper place sent another throb pounding through her skull. Her plate was already way too full. Plus, only one more weekend before the Renaissance festival closed, and this little bit of extra income would come to an end. With classes and clinicals, she hardly had any time to pick up nursing shifts. She supposed she could give up sleeping. “Screwed. I’m so screwed.”
She surveyed the back lot of the Renaissance fairgrounds. The grassy field held all the RVs, tents, trucks and trailers the seasonal workers brought with them for their weekends at the fair. The scent of horse manure drifted to her resting place, reminding her of the state of her life. “Crap.”
Well, there wasn’t anything she could do about it right this minute. She brought her treat to her lap, dipped an apple slice into the gooey caramel and took a big bite. The tartness coupled with the sweet caramel was so good she swore her mood lifted at least a few millimeters. Nothing like a bowl full of something sweet to bring her spirits up. She popped the remaining bit of apple in her mouth and sorted through her options.
Going to her mother for help was out. She and stepdad number four were going through another rough patch, and no doubt her mother would soon be single and impoverished once again. It was too late to take out a larger student loan for the semester. Did she have anything to pawn? Nope. She’d just have to float some bills and find a new roommate in a big fat hurry.
Dipping another apple slice into the dark golden sweetness, she caught movement from the corner of her eye and lifted her gaze, squinting a bit. About five yards from where she sat, heat waves shimmered and rose from the dirt like something you’d see radiating off a blacktop road, only way more defined. As she watched, the anomaly grew even stronger. “What the heck?”
She set her snack aside and pushed herself up to investigate. The moment she rose, the undulating waves took on color—pale pink and green. “Huh, a mini aurora borealis right here in the middle of the grass and on a bright sunlit day?”
She moved closer, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed. Nope. All alone and standing an arm’s length away, she fought the urge to reach out and see what would happen if she stuck her hand into the mirage. “Probably not a good idea,” she muttered, mesmerized by the dancing light show.
Something changed. A form appeared behind the shimmer. A man? Erin gasped a second before the impact sent her flying. “Ooph.” Flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her, she found herself pinned by his weight. She stared into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Her mouth went dry, and her heart pummeled her rib cage. Frightened out of her wits, she blinked a few times, hoping he’d disappear and everything would go back to normal. Impossible! Gorgeous men do not just fall out of thin air.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks goes out to Lindsay Guzzardo and the Montlake crew for giving this book of my heart a home. I also want to thank my wonderful agent, Nalini Akolekar, for believing in my work and for her constant support. And last, but certainly not least, a big thank-you to my readers. I love to hear from you. You can contact me through my website: www.barbaralongley.com. You can also follow me on Twitter @barbaralongley and on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/barlongley. Happy reading!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
© ADannettePhoto 2013
As a child, Barbara Longley moved frequently, learning early on how to entertain herself with stories. Adulthood didn’t tame her peripatetic ways: she has lived on an Appalachian commune, taught on an Indian reservation, and traveled the country from coast to coast. After having children of her own, she decided to try staying put, choosing Minnesota as her home. By day, she puts her master’s degree in special education to use teaching elementary school. By night, she explores all things mythical, paranormal, and newsworthy, channeling what she learns into her writing.
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True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 31