Celtic Spirit (Celtic Storm Series Book 4)

by Ria Cantrell

  Derek scanned his memory. So much time had passed; it was hard for him to remember. Brandham. Jenna Brandham. Dear God…now he remembered. She was the daughter of the Wolf’s sister. Rory MacCollum had been his mortal enemy in life, and his sister had married a vile Englishman. Suddenly, the memory of the day he died flashed into his mind. He had been plotting to abscond the girl child and use her to ransom his way back into the Keep. She had only been a baby at the time, but he was certain her name was Jenna. But how could it be? The woman he had seen was not from his time. Nay, she was from this present time; where women wore tight indigo leggings and many of the men wore the same. Oh, he fumed. The Guardians were horrible to send him a MacCollum. While the fights between the clans must have long since ended, he still thought what a terrible irony. A MacCollum! They were going to send him a MacCollum wench. He felt bitter gall rising inside of himself. There was no amount of redemption that could quell the hatred he harbored for all things MacCollum.

  He stared up at the beautiful face before him. Now he remembered. He had seen this image many times that it had become something that had faded into the background of his memory. He had actually forgotten that it was there hanging in the great hall with images of his ancestors; melding the clans even when division was the norm. He was furious. This was just another cruel twist the Ancients wished to inflict on him. Derek wondered if this supposed redemption was worth it after all. He had put the ghosts of his own deeds behind him. He had lost all, well most, of the anger that had poisoned him, but he was not certain he could ever care for, let alone love a MacCollum. Too much had happened between the clans for him to seek redemption in the arms of one of the most hated enemies he had ever known. He wondered if the Ancients had set him up to fail because this sort of hatred ran deep. Derek worried that it was so deep that even years could not erase it.

  Except, as he looked up into the haunting eyes of Jenna MacCollum, he was reminded of the warmth of the smile on the sensuous beauty of his dreams. How he had longed to kiss those full pouty lips. He remembered the sadness in her beautiful eyes and he had longed to replace it with something else…desire perhaps; love…maybe. Could the woman he had seen been the same one? Could he forget the bitter feud that had always been between MacCollum and Campbell? Derek just was not sure that he could.

  He did not know how long he stood before the artist’s rendering of his enemy’s niece. The group of people had moved on through the Keep and still he stood there, gazing into the eyes that were the same as the ones he had seen in his dream. He wondered why he had never noticed how beautiful the Laird’s granddaughter had been. Now, as he looked up at the portrait, Derek thought, perhaps he had never known another woman to be more beautiful. Well, except, of course the one that had invaded his dreams. He wondered if his dream had just mirrored the image in the painting and that he had gotten so used to it hanging in the great hall, it had etched itself into his mind. He rationalized that had to be it, but even thinking that thought, Derek knew it was not so. The woman he had seen would be the one. She would save his soul and open his heart.

  His many years spent as a ruthless warrior left him no room for love, but as he felt compelled to look upon the portrait, he realized just how empty his heart had been. Derek was not sure he could wait until she was revealed to him. He had to see her. He had to touch her. Suddenly he felt as if all the past torment and waiting was nothing compared to this moment.

  Chapter 12

  Kiera packed her bags sadly. She would have to return to work by morning. She had enjoyed her too brief stay in Scotland and she promised Moira to return as soon as she could. She knew it was not an idle promise because she felt lost leaving the place. She had to explore it further. As she boarded the train, she just wanted to cry. Not only was she going back to probably be abused by that maniac, but she felt like she was leaving a part of herself behind. She hadn’t been in Scotland for very long; not long at all really, so she was not sure why she should have become so attached to the place, but as she left it further behind, she felt like she had lost a piece of her heart. Moira had told her to come back. Kiera was certain that it wasn’t just a stock response to get tourists to return. Something about the way the woman begged her to stay and quickly return made Kiera think the old one had some sort of insight into Kiera’s psyche and that Moira had felt it too.

  Kiera decided to call her father upon arriving back in London. She wanted to find out about her grandfather on his side of the family…the Callum side. She also was going to hit the local library and try to find out information about the MacCollums. Perhaps there would even be a book with the painting that looked like her in it.

  As the rolling landscapes changed and she left Scotland completely, Kiera vowed, “I promise I will come back to you…”, though she did not know who or what she was making that promise to. Perhaps it was as if she was promising herself.

  Two days later, Kiera found herself alone in a reading room of a library. She had been absorbed in a book about clan histories in Scotland. She had lost track of the time but what she had read was fascinating. She made notes and was determined to continue the research on her laptop once she had some time to herself. She learned that the MacCollums had been embattled in clan wars with another clan, Campbell. There was much bloodshed between both clans and the hatred ran deep. She tried to find a mention of Caleb or even Jenna Brandham, but the book she had been referencing only made mention of the clans very briefly. Kiera poured through another such book, but only found brief spots about all the chiefs of MacCollum throughout history. There was still no mention of Jenna or of her parents.

  Then Kiera looked up Clan Campbell. She wanted to know why the painting of Jenna was in the castle of Campbell when Campbell and MacCollum were considered bitter enemies. There was a small paragraph that told of the take-over of Castle Campbell when the last known male heir had died. There had been another brother who would have been next in line to take claim of the place, but it seemed that he had gone missing after years of mercenary service. Nothing else was known about him. A female offspring had inherited the Keep, but she had married into the Clan MacCollum. The paragraph just said that the Castle Campbell had remained in the hands of the MacCollums for many centuries later and was managed by them, to this day. Kiera wondered why the castle was still named Campbell if the two clans had been so diametrically opposed. She would have thought that the Keep would have been renamed to honor the MacCollum clan, but there was no other mention of it.

  Kiera checked her watch and sighed. She had been at her research for hours and she was running the risk of being late for her appointment back on the set. She made notes of books that held her interest and she would try to find them at a local bookseller later on or download an e-book for her Kindle. She hurried to catch a bus to the set. She was already 20 minutes late by the time she boarded the bus and she just hoped that it wouldn’t be noticed when she finally slunk onto the set. Alex was being filmed for a dissertation commentary on one of his findings but Kiera caught his glare across the room as she slipped behind the makeshift desk in the filming room. She made herself busy and buried her head into the paperwork, pulling some needed files and copies. She knew she was going to have to pay for her lateness with something akin to blood to appease the boss-weasel.

  Crap…she was going to have to put her research on hold and stay focused, but the more she tried, the more Kiera seemed to be drawn to thoughts that kept her far away. What was wrong with her? She knew it was most unwise to provoke Alex’s wrath, but it was as if she couldn’t help herself. Kiera had always prided herself on being prompt and capable, but since she had returned from Scotland, she found her thoughts wandering. She knew she had to get back there. Sure enough, as soon as the segment was filmed, Alex flew at Kiera in a blind and irrational rage. She apologized profusely because she was in the wrong this time and no amount of recalcitrance was going to appease him. She had to swallow her pride and suck it up. She promised herself to be more careful in the
future.

  After a long day, Kiera finally made it back to her hotel room. A blinking light on the phone told her she had a message waiting. It was her dad. She was grateful to hear his voice and he told her to call him back as soon as she got the message. Pulling her international phone card from her backpack, she dialed her dad, who now lived in California with his present wife. Despite her parents having been divorced a number of years, she still felt comfort in talking to her father. He picked up on the first ring and it was all Kiera could do to not start blubbering like a baby when she heard his voice. She schooled her emotions as best as she could and she quietly said, “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, baby. How’s things in England?”

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine, honey. What’s going on?”

  With a heavy sigh, Kiera let it all come burbling out in a rush of frustration and hurt. She heard herself babbling about the pull and lure of Scotland and her new obsessive interest in the Scottish side of her family. All the while, her father listened patiently. When it seemed she had finished “vomiting” her story, her father cleared his throat. He said, “that’s a lot of stuff to digest, honey.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m sorry. I suppose I was just venting.”

  “Well, let’s take one thing at a time. First of all, no one should be treated that way. Look, you have some savings. You know I am not a man to always trust impulses. I have had my fair share of troubles with them myself, but I think this job is a no win situation. You have nothing really holding you to this job. When you get back to the states, you were going to start looking elsewhere anyway. Why not give your notice and take the rest of the time to explore your dream.”

  Kiera gave a little shaky laugh. “That’s just it, Daddy. I sort of don’t know what that dream is. I mean, I had thought that dream included being with Jax.”

  “Nope, I mean one that is just about you. You know I completely support your choices. I may not always think jumping on impulses is wise, but you aren’t given to flights of fancy. If this is something that keeps pulling at you, I think you should trust your instincts.”

  “What are you saying, Daddy? That I should quit my job and go live in Scotland for a while?”

  “That’s exactly what I am saying. Call up that innkeeper and see if there are some odd jobs that need to be done in return for lodging. Then explore your heritage. I wish I had before my dad passed away. I think your granddad would be proud that you want to learn about his ancestors.”

  “And what about that, Daddy? Do you know of anything to do with the clan MacCollum?”

  “I seem to remember that our name originated somewhere down the line as MacCallum. Probably some guard at Ellis Island wrote it down incorrectly when your great grandfather came over and we became Callum. As for MacCollum, I am not sure I know that name, but I truly think it is close enough to be related. Interesting coincidence, though about that old inn keeper with that same last name. It would seem that there are forces behind your little get-away.”

  “Do you truly believe that, Dad?”

  He laughed. She loved her father’s laugh. It always made her feel better. He said, “You know honey, one thing about us Scots...and this could make your grandfather roll in his grave if he heard me say it, but we are not unlike the Irish when it comes to the belief in supernatural intervention. You know I have always believed in other-worldly things.”

  Kiera laughed, too. “Yeah, it was always a debate between you and mom.”

  “Well, your mother and I disagreed about lots of stuff, but we definitely did not share the same ideas when it came to things that couldn’t be explained away by logic.”

  “I always thought I was more logical than not, Daddy. I mean, well, I was not really the one who walked around with stars in my eyes.”

  “No, you weren’t. I guess I was more the dreamer than both my girls. This is why I am saying, honey, you are not a fly-by-night sort of girl. This is why I think you should go for it now, while you are young enough to take the chance. No one deserves to be abused, baby. And if I were there, I’d punch the little asshole in the face.”

  That imagery made Kiera laugh out loud. However many times she had imagined doing just such a thing, the mental image of her big burly father pounding her boss to dust was so comical, she couldn’t help giggling. There was nothing like a good heart-to-heart with her dad to make everything seem better. She said, “Thanks, Dad, but I don’t want you to go to jail…there will be no beating the snot out of the boss weasel in the near future.”

  “Yeah, well, your pretty boy Jackson is lucky I don’t live on the East Coast either, because if I ever get my hands on him, he won’t be able to look in the mirror for months.”

  Kiera wasn’t really a violent sort of girl, but she liked the idea of her dad pounding the crap out of the men who had hurt her. She totally knew his threats were not just idle macho ramblings. Her dad would happily land himself in the slammer if he thought his little girl was being mistreated. By the time she hung up, Kiera’s mood was bolstered and she was greatly cheered by her father’s talk. She grabbed a glass of wine and submerged herself in the reference books; cross referencing entries with on-line information. She fell asleep with visions of MacCollums and Campbells dancing in her head.

  ~ “What is yer’ name, Lass? I feel as if I have been waiting an eternity fer ye’ to come.”

  Kiera eyed the man in the tower. It seemed he was not of this world. He was something thrown back from the ancient past. Still, she was able to understand him. She should not have been able to understand his language if he was from the distant past, but his words rang clear.

  “I am Kiera. What do you mean you have been waiting for me?”

  “Did no one tell ye’?”

  “Tell me? Tell me what?”

  “About the curse. I have been cursed to this place…I am not even a man outside of these walls.”

  Kiera looked at the gorgeous beast of a man before her. His dark hair hung down his broad back. His delicious dark sea eyes were full of life. The bulging muscles in his upper arms looked manly enough. She had no idea what he meant by not being a man. He looked real. Hell, she could feel his heat. That was real. She ventured closer, not really believing him and in placing a hand on his arm, she felt the solidity of flesh and bones. That certainly was real. At her touch, he visibly flinched, as if she had burned him. Instead he did not back away from her, but caught her hand in his strong grasp. She expected to feel him crush her tiny fingers within his own, but she only felt gentleness in the grip. She tried to draw her hand away, but he held it firmly. He seemed shaken by the contact, but he refused to let go of her hand.

  It had been so long since he was able to feel the touch of another human being and here was this wee lassie, bravely touching him...when he had been nothing more than an aberration. A thing that had gone bump in the night…the thing that caused nightmares to probably countless people. But the Lass was not afraid. She had touched him with curiosity. The feel of her hand on his arm had been both exquisite and daunting. Now as her fingers rested in his big fist, the magnitude of loss hit him like a punch.

  Kiera knew she should be afraid of this big giant from a time not of her own, but instead, as she felt his fingers curling around hers, fear was the farthest thing from her mind. His eyes seemed to smolder as he looked at her. His size marked him as a dangerous man, but that look in his eyes was even deadlier…at least to her resolve. It had a strange power over her and she could not pull her gaze away.

  With an effort, she spoke, because her throat had suddenly gone dry. She didn’t know why he had been waiting for her, but she said, “Well, I am here now. You don’t need to wait any longer.”~

  Chapter 13

  Once again, Kiera found herself waking with a start. She had dreamed of him again. She hadn’t dreamed of him since she had been in Italy, but there he was like a beautiful fantasy. She knew her mind had been full of all the research she had done, but she thought she would h
ave dreamed of the place…not the man. Who was he? Why was he calling to her in her dreams? When she tried to remember the dream, all she could remember was him being there, in that tower. She couldn’t seem to remember anything else. She rationalized that it was because of her call to her father and she used it as an incentive to make her call to the Inn.

  Kiera hopped out of bed and dug through her things, looking for the receipt from her stay in Scotland. With trembling fingers, she dialed carefully, hoping she would know what to say when the call went through.

  Morag had been waiting patiently for the girl to call. She still found the use of the telephone novel and when it rang, she clapped her hands with glee. It’s about time, girlie, she thought.

  “Hello, may I speak with Moira, please?”

  “Ye’ are speaking with her.”

  “Well, hi. This is Kiera Callum…I stayed with you....”

  “Girl, I may be old, but I am not daft.”

  “Well, I…I ….”

  “Out with it, Girl! Ye’ want to come back, don’t ye’? I already told ye’ that I would hold yer’ lodging. When can we expect ye’?”

  “Well, I was wondering…Oh, Moira, I have not been able to stop thinking about the place since I left. You see…I don’t really have a place to go to when I get back to the states and I have been thinking about leaving my job. The thing is…I have some money saved up to last a while, but I was hoping that maybe I could do some odd jobs around for room and board.”

  The phone seemed to go silent on the other end.

  “Moira? Are you still there? I mean, if it isn’t possible, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

  “Well, the thing is, Lass, that there is an opening at the Keep.”

  “You mean where the picture is?”

  “The tour guide quit. The job comes with lodging in the Keep. It is more like being a grounds keeper as such. You would aid in checking guests in and then running the tours.”