by Amanda Boone
“I do.” She squeezes his hand, gently.
They are silent a while. The tides rises, scarlet in the spilled torchlight around their feet. The sound of the sea is constant, a soughing hiss.
“Bryce?”
“Yes?”
“It doesn't feel right.”
“I know.” He is also starting to feel uneasy.
It seems peaceful enough out there. At their feet, the tide is lapping over their shoes.
“Get down!”
Bryce pulls Sophie down beside him. They are both crouching, now, her skirt and his trousers soaked in the salty, icy seawater
“What?”
“Listen.”
They both hear it. Shouts, whipping along the shore, torn on the wind. And horses. Coming closer. Fast.
“Whoa, there! Coastguard!”
“Ride, boys!”
“Sound the horn.”
The watch are calling the other coastguard troops. Soon the beach will be crawling with English soldiers.
“We have to go, now.”
“Where?”
The coastguard is coming straight towards them, and there is nowhere to go.
“We have to swim. We have no other way.”
“Right.” Sophie is brisk.
“Right.”
Sophie removes her petticoats and unfastens the long skirt of her gown, leaving her in her under shift and bodice. Bryce removes his shirt.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
The look that passes between them, a swift glance, is soft, her eyes gentle, his tear-damp with the weight of his emotions.
Then they are in the water, wading out until it reaches their chests.
“There!”
There are suddenly cries from the beach. They have been spotted.
A shot whizzes overhead, as Bryce and Sophie swim across the aching, wrenching waves.
Bryce and Sophie look at each other, terror and resignation mixing with the deep well of their love.
After ten minutes of aching, bone-numbing cold, they see what they never expected to see, but always hoped for. Ahead of them, rowing out, is a longboat.
“Yes!”
The sound is a hiss of jubilation.
After two minutes, they are hauling themselves, gratefully and exhaustedly, aboard. They flop in the boat, too exhausted to sit.
Ten minutes later, and they are alongside the ship. The coast is a dark blur, now, streaked with morning's grey, and covered with troops. No-one has yet thought to fire on the ship
Bryce is shivering under the blanket around his shoulders.
“Haul up anchor!” The captain is singing out. “We're on course.”
The ship is suddenly a hive of activity, with men climbing in the rigging, setting sails to the wind.
Bryce and Sophie stand close beside each other.
“We did it.” Bryce says it, slowly, and with awe.
“We're here.” Sophie agrees. She squeezes his hand. He squeezes back. They kiss.
The light is brighter, ahead of them. It pulses on the water. All their dawns will be like this, soon. Togetherness, and freedom.
The shore disappears into the mist behind them, and before them there is only light.
***
THE END
FaeFae Guardian
Highlander Romance
CHAPTER 1
Isle Of Skye, Scotland, C. 9th Century
FINN
EVERYTHING AROUND ME DISAPPEARED INTO A SEA of emerald and jade as I flew through the woods.
This is how I preferred to see the world, all rolled up into a unified green blur, nothing physical to distract or keep me from moving forward as my diminutive body sliced through the dense fog. Flying helped me reach a peace of mind unparalleled by anything else I had ever experienced. I fused into the air around me, feeling the invigorating whoosh of chilled air wash against my face as my wings synchronized with my heartbeat to turn me into a perpetually vibrating wave.
I broke through the throngs of trees into the clearing ahead, which was sloped with conical, rocky hills mostly covered in rippling greenery and tiny, isolated pools. Sheep idly grazed on their designated, ridged paths. I dipped down as I glided—reaching below me to let my fingers skim through the cold water. The sun started to peak through the normally flat, gray sky, causing the ponds to glitter around me. This was my favorite place. It was where I went when I needed to escape and be by myself. Everything about the lush landscape aided in providing clarity for my mind. Traveling here was a form of meditation in itself.
I touched down on the soft ground next to a shallow part of the water, the dizzying effects of gravity weighing heavily on my limbs after a particularly vigorous flight. My feet began to sink into the mud. I hopped up onto a nearby rock and sat down, letting my right leg hang off the edge. I dipped the toe of my shoe into the water and watched as ripples broke though the calmness.
“ISLAAAAAA!”
A woman’s wretched, unearthly scream reverberated throughout the hills, interrupting me from my thoughts, the sheep from their grazing, and birds from their perching. I tumbled forward in surprise, slipping from my spot on the rock into the chilly water. The winged, black dots took to the sky, flapping madly to escape the mystery trespasser, cawing for others to follow in kind.
I sat up, my hands cut up and stinging from the tiny rocks littering the bottom of the water I had fallen into. Surprise morphed into acute irritation. Disruptive humans had no right to intrude on places like this if they were going to throw their booming voices around.
I got up and unfurled my translucent wings, which were soaking wet. I sighed. I wouldn’t be able to fly like this. I twitched my wings, causing them to shake off some of the excess moisture. I started walking up a hill ahead of me, willing my body to stretch with every step . . . which it did. I slowly grew as I made my ascent up the hill until I reached my full size, six-foot-three. My wings simultaneously crawled back into my skin. This was my human form—a disguise convenient when flying wasn’t an option and stature was necessary.
I reached the top of the hill I was climbing and looked around for the source of the scream. I couldn’t see anything. The voice had seemingly emanated from the very core of the earth—meaning, it sounded far away despite its thunderous volume. Gazing around me, I watched as the world around me tried to regain its composure. My heart lurched in my chest when I saw something white lying by a pool of water, motionless.
Without hesitation, I bounded down the hill toward the figure. I stopped just shy of two feet from it—her. It was a girl. She was laying in the grass, dressed in a white, tiered lace dress with a blush ribbon cinching her tiny waist. She wore a crown of yellow and white flowers in her wild, flaxen blonde hair. Without realizing it, I was kneeling beside her.
Her chest was rising steadily. She was alive—just sleeping. Here. Of all places. I furrowed my brows at her and cocked my head to the side, quizzically. She was not like other humans I had seen who were ruddy, lumpy, and carried a heaviness around everywhere. She lay in the grass, seemingly weightless—lithe and as delicate as the lace of her dress that was lightly blowing in the wind. Her face was heart shaped with a tiny chin. Her skin was milky white save the sun that she had caught on her cheeks. Upon closer inspection, tiny freckles dotted the skin beneath her rosy blush. Her full, pink lips were shaped in a perfect bow, slightly parted. Her hair glowed gold in the sunlight. No, not just her hair—her whole self was bathed in light and goodness.
I vaguely considered getting up and going about my business. Leaving this human child—of about thirteen a couple of years younger than myself—to fend for herself. But I couldn’t muster the strength. Something stronger than curiosity was pulling me toward her. I felt my whole world shift with this girl at the epicenter. My surroundings fell into its familiar blur, but her face stayed in focus, becoming more vibrant with every second I stayed by her side. Breathing, which I hadn’t recognized as difficult before, came more
easily. Everything felt more harmonized in proximity to her.
I didn’t know what this was, but it was powerful, and I knew something had changed for good in me—something preordained and unfixable. I dug my fingertips into the earth around me, and a bed of heather grew up around and underneath her. I reached up and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. Her dark lashes fluttered and opened to reveal a pair of blue-green eyes with a golden ring around the center. Sunflower eyes.
I leaned down and left a whisper of a kiss on her astonished lips. She closed her eyes again, giving me the opportunity to return to my faerie form.
A stout, ruddy woman came traipsing up the hill I had come from, huffing and puffing the whole way. “ISLA!” she had been the screamer from before.
The girl sat up quickly, turning her head toward the woman. My wings now dry, I flew, finding a rock to hide behind. I peaked out from the side.
“Where have yah been, girly?” the woman asked, irritation flooding her voice.
The girl looked around with wide eyes, confused, apparently looking for her mysterious kisser. She touched her index finger to her lips. “I—”
“Young lady, do yah have any idea how long I’ve been lookin’ for yah? Ya father will have me head. Goodness, gracious, me,” she muttered, starting to walk back up the hill, assuming the girl would follow her.
The girl, abandoning her search for me, probably reasoning it away as a dream, looked down at the heather that had sprung up around her. She furrowed her brow in confusion, lips parted as if to ask a question, battling with what she had seen and what was rational.
“ISLA!” the woman bellowed again from the top of the hill. “RIGHT NOW!” More birds flew to the air to flee the disturbance.
“Coming!” she called, getting to her feet and running up the hill with impossible grace.
I flew up to the top of the rock I was hiding behind to watch her disappear into the green blurriness.
It was then that I knew I had to keep her safe. She was precious, kind, and didn’t fade away into the background of my life. I vowed to myself that I would be whatever she needed, whenever she needed it for as long as she’d let me.
I spread my wings and took to the sky, feeling less at ease as the distance continued to grow between us.
CHAPTER 2
Five Years Later . . .
ISLA
THE GRAY SKY ABOVE ME LOOKED BLANKER THAN IT had ever looked before. The opaque fog hung low in the air, keeping me from being able to look out too far beyond the ship harbor. The stationary vessels bobbed idly in the blackened water, their ghostly sails furled and dingy looking. It was getting late—the fishermen had already returned for the day, probably at home with their wives and children, eating some of what they had caught that day.
I was alone. I wasn’t supposed to wander off the property unescorted, but this was a rule I frequently broke. I loved the feeling of walking by myself, especially when I needed to get away to think. There was something freeing about the autonomous trance-like state in which I wandered through the rocky hillside—no specific destination in mind, just going wherever my feet decided to take me. I wasn’t afraid of walking around by myself, though it was a fear my parents tried to instill in me at a very early age. You never knew who could be lurking beyond the fog. But I wasn’t deterred. Besides, I was never truly alone, anyway.
Dampness started to seep through the leather of my shoes and the hem of my blue dress because of the wet grass. I lifted my skirt slightly, the wetness brushing against my ankles. I shivered and wrapped myself in my arms. It was starting to get chilly.
I walked toward the cliff overlooking the harbor to get a good view of the blurry setting sun, obscured by the dense gray. The ocean presented a mirror, though more warped, image of the descending orb. I stood rooted to the spot, the pale yellow light having a calming effect on me. I made a resolution to watch the sun follow through on setting—something in me was convinced that seeing it disappear behind the distant, shadowy cliffs ahead would make everything okay. If the sun could rise and fall every day no matter what obstacles stood in its way then I could do this . . . for my family.
My spirits fell as I remembered why my head needed clearing in the first place. My insides seemed to generate ice that coursed through my veins in place of my blood as I thought about the events of the past couple of hours. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to go through with it.
The sun was mostly out of sight, now, only a sliver was visible behind the mountain that looked as if it were devouring it. I walked forward, so the tips of my toes hung over the edge of the cliff. In the process, I accidentally kicked a small rock forward. I watched as it fell gracefully at a steady pace, soundlessly disappearing into the inky black abyss. I wondered if I would fall the same way.
My morbid thoughts frightened me, and I quickly backed away, shaking my head to erase them from my mind. Things weren’t that bad off. I turned around, causing my untamable blonde hair to whip across my face. I did nothing to try to quell it.
Before I knew it, I was back at my house. The torches were lit in front, probably for my sake. I observed the spacious building I had lived in all my life. During my family’s prosperous days, it had stood proudly, eliciting envy from those who came across it. Nowadays, the thatched roof was full of holes; the white siding was browning and contained numerous cracks, and the wooden beams were visibly rotting. Soon, the place would be inhabitable due to its owners’ neglect. Not that we were to blame, horrific circumstances beyond our control had left us basically destitute—my father’s death nearly five years ago.
It had happened very suddenly. One day he was fine, the next he developed a cough, then he was bedridden, and the fourth day he was gone. We, my mother, two brothers, and I were left without a plan, without means to live. My older brother, Greer, was only fifteen years old, but he was expected to become the head of Clan McGreggor. We’d been struggling ever since. Worst of all, my mother had abandoned herself that day—turning into a shell of the happy, vibrant person she had been before.
With my eldest brother preoccupied, my mother absent, and my younger brother, Aiden, being much younger, I had felt very alone and vulnerable. The only person I had to keep me company was my family’s nurse, Morna. She had been my primary caretaker since infancy, my parents being too busy as socialites to tie themselves down to the job of raising children day in and out. Morna was a loud, burly woman who had a hard time keeping up with me, which made evading her much easier.
“ISLA!” I jumped at the sound of Morna’s scolding voice. She was standing in the doorway of the house, her fists resting on her ample hips, her face sour and pulled down in a frown. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been about you?”
“I’m sorry, Morna,” I breathed, brushing past her into the house, my eyes downcast to avoid her disapproving stare. Without another word, I marched up the stairs, and turned into my room. I shut the door behind me and stood in the center, idly. How long would this continue to be my room?
I heard the door creak open. I turned to seen Morna entering my room, timidly. A far cry from the blistering woman I had witnessed downstairs. I looked away from her, silently begging her not to talk, knowing that’s why she came in here. I began to tug on the strings of my dress.
“Here,” Morna murmured, stepping toward me. “Let me help.” When Morna was upset, she liked to keep busy.
I dropped my arms to my side as she began unlacing my dress with deft hands. My dress fell around my ankles, leaving me in only my chemise. I smoothed the white, cotton material over my stomach, stepping out of my discarded clothing. I walked over to my bed and sat down on the edge. Morna followed, sitting beside me so she was facing my back. She gathered up my wild hair, moving it so it fell down my back in gentle waves. I couldn’t keep up my stoic façade any longer. I laid my head in her welcoming lap. She began running her stubby fingers through my hair. I tried to stifle a cry, but it escaped along with a solitary tear.
<
br /> “Oh, sweetie,” Morna cooed, continuing to stroke my hair. “It’ll be all right. We knew this day was going to come eventually.”
I sniffed, unconsoled by her words. I knew someday I would have to marry, but there had always been a part of me that believed or hoped that I would be able to choose my husband . . . that I’d be in love. Instead, I had basically been bought by the most arrogant man in town, Colin MacLeod.
Colin was the eldest son of the most powerful Clan in Skye and the object of many girls’ desire with his dashing good looks, raven hair, and powerful physique—just not mine. I was constantly put off by his bravado. He was single-handedly the vainest man I had ever met. His only criteria for a wife were her looks. He had made his opinions about mine abundantly clear over the years with his aggressive flirtation and suggestions. The memory made my stomach churn, and I let out another sob.
“Hush, now,” Morna warned. “I know it seems scary right now, but Colin MacLeod will make a fine husband. He’ll take care of a pretty girl like you.” I looked up at her and she gave me a crinkly smile, which had deepened in her skin over the years. She sounded wistful when she talked about my fiancé. I guessed she was never the type of woman who garnered attention from men like Colin. I wasn’t grateful for his admiration, I was bitter about how he coveted me for superficial reasons. I wasn’t a person for him to protect and take care of—I was his property.
I stifled my tears to appease Morna though I didn’t feel any better. I gave her a strained smile, which she accepted. She leaned forward and planted a wet kiss on my forehead. “That’s a good girl,” she murmured. She pulled back the covers on my bed, encouraging me to lie down. She tucked me in, stood up, and picked up the candle on my nightstand. “It’s just the shock that’s got to you is all. You’ll feel better in the morning.” I nodded mutely at her, closing my eyes so she’d get the hint to leave. “Sweet dreams, girly.”
I heard her thunderous footsteps retreat toward the door, open it, and shut it gently. After a few seconds, I rolled onto my stomach, burying my face into my pillow, and let the tears fall freely. My cries were partially stifled, but my sobs were still audible. I cried hard for what seemed like a very long time, releasing the stress of the day from my body any way I could.