A grip of steel on her wrist was her only warning.
Within the space of a heartbeat, she was flipped onto her back, her arms stretched above her head.
Ramos loomed over her, his body covering hers, holding her immobile. His eyes glittered, reflecting the glow of the fire.
“Mairi?” Ramos whispered. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in here?”
How had he moved so quickly?
“I needed to…” The words stuck in her throat as he released one wrist, his hand slowly skimming down her arm.
“To talk to you.” Once freed, the words came out in a breathless rush, one tumbling over the other.
“Talk?” A lazy smile curved his full lips.
Such a fascinating mouth, such mesmerizing lips. She sucked in her breath and he dipped his head, so close their lips almost touched.
“About?” With the one whispered word, his breath trickled over her face, an inviting tendril of air beckoning her closer.
She couldn’t resist its call.
ALSO BY MELISSA MAYHUE
Thirty Nights with a Highland Husband
Highland Guardian
Available from Pocket Books
Pocket Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Melissa Mayhue
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
ISBN 13: 978-1-4165-7571-9
ISBN 10: 1-4165-7571-5
Visit us on the Web:
http://www.SimonandSchuster.com
My deepest appreciation to my family,
for their continued support and for all the
Every Man for Himself dinner nights
they put up with when I’m consumed with
finishing a book on time!
Acknowledgments
A very special thank-you goes out to the following people:
To the SoapBox Divas—Rena Marks and Kirsten Richard—for holding my feet to the fire when I try to slide. Writing would be so much less fun without you guys!
To my Monday Night Valentines for all their support—talented ladies all—Micole, Laura, Sherry, and Pat
To Nick and Chandra for the engraved, framed book cover I will treasure forever
To my agent, Elaine Spencer, for all her wonderful enthusiasm and all the amazing knowledge she shares so freely
To Marty for his help on our visit to the bookstore—pointing out my books to all the ladies there!
and as always
To my wonderful editor, Megan McKeever, for encouraging me to bigger, better, more!
Soul of a Highlander
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Epilogue
Prologue
Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?” Ramos Servans looked into the eyes of the man who offered to champion his cause. The man from whom he’d very nearly stolen everything. “After all, you better than most know what I really am.”
“Aye, that I do. And for that reason alone I stand as yer sponsor.” Ian McCullough shrugged. “Besides, my Sarah vouches for yer character. That should be enough for anyone.”
They stood deep in the forest, in the same clearing where only a short time ago they had faced one another as enemies. Now this man, this Guardian, had forgiven him. If only he could forgive himself.
“It’s certainly enough for me.” Dallyn nodded his head in agreement. The High General of the Faerie Realm stood with them. He had come to hear Ramos’s decision. “Well, young man, what will it be?”
“You offer me an avenue to offset some small portion of the damage I have done. I am eternally grateful. And wholly unworthy. I will do my best to serve you in any way I can.” Ramos bowed his head, guilt eating at his soul. He would never be able to right all his wrongs. The wrongs of his father.
Dallyn arched an eyebrow, trading a look with Ian before answering. “Eternity is a very long time, my young friend. A very long time. Welcome to our ranks.”
Ian grasped his wrist and shook his hand. “You’ve made a good choice, Ramos. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.” Ramos stopped. What could he say to this man? “But know that I consider myself in your debt.”
“There’s no need for that. You’ve showed yer true colors. Now go on. You’ve work to do.” Ian clapped him on the back before turning and striding away down the path.
“You’re ready, then?” Dallyn held out a hand, inviting him forward toward the large rocky embankment in the dense trees.
“I am.”
He was ready to leave this place.
Being here brought it all back, the pain and humiliation stark and fresh as if it had been yesterday. The physical wounds might have healed, but it would take more than time to heal the emotional wounds.
He had entered the clearing that day, his arm around Ian’s throat, holding a knife there. The first thing he’d seen was the rage distorting Reynard’s features, revealing a side of his father he’d only rarely experienced.
“You think to defy me? We’ll see about that,” Reynard had threatened Sarah. “Ramos, bring him.”
Surprisingly Ian hadn’t struggled as they’d moved forward.
“It’s very simple, ma petite,” his father had said to Sarah. “Take me to the Portal now, or Ramos kills him. You can watch the mighty Guardian, sworn Protector of the pitiful Mortals, die, his lifeblood spilled out on the ground. Here. In front of your very eyes. Is that what you want?”
What had his father said? “Sworn Protector of the Mortals? Is that true? You never told me that.” He couldn’t believe his ears. It flew in the face of everything he’d ever been taught.
“There are many things I’ve not told you. Many things you’ve no need to know,” his father had dismissed.
“Is it the truth?” he had demanded.
“Aye, it’s true.” Ian had answered. “I’ve spent the last six centuries protecting them from the ravages of yer people. Those who murder Mortals at random for nothing more than the energy released when their soul is forced from its host before its time. Thousands upon thousands of lives lost to those monsters. Those same monsters who would capture the Fountain of Souls for their own purpose, throwing the cycle of life out of balance again, risking what’s left of humanity in both worlds.”
“Father?” He’d wanted desperately to have his father deny the horrendous accusations.
“You doubt me, son? You’d listen to the words of a Guardian? A cre
ature who’s no more than a lapdog to the enemies of our people?”
But that was no denial.
Instead Sarah had confirmed his fears. “Ian doesn’t lie to you, Ramos. What he tells you is the truth. I attest to that. It’s as I told you before.”
“Father? Is what the Guardian says true?” He had to know. Had to hear the words from his father’s own mouth.
A cruel smile curled Reynard’s lip. “In a manner of speaking.”
“We’re responsible for all those deaths?” This couldn’t be happening.
“Deaths that were of no consequence. Mortal deaths. Once we retake the Faerie Realm, once you taste the power of the Fountain, then you’ll understand why all of this has been necessary.” His father had turned his attention back to Sarah then, demanding again she take him to the Portal.
“Of no consequence?” How could Reynard say that? “Father, have you forgotten that I am as much Mortal as I am Fae? That those lives you so easily dismiss are my people, too?”
When Reynard had answered, he hadn’t even bothered to look at his son. His words, the words that cut Ramos to the quick, were delivered with no more care for his son than for a complete stranger.
“No. I haven’t forgotten what you are. Nicole, kill one of the men. I don’t care which. Perhaps that will help our little Sarah to understand how serious we are.”
“You can’t mean that. He’s your son.” Sarah had sounded incredulous.
As incredulous as Ramos had felt.
Reynard shrugged carelessly. “He’s also a Mortal.”
His father had lied to him, used him his whole life. And at that moment, as he had looked into his father’s eyes, he had seen nothing. No compassion, no care, no love.
Ramos had done the only thing he could think of at the time. He had taken the bullet meant for Ian.
All those years of training to fight the Fae because they were the monsters who threatened the World of Mortals. And they weren’t the monsters at all. It was his people.
That betrayal had nearly driven him mad until he had been offered this opportunity.
Yes, he was ready. Ready for a new life. One he didn’t deserve, but one he would spend in attempting to atone for the atrocities his people had caused.
Dallyn placed his hand on Ramos’s shoulder and urged him forward, directly into the solid rock face tucked between two large, gnarled trees. One moment he thought he’d slam up against the boulder, the next he stood in a sylvan glen, a place more beautiful than any he had ever seen. The clarity of the colors stole his breath away. He glanced back the direction from which he had come and stopped in amazement at the sight of a huge carved rock door.
“Where did that…?” He hadn’t seen it before.
Dallyn smiled. “You will always be able to find this Portal now. That’s how it works. Once you have been through a Portal, you will always be able to see it. Come now, you have much work to do before you’re fully prepared.”
They walked side by side on a wide stone path toward a massive building just ahead of them. Sunlight glinted off the doors and roof of the structure as if it were coated in gold. Ramos stared about in awe at the spectacular beauty. No wonder his people missed it so much.
“Here we are. Our quarters are inside.” Dallyn swept an arm toward the door, which slowly swung open ahead of them. “Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the Hall of the High Council in the Realm of Faerie and to the next chapter in your life.”
Ramos nodded his head respectfully and then squared his shoulders. With a deep breath he readied himself for that next chapter. For the work and the training that would be required of him to prepare him for his new position.
As a Guardian, Protector of the Mortals and of the Fountain of the Souls.
One
SEUN FARDACH RANCH
NORTH OF GRAND LAKE, COLORADO
PRESENT DAY
So you’ll do nothing to save her? You’ll just sit here and allow her to die?” Mairi MacKiernan clasped her hands tightly in her lap, controlling the urge to strike out at the people sitting across from her.
“It’s no a matter of us allowing anything to happen. She’s already dead.” Connor MacKiernan glanced sideways at his wife, Cate, before adding, “Long dead.”
“You know it’s forbidden for us to change history.” Cate leaned across the empty space from her chair to Mairi’s, laying a cool hand on her sister-in-law’s forearm. “You can’t torture yourself with what’s past.”
Mairi jerked her arm away and rose. They were being so unreasonable, she wanted to scream. Instead she spoke softly, barely more than a whisper. “That’s yer final word on the matter?”
“Aye, it is, little sister.” Connor wore the stubborn look she knew so well. “I warned you when you first set out to hunt our family’s history this could happen. ‘Oh no,’ you said. ‘I’m only curious.’ Now you’ve worked yerself into a fine lather.”
Mairi grated her teeth. She might love her older brother, but sometimes he could be the biggest pain in the ass she’d ever dealt with. Especially when he lectured her, as he always assumed he had the right to do.
“Verra well.” She turned her back on her family and headed to the door.
“And where do you think yer going, lass?” Connor stood, but didn’t follow, held back by his wife’s gentle touch to his hand.
“I need to ride.” Mairi strode purposefully from the room.
“Let her go, Connor. This is terribly hard for her. Give her some time.” Cate’s voice floated after her.
Damn the woman. Kindness was the hardest response to guard against.
Tears threatened, but Mairi refused to let them flow. Not yet. Not where anyone could see. She never cried in front of people. Not anymore.
Hasty steps took her down the hall and through the yard. Out across the back to the stables, her long legs covered the ground rapidly, carrying her to the one measure of freedom still left her. She grabbed her riding tack off the wall as she entered.
In very short order, her favorite horse was ready and she was mounted and outside, quickly bringing the animal to a full gallop across the open meadow. The wind whipped fine, blond hair loose from her long braid and stung her face, drying her tears almost as quickly as they fell.
This was what she needed.
Reaching the back side of the meadow, she slowed her mount to a walk. Patting his neck, she urged him onto the trail leading up the mountain, to the little forested stream she loved. There she could almost imagine herself home.
When she reached her favorite spot, she dismounted and tied her horse to a tree. He could munch the green grass and still reach the water while she brooded. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out at the stream’s edge, her arms behind her head, and allowed the sound of water rushing over the rocks to calm her, lull her back to normalcy.
They were right, of course, her brother and sister-in-law. She knew that, had known it even before she came up here to ask their help. Though Cate had the power to aid her, Mairi had known even before getting into her car for the drive up the mountain that she wouldn’t.
Cate and Connor both had turned into the epitome of responsible adult behavior. Well, in fairness, her brother always had been, but the woman who had become her dear friend as well as her brother’s wife had been more impetuous at one time.
Mairi sighed. The old Cate would have sent her to save Marsali Rose. The old Cate would have joined her in the quest.
Marsali Rose. Her beloved aunt Rosalyn’s only daughter. The last of the MacKiernan women with the gift of Fae magic. The blessing of their line had died out with her.
Almost seven hundred years ago.
“It’s wrong. It’s so unfair.” Mairi sat up and stared at the water as it rushed past. Though what few remaining records she had found said nothing of her aunt, Mairi knew that Rosalyn would have been devastated by the loss of her only daughter. The thought of the woman who had been like a mother to her suffering such a horrible twist of
fate was almost more than Mairi could bear. After all Rosalyn had done for her, she desperately wanted her aunt to be happy.
It was more than that. To the very core of her, from the moment she had discovered the documents relating to her cousin’s death, she’d felt consumed by the knowledge, as if this were where her destiny lay. Though, for the life of her, she could see no way to change what had happened.
Perhaps if she had remained in her own time she could have done something to change the outcome for her cousin.
“If I’d stayed, I would have been of no use, dead long before the lass was born.” That was, after all, why her sister-in-law had pulled her out, forward to Cate’s time. History showed that the Mairi MacKiernan who lived in 1272 had died, apparently murdered by the man she was to marry, MacPherson the Red.
Mairi shuddered. She knew it for a fact. She’d looked it up. She’d almost lived it.
“Thank the Fates,” she whispered, more than grateful she’d been spared the horror of wedding that awful man. And yet, she sometimes wondered if the alternative wasn’t worse than the original fate would have been.
For a MacKiernan woman, a descendant of the Fae House of Pol, there was no higher purpose in life than to seek out her own true love, her other half, the one who would complete her. But Mairi was sure that for her this coupling of the souls could never be.
She was fated to have died in 1272 so there would have been no one for her in that time. And while she had made a new life for herself in this century, it was not where fate had intended her to be, so there would be no Soulmate for her here.
Soul of a Highlander Page 1